The Diary of a Madman

The police inspector tottered toward them. Breaking their embrace, Richard turned to the man and, with laughter in his voice, said, "I've found her! She's got a few cuts and bruises, and she must be exhausted, poor thing, but not much worse for wear. We'll explain why she ran away. It was all a big misunderstanding..."

****

Maggie placed a shiny new typewriter on top of Richard's desk, her three-year wedding anniversary present for him. So long to longhand writing and hello to typing. He deserved better than a vase full of flowers, and so she got the best gift she could think of. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he came home from work tonight. A small surprise before they left. Richard had reserved a romantic weekend of dinner and music at one of the loveliest summerhouses in Nantucket. The suitcases were made; they were set and ready to go.

Eight months had passed since that horrible incident with the trunk. Explaining it all to the police hadn't been easy, but after reading all of Richard's notes and journal entries, not to mention his published stories, they understood Maggie's apprehension. The content in the trunk would have terrified anyone, especially a young woman with Mrs. Conrad's sensibilities. They contacted the pulp magazines and even questioned Richard's work colleague—the one who had advised Richard to write a novel. Everything cleared and the incident was disregarded and forgotten, and, as a personal favor to Richard, it would not be mentioned to Judge Betancouth. Why upset the old man?

Maggie moved from the desk and went to the bookshelf, and took down an early edition ofThe Portrait of a Lady.She was no longer forbidden from entering the study without Richard's consent, but she still had no access to the trunk. He would always be unforthcoming about certain things; she would just have to accept that. She knew he was working on a novel. At least he had been working on one. She wasn't so sure anymore.

"Is it a crime story?" she'd asked him while they were having dinner one night.

"It's a story of mystery and suspense."

"Have you spoken with your colleague about having it published?"

A cloud passed over his face. "No."

"Getting literary cold feet?" she'd asked playfully, hoping to lighten his mood again.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "I won't publish it."

Her face fell. "What, why not?"

"Because... I can't. My writing career is over. I will no longer write the 'Diary of a Madman' stories. As for the novel... I won't show it to my colleague, or to anyone. It's for my eyes only."

"But that's absurd," she'd frowned. "Why stop now when things are going so well?"

Richard picked up his butter knife and examined it in the light of the candles that Maggie had placed on the dinner table. The faint candlelight cast a phantom-like glow across his hard features.

"Is anything the matter?" Maggie asked worriedly. "How many times do I have to tell you that you're a talented writer? Richard, honey, I'm sure your novel is going to be great."

He didn't say anything, just continued to gaze at the knife with a sullen air.

"Are you blocked?" Maggie persisted. "Because if that's what's happening—"

"Margaret, just—shut up. Please, let me eat my dinner in peace."

Maggie closed the book and put it back on the shelf. Perhaps it would have been better if she had never found those journals and papers inside Richard's trunk. He was cagey with his writing, and now that the cage was open...

There was no point in dwelling on the matter. She only hoped that the typewriter would enable him to start writing again. She wouldn't let him abandon his writing career before it had a chance to begin.

Her eyes shifted to the trunk and smiled. Their marriage had improved after that terrible night in the woods. Things were lighter between them, far less strained than the year before. Richard was more open, much gentler, and communicative in the things that truly mattered. And Maggie wouldn't put their marriage in danger again. She would try her best to stay positive, not let her shortcomings, real or imagined, bother her. She would never interfere with his personal affairs again. She was lucky to have Richard. He wasn't perfect, not even close, but he was wonderful in many ways.

****

Maggie was right. Richardwaswonderful. He was charming and urbane one moment, brooding and taciturn the next. He was both an academic and a lover of penny dreadfuls. He was light but dark, consistent yet contrary. He wasn't perfect, but as far as husbands went, he was damn near perfect. He was handsome, intelligent, faithful, supportive, dependable, generous and attentive. But, more important, his feelings for Maggie ran deep.

He loved her, until her death parted them.