Time Enough for Love (83 page)

He switched off the lights, stopped the engine, set the hand brake. Maureen came right into his arms; her mouth sought his, opened wide to him. For long moments they needed no words; her mouth, her hands were as eager as his and even bolder, urging him on.

Presently she chuckled happily against his lips and whispered, “Surprised? But I can’t say a proper good-bye to my warrior with bloomers on…so I took them off when I went upstairs, and my corset, too. Don’t hold back, dear one; you can’t harm me—I’m expecting.”

“What did you say?”

“Theodore, must I always be the one with bold words and bold actions? I am pregnant, seven weeks now. Certain.”

“Oh.” He added thoughtfully, “This seat is narrow.”

“I hear that the young people sometimes take the back seat out and put it on the ground. Or do chiggers worry you? Audacity, darling, a warrior must be audacious—so says my father, and my husband agrees. There is a lap rug back there, too.”

(Maureen, my love, there is no doubt where I got my own audacity—or my ruttiness. From
you
, darling.) “If you’ll let go of me, I’ll get them out. I’m not afraid of chiggers—nor of the loveliest woman I’ve ever held in my arms. I just have trouble believing it.”

“I’ll help!”

She was out of the car without waiting; he slid across the seat and followed her. She opened the tonneau door—and stopped. Then she said loudly and happily, “Woodrow, you’re a scamp! Sergeant Theodore! See who is sleeping in the back seat!” As she spoke, she fumbled behind her, trying to reach buttons of his that she had unbuttoned. Lazarus quickly took over the task.

“Sergeant Ted promised to take me to Electric Park!”

“That’s where we’re going, darling; we’re almost there. Now tell Mama—Shall we take you home and put you to bed? Or are you big enough to stay awake and go to Electric Park?”

“Yes, Sport,” Lazarus agreed. “Home? Or Electric Park?” (Maureen, did Gramp teach you to lie? Or is it genius? I not only love you, I admire you. Pershing should have you on his staff.) He hastily refastened buttons at the back of her dress.

“Huh? Electric Park!”

“Then settle back down and we’ll have you there in no time.”

“I want to ride in front!”

“Sport, you can ride in back to Electric Park. Or ride in back till we get you home and into bed. I won’t drive with three in the front seat.”

“Brian does!”

“Let’s go home, Mrs. Smith. Woodie doesn’t know who’s driving this car—he must be
quite
sleepy.”

“I am not either! I had a nap. All right, I’ll ride in back—to Electric Park.”

“Mrs. Smith?”

“We’ll go to Electric Park, Sergeant Theodore. If Woodrow will lie down and try to get another nap.”

Woodie promptly lay down; they closed him in and Lazarus got them out of there. Once there was enough engine noise to blanket her words, she said, “I must telephone. Back where we turned off, you’ll find a drugstore farther along—that’s on our way to Electric Park.”

“Right away. How much do you think he heard?”

“I think he was asleep until I opened the door. But nothing of importance if he was not and would understand less. Don’t worry, Theodore—audacity, always audacity.”

“Maureen, you should be a soldier. A general.”

“I would rather be loved by soldiers…and I am, and it makes me wonderfully happy. Now you can drive with one hand again.”

“That’s just glass, he can see us.”

“Theodore, you can touch me without putting an arm around me. I shall sit up straight and pretend to ignore whatever you find to do. But I am a
very
frustrated woman—and I want to be
touched
. By you.” She chuckled. “Aren’t we a pair of ninnies?”

“I suppose so. But I’m not laughing.” Lazarus squeezed her thigh. “I’m too frustrated.”

“Oh, but you
must
laugh, Theodore.” She pulled up her skirt, moved his hand onto bare thigh above round garters. “When you have as many children as I have, you
must
laugh. Or go crazy.” She pushed her skirt down over his hand.

He caressed her warm, smooth skin; she eased her thighs and invited more. “I guess it
is
funny,” he admitted. “Two full-grown adults outflanked by a six-year-old.”

“Only five, Theodore. Not six until November.” She squeezed his hand between plump thighs, then relaxed. “How well I remember. Biggest baby I’ve had, eight pounds…and more trouble than all the rest put together, and always a scamp and always my favorite and I try never to let it show—and you must not tell on me—that Woodrow is my favorite, I mean; I’m not afraid of your telling anything else. I know my reputation is safe with you.”

“It is.”

“I knew it or would never have plotted to take you out there. But ‘reputation’ is all it is; you now know what a hussy I am under my mask. But I cultivate a good reputation most carefully…for my children. For my husband.”

“You said ‘plotted.’”

“Weren’t you sure of it? I knew at once, when I learned how short your time is, that I had exactly one chance to get you alone and make you realize that I want you to come back
with
your shield, not on it. There is only one way for a woman to tell a warrior that. So I enlisted Father’s help to get you away from my swarm of children.” She chuckled again. “But the worst scamp I have ruined my carefully plotted plans. For he
has
, dear one—I don’t dare risk it at home. I’ll always regret that we didn’t succeed…and I hope you will, too.”

“Oh, I will, I do! You put Mr. Johnson up to suggesting this ride? Won’t
he
suspect?”

“I’m sure he does. And disapproves. Of
me
, Theodore—not of you. But my reputation is as safe in his hands as in yours. Want to hear a sidesplitting joke? One that will make us laugh so hard that we’ll forget how frustrated we are.”

“I’ll laugh if you do.”

“Did you wonder how I knew the perfect place? Because I have been there before, Theodore, for the same purpose. But that’s not the joke; this is: That rascal in the back seat was conceived there—on the very spot I was going to have you place me.”

Lazarus thought a split second, then guffawed. “You’re sure?”

“Utterly certain, sir. Ten feet from where you stopped. By that biggest black-walnut tree. I planned to have you place me on the same spot. I’m sentimental, Theodore; I
wanted
you to have me right where I conceived my favorite child. And the little imp stopped me! After I had become
quite
excited thinking about doing it with you on the very spot.”

Lazarus thought a long moment—decided that he did want to know. “Who was he, Maureen?”

“What?
Oh!
I suppose I invited that so I shan’t resent it. Theodore, I’m scarlet but not that scarlet. My husband, dear—
all
my children are his, no possibility of error. You have seen Brian only as an officer—but in private my husband is quite playful. So much so that I
never
wear bloomers when I go joyriding with him.

“It was February eighteenth, a Sunday, one I’ll never forget. I kept a hired girl then; Nancy was too young to leave with the younger ones, and Brian was on the road, traveling, and wanted me to be ready for anything when he
was
in town, and he had just bought his first automobile.

“That Sunday was one of those false-spring days, and Brian decided to take me joyriding. Just me. He had established a firm rule that some occasions were for all our family, some were just for Mama and Papa—a good policy in a large family, we think. So we got to that lovely picnic spot, pretty even in winter, and the ground was dry. We sat and lally-gagged, and he had his hand where yours is—and he told me to take my clothes off.”

“In
February?
”

“I didn’t protest. It was at least sixty and no wind—but I would in much colder weather if my husband asked me to. So I did—all but shoes and stockings, and I looked like one of those French postcards you men buy in cigar stores. I didn’t feel cold, I felt
grand
—I like to feel naughty, and Brian encourages me to, in private. He put down the back seat cushion—on that spot—and put a blanket on it. And had me. And that’s when I got Woodrow. It had to be then because Brian was home just one day and that was the only time. Quite unusual, we usually squeeze in more loving, we enjoy it so.” She chuckled. “When we were sure, Brian teased me about the iceman and the milkman and the postman—or was it the grocery boy? I teased right back that it could have been any of them—but the woodman got there first…in the woods. Right here, dear one; I won’t be but a moment.”

They all went in, as Woodie woke up (if he had slept; Lazarus had dark doubts—then reviewed it in his mind and decided that Maureen had been careful both in voice and phrasing). Lazarus bought the little boy an ice-cream cone to keep him quiet and sat him at the fountain, then moved to the other end and listened to her telephone call; he wanted to know what lies he must back up.

“Carol? Mama, dear. Have you counted our zoo lately?… Stop worrying; the scamp hid in the back seat, and we didn’t know it until we were almost to Electric Park…. Yes, dear, Electric Park and I’m feeling very gay. I’m going to keep Woodrow with us and not let the imp spoil our fun… Earlier than I want to; Woodrow will be sleepy too soon to suit Mama; I want to ride every ride and win at least a Kewpie doll at the booths… Yes, as long as Marie is in bed on time. Make fudge for the boys—no, not fudge; we must watch the sugar ration. Make popcorn, and tell them I’m sorry they were worried. Then you older ones may stay up and say good-night to Uncle Ted. Good-bye, dear.”

She thanked the druggist with smiling dignity, took Woodie’s hand and left unhurriedly. But the moment Lazarus had the car rolling, she took his right hand and restored it to warm intimacy of bare thighs. “Any trouble?” he asked, caressing her silken skin.

“None. They had been engaged in a bloodthirsty game of Flinch and didn’t miss him until it was time to put him to bed, only minutes before I called. Then they were worried, but not yet frantic; my little demon has hidden on us before. Theodore, Electric Park is an expense you did not expect. Will you put aside your pride and let me help?”

“I would if I needed help: I don’t have that sort of useless pride. But I have plenty of money, truly. If I run short, I’ll tell you.” (Beloved darling, I’ve been teaching optimists not to draw to inside straights, and I wish I could spend every cent of it on emeralds to set off your beautiful skin. But
your
pride makes that impossible.)

“Theodore, not only do I love you, you are a most comfortable person to be with.”

Taking Woodie and his mother to Electric Park turned, out to be more fun than Lazarus expected. He had nothing against amusement parks and was willing to be anywhere with Maureen—except that this time he expected to put up with restless frustration, in public where he must treat her as “Mrs. Smith,” after being in warmest privacy—then disappointed.

But she taught him a lesson in how to enjoy the inevitable.

He learned that Maureen could be unblushingly intimate despite people all around them and still maintain her smiling, regal, public dignity. She did it by keeping her
persona
always intact—happy young matron with boy child clutching her hand, both enjoying an evening of innocent fun as guests of “Cousin” Theodore, “Uncle” Ted—while she found endless chances to continue her gaily bawdy conversation. Maureen did it not in whispers but in ordinary tones pitched to reach Lazarus’ ears only, or sometimes to Lazarus and Woodie but so phrased that the child would neither understand nor be interested.

Once she gently chided Lazarus. “Smile, beloved man. Let your face show that you are where you want to be, doing what you want to do. There, that’s better. Now hold that expression and tell me why you were looking glum.”

He grinned at her. “Because I’m frustrated, Maureen. Because I’m not in a certain spot by a big walnut tree.”

She chuckled as if he had said something witty. “Alone?”

“Heavens, no! With
you
.”

“Not so vehemently, Theodore. You are not courting me; you are my cousin who is wasting part of your precious leave by treating me and my child to an evening of fun…when you had hoped that I would find you a young lady who would turn out to be not at all ladylike when you took her to a dark place near a big walnut tree. You’re a good sport about it—but not so enthusiastic as to cause Mrs. Grundy to raise her eyebrow…and there comes Mrs. Grundy now. Mrs. Simpson! And Mr. Simpson. How nice to run across you! Lauretta, may I present my dear cousin Staff Sergeant Bronson? And Mr. Simpson, Theodore.” Maureen added, “Or perhaps you have met? At church? Before war was declared?”

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!”