"Then you feel she'll turn blond during kindergarten?" David said to his wife.
"She's bound to!" said Linda, nodding her head incessantly.
The nurse gazed up at the ceiling and whistled an old standard. David knew it was Little White Lies, but he kept smiling, even after removing the mask. And now, a whole flaming montage of vital statistics swept through his mind. Brad's threat to get back at him after he found out about Joyce, promising to hit him right where he lived. Linda's recent frantic extra-curricular activities.
He gazed steadily at the little Greek-bearing mother in her bed, wondering how she could still retain all that innocence after a stomping affair with Brad Grogan, propped up in that sea of purest maternity-white. David recalled her old revulsions for Brad, and the revelation came as no surprise to him that it was primarily because she disapproved of him so strongly that this could have happened at all. But how beautifully off-the-hook this left him! Linda had been so involved with her own illicit affairs, she'd had neither the time nor the energy to become suspicious about his-which placed him in a fantastic bargaining position as her wronged and blameless husband, for now only one of them had to lose his illusions about the other. Since he was in no danger of having a baby who resembled Valerie, his reputation was still secure and intact. And, as he tenderly smiled and kissed his deflated helpmate, David meant to hold onto everything Linda still felt he deserved: the clean-white world of Suburbia, forty thousand a year, prestige and public dignity-and, what was most valuable, at last he had something on her, his perennial virgin-faced wife, a trump-card he could now use to lubricate his own flaring desires, those gnawing appetites which, until the birth of Brad's bastard, he'd feared must be kept buried forever.
By presenting him with Brad's tiny Latin temptress, Linda had re-opened some sweet doors for David. The Underground! All those snarling degeneracies Valerie Hudson had shown him could be his once more, if he was careful and selective. No longer would there be that martyred saint in his house keeping him constipated with false guilt. His germ-free idol had feet of clay just as clammy as his own, so now David felt free to ooze right back into those pits and fraternize!
He played the role of Duped Daddy with great sincerity, and soon Linda seemed quite convinced that he accepted their new baby as his own. David decided she mustn't ever suspect he knew the truth, for this might give her the incentive to re-grease her loose morals, which was a most unattractive idea for any husband. Who wanted a wife that laid around? She was now a woman who had been bitten once by the virus of Satan, and was so humbly grateful not to have been found out by her husband that now she had learned her lesson and would henceforth take the veil. So be it. David meant to keep her in that vault of chastity and repentance, while he very cleverly fulfilled his heart's dirtiest desires. By now he'd become sufficiently familiar with the diverse enticements of the flesh to realize one needn't dabble at top-speed every waking hour in order to maintain a balance of sensuality. Why not part-time debauchery with everybody else? But with spice this time… Ahh yes!.. With novelty…
After Linda returned home from the hospital, there were several weeks of disturbing phone-calls and letters from Darlene Morrison. Finally, when Linda told the girl there was no hope of ever putting her new baby up for adoption, Darlene stated some new requests, calling them "consolation prizes." If she couldn't claim full-time ownership to one of Linda's babies, why not part-time control of all of them?
"Let me go to work in your house as the children's governess, Linda!.. I swear, you'll never regret it!"
Coolly, Linda had asked for some time to think this over. And when she thought about the idea, it was the girl she considered, not the children's needs, nor Darlene's professional aptitudes. She thought of Darlene herself, the lithesome one, and thought of their soft supple hours together. Linda refused to dwell on the alternative threats involved here, or what might happen if she refused the girl's request. Hostility and tension would arise if they discussed exactly what Darlene would do if Linda closed all doors to her, and Linda was too excited by the prospect of having this mercurial being in her house every day to want to kill their mutual sparks with quarrels or recriminations.
When she discussed the matter with David, she found him as passive and trusting as ever. She knew, of course, that she didn't deserve such faithful worship from the poor dear cuckold, but, nevertheless, clung to it for dear life.
"I'm planning to discharge Flora, David," she told him one evening. "She's getting on now, you know, and now that there are four children to take care of instead of three… well, we need someone younger and more vigorous…"
"You do what you think best, darling," he said, lending her cheek a stiff upper-lip. "The servant-problem is your domain, and I trust you implicitly in that department."
"Well I…" She cleared her throat. "I already have a girl in mind. She comes with excellent references. Been working in a day-nursery in San Francisco for five years, and I… I saw her at the employment agency. She's very bright and attractive, and… she's colored, David. A light Negro girl. Do you mind?"
"Don't be silly, Linda," he chuckled. "Like a lot of other American men these days, I've learned that brown can be quite beautiful."
Suddenly she caught his eyes and held them. "Then you do want the very best for our children, don't you, David?"
He returned her gaze, calmly, blandly. "I want them to have everything we've built here, Linda, everything we are. Now and in the future."
She gave him her Madonna-grimace. "You're so good, David."
"And you, my pet, are true."
Although it was a Tuesday, the solid young-marrieds were convivial that night… a Lucky-Linda-Special. However, since it was important to David that she still see him as the same neat and limited automaton she'd housebroken at the altar, David dutifully refrained from sludging it from side-to-side or doing anything too damp. At one point when she pretended to gasp with pain, David was positive she was yawning. Well, his heart went out to the poor, repressed girl, but his passions for her would still remain military, filial and chained… Ahh dear friend of my sunset years ahead, we are interweaving poetry and we are valentines, and for us Life's Highway is a trailing pastorale. Lovers are elsewhere… and they're for me alone, trapped housewife, not you!
"Ooh, what a lovely, quiet room!" said Darlene a few days later. Linda was installing her as the children's governess, showing her the house and the bed sitting-room that was to be hers. The two women stood on the threshold together, close enough for their hands to touch, but abstaining. Darlene looked eager and vibrant, with her flowing russet hair, her coffee and cream complexion. Linda went a little breathless as she tried to visualize what it would mean to have this provocative creature in her house every day, so ready and able to do her bidding.
Seeing that the girl carried only a mammoth purse, Linda asked if she expected the rest of her luggage later.
"Oh honey, you must be kidding!" Darlene laughed, gently squeezing the hand of her new mistress. "I'm not gonna sleep in. Just five days a week, and I hightail it back to the city every evening. I've got a husband to think of, you know. Johnny's back working days now, and that sex-maniac wants me in bed with him every night of our lives. Thai's what yow husband wants from you, isn't it, sweetie?"
Darlene's expression was arch and meaningful, but barely suggested all the varied combustibilities of their situation.
Yet, Linda felt moved to protest this decision for purely domestic reasons. "But the babies will need attention during the night too, Darlene. I thought surely you knew that…"
Darlene emitted a friendly chuckle. "You mean that lovin' husband of yours wouldn't dash into the nursery and pick up his youngest whenever he hears her wailin'? After all, honey, she's his pet brunette, isn't she?"