"So we cried happy tears, and I cleared the matter with Brian and the Weatherals, and Nancy missed her next period-this was a month ago-and the wedding may be day after tomorrow or perhaps the day after that."
(Omitted)
"Darling, I wish I could see you."
"Oh, dear! I'd rather not turn on the Mazda lamp, Theodore. These blinds are not so tight but what light would shine out, as well as light under the door if by any chance Father came downstairs."
"Maureen, I will never ask you to take any chance you don't like. I see you quite well with my fingertips-and these are not broken down."
"They flow off my ribs like melted marshmallows. Theodore, when you open that package, please be very careful that no one is around; there is more in it than a pair of garters."
"I did open it."
"Then you know what I look like."
"Was that beautiful girl you?"
"Tease. Brian had me look straight at his camera."
"But, darling, while you don't look down that far, men don't tend to look up very far. Especially me. Not when I'm looking at a photograph of a perfectly gorgeous nude model."
"'Nude model,' my best Sunday hat!"
"Maureen, it is the loveliest picture I' have ever owned and I will cherish it always."
"That's better and I don't believe it and I love hearing it. Did you open the paper folded in with it?"
"The baby curl? Did you clip it off Marie?"
"Theodore, I do not mind being teased; it just makes you more like Brian. But if he teases too much, I bite him. Anywhere. Here, for example."
"Hey, not so hard!"
"Then tell me where that curl came from."
"It came from your pretty, my pretty one, and I'll wear it over my heart forever. But one reason I wanted to look at you is that you clipped so generous a lock that I worried that Brian might notice something missing-and ask why."
"I can tell him I gave it to the iceman."
"He won't believe that and will be sure that you have a new adventure to confess."
"Then he won't press me to tell him now; he'll change the subject. Although I wish I could tell him now; I keep thinking about both of you, outdoors in daylight; that was the fantasy that kept me awake. Sweetheart, there is a 'candle on the dresser-electricity not being as dependable as the gas lights we used to have. It wouldn't throw enough light to worry me. You may look at me by candlelight all you wish and as you wish."
"Yes, darling! Matches where?"
"Let me go and I'll get up and light it; I can find both in the dark. Will I be allowed to look at you, too?"
"Sure. For contrast. 'Beauty and the Beast.'"
She giggled and kissed his ear. "Goat, maybe. Or a stallion. Theodore, I needed to be baby-stretched to accept you."
"I thought you said I felt like Brian?"
"But he is a stallion, too. Let me go."
"Pay toll."
"Oh, goodness, darling, don't do that now! Or I'll be so shaky I won't be able to strike a match."
Standing and by the light on one candle, they studied each other. Lazarus felt his breath grow short at the dazzling glory of her. For most of two years he had been deprived of the
sweet joy of seeing a woman, and had not realized how starved he had been for that great privilege. Darling, can you guess how much this means to me? Mama Maureen, has no one ever told 'you how much more sweetly beautiful a full-blown woman is than a maiden? Certainly your lovely breasts have held milk; that's what they're for. Why would I want them to look like marble?-I don't!
She studied him just as closely, her face solemn, her nipples crinkled tightly. Theodore-Lazarus my strange loves will you guess that I suggested candlelight so that I could see you? A woman is not supposed to get hungry for such things-but I miss the sight, the naked sight, of my husband...and how in the Name of Satan and all His Fallen Thrones I can last even till November without even seeing a man I do not know. Alma Bixby told me that she had never seen her husband without clothes. How can a woman live like that? Five children by a man she's never seen all over- Shocked her when I said that of course I had seen my husband naked!
Theodore-Lazarus, you don't look like my Briney Boy; your coloration is more like mine. But, oh, how you feel like him, smell like him, talk like him, love like him! Your pretty thing is coming up high again. Briney beloved, I'm going to have him once more, as hard as possible!-and I'll tell you about it tomorrow night if you'll just ask me for a new bedtime story...or if I must, I'll save it for you till you get back. You're as strange a man as he is...and just the wise and tolerant husband your bawdy wife needs. Then, cross my heart, dearest, I'll try my best to keep from it until you come back from Over There-but if I can't, even with Father and eight children to guard me, I promise you solemnly that I will never bed with anyone but a warrior, a man to be proud of in every way. Such as this strange man.
Lazarus, my love, are you really my descendant? I do believe that you know when the war will be over and that my Briney will come safely back to sue. Why, I am not sure-but since you told me, I have been free from worry for the first time in many a lonely moon. I hope the rest is true, too; I want to believe in Tamara, and that she is descended from me. But I don't want you to go away in only eight years!
That innocent little picture- If I had not feared shocking you, I would have given you some real "French postcards" Briney has taken of me. Will you be upset if I take a closer look? I'll chance it.
Mrs. Smith suddenly dropped to one knee, looked closely, then touched him. She looked up. "Now?"
"Yes!" He picked her up, placed her on the bed. Almost solemnly she helped him, then caught her breath as they joined. "Hard, Theodore! This time don't be gentle!"
"Yes, my beautiful one!"
When their happy violence was over, she lay quiet in his arms, not talking, communing through touch and the light of one candle.
At last she said, "I must go, Theodore. No, don't get up, just let me slide out." She got up, picked up her wrap, blew out the candle, came back, leaned down and kissed him. "Thank you, Theodore-for everything. But-come back to me, come back to me!"
"I will, I will!"
Quickly and silently she was gone.
CODA-I
Somewhere in France
Dear All my Family,
I am writing this in my pocket diary where it will stay until this war is over-not that it matters; you'll get it just as soon. But I can't send a sealed letter now, much less one sealed into five envelopes. Something called "censorship"-which means that every letter is opened and read and anything that might interest the Boche is cut out. Such as dates and places and designations of military units and probably what I had for breakfast. (Beans and boiled pork and fried potatoes, with coffee that would dissolve a spoon.)
You see, I had this lovely ocean voyage as a guest of Uncle Sam and am now in the land of fine wines and beautiful women. (The wine has been yin extremely ordinaire, and they seem to be hiding the beautiful women. The best-looking one I've seen had a slight mustache and very hairy legs, which I could have ignored had I not made the mistake of standing downwind. Darlings, I am not sure the French take baths, at least in wartime. But I'm in no position to criticize, a bath is a luxury. Today, given a choice between a beautiful woman and a hot bath, I'd pick the bath-otherwise she wouldn't touch me.)
Don't worry that I am now in a "war zone." That you've received this is proof that the war is over and I am okay. But it's easier to write a letter than it is to put trivia into a diary every day. "War zone" is an exaggeration; this is "fixed warfare"-meaning both sides are in the same fix: pinned down-and I am too far behind the lines to get hurt.