what love of a man can do to a woman.”
He kissed her fingers and then her throat. “You’re so generous, Princess. It’s one of the reasons I love you.”
They lay quietly together, content and peaceful. Then Mary whispered, “I ate hardly anything at the reception and I’m starving.”
He yawned and sat up. “Great minds think alike. I’ve just been contemplating calling out for a pizza.”
“Yum.” She sat up as well. “With sausage.”
“With sausage.” His eyes narrowed a little as he looked at her. “I warn you, though, the pizza is just an interlude. I haven’t finished with you by a long shot.”
“Oh?” She opened her blue eyes very wide and looked limpidly back at him. “You sound very sure of yourself.”
He leaned closer. “Shouldn’t I be?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, and more than a hint of confidence. He looked like a man who knew what he wanted and knew also that what he wanted he would get.
It was unnerving, the reaction that look and voice produced in her. She waited a minute before she replied, very softly, “Go call for the pizza.”
They left for the cape the following day and stayed for a week. It was a blissfully happy honeymoon followed by a equally happy summer spent in their small apartment, painting the walls and making the rounds of tag sales to find furniture. They were deeply in love and deeply happy.
It was a happiness that lasted exactly seven months. They both worked hard and they had practically no money, but they had each other. “I’m going to write my doctoral dissertation on ‘One Thousand and One Ways to Cook Hamburger Meat,’“ she would say as she dished up another plate of their staple food.
“What’s wrong with hamburger?” he would demand. “It’s nutritious, it’s tasty, and it’s cheap. The perfect food. You’re a genius to have discovered it.” And they would laugh and eat their dinner and fall into bed.
The idyll ended on January 6 when she went to the doctor and found out she was pregnant.
Chapter Three
“But I can’t be pregnant,” she had protested to the doctor, a gynecologist who was a friend of her father’s. “I’m on the pill.” On some issues, Mary was not more Catholic than the pope and this was one of them. Both she and Kit had agreed that children were something to be put off for the future.
The pill was not infallible. Dr. Murak told her gently, and she was most definitely pregnant. About three months along, actually. He told her not to worry, that he would be glad to take care of her. She was Bob’s girl, after all, and there would be no charge. He had known her family for years and did not make the mistake of mentioning an abortion.
Kit was not so perceptive. After five minutes of incredulity, anger, and general agitation, he suggested that she get an abortion. Nothing in her entire life had ever shocked her more.
“But, Christ, Mary, we can’t afford a baby,” he stormed angrily. “I don’t have a dime to my name. I work crazy hours—and so do you. What’s going to happen to your fellowship if you have a baby? You’ll have to give it up.”
“Then I’ll give it up,” she had replied grimly.
“I don’t want you to give it up!” he shouted. “I didn’t marry you to make you give things up!”
“Would you rather make me a murderer?” she shouted back.
He thrust his hand through his thick hair, causing it to fall untidily over his forehead. “It isn’t murder,” he answered in a more controlled voice. “It’s a perfectly legal operation.”
“Oh God,” she said, pressing shaking hands to her mouth and staring at him with horrified eyes. “How can you say this to me? You’re talking about our baby.” And she began to cry, harsh wracking sobs that hurt her throat and chest. After a minute he put his arms around her.
“It isn’t that it’s not important to me,” he said, a note of quiet desperation in his voice.“It’s that it’s too important. A
He kissed her fingers and then her throat. “You’re so generous, Princess. It’s one of the reasons I love you.”
They lay quietly together, content and peaceful. Then Mary whispered, “I ate hardly anything at the reception and I’m starving.”
He yawned and sat up. “Great minds think alike. I’ve just been contemplating calling out for a pizza.”
“Yum.” She sat up as well. “With sausage.”
“With sausage.” His eyes narrowed a little as he looked at her. “I warn you, though, the pizza is just an interlude. I haven’t finished with you by a long shot.”
“Oh?” She opened her blue eyes very wide and looked limpidly back at him. “You sound very sure of yourself.”
He leaned closer. “Shouldn’t I be?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, and more than a hint of confidence. He looked like a man who knew what he wanted and knew also that what he wanted he would get.
It was unnerving, the reaction that look and voice produced in her. She waited a minute before she replied, very softly, “Go call for the pizza.”
They left for the cape the following day and stayed for a week. It was a blissfully happy honeymoon followed by a equally happy summer spent in their small apartment, painting the walls and making the rounds of tag sales to find furniture. They were deeply in love and deeply happy.
It was a happiness that lasted exactly seven months. They both worked hard and they had practically no money, but they had each other. “I’m going to write my doctoral dissertation on ‘One Thousand and One Ways to Cook Hamburger Meat,’“ she would say as she dished up another plate of their staple food.
“What’s wrong with hamburger?” he would demand. “It’s nutritious, it’s tasty, and it’s cheap. The perfect food. You’re a genius to have discovered it.” And they would laugh and eat their dinner and fall into bed.
The idyll ended on January 6 when she went to the doctor and found out she was pregnant.
Chapter Three
“But I can’t be pregnant,” she had protested to the doctor, a gynecologist who was a friend of her father’s. “I’m on the pill.” On some issues, Mary was not more Catholic than the pope and this was one of them. Both she and Kit had agreed that children were something to be put off for the future.
The pill was not infallible. Dr. Murak told her gently, and she was most definitely pregnant. About three months along, actually. He told her not to worry, that he would be glad to take care of her. She was Bob’s girl, after all, and there would be no charge. He had known her family for years and did not make the mistake of mentioning an abortion.
Kit was not so perceptive. After five minutes of incredulity, anger, and general agitation, he suggested that she get an abortion. Nothing in her entire life had ever shocked her more.
“But, Christ, Mary, we can’t afford a baby,” he stormed angrily. “I don’t have a dime to my name. I work crazy hours—and so do you. What’s going to happen to your fellowship if you have a baby? You’ll have to give it up.”
“Then I’ll give it up,” she had replied grimly.
“I don’t want you to give it up!” he shouted. “I didn’t marry you to make you give things up!”
“Would you rather make me a murderer?” she shouted back.
He thrust his hand through his thick hair, causing it to fall untidily over his forehead. “It isn’t murder,” he answered in a more controlled voice. “It’s a perfectly legal operation.”
“Oh God,” she said, pressing shaking hands to her mouth and staring at him with horrified eyes. “How can you say this to me? You’re talking about our baby.” And she began to cry, harsh wracking sobs that hurt her throat and chest. After a minute he put his arms around her.
“It isn’t that it’s not important to me,” he said, a note of quiet desperation in his voice.“It’s that it’s too important. A
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