Time Enough for Love (84 page)

“Why, Sergeant Bronson!—and me a respectable woman. Or almost. Surely you don’t think I would dare be that shameless?”

“Maureen, I’m not sure
what
you would dare. You have startled—and delighted me—several times. I think you have the courage to do anything you want to do.”

“Possibly, Theodore, but I have limits on what I
will
do, no matter how much I want to. Do you want to know my limits?”

“If you want me to know, you’ll tell me. If you don’t, you won’t.”

“I want you to know, beloved Theodore. I would like to strip naked this very moment. I refrain only for practical reasons—not moral ones and not shyness; I
want
to give you my body, let you enjoy it any way you please—while I enjoy yours. There are
no
limits to what I
want
to do with you…but only to what I
will
do.

“First”—she ticked them off—“I will not risk becoming pregnant by any man but Brian. Second, I will not knowingly risk the well-being of my husband and children.”

“Weren’t you risking that tonight?”

“Was I, Theodore?”

Lazarus thought about it. Pregnancy? Not a factor. Disease? She apparently trusted him on that—and Yes, darling, you are right. I don’t know why you hold that opinion of me, but you’re right. What does that leave? A chance of scandal if we had been caught. How much chance? Very little; it’s as safe a spot as one could wish. Cops? Lazarus doubted that police ever checked that spot—and doubted still more strongly that a policeman, in the present war fever, would tell a soldier in uniform more than “Break it up and move on.”

“No, my darling, you took no risks. Uh, if I had asked you to undress completely, would you have done so?”

Her laugh rang like chimes. Then she answered in her controlled pitch more private than a whisper. “I thought about that while I was taking a quick bath to make myself sweet for you, Theodore. It was a delightfully tempting idea; Brian has had me do so outdoors oftener than that once. It excites me, and he says that makes me more fun for him. But that’s a risk
he
chooses to take, so it worries me not at all—with him. But I did not think it fair to him to take that risk on my own. So I firmly resolved, with my nipples crinkled up as hard as you felt them—hard as they are
now
; I’m
terribly
excited—I resolved not only
not
to undress but not to let
you
do so. Dear, will you go pay for another pony ride? Or fetch him if he’s tired of that?”

Lazarus found that Woodie wanted another ride. He paid and went back to the bench, found Maureen staring down a lonely soldier. Lazarus touched his sleeve. “On your way, Private.”

The soldier looked around, ready to argue—looked again and said, “Oh. Sorry, Sergeant. No offense meant.”

“And none taken. Better luck elsewhere.”

Maureen said, “I hate to snub a boy in uniform, even when I must. He wasn’t fresh to me, Theodore—he was just exploring the chances. I must be twice his age and was tempted to tell him so. But it would have hurt his feelings.”

“The trouble is that you
look
eighteen, so they’re certain to try.”

“Darling, I do
not
look eighteen. Me with a daughter over seventeen? If Nancy marries her young man before he goes to war—she wants to, and Brian and I won’t stop it—I’ll be a grandmother this coming year.”

“Hi, Grandmaw.”

“Tease. I will
enjoy
being a grandmother.”

“I’m certain you will, dear; I think you have great capacity for enjoying life.” (As
I
do, Mama!—and now I feel sure I got it both from you and Pop.)

“I do, Theodore.” She smiled. “Even when frustrated. Very.”

“Me, too—very. But we were talking about how old you look. Eighteen, that is.”

“Pooh. You noticed how broken down and baby-chewed my breasts are.”

“I noticed nothing of the sort.”

“Then you have no sense of touch, sir…for you handled them quite thoroughly.”

“Excellent sense of touch. Lovely breasts.”

“Theodore, I try to take care of them. But they’ve been filled with milk much of the past eighteen years. That one”—she nodded toward the pony ring—“I didn’t have enough milk for and had to put him on Eagle Brand, and he resented it. When I had Richard two years later, Woodrow tried to crowd out the new baby and take my freshened breasts. I had to be firm—when what I wanted was to have one at each breast. But one must be fair to children, not spoil one at the expense of another.” She smiled indulgently. “I have no sense about Woodrow, so I must follow my rules to the letter. Come back in a year, Theodore, and they won’t seem so broken down. They swell out and make me look like a cow.”

“Will you make it worth my while?”

“By a walnut tree? Probably no chance, dear one. I’m afraid my scamp killed our one chance.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t take
that
much to make it worthwhile. I was thinking of a taste—direct from producer to consumer.” (Mama Maureen, as Galahad says and I’ve never argued, I’m the most tit-happy man in the Galaxy…and I’m staring at the spot where I acquired the habit. I wish I could tell you so. Darling. )

She looked startled, snorted, and looked delighted. “That might be almost as hard to arrange as a walnut tree. But—Yes if it can be done without shocking my children. You are a scamp, too—just like Woodrow. I know
I
would enjoy it. Because—this is secret, dear—Brian has tasted each new freshening. Claims solemnly that he’s checking quality and butterfat content.”

(Pop, you’re a man of good taste!) “Does he ever find that one has a taste different from the other?”

She chuckled happily. “Dear one, you have so many playful quirks just like my husband that you make me feel bigamous. He claims so, but it’s just more of his joking.
I
can’t tell any difference—and I’ve tasted.”

“Madam, I look forward to giving you an expert’s opinion. I think our cowboy has worn out his pony. What next? Want to try the Ben Hur Racer?”

She shook her head. “I enjoy roller coasters but won’t go on one now. I’ve never miscarried, Theodore, and never will if being careful will keep me from it. Take Woodrow if you like.”

“No. You would have to wait—and these woods are filled with wolves in khaki anxious to pick up eighteen-year-old grandmothers. The Fun House?”

“All right.” Then her mouth twitched. “No, I forgot something. Those blasts of air up from the floor—intended to make girls squeal and clutch their skirts. Which I don’t mind but—no bloomers, dear. Unless you want everyone to see whether or not I’m truly a redhead.”

“Are you?”

She smiled, unoffended. “Tease. Don’t you know?”

“It was very dark near that walnut tree.”

“Redhead at both ends, Theodore. As I would happily show you were it not for the—frustrating—circumstances. Brian asked me that while we were courting. Teasing, he didn’t need to ask; I was covered with freckles then, just like Marie. I let him find out for himself on a grassy spot by the Marais des Cygnes River while a gentle old mare named ‘Daisy’ cropped grass and paid no attention to my happy squeals. I suppose the automobile is here to stay—but the horse-and-buggy had many advantages. Didn’t you find it so? When you started stepping out with young ladies?”

Lazarus agreed with a straight face, unable to admit that his memories did not include 1899 or whatever year she was thinking of. Maureen went on, “I used to fix a picnic lunch and take a blanket to eat on. That was one way a girl of courting age could be unchaperoned as long as I was home before dark. A horse can take a buggy into spots even, more private than our walnut tree. Truthfully, despite this modern talk about ‘wild women’ and morals breaking down, I had more freedom as a girl than my daughters do. Although I try not to make my chaperonage oppressive.”

“They don’t seem oppressed. I’m sure they’re happy.”

“Theodore, I would much rather have my children be happy than what our pastor says is ‘moral.’ I simply want to be sure they aren’t hurt. I am not ‘moral’ by the accepted rules—as you know quite well. Though not as well as I had hoped you would know it, and I’m taking out my frustration in talking about it. Perhaps you would rather I did not?”

“Maureen, since we can’t do it, the next best thing is talking about it.”

“Me, too, Theodore. I wish I were covered with chigger bites and my soul filled with the peace I know you could give me. Since I can’t give myself to you the way I had hoped, I want you to know me as deeply as words can bring us together…as deeply as I wish you were in my body this very instant. Does my frankness shock you?”

“No. But it might get you raped right on this bench!”

“Please, not so much enthusiasm, dear one; people can see us—we’re talking about the weather. Tell me, is your thing hard?”

“Does it show?”

“No, but if it is, think about blizzards and icebergs—Brian says that helps—because our pony rider needs to be lifted down.”

They played both games for prizes; then Mrs. Smith decided that she could risk the Fun House if she clutched her skirts as if crossing a muddy street. Woodie enjoyed it, especially the Hall of Mirrors and the Crystal Maze. Maureen avoided air blasts by watching girls ahead of them, then either walked on one side or held her skirts firmly.

Woodie tired himself out, so Lazarus picked him up and he seemed to fall asleep as his head touched Lazarus’ shoulder. They started to leave, which took them over the farewell air blast. Mrs. Smith was ahead and Lazarus assumed that she had it spotted from the way she swerved—then she turned as if to speak to him, and stood over it. Her skirts went flying high.

She did not squeal; she simply pushed them down a split second too late. Once they were outside she said, “Well, sir?”

“Same color. But curly, I think.”

“Quite. As curly as my other hair is straight. As you already knew.”

“And you did it on purpose.”

“Certainly. Woodrow is asleep and you had his head turned away. Perhaps some stranger got an eyeful, but I think not. If someone did, what can he do? Write a letter to my husband? Pooh. There was no one in there who knows us; I kept my eyes open. And grabbed the chance.”

“Maureen, you continue to amaze and delight me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And you have beautiful limbs.”

“‘Legs,’ Theodore. Brian says so, too, but I’m no expert on women’s legs. But when he tells me so, he always says ‘legs.’ ‘Limbs’ is for public speech. So he says.”

“The more I know about the Captain, the more I like him. You have gorgeous legs. And green garters.”

“Of course they’re green. When I was a little girl, I wore green hair ribbons. I’m too old for hair ribbons, but if there is the teeniest possibility that my curls will be seen, I wear green garters. I have many pairs; Brian gives them to me. Some with naughty mottoes on them.”

“Are there mottoes on these?”

“‘Little pitchers,’ Theodore. Let’s get Woodrow settled down in the back seat.”

It seemed to Lazarus that “little pitchers” could not be listening; the child was limp as a rag doll. Nor did he wake when he was bedded down; he curled into fetal position, and his mother put the robe over him.

Lazarus handed her into the car, cranked it and joined her. “Straight home?”

She said thoughtfully, “There is plenty of gasoline; Brian Junior filled the tank this afternoon. I don’t think Woodrow will wake.”

“I know there’s enough gasoline; I checked when I went out to meet Mr. Johnson’s captain. Shall I find that walnut tree?”

“Oh, dear! Please don’t tempt me. Woodrow
might
wake up and could climb over the back and get out, as easily as he climbed in and hid. He’s not old enough to understand what we would be doing; nevertheless, I think his misunderstanding of it could upset him just as much. No, Theodore. What I meant is this: It’s not late, it’s just late for a little boy. While he sleeps we can ride around and talk for, oh, an hour. If you wish.”

“We’ll do that.” He got rolling and added, “Maureen, although I want to take you back to that walnut tree, I. think it’s best that we don’t. Best for you, I mean.”

“But, darling! Why? Don’t you think I
want
you?”

“I do think you want me. And God knows I want
you
. But despite your brave talk, I don’t think you’ve ever done that. You would want to confess to your husband…and if you did, it would make you both unhappy—and I don’t want to make Captain Smith unhappy either; he’s a good sort. Or maybe you could keep it to yourself—but it would prey on your mind. Because, while you love me—a little—you love him a great deal more and I am sure of that. So it’s best. Isn’t that so?”

Mrs. Smith was silent a long moment. Then she said, “Theodore, take me straight to that walnut tree.”

“No.”

“Why not, dear? I must show you that I
do
love you and that I am
not
afraid to let you have me.”

“Maureen, you would do it; you have the courage to do anything. But you would be tense and worried, afraid that Woodie would wake up. And you do love Brian. All the sweetly intimate things you’ve told me kept saying that.”

“But don’t you think my heart is big enough for
both
of you?”

“I’m certain it is. You love ten people that I know of; I’m sure you can squeeze in one more. But
I
love
you
and do not want you to do anything that would make a wall between you and your husband. Or hurt you both through your trying to tear down that wall by confessing. Beloved, I want your
love
even more than I want your dear, sweet body.”

Again she was silent before speaking: “Theodore, I must tell you things about my husband and me. Private things.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I should and I must—and I
shall.
But—Please, will you touch me while I talk? Don’t say anything, just touch me closely and intimately and nakedly…while I strip myself naked with words. Please?”

Lazarus put his free hand on her thigh. She pulled up her skirts, opened her thighs, pushed his hand more firmly to her. Then she covered his hand with her skirt, and spoke in an even, steady voice: