‘Oh.' I nodded in agreement. Seems a fair arrangement. Nelson, after a year, if your performance is still satisfactory, I'll recommend to Brian that we double your wages.'
‘Maureen, you always were a dead game sport.'
I did not ask him what he meant by that. I had a bottle of muscatel tucked away, bought by Briney for Thanksgiving. It was full, save for a little used for one toast. I fetched it for that purpose. ‘Gentlemen, let us toast the new partnership.'
‘Hear, hear!'
So we did and the gentlemen drank and I touched my lips to mine, then Nelson offered another toast: ‘Life is short.'
I looked at him, kept surprise out of my face, but answered, ‘But the years are long.'
He answered, just as judge Sperling had given it to us:
‘Not "While the evil days come not":
‘Oh, Nelson!' I spilled my glass. Then I threw myself on him and kissed him properly.
There was no mystery, truly. Nelson was of course eligible on one side of his family; we shared Johnson grandparents (and great-grandparents, although three of four were dead now all past a hundred). My father had written to judge Sperling (I learnt later) and said that it had come to his attention that his sister in law, Mrs James Ewing Johnson of Thebes, née Carole Yvonne Pelletier of New Orleans, had living parents; therefore his nephew Nelson Johnson might be eligible for Howard Foundation benefits, stipulating that he married an eligible.
It took them awhile, as they check health and other things, and, in Nelson's case, that his father had actually died by mischance (drowning) and not through other cause.
Nelson was in Kansas City because Thebes and its environs had no Howard-listed young females. So he was given a list for Kansas City - both Kansas Cities, Missouri and Kansas.
And that's how we met Betty Lou - Miss Elizabeth Louise Barstow Nelson did his final courting - got her pregnant, I mean - under our roof, while Maureen played shut-eye chaperone, a role I would fill repeatedly for my own girls in future years.
This protected me from my own folly - and I felt rather grumpy about it. Nelson had been my personal property before Betty Lou ever set eyes on him. But Betty Lou is a darling; I couldn't stay grumpy. Eventually I had no need to feel grumpy.
Betty Lou was from Massachusetts. She had been attending KU, God knows why - Massachusetts has some adequate schools. But it worked out that we stood in for her parents as they could not come out for her wedding; they were taking care of their parents. Theoretically Nelson and Betty Lou should have gone back to Boston to be married. But they did not want to spend the money. The Gold Panic was getting underway, and, while that would make a boom in Brian's business, as yet it just meant that money was tight.
Her wedding took place in our parlour on 14 February, a blustery cold day. Our new pastor, Dr Draper, tied the knot, I presided over the reception, with too much help from Random Numbers, who was convinced that the party was in his honour.
Then, when Dr and Mrs Draper had left, I went slowly upstairs, with Brian and Dr Rumsey helping me... the first time and almost the last time that I waited long enough for my doctor to arrive.
George Edward weighed seven pounds three ounces.
Chapter 10 - Random Numbers
Pixel went away, wherever it is that he goes, with my first attempt to call for help. Now I can only keep my fingers crossed.
I once heard my beloved friend and shared husband Dr Jubal Harshaw define happiness. ‘Happiness,' Jubal stated, ‘lies in being privileged to work hard for long hours in doing whatever you think is worth doing.
‘One man may find happiness in supporting a wife and children. Another may find it in robbing banks. Still another may labour mightily for years in pursuing pure research with no discernible result.
‘Note the individual and subjective nature of each case. No two are alike and there is no reason to expect them to be. Each man or woman must find for himself that occupation in which hard work and long hours make him happy. Contrariwise, if you are looking for shorter hours and longer vacations and early retirement, you are in the wrong job. Perhaps you need to take up bank robbing. Or geeking in a sideshow. Or even politics.'
For the decade 1907-1917 I was privileged to enjoy perfect happiness by Jubal's definition. By 1916 I had borne eight children. During those years I worked harder and for longer hours than I ever have before or since, and I was bubbling with happiness the whole time save for the fact that my husband was away oftener than I liked. Even that had its compensations, as it made our marriage a series of honeymoons. We prospered, and the fact that Briney was oftenest away when business was best resulted in our never experiencing what the Bard called so aptly: ‘- the tired marriage sheets.'
Briney always tried to telephone to let me know exactly when he would be home... and then he would tell me: B.i.b.a.w.y.l.o. and I w.w.y.t.b.w.'
Day or night I would do my best to follow his instructions exactly; I would be in bed asleep with my legs open and wait for him to wake me the best way, but I always took the precaution of bathing first and my sleep might be only that I closed my eyes and held still when I heard him unlock the front door. Then as he got into bed with me he might call me by some outlandish name, ‘Mrs Krausemeyer,' or ‘Battleship Kate,' or ‘Lady Pushbottom' - and I would pretend to wake up, and call him anything but Brian - ‘Hubert' or ‘Giovanni' or ‘Fritz' - and perhaps enquire, still with my eyes closed, whether or not he had placed five dollars on the dresser... whereupon he would scold me for trying to run up the price of tail in Missouri and I would get busier than ever, trying to prove that I was so worth five dollars.
Then, sated but still coupled, we would argue over whether or not I had put on a five-dollar performance. Which could result in tickling, biting, wrestling, spanking, laughing, and another go at it, with much bawdy joking throghout. I delighted in trying to be that duchess in the drawing-room, economist in the kitchen, and whore in the bedroom that is the classic definition of the ideal wife. Perhaps I was never perfect at it, but I was happiest working hard at all three aspects of that trinity.
Brian also enjoyed singing bawdy songs while coupling, songs with plenty of rhythm to them, a beat that could be matched to the tempo of coition and speeded up or slowed down at will, songs like:
Bang away, my Lulu!
Bang away good and strong!
Oh, what'll I do for a bang away
When my Lulu's dead and gone!
Then endless verses, each bawdier than the last:
My Lulu had a chicken,
My Lulu had a duck.
She took them into bed with her
And taught them how to -
BANG! away my Lulu!
Bang away good and strong!
Until at last Briney couldn't stretch it out any longer and had to spend.
While he was resting and recovering, he might demand of me a bedtime story, wanting to know how I had improved each shining hour with a little creative adultery.
He didn't mean what I may have done with Nelson and or Betty Lou; that was all in the family and didn't count. ‘What's new, Mo? Are you getting to be a dead arse in your old age? You, the Scandal of Thebes County? Tell me it's not true!'
Now believe me, friends, between dishes and nappies, cooking and cleaning, sewing and darning, wiping poses and soothing children's tragedies, I didn't have time to commit enough adultery to interest even a young priest. After that ridiculous and embarrassing contretemps with Reverend Zeke I can't recall any illicit bed-bouncing Maureen did between 1906 and 1918 that my husband did not initiate and condone in advance... and not much of that as Briney was if anything even busier than I.