Robert Heinlein - To Sail Beyond The Sunset

Random Numbers may have been the silliest cat I've ever lived with - although all cats are sui generis, and Pixel has his supporters for the title of funniest cat, unlimited, all times, all universes. But I'm sure Betty Lou would vote for Random Numbers. Theoretically title to Random lay in Brian, since the cat was his bride's wedding present to him, somewhat delayed. But it is silly to talk of title to a cat, and Randie felt that Betty Lou was his personal slave, available at all hours to scratch his skull, cuddle him, and open doors for him, a conviction she supported by her slavish obedience to his tiniest whim.

Betty Lou was Brian's favourite sweetheart for, oh, pretty steadily for three years, then as circumstances brought them together for years and years. Betty Lou was Nelson's wife, Nelson being my cousin who played fast and loose with a lemon meringue pie. My past had come back to haunt me.

Nelson showed up in December of 1906, shortly after Brian had decided to strike out on his own. Brian had met Nelson once, at our wedding, and neither of us had seen him since that day.

He had been fifteen then, no taller than I; now he was a tall, handsome young man of twenty-three, who had earned a master's degree in agronomy at Kansas State University, Manhattan... and was as charming as ever, or more so. I felt that old tingle deep inside me and those cold lightnings at the base of my spine. I said to myself, Maureen, as a dog returneth to its vomit, you are in trouble. The only thing protecting you is that you are seven months gone, big as a house, and as seductive as a Poland China sow. Tell Briney in bed tonight and get him to keep a close eye on you.

Big help! Nelson showed up in the afternoon. Brian invited him to stay for dinner. When he learned that Nelson had not checked into a hotel, he invited Nelson to stay overnight. That was to be expected; at that year and in that part of the country, people never stayed in hotels when homes of kinfolk were at hand. We had had overnighters several times even in our first crackerbox; if you didn't have a spare bed, you made up a pallet on the floor.

I didn't say anything to Brian that night. While I was sure that I had told Briney the lemon-pie story, I wasn't sure that I had mentioned Nelson by name. If I had not-or if Brian had not made the connection - then let sleeping dogs bury their own bones. It was swell to have an understanding and tolerant husband but, Maureen, don't be a greedy slut! Don't stir it up again.

Nelson was still there the next day. Brian was his own boss now, but not overwhelmed by clients; he had no need to leave the house that day other than to check our post office box at the Southside substation. Nelson had arrived in an automobile, a smart four-passenger Reo runabout. Nelson offered to drive Brian to the post office.

He offered to take me, too. I was glad that I had the excuse of a little girl - Nancy was at school; Carol at home - and a baby boy not to accept. I had never ridden in an automobile and, to tell the truth, I was scared. Surely, I expected to ride in one someday; I could see a time coming when they would be commonplace. But I was always more timid when I was pregnant, especially toward the end - my worst nightmare concerned miscarriage.

Brian said, ‘Can't you get the Jenkins girl to come over for an hour?'

I said, ‘Thank you, another time, Nelson. Brian, paying for a baby watcher is an unnecessary expense.'

‘Penny pincher.'

‘I surely am. As your office manager I intend to pinch every penny so hard that the Indian will scream in pain. Go along, gentlemen; I'll get the breakfast dishes done while you're out.'

They were gone three hours. I could have walked to the post office and back in less time. But, following a corollary in my expanded Ten Commandments, I said nothing and did not mention my frets about accidents. I smiled and said happily, ‘Welcome home, gentlemen! Lunch will be ready in twenty minutes.'

Briney said, ‘Mo, meet our new partner! Nel is going to justify our letterhead. He's going to teach me farms and ranches and which end of a cow the milk comes out of... and I'm going to teach him how to tell fool's gold from fools.'

‘Oh, wonderful!' (One fifth of zero is zero; one sixth of zero is still zero - but it's what Brian wants.) I gave Nelson a quick peck. ‘Welcome to the firm!'

‘Thank you, Maureen. It should be a good team,' Nelson said solemnly. ‘Brian tells me he is too lazy to swing a pick, and you know I'm too lazy to pitch manure... so we'll both be gentlemen and tell other people how to do it.'

‘Logical,' I agreed.

‘Besides, I don't own a farm and I haven't been able to find a job as a county agent - or even as the boy who opens the mail for a county agent. I'm looking for a job to let me support a wife. Brian's offer is heaven sent.'

‘Brian is paying you enough to support a wife?' (Oh, Briney!)

‘That's just it,' Brian answered. ‘I'm not paying him anything. That's why we can afford to hire him.'

‘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.