I really hated the story of Editha, and I got to thinking about it and realized that in this format maybe I could do something about it...So here goes.

Editha II 

After she returned from George's mother's house things were not good. Editha would often wake suddenly from a dream about George. Sometimes he would be in her very room or she would see him lying in a field looking truly horrible all battered and covered in blood like thick red paint. He always asked her the same question with similar words. 

Why did she sent him on a fool's errand to die in a silly spat at the beginning of the war, a fight so early in the war that it had decided nothing. At first she woke up trembling and sweating filled with tears and a small amount of guilt. She was sure she looked a fright the days after those dreams, because she could never get back to sleep after them.

After her absolution, given by the colorist, Editha struck out in her life with a new vigor. Suddenly she was determined to make the best of every moment of it. George may had died, and she had not. 

When the next dream came she was ready, it was once again set in her room. Editha finally resorted to telling him that it wasn't her fault, she never forced him to go. "What about the letter you wrote?" he gasped. "I would have come back, right away, but I couldn't bare to live without you, my darling." At this, in her dream, she stomped her foot and yelled. "I never really loved you anyway, you should have done something to win me." She had awakened herself that night yelling, "I deserved so much better than you!" But after that the dreams had stopped. When she went down the next morning to break her fast with her family they all noted the high color in her cheeks and remarked that she looked as if a woman reborn,

Editha reveled in her newfound freedom. She dressed herself in the finest dresses and went to all the most fashionable dances and get-togethers. She was positively over the moon when she caught the eye of John, a respectable sophisticated man, and he was a doctor no less. Even her mother and father had been delighted that first time she had invited him home to eat supper with them. John showered her with gifts and attention and every bit of romance a woman could want. Editha determined that what she felt for George was only a passing fancy. Oh, but John, him she truly loved. 

When John proposed to her one night over dinner with her family, of course she accepted. Her mother had even congratulated her personally before Editha went to bed that night. 

"I had almost lost hope for you my dear," Her mother had exclaimed, "but now you've gone and married up."

All was well for about a year, John was a bit over protective, and he firmly believed a woman should have no reason to discuss politics or other "men's matters" as he called them. He did treat her so much like a child sometimes, but no matter, she loved him. So, Editha took to writing down her more political or personal thoughts. That took care of things satisfactorily, except for one small thing really. Occasionally, she would see a shadow out of the corner of her eye, and she felt it like a malevolent presence pressing on her chest, causing her heart to race and making it difficult for her to draw breath. Then, soon after that, she had started being startled awake at night, not remembering her dreams but feeling chilled all over. 

Editha had one day in exasperation mentioned this to John, he laughed at her and told her not to let her emotionings get away with her, being a doctor he knew better than anyone what was troubling her. She was with child, and as a result had developed a bit of gestational hysteria, "Nothing to worry about." He had assured her chuckling, "but you must take pains not to excite or over-exert yourself, my darling." for some dimly remembered reason his words made her blood run cold, and her knees went weak. He had skillfully swept in into a near-by chair, his face now more serious. 

"I am putting you on strict bed rest." Editha had opened her mouth to argue, but he held up his hand. "This is not up for debate," he said in the voice that meant he had decided, and as the man of the house would be obeyed, "It is for the health of our baby, and yourself." And it was bed-rest she had, for months. It still happened on occasion but she convinced herself that it was truly her imagination, for nothing bad had happened. Editha even started laughing about it as she wrote about how right John had been after all. 

One night John had found her writing in her journal and flew into a positive rage, proclaiming that this useless overtaxing of her mind was the reason for her troubles.

"You are to stop this foolishness at once," he grabbed her journal without even looking down at it, and even though she gave an impassioned plea, saying that really it was no great strain, he threw it into the fire. "I forbid you to continue such actions as my wife," he had fairly roared at her "and I will be obeyed!" And so she had to start writing in secret. 

All was well, and she had a beautiful baby boy. But then the queerness started again, a shadow seen out of the corner of her eye, but now, it was much worse. When Editha was with her son, it was also accompanied by horrible visions. One day she even saw herself flinging her newborn son out of the window of his nursery. Editha had quickly dropped him back into his crib, a bit roughly if she were to be honest, and started screaming.

John had come running and seeing the state she was in escorted her back to their room. It was in reality hers now, for he had taken to sleeping in his study, her waking in the night had been disturbing him, and he needed his rest. 

The very next day he traveled the 5 miles to get his sister, "She's truly just over taxed, Janet." John had explained on the way to the house, "We will be taking a sabbatical into the country, at a estate house a friend has let me borrow for the summer, just until her confusion passes." Janet had nodded sagely at his words. "Oh and another thing, if she by chance mentions a brother named George, just agree with her, I want no undue stress put on her mind. Is that clear?" He spoke the last words in that tone that she hated. It sounded so much like their father.

"But wasn't she an only child, brother?" John waved her off and she fell quiet again. She was so excited at the prospect of a summer vacation from her parents, even with the baby to care for, it would be such a relief to get out of their house. Janet honestly didn't care if Editha fancied herself the queen of Egypt, it was no matter to her. 

They left for the estate a few days later. They arrived in the early afternoon. John first settled Jennie with baby William in a smaller bedroom, for Editha was now worthless with their son. The two of them had a meal, and he took Editha to her room. It was the only room she could be placed in honestly, the bed was bolted to the floor, just in case.

"Oh John, this whole place is so lovely!" She exclaimed, turning around in the center of the room, He smiled seeing in her the ghost of the woman he had married, feeling a bit of hope flare. 

Suddenly her smile dimmed a bit around the edges. Editha flounced back toward him and wrapped her arms around him. There was a look in her blue eyes, one she often had, in the past, when she wanted something from him. "Except, and I hesitate to mention it, it's such a silly little concern. But could something be done with this horrible yellow wallpaper?"