"Yes, sir. Between ourselves I expect to leave the elephant in Woodie's custody for the duration. But I'm going to dicker with him first."
"He'll still hornswoggle you. Maureen, the idea was to give you relief from the children. Especially Woodie. What in Ned possessed you to take him along?"
"We didn't exactly take him along, Father; he was a stowaway." She gave her father an accurate account, save that she left out certain things and did not include a timetable.
Mr. Johnson shook his head and looked pleased. "That boy will go far-if they don't hang him first. Maureen, you should have spanked him and fetched him home. Then you and Ted should have gone on with your ride."
"Oh, fuss, Father, I did have my ride and a very nice one; I made Woodrow sit in the back seat and keep quiet. Then I had a gay time at the park, a bonus I would not have had if, Woodrow had not invited himself along."
"Woodie had some justice on his side," Lazarus admitted. "I did promise him an outing at Electric Park, then never kept my promise."
"Should have whacked him."
"It's too late for that, Father. And we did have fun. We ran into some people from church, too-Lauretta and Clyde Simpson."
"That old witch! She'll gossip about you, Maureen."
"I think not. We chatted while Woodie rode the miniature train. But you might remember that Sergeant Bronson is your eldest sister's son."
Ira Johnson raised his eyebrows, then chuckled. "Samantha would be surprised-if she were still with us. Ted, my eldest sister was thrown by a horse she was trying to break-at eighty-five. She lingered awhile, then turned her face to the wall and refused to eat. Very well, I'll remember. Ted, this is better than blaming my gay-dog brother and still harder to check on; Samantha lived in Illinois, wore out three husbands, and one of them could have been named Bronson for all anyone here would know. Do you mind? Gives you a family of sorts."
"I don't mind. Although I like to think of this family as my family."
"And we like to have you think of us that way, Son. Maureen, is our young lady home?"
"Just before you got home, Father. They are in the kitchen, on the excuse that she wanted to make a sandwich for Jonathan. Since I'm sure it's an excuse to stay out there and spoon, I suggest that, if you want something from the kitchen, you allow me to fetch it; I'll be noisy enough to let Nancy jump off his lap. Theodore, Nancy is engaged; we just haven't made a formal announcement. I think it's best to let them marry now, since he'll be joining the Army almost at once. What do you think?"
"I'm hardly entitled to an opinion, Mrs. Smith. I hope they will be happy."
"They will be," said Mr. Johnson. "He's a fine lad. I tried to sign him into the Seventh, but he insisted on waiting for his birthday so he could go straight into the Army. Even though he couldn't be drafted for another three years. Spirit. I like him. Ted, if you need to go to your room, you can go around this other way and avoid the kitchen."
A few minutes later the young people came out of the kitchen, made polite sounds without sitting down; then Nancy stepped out onto the porch to say good-night to her swain, came back in, and sat down.
Mr. Johnson smothered a yawn. "Time I hit the hay. You will too, Ted, if you're smart. Too noisy around here to sleep late, especially where your room is."
Nancy said quickly, "I'll keep the young ones quiet, Grandpa, so Uncle Ted can sleep."
Lazarus stood up. "Thank you, Nancy, but I didn't get much rest on the train last night; I think I'll go right to bed. Don't worry about keeping quiet in the morning; I'll wake up at reveille time anyhow. Habit."
Mrs. Smith stood up. "We'll all go to bed."
Mr. Johnson shook hands as he said good-night; Mrs. Smith gave Lazarus a symbolic peck on the cheek such as she had given him, on arrival, thanked him for a lovely evening, and urged him to turn over and go back to sleep if the reveille habit- wakened him; Nancy hung back and kissed him good-night as her elders started up the stairs.
Lazarus went to his room and on into his bath. Maureen had told him not to hesitate to draw a tub; it would not wake the children. He started one, went back and opened his grip, got out the little package, took it into the bath and threw the bolt, there being no key in the bedroom door. It was a small flat box such as garters might come in; he opened it carefully, intending to rewrap it exactly as it had been.
Ah, the garters! Faded, as she had said, and clearly not new...and-Yes!-redolent with her own evocative fragrance. Would it last long- enough for him to get it home, have the lovely, delicate aroma analyzed, amplified, and fixed? Probably-and with computer help a skilled scentologist could separate out the odors of satin 'and rubber, and amplify hers selectively. He would have to go to Secundus for such expert 'help. Worth the trip and then some!
Now let's see those "naughty" mottoes- One read: "Open All Hours-Ring Bell for Service!"-the other: "Welcbme! Come in and Stir the Fire." Sweet darling, those aren't "naughty."
A plain envelope under the garters- He laid them aside and opened it.
A plain white card: "Best I could do, Beloved. M." A photograph, amateur work but excellent quality for this here-k-now: Maureen herself, outdoors in bright sunlight against a background of thick bushes. She was standing gracefully, smiling and looking at the camera-dressed only in her "French postcard" style. Lazarus felt a burst of passion. Why, you generous, trusting darling! Not your only copy? No, Brian would have made more than one print- undoubtedly had one with him. This print would have been locked somewhere in your bedroom. Yes, your waist is slender without a corset...and those are not broken down; they are lovely-and I'm certain what caused your happy smile. Thank you, thank you!
With the photograph was a little flat package in tissue-paper. He opened it gently. A thick lock of red hair, tied with a green ribbon. The lock curled in a tight circle.
Lazarus stared at it. Maureen my beloved, this is the most precious gift of all-but I do hope you cut it so carefully that Brian won't notice it's missing.
He looked at each of her gifts again, restored them just as they had been, put the box into the bottom of his grip, locked it, turned off the tub, undressed, and got into the water.
But a lukewarm tub did not make him sleep. For a long time he lay in darkness and relived the past few hours.
He now felt that he understood Maureen. She was relaxed with what she was-"liked herself" as Lazarus thought of it- and liking yourself was the necessary first step toward 'loving other people. She had no guilt feelings because she never did anything that could make her feel guilty. She was unblinkingly honest with herself, was her own self-judge instead of looking to others, did not lie to herself-but lied to others without hesitation when needed for kindness or to get along with rules she had not made and did not respect.
Lazarus understood that; he lived the same way-and now knew where he got the trait. From Maureen...and through her, from' Gramp. And from Pop, too-reinforced. He felt very happy despite an unsatisfied ache in his loins. Or in part because of it, he corrected, he found that he cherished that ache.
When the doorknob turned, he was instantly alert, out of bed and waiting before the door opened.
She was in his arms, warm and fragrant
She pulled back to shrug off her wrap, let it fall, came back into his arms, body to body, and gave her mouth fully.
When they broke the kiss, she stayed in his ~arms, clinging. He whispered huskily, "Why did you risk it?"
She answered softly, "I found that I must. Once I knew that, I realized that it was even less risk than our walnut tree. The children never come downstairs at night when we have a guest. Father may suspect me...but that makes it certain that he won't check on me. Don't worry, darling. Take me to bed. Now!"