Disclaimer: "Scarecrow and Mrs. King" is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions. The Plot is mine, the characters are not. This story is meant for enjoyment purposes only. No infringement is intended.

Sitting on the edge of her bed staring at a family photo, Amanda heaved a deep sigh as she gazed upon the face of her two smiling boys in it alongside her own. She placed it back on her dresser with other family photos and let out a derisive snort at that thought. Too many "family" photos were just like that, she mused as she shifted her gaze from one to another and yet another. The majority of them were just her and the boys or her mother and the boys...not your Leave it to Beaver family, but then again she wasn't exactly June Cleaver either.

She couldn't help laughing out loud at that thought despite her melancholy. She knew that people had that image of her in their minds since she was so sweet and polite to everyone, but that was just good manners. If they only knew what went on behind closed doors...the things that she really did. She thought of last night in her husband's arms right here in this very room and the memory alone flooded her with warmth as she thought of how he'd touched her, teased her, made her come alive and how she'd screamed his name repeatedly and begged him to never stop fu- Amanda shook her head, shaking off the memory. She could be damn sure that June Cleaver never did that. The mere idea of it made her laugh even harder since Ward and June Cleaver had twin beds. How they managed to have two sons, she'd never know.

"Two sons," she said aloud her mood crashing again as she thought of what had brought her up here in the first place...cleaning out the closet to occupy herself until the boys came home and she could have the serious talk with them she knew she needed to. She hadn't gotten very far. Her goal had been to get the closet ready for the big move that would soon be taking place, but she found herself continually becoming sidetracked by memories, the most recent of which being him sneaking out in the early morning hours before anyone knew he'd ever been here. After all, the neighbors might talk and what would have happened if Mother happened to bring the boys home early? It certainly wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

She glanced over to the bed where she'd begun piling things from the closet. She'd begun it mainly to weed out things that wouldn't be of use anymore with the upcoming life changes. She glanced at the dresses she'd pulled out, the long evening gowns that she'd worn to parties they'd attended together as part of his job, her being mostly the "window dressing," of course in the early days. That had changed though. She wondered what to do with these. She'd never wear them again, they were all similar in style, spaghetti strapped, plunging neckline... "Nope. Mm-mm," She said with a firm shake of her head as she picked up the nearest one. She had made this one herself and loved it because HE loved it.

Shaking her head again, she dropped the dress as if she'd been scalded by it. It would never be worn again...not after the shot through the heart that had nearly killed her. If it hadn't been for knowing that her children needed her, she just might have let it kill her. The pain...it was just too much and there was no doubt that it had left a deep scar that would never fully heal. She took that dress and all the others like, wadded them up into one big ball and shoved them into a packing box to take out to the garage later...maybe she'd even organize a garage sale if she had enough stuff to get rid of.

That task done, she turned back to the closet and a stabbing pain shot through her chest as it hit her how few things of her husband's were there. It wasn't supposed to be like that. She glanced at the clock on what should be his nightstand, but when he was only a part-time visitor in what should be a home they shared, could it really be called his? The boys would be home in a few minutes so this project would wait. She found that she didn't have the heart for it right now anyway.

Her mother already knew what was going on. She'd had a long talk with her and while she'd been upset by it, she understood and she stately quite bluntly, as was her way, that it hadn't surprised her in the least as she'd seen it coming. There were, of course, some questions, some tears, a bit of squabbling and some laughter as they got off-topic and reminisced.

She walked back to the dresser again and opened her jewelry box to extract the wedding set from within it and slipped both rings on her finger. "No," she stated adamantly. "Not like this." She then yanked them off again and stared at the pair of rings for a moment as she really thought about what they were supposed to mean, the vows they taken the day they'd said "I do." and how they'd almost immediately broken them by lying to themselves, to everyone around them and to each other about what they each wanted out of their marriage. They both knew now though and had agreed that it was time to make a change.

"On or off?" She questioned. Glancing in the mirror, she couldn't help thinking how naked her hand looked without the rings, how naked she felt without them. She'd taken them off this morning after he'd left due to their situation, but she couldn't help wonder if she shouldn't put them back on again to make it easier on the boys. "Off," she answered decisively and dropped them back into the jewelry box just as she heard the slamming of the front door.

She hurried down the stairs to meet her children and her mother who was just saying, "I am never getting in the car when it's Mr. Gillespie's turn to drive the carpool," while Phillip and Jamie made engine-revving and tire-squealing sounds.

Amanda chuckled softly and said, "I know what you mean." She then turned her attention to her boys, placed a hand on the shoulder of each one to stop and make a brake-screeching sound to get their attention. When they both looked up at her, she motioned to the sofa while Dotty gesture to the kitchen and Amanda nodded in confirmation.

Obediently, Phillip and Jamie sat down and Amanda, sat on the edge of the coffee table to face them and took a deep breath to steel herself for the difficult conversation to come. "Fellas, I have something that I have to tell you...something that I should have told you a long time ago...but it was really just-"

Phillip cut her off by standing up and staring down at her. "You and Dad are getting divorced, aren't you?"