The trees blurred past the windows of the car, much too fast in my opinion. I glanced over at my husband Jack, "Honey were not in a hurry," I said again. I knew I would not be able to go through with my plan from a hospital bed.

"I know, but I want to be at the cabin by noon. That way I can go hiking before dark."

Jack was a nature nut, always stomping around the woods, bringing home plants and insects to study. You would think after ten years of marriage I would be used to it, but I'm not. Every vacation he goes out wandering around in the wilderness getting in tune with nature. Not that I mind being rid of him for however long.

"I feel like we're forgetting something," I said, breaking the silence.

"You always feel like that when we go somewhere," Jack said with a laugh. "Did you go by the list I made for you?"

"Yes" I lied. He had a damn list for everything. "Oh hell, my medicine." I pulled my bag onto my lap. "I don't remember putting it in the suitcase."

"I have it," he said. "I put it in the armrest of the car to make sure we did not forget it." He pulled my bottle out of the armrest. I breathed a sigh of relief. The thought of being in the woods without my antihistamine scares the hell out of me. I am deathly allergic to bee stings; my medicine slows the poison so I have time to get to the hospital. I learned about Benadryl around three years ago when Jack brought in some flowers that had a bee in them. Of course I was stung. I almost died on the twenty-minute ride to the emergency room. I know I could not handle four days in the wilderness jumping at every buzzing bug without it.

I grew bored, so I watched my husband as he drove. Neat and controlled, that's him. Jack had not changed much in the ten long years of our marriage. Yet what once made me feel safe now left me feeling unsatisfied. He had no desire to better us, no long-term ambition. He didn't know how to cozy up to the boss for a raise, he could not stab a coworker in the back, and God forbid he do a little ass kissing. Jack had done one good thing; he had planned for our future. We had a well-padded savings account (which I was not allowed to touch "Jan, you would just nickel and dime it away," Jack would say every time I wanted to do a little shopping). Jack had also taken out life insurance on the both of us, one from work and one from an independent agent. When I saw the total value, I told Jack he was worth more to me dead than alive. He just smiled, the sweet, unsuspecting man.

Unlike my naive husband, I am a modern thinker. Sweet does not buy BMW's, but life insurance and savings accounts do. Jack would have to die.

We arrived at the cabin before lunch. Jack unpacked the car while I aired out the rooms. The cabin had been a gift from his parents, the only nice thing they had ever given us. Touches of home made the oft-used cabin comfortable. A picture of Jack and myself hung over the fireplace. We looked like a couple in love, smiling at a promising future. We started having problems right around the time that picture was taken. I feel that life has so much to offer; Jack on the other hand is happy with the smallest offering. So, of course we fought. I would try to sway him to my way of thinking, tried to make him as hungry as I, but alas, Jack has no ambition. Divorce was not the answer; half of nothing is nothing, but the insurance, now that was worth thinking about. I stopped trying to change Jack (why bother, he was not going to be around much longer), and we stopped arguing and appeared to be the perfect couple. All the while my mind whirling with ideas of how to kill my husband and get away with it.

Jack came in while I was standing in front of the picture. He put his arm around my shoulders, sharing the "moment" with me. Kissing my forehead, he asked if I wanted to go for a walk with him. I told him to go ahead, and I would rest for a while.

I waved as he walked down the path. Waiting a couple of seconds, I ran to the boat docks on the lake. I checked out the rowboat,-- perfect, just like I remembered it. The raised bow with the blunt end. Accidental drowning. Now I just needed to get Jack out on the lake. That might prove to be the difficult part, Jack was not a good swimmer and did not like the lake. I would come up with a way to get him in that boat with me though. I took the life jackets out of the rowboat and put them in the dock house. I just needed to iron out a few more details and my plan would be perfect.

I was sunbathing on the docks when Jack strolled up. He handed me some wild flowers. He was always doing something corny and inexpensive like that. We walked hand-in-hand back to the cabin. The next few days passed slowly; we developed a routine. Jack would go exploring after breakfast and would be back by lunch. We fixed dinner together and ate with Jack telling me about the wonderful flora and fauna discovered that day. I decided to kill him soon before he drove me crazy. One morning he woke me up with breakfast in bed. I caught myself before I could feel any warmth for his kind gesture. The bastard, I thought, he was up to something. Maybe he suspects something and he is trying to save himself. No, he is completely fooled. I had Jack's love and trust. In his eyes I was the devoted wife, dinner at 6:00 and clean underwear, nothing more and nothing less. I had been very careful to mask my anger, frustration, and dislike. Sweet Jack did not understand emotions like mine.

I watched Jack go into the woods, the song he hummed dying in the breeze. Sitting at the kitchen table, I wove the final strings into my plan. Tonight had to be the night. By this time tomorrow I would be a rich widow. I would buy that cute black dress I saw at Cedar Mall for the funeral. I would receive sympathy cards; people would bring food to the house in trade for small bits of gossip they could spread. The funeral would be modest "Jack would not want anything fancy," I would say. Why spend my money on a dead man? With each new vision of a better future, my heart soared. I wondered if I would begin to doubt the plan or myself. So far I was confident; how could I not succeed?

When Jack got home I was fixing a lavish dinner, all his favorites: steak, baked potatoes, and strawberry pie for dessert. And to aid my cause a bottle of red wine. The last meal and so on. Pleased with the attention to his appetite, he wrapped his arms around me.
 
 

"Are you sorry we are leaving tomorrow?" he asked. "I'll be glad to get home," I said, stepping away from him to get the salt. "You know, we have not done anything together since we got here." I said in a pouting voice.

"I asked you to go hiking with me." He said defensively. I mean anything romantic. Why don't we go out on the lake tonight? The moon and stars, the crickets chirping that would be very romantic." I knew he would go along even if he did not like the lake. Sex overruled fear.

"All right," he said. "I've got some things I need to take care of after dinner. When I get back we'll go on our romantic boat ride on the lake." He kissed my neck and started setting the table. He just made my plan so much easier. God, he was a good man, so obliging.

After dinner Jack left on his errand, he stayed gone about an hour. I was in the kitchen finishing up the dishes when I heard him come in. He went straight to the bedroom, so I went to see if he was ready. He was standing I front of the bed, but when he heard me come into the room, he moved aside. On the bed lay a silver box with blue ribbon. "For me?" I said reaching for the box.

"Yes, it's for you dear, but this surprise has to wait until after our boat ride," he said with a sly grin.

"Okay, I'm sure it will be more fun to open later," I smiled. Wow, not every man gives you a gift for killing him, I giggled to myself.

We walked out to the rowboat arm in arm. I stepped into the boat as Jack untied it and jumped in as he shoved off. Rowing in silence for awhile, Jack pulled the oars in. We sat and talked about going home and the obligations waiting for us there. I looked past Jack's shoulder, squinting. "Jack what is that. It looks too big to be a turtle. Oh, Jack hurry turn around," I said excitedly.

"Where?" He said, standing up and turning around. I stood behind him pointing over his shoulder. "I don't see anything."

"Right in front of you in the water." I said. I slipped my foot forward and put my hands on his shoulders, like I was trying to help him see the imaginary object.

"I still don't...." At that I shoved forward and down at his shoulders with all my strength. With my foot, I kept him off balance. He fell toward the bow of the boat. In the moonlight I saw the side of his head strike the bow. He slumped against the side of the boat, half in half out. I set down on my seat watching him. I could see the blood dripping into the water. He was not making any sounds or trying to move. I moved to his side cautiously. I tugged on his pants leg, still nothing. He was unconscious or dead. I stood up in the boat and stepped up on the side he was hanging over. That side of the boat was already dipping lower into the water. I jumped when the boat started to capsize. Treading water, I waited to see if Jack would surface. When he did not, I started my long swim back to shore.

I crawled on to the grassy bank and collapsed panting for air. Damn, I thought, I'm out of shape. Resting for a moment, I got up and walked to the cabin. I started going over the story in my head.

"We were out on the lake, Jack thought he saw something," I would start sobbing; the police officer would hand me a tissue, telling me we could continue when I was feeling better. "I can go on" I would sniffle. "The boat started to rock. I told Jack to sit down; he told me to hush. The boat dipped, Jack fell and the boat tipped over. I did not see him when I surfaced, so I dived under for him, but it was so dark I could not find him. I got scared so I swam back to shore to get help. It's my fault. I should have never suggested we go out on the lake." Sob, sob. The cop would tell me that I was brave for not panicking. Killing Jack would make me a hero. With a smug smile I realized I had done it; no one would question my story.
 
 

Like a child at Christmas, I went straight for the gift box Jack left on the bed. Gently, I unwrapped my reward. I knew this would be the best gift ever. The ribbons slipped to the floor, I leaned down to catch the earliest peek possible.

The first sting caught me by surprise; the second drew forth a scream, the third and forth stunned me into silence. My greedy eyes sunk to the bottom of the box. Fresh picked honey suckle, a small bottle of perfume, a couple of dead bees and a dying bee. The blood pounded through my veins. How could this have happened? I had to stay calm, I kept telling myself, but I could already feel the poison in my system. How could those bees have gotten into my box? Jack? No, not my sweet Jack. My medicine. Where had Jack put it? The nightstand on his side of the bed. I leaped across the bed, flung open the drawer. I unscrewed the lid with shaking hands and put it to my lips. The taste was not right; I drank again. No bitter, artificially sweetened flavor; no nothing. I made my blurry eyes focus, this was water and food coloring. What was I going to do now? Die, a voice in my head whined. No, that was not going to happen; I had too much to live for now. I made my way to the phone, staggering like a drunk. My throat was already starting to swell close. Gasping for air, I wondered again how this could have happened to me. The only answer I could come up with was that Jack was trying to kill me. Me, his beloved wife, after everything I had done for him. I did not believe him capable of such malice. I fell down in front of the fireplace, I did not have enough strength to pull myself up. I looked around for something to help me, my blurred eyes not seeing much. The picture above the mantel captured my attention and would not let go. Jack's smiling eyes bore into my fear clouded mind.

"Oh Jack, how could you do this to Me?" I stared at the picture as if he would answer, as if he were my lifeline. I could feel the cold grip of death pulling me down. I tried to pull my gaze away from his mocking stare, but he would not let me. At least I had killed him first, he could not take that away. I was the victorious one for the next few moments of my life.

I know I should be begging for God's forgiveness and my last breath should be used to pray for my immortal soul. I open my dry mouth, the hiss that escapes is not a prayer, but my last word is sincere.

"Bastard."