The heat of summer wreaked havoc on the garden. The weeds began to overgrow the flowerbeds and the roses began to wither from the lack of rain. Clara sat staring at the dying roses and felt that she too was withering. Her daughter's marriage had hit her hard and her husband's indifference had left her feeling unwanted. She had packed Priscilla's belongings that morning and set the carpetbags by the front door to be picked up. She then sat down on the stairs and cried for nearly an hour before going out into the garden. Her husband had run off to spend his newfound fortune on wine and loose women and she was left alone again.
As she surveyed her garden, her thoughts drifted back to the wedding ceremony. She was quite overwhelmed by the proceeding and the swiftness of its consummation. She did not understand the necessity of it being at night and there was something about this young Anton that she could not quite reconcile. He reminded her of a young lover who had entered her life when she was newly married, but he could not possibly be the same man. She shook off her thoughts of Anton and began to tend to her garden, snipping off the dying flowers and pulling the vigorous weeds from her flowerbeds. She stopped to examine her favorite roses and plucked the last dying rose from the bush. It looked so forlorn in its barrenness that it caused her to weep. She placed that last dying rose into her bodice nestled between her breasts and continued working, heedless of the pricking of the thorns.
The heat of the afternoon had forced Clara to shed most of her clothing as she worked. The afternoon itself had passed quickly and dusk had arrived without her notice. She had gathered a layer of dust and blood from the thistles she had pulled from her perennials. Her arms had become badly scratched and her breasts had also wept blood from the dying rose nestled between them. She removed the last of her clothing and slipped into the garden pool to bathe before bedtime. The cool waters slowly relaxed her aching muscles and she began to feel hungry. As she sat up in the pool, she suddenly realized that she was no longer alone in her garden. She attempted to cover herself with her hands as she stared into the shadows. A hand reached out from the darkness grabbing her shoulder. "I'm sorry," a male voice intoned, "I did not mean to startle you." Clara's jaw dropped in disbelief as she recognized the voice; "Why are you here?" she stammered, "Why aren't you at home with your new bride?" Anton stepped out of the shadows and smiled at her, "Because she does not need me at the moment and you do, my lovely Clara."
