The next morning, I was awakened by the doorbell. I was surprised when Angie
came to me and told me it was Gunthar.

I quickly got dressed at met him at the door. He had a dozen long-stemmed roses
in his hands and a contrite look on his face. He softly pleaded, "I am sorry and it
will never happen again. Please come back." If I didn't look into his eyes I would think
he was sincere.

I answered crisply, "I now know more of your past and I will not step foot in your house
again, except to get my belongings."

I guess he thought I would cave right away at his puppy dog eyes because the sad
contrite look dropped from his face as fast as rocks in a landslide.

He threw the flowers in my face and screamed, "You'll pay for this. You'll see."
He turned on a dime, and marched like a general back to his car and sped away.
His actions proved to me nothing would have changed if I had returned to him.

Angie opened her arms to me as I turned to her in tears of anger and grief. She
hugged me until I stopped crying and then poured me some wine. She led me to her
comfortable, chic couch and we talked of what my future would hold.

We talked of looking for a small flat and but we realized my bank account was not big enough
for me to afford it. Also, I didn't have a steady income to show I could keep up with rent
and other bills.

It was decided, I would stay here with her and pay my portion of the utilities and a small
amount of rent since she was still paying a mortgage. She got the house in the divorce settlement
and was living here alone. Her husband left her when he found out she was infertile. It seemed that
he cared more about having a son than a marriage.

As we sipped our wine, we planned to move my things from Gunther's while he was at work
tomorrow morning. I also wanted to say goodbye to Mrs. Bessersmith and Catherine. It was so sad,
because I was just starting to call Mrs. Bessersmith, by her first name, Amanda and Catherine, Caty,
when Gunthar wasn't home. He refused to be anything but formal with the 'help'.

The next morning, we left to retain my things at mid-morning. When we arrived, we made sure
Gunthar's car was gone and went to ring the doorbell. I heard Amanda's footsteps coming toward the door.
When she opened it, she shrieked with joy and threw her arms around me. Caty was at the door in record
time after the shriek. She had a rousing welcome too. Angie just stood and watched, smiling from ear to ear.

I dampened their joy, when I told them that I was just coming to pick up my stuff to move to Angie's.
They looked at me with understanding and agreement. They knew what would happen if I stayed.

Amanda insisted on making us tea. We drank quickly and started packing. Then the four of us went to
work. It only took a short time for I didn't have much. When I asked her what happened to the pies and jars of
jam I had on the counter, she said he had smashed the pies and thrown the jam against the wall. It took them
hours to clean the mess.

They helped us pack the car and we had a tearful goodbye. We wondered if we were ever going to see
each other again. Knowing it would have to be without Gunthar knowing it.

While Angie and I were putting my clothes away in the bedroom decorated in muted greens and blues,
she looked at me with a worried expression on her face. I asked her what was wrong.

She looked around me then at me and said, "My ex-husband works at the government offices with
Gunthar. He often said he was worried about the amount of power Gunthar was amassing. Maybe he can act on
his threat."

I replied with a slight tremble in my voice, "You really think so, Angie? Looking back, the last few times
Gunthar and I went out, the people who greeted us in passing looked more fearful the respectful of him. I thought
it strange, but never thought to question it. Maybe I should have."

Now we both were worried.

Another two weeks went by and nothing happened. We had found a nice relaxed routine between my baking
and making jam and her needs in the kitchen. She lived just down the street from my customers so we could just
walk over. Sometimes pulling them in a little red wagon.

Nothing happened, so we thought we were in the clear. Boy, were we wrong.