by Robyn Carr
Viv was silent for a long moment. Her brows drew together and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And the problem is?” she finally asked.
“I don’t want to go out to dinner with him.”
“Ah,” she said, sitting back on the couch. “He’s not your type?”
“Vivian,” Maureen said with surprise. “I don’t have a type!”
Again Viv was silent. “I don’t think I understand, Maureen. We all have pretty basic likes and dislikes. Are you put off by his looks?”
“That’s not it—he’s actually handsome. Probably a little older than me, but still handsome.”
“Bad manners?” Viv asked. “Bad breath? Slippery dentures? What puts you off?”
“Nothing, he’s nice. Attractive and charming. But I don’t go out to dinner with men.”
“Why ever not?” she asked, completely baffled.
“I’m a single woman. A widow of a certain age. An older woman!”
“Maureen, you must draw the interest of men regularly. You’re a very attractive woman!”
“No, never,” she said. “Not at all. But then, I’m never in places where something like that might happen. I pretty much keep to church things or pastimes with women who live in the condos. Golf, tennis, bridge, the occasional potluck. If I do run into men, they’re with their wives.”
“But don’t you have friends your age who date? Friends who are divorced or widowed who have men friends or boyfriends?”
Maureen made a sound of annoyance. “Yes, and some of them act downright ridiculous! I’ve seen some of these women I play golf and tennis with, chasing men as if they’re…they’re…”
“Horny?” Viv asked with a smile.
Maureen was shocked. “Really, that’s an awful word!”
“Oh, brother,” Viv said with a laugh. “Be right back.”
Maureen was left to wonder what Vivian was doing in the kitchen until she returned and handed Maureen a glass of wine. “I’ve already had a glass of wine. Earlier. Before dinner.”
“You have some special medical condition I should know about?” Vivian asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No, it’s just that I—”
“Two glasses of wine in one day won’t kill you. In fact, if you decide on a third, I won’t tell a soul. You and I need to have a talk.”
“A talk?” Maureen asked.
Vivian went back to the couch with her own glass and nodded. “Since your mother is no longer available, God rest her soul. You know, when you told me your sons considered you a prude, that you considered yourself a prude, I didn’t take you that seriously. I should have. Maureen,” she said gravely. “It’s one thing to be strait-laced, but another entirely to stop living!”
“You can’t say that of me, that I’ve stopped living! I’m very active! True, I’m a little…Well, my son Aiden calls me ‘starched.’ But I like to think of it as moral fiber.”
“Uh-huh. Maybe we should put it all out on the table here, girlfriend. Let’s talk about the difference between moral fiber and uptight fears. Because—”
Maureen got a little red in the face. “Is it an uptight fear to wish your son would marry the woman before he has a child with her?”
“Oh, I wish that, too. Or rather, I wish my daughter had told Sean about Rosie before bolting like she did. I do understand—she was terrified and her heart was breaking. Still…But that’s beside the point. What we wish other people would do has nothing to do with us. That’s not moral fiber, that’s being judgmental and unforgiving.”
“I’ve never been judgmental or unforgiving a day in my life,” Maureen protested.
“Know what? I absolutely believe you. You couldn’t embrace my daughter and granddaughter if you were. So, it must be that what you call moral fiber for yourself is closer to heavy starch or moral constipation! Otherwise you’d have dinner with that nice, handsome, charming man and see if you could become friends. And leave it open to the possibility you could become better friends. And even better friends.”
Maureen shook her head dismally. “You and I come from such completely different backgrounds, Viv. I was planning to be a nun!”
Viv’s eyes widened in shock, but very briefly. “Well, you’d have been some kick-ass nun, that’s for sure. I’ve seen you with your boys—they don’t even sass. But something obviously changed your mind about the convent…”
“Patrick Riordan, Sr., my husband. He hounded me until I gave in and dated him, then married him. And he’s been the only man in my life. The only one. I can’t imagine another man…”
“You must have loved him very much.”
“Well, of course I did, but that’s got nothing to do with it. I’m just far too mature to be thinking about a relationship with a man. Those days are gone. It was hard enough for me when I was young and my body was—” She stopped, unable to finish.
“What? Maureen, you’re beautiful! Your figure is amazing! You play sports and your mind is quick and you seem so confident.”
Maureen snorted. “Of course I’m confident. With my clothes on!” She took a drink of her wine. “Patrick was and will be the only husband of my lifetime.”
Vivian laughed softly, respectfully. “Maureen, I wouldn’t even suggest you should marry again. My interfering does have some limits.” She scooted forward on the sofa, closer to her friend. “I guess your dating girlfriends aren’t keeping you in the loop, giving you the inside skinny—”
“They know I don’t want to hear about their love lives,” she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “I’m from the old school, Vivian. The one where we don’t talk about personal things.”
“We’re going to do that now, Maureen,” she said. “I want to tell you some things about grown-up love. It’s easier, Maureen. And better. There’s more time, more tenderness, more patience. Our bodies aren’t what they were and things don’t always perform on schedule like they did when we were mere kids in our twenties. Sometimes a little help is called for—some-thing to help with the erection, or maybe with the lubrication—but it’s all part of intimacy that can be wonderfully fulfilling. Maureen, no one’s body is what it was forty years ago—but I’m here to tell you, it’s probably in perfect working order.”
Maureen seemed to think about this for a moment, and it did bring a flush to her cheeks. “You must have a very nice gentleman friend,” was all she said.
“Carl is a lovely man and I’ll save you the trouble of asking, because you won’t be able to work up the courage—we’re intimate. He’s actually a bit younger than I am—I’m fifty-five and he’s fifty. Fifty-year-old men without medical problems are usually still quite virile. For we ladies, the symptoms of menopause hound our sex lives—we get so dry. But that’s completely normal and easily remedied. Carl and I don’t manage a lot of alone time with our work and family obligations, but the nice thing about being this age…there’s no pressure. Simple unhurried affection is so rewarding. And I wonder, do you know what the hottest erogenous area of a man’s body is?”
Maureen fanned her face with her hand. “I imagine it’s his, you know, penis…”
“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. “Just like with women—it’s the mind. When people like each other, Maureen, the rest follows as naturally for a woman in her fifties and sixties as for a woman in her twenties.”
“You’re lucky with Carl.”
“I can’t wait for you to meet him,” Vivian said. “But, Maureen, I wasn’t in the market for a man—I had my hands full with Franci and Rosie. Besides, I was working for him during his wife’s final days, God bless her. I was supporting him through his grief along with the rest of the office. It surprised me completely when he asked me out on a date a year or so after his wife died.”
“But you knew him—you must have been comfortable with him.”
“When a good man comes along, you owe it to yourself to at least have a look.”
But Maureen just shook her head. “I have to admit, only to you, this is the only
area of life in which I feel completely vulnerable. Thankfully it hardly ever happens. But I wouldn’t know where to begin…”
“Then let me tell you,” Vivian said. “When you go out to dinner, if he has good manners, is pleasant to both you and the waitstaff, is enjoyable company, you’ve begun. That’s all it is. Friendship, companionship, affection—one day at a time. Women our age with our life experience don’t have time for nonsense—we need substance and sincerity. The minute the relationship isn’t one hundred percent positive, we can always find a good book.” She smiled and glanced at Maureen’s needlework on the accent table beside the chair. “Or sewing.”
Maureen sipped her wine and saw that it was nearly gone. “I think maybe you know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m a physician’s assistant. I see patients our age in all manner of menopausal dilemma. Some have come into a sexual rebirth and are wearing their husbands out, others miss their former libido and want help to find it again. Still others wish their husbands would just leave them alone. Because I’m a female PA, they talk to me more often than the male PAs or doctors, and I’ve made a lot of referrals to female gynecologists who can relate to these patients. I’m not speaking from just my own dating experience, which has been relatively slim over the years.” Vivian glanced at Maureen’s glass. “Let me give you just a half glass more since we’re in for the night.”
“Good idea,” Maureen said, extending the glass. “Because I have a few questions. And some of my good friends from way back call me Mo.”
“Really? You don’t look like a Mo at all. I can’t wait to hear the questions.”
“Why don’t we start with, how can a man of any age be attracted to a woman whose naked breasts hang down to her lap? Good God, that’s a reasonable question!”
“He’s probably wondering how a woman of any age can overlook that flat butt or potbelly. But do you know what men are most self-conscious about? Their hair! They get all freaked out by thinning hair!”
By the time Sean and Franci dropped by to pick up their sleeping daughter, Vivian and Maureen were sitting on the floor in front of the fire with steaming cups of hot chocolate, whipped cream piled high on top, laughing like a couple of high-school girls, looking guilty as hell.
Thirteen
Sean had been spending every night at Franci’s house and Franci was comfortable with it, having been convinced Rosie wasn’t going to be traumatized by the two of them sleeping in the same bed. In fact, Rosie seemed to like sleeping between the two of them.
While Franci and Rosie were at their respective schools, Sean usually spent some time helping Luke out at the cabins, or he ran errands, or he did chores around Franci’s little house. It was his mission to make sure her house was in complete repair before he went back to Beale right after Thanksgiving. If he ended up going remote, Luke would look after her.
“I managed fine as a single woman,” Franci told him. “I know how to call a repairman if I need one.”
“It’s just as easy to call my brother,” Sean said. “Not only is Luke cheaper, he’d be offended if you didn’t.”
On this particular Sunday night Franci had work to do; she had a couple of demanding classes on Monday because it was nearing end of term. So Sean took over bath and bedtime duties with Rosie while Franci sat on her bed with her laptop balanced on her knees, perfecting her lesson plan.
Once Sean had Rosie in the tub, they sang what Rosie called the soap song: “If I were a little bar of soap, I’d go slippy slippy slidey over everybody’s hidey…” It had many verses and Sean now knew them all. Then it was off to bed to read Rosie’s favorite book: Everyone Poops. When Rosie was all settled, Sean gave Luke a call.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Sean asked.
“Are you kidding?” Luke said. “Shelby’s already asleep. She feels like shit.”
“Again?” Sean asked. “Jeez, what’s the deal?”
“You haven’t guessed? She doesn’t want to tell anyone yet, but she’s pregnant.”
“Luke!” came Shelby’s loud, strident voice out of the background.
“It’s just Sean!” Luke yelled back. “I thought you were asleep!”
Sean chuckled into the phone. “Well, kind of seems like you two don’t have to try real hard to reproduce. You might want to keep an eye on that.”
“No kidding. Don’t tell Mom yet. Shelby wants to get past a couple of months. Even though she hurls every morning and falls asleep by seven every night, she wants to be sure.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Sean said. “I’ll see you tomorrow after I drop Rosie at preschool.”
Then he puttered around the house for a while, quietly, not even turning on the TV in the living room because Franci was working. He took out the trash, leafed through the newspaper again, brushed Harry’s hair off the sofa, enjoyed domestic balance and tranquility. He checked on Rosie; she was sound asleep with her little bird mouth open. When he watched her sleep, he always thought, She’s mine! And while a few weeks ago that idea had terrified him, now it filled him with wonder. With awe. She was a miracle he just didn’t deserve.
He left Franci alone until about nine o’clock, then he dished up a bowl of vanilla ice cream and took it to her. “Can you take a break?” he asked.
“I can be all done,” she said, closing the laptop. “This for me?” she asked, reaching for the ice cream.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re working out very well. I like having a good-looking manservant around the house.”
He got a pained look on his face. “I’m not going to be around the house much longer, baby. But I’ll call every day, and anytime I’m not flying or have more than one day off in a row, I’ll be here.”
She touched his cheek. “Don’t worry about us, Sean. We’ll be okay. I think of this as temporary. Once you know what the air force has in store for you next, we’ll come up with some more permanent plans.”
“As permanent as possible, given the fact Uncle Sam owns me.”
“Don’t grouse. It’s a good life. And I’m proud of you. You have general plastered all over your personnel file, Sean. You can go all the way, and you should.”
“I want to make sure I say a few things before I have to go back to Beale. I’ve done everything I can do for now, Fran. Got the college trust set up, made a new will, have a new life-insurance policy, worked my charm on the boys at the Military Personnel Center in assignments.” He took a deep breath. “I have to say something to Rosie about not being around all the time. Think she’ll understand if I say I have to work?”
Franci smiled and nodded. “She understands that I work, that grandma works. She knows you’ve been on ‘bacation.’” Her eyes glistened. “She’s going to miss you a lot. So will I.”
“I think Jake will work with me on time off, especially since I’m short.” That was the term for someone who could be reassigned without warning. The short guy doesn’t get any long-term or real important projects; he might not get to finish them. “Franci, it’s likely I’m going to go away for a while. You know how hard it is to stay in touch. Think she’ll be able to understand something like that?”
“I can help her get through it,” she said. “You know, you being in the air force was never a problem for me, right?” she asked. “I liked the military—I loved my job. I just didn’t want to do that kind of job with a family, and family got real important to me.” She shrugged. “All of a sudden.”
He laughed and rubbed her knee. “Yeah, I got excited, forgot the rubber and family got real important to you. Listen, I was going to rehearse this and say it right, but here’s the thing. I’m ashamed of the kind of guy I was, Franci. Cards on the table—I was a selfish, egotistical asshole who expected you to stay with me forever, but I wasn’t willing to make it worth your while. I thought I was a man of the world, but I was a stupid kid. I was mad as hell I didn’t know you were pregnant, but it scares me to death to think how I might’ve reacted if I had know
n. Franci, the truth is, I probably would have asked you to end the pregnancy, and when I think about what that would have cost us, it almost brings me to my knees. My world is so huge right now—when a Wide Iwish Rose puts her arms around my neck and calls me a silly daddy, my heart almost doesn’t fit in my chest. That Rosie—she isn’t just an idea. She’s more than I could have imagined if my imagination had gone into overdrive.”
Franci was quiet for a moment. Then she put a spoonful of ice cream to his lips. “I know,” she said. “You’ve turned yourself into a wonderful silly daddy.”
He swallowed the ice cream. “I need you to forgive me for the man I was…If you can.”
“I forgave you when I saw you with our daughter. It’s all different now.”
“I know I suggested marriage before, but you were on to me. I was just trying to check off the items on my to-do list. It isn’t like that now. I want to marry you because you’re the most important thing in my life. You’re the beat of my heart, Franci—the mother of my child, my best friend and my future. I love you more than anything. I love Rosie as much. I’d lay down my life for either one of you.”
“Sean…” she said in a whisper, tears coming to her eyes.
“I’m so sorry I had my head up my ass when we were together before—if I could do that whole time over, I’d prove to you that I’m not completely brainless. I love you, baby. You and Rose.”
“I know,” she whispered. “We love you, too.”
“Will you marry me?” he asked. He grinned. “Bite the dust with me? Spend our lives as husband and wife?”
“I will, of course. You’re obviously useless on your own.”
“We can plan a wedding or do it quick or wait to decide when I get orders—it’s up to you. Anything you want. But let’s get a license right away so we’re ready, because I need the official contract. I want to be your legal partner as well as your lover and best friend. And let’s get you a ring. Will you consider taking my name, baby? And let me give it to Rosie?”