Mrs. Simpson looked him over, counted the money in his wallet, checked his underwear, inspected his shave and haircut-assigned him a barely passing mark. "You belong to our church, Mr. Johnson?"
"'Bronson,' Lauretta. Theodore Bronson, Father's eldest sister's son."
"Either way," Mr. Simpson said heartily, "it's a pleasure to shake hands with one of 'Our Boys.' Where are you stationed, Sergeant?"
"Camp Funston, sir. Mrs. Simpson, I was a visitor to your church; my membership is in Springfield."
Maureen stopped their questions by asking Lazarus to fetch Woodie from the miniature railroad train, just returning to its ticket-booth depot. "Pull him like a cork, Theodore; three rides is enough. Lauretta, I didn't see you at Red Cross last week. May we count on you this week?"
Lazarus returned with Woodie in time for Mr. Simpson to wave and call out, "Good luck, Sergeant!" as the Simpsons moved on. The trio went next to the pony ride, got Woodie astraddle one; Mrs. Smith and Lazarus sat on a, bench, enjoyed more very private talk while very much in the public eye. "Maureen, 'you stole that base beautifully."
"No problem, dear one. I knew someone would see us, so I was ready. I'm pleased that it was the nastiest old gossip in-our church; I made sure she didn't miss us. Pillars of the church and war profiteers; I despise them. So I pulled her fangs and let's forget them. You were telling me about a certain dark spot. How was I dressed?"
"Like a French postcard!"
"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."