Robert Heinlein - Time Enough For Love

"Me, too-very. But we were talking about how old you look. Eighteen, that is."

"Pooh. You noticed how broken down and baby-chewed my breasts are."

"I noticed nothing of the sort."

"Then you have no sense of touch, sir...for you handled them quite thoroughly."

"Excellent sense of touch. Lovely breasts."

"Theodore, I try to take care of them. But they've been filled with milk much of the past eighteen years. That one"- she nodded toward the pony ring-"I didn't have enough milk for and had to put him on Eagle Brand, and he resented it. When I had Richard two years later, Woodrow tried to crowd out the new baby and take my freshened breasts. I had to be firm-when what I wanted was to have one at each breast. But one must be fair to children, not spoil one at the expense of another." She smiled indulgently. "I have no sense about Woodrow, so I must follow my rules to the letter. Come back in a year, Theodore, and they won't seem so broken down. They swell out and make me look like a cow."

"Will you make it worth my while?"

"By a walnut tree? Probably no chance, dear one. I'm afraid my scamp killed our one chance."

"Oh, it wouldn't take that much to make it worthwhile. I was thinking of a taste-direct from producer to consumer." (Mama Maureen, as Galahad says and I've never argued, I'm the most tit-happy man in the Galaxy...and I'm staring at the spot where I acquired the habit. I wish I could tell you so. Darling.)

She looked startled, snorted, and looked delighted. "That might be almost as hard to arrange as a walnut tree. But- Yes if it can be done without shocking my children. You are a scamp, too-just like Woodrow. I know I would enjoy it. Because-this is secret, dear-Brian has tasted each new freshening. Claims solemnly that he's checking quality and butterfat content."

(Pop, you're a man of good taste!) "Does he ever find that one has a taste different from the other?"

She chuckled happily. "Dear one, you have so many playful quirks just like my husband that- you make me feel bigamous. He claims so, but it's just more of his joking. I can't tell any difference-and I've tasted."

"Madam, I look forward to giving you an expert's opinion. I think our cowboy has worn out his pony. What next? Want to try the Ben Hur Racer?"

She shook her head. "I enjoy roller coasters but won't go on one now. I've never miscarried, Theodore, and never will if being careful will keep me from it. Take Woodrow if you like."

"No. You would have to wait-and these woods are filled with wolves in khaki anxious to pick up eighteen-year-old grandmothers. The Fun House?"

'"All right." Then her mouth twitched. "No, I forgot something. Those blasts of air up from the floor-intended to make girls squeal and clutch their skirts. Which I don't mind but-no bloomers, dear. Unless you want everyone to see whether or not I'm truly a redhead."

"Are you?"

She smiled, unoffended. "Tease. Don't you know?"

"It was very dark near that walnut tree."

"Redhead at both ends, Theodore. As I would happily show you were it not for the-frustrating-circumstances. Brian asked me that while we were courting. Teasing, he didn't need to ask; I was covered with freckles then, just like Marie. I let him find out for himself on a grassy spot by the Marais des Cygnes River while a gentle old mare named 'Daisy' cropped grass and paid no attention to my happy squeals. I suppose the automobile is here to stay-but the horse-and-buggy had many advantages. Didn't you find it so? When you started stepping out with young ladies?"

Lazarus agreed with a straight face, unable to admit that his memories did not include 1899 or whatever year she was thinking of. Maureen went on, "I used to fix a picnic lunch and take a blanket to eat on. That was one way a girl of courting age could be unchaperoned as long as I was home before dark. A horse can take a buggy into spots even more private than our walnut tree. Truthfully, despite this modem talk about 'wild women' and morals breaking down, I had more freedom as a girl than my daughters do. Although I try not to make my chaperonage oppressive."

"They don't seem oppressed. I'm sure they're happy."

"Theodore, I would much rather have my children be happy than what our pastor says is 'moral.' I simply want to be sure they aren't hurt. I am not 'moral' by the accepted rules-as you know quite well. Though not as well as I had hoped you would know it, and I'm taking out my frustration in talking about it. Perhaps you would rather I did not?"

"Maureen, since we can't do it, the next best thing is talking about it."

"Me, too, Theodore. I wish I were covered with chigger bites and my soul filled with the peace I know you could give me. Since I can't give myself to you the way I had hoped, I want you to know me as deeply as words can bring us together as deeply as I wish you were in my body this very instant. Does my frankness shock you?"

"No. But it might get you raped right on this bench!"

"Please, not so much enthusiasm, dear one; people can see us-we're talking about the weather. Tell me, is your thing hard?"

"Does it show?"

"No, but if it is, think about blizzards and icebergs-Brian says that helps-because our pony rider needs to be lifted down."

They played both games for prizes; then Mrs. Smith decided that she could risk the Fun House if she clutched her skirts as if crossing a muddy street. Woodie enjoyed it, especially the Hall of Mirrors and the Crystal Maze. Maureen avoided air blasts by watching girls ahead of them, then either walked on one side or held her skirts firmly.

Woodie tired himself out, so Lazarus picked him up and he seemed to fall asleep-as his head touched Lazarus' shoulder. They started to leave, which took them over the farewell air blast. Mrs. Smith was ahead and Lazarus assumed that she had it spotted from the way she swerved-then she turned as if to speak to him, and stood over it. Her skirts went flying high.

She did not squeal; she simply pushed them down a split second too late. Once they were outside she said, "Well, sir?"

"Same color. But curly, I think."

"Quite. As curly as my other hair is straight; As you already knew."

"And you did it on purpose."

"Certainly. Woodrow is asleep and you had his head turned away. Perhaps some stranger got an eyeful, but I think not. If someone did, what can he do? Write a letter to my husband? Pooh. There was no one in there who knows us; I kept my eyes open. And grabbed the chance."

"Maureen, you continue to amaze and delight me."

"Thank you, sir."

"And you have beautiful limbs."

"'Legs,' Theodore. Brian says so, too, but I'm no expert on women's legs. But when he tells me so, he always says 'legs.' 'Limbs' is for public speech. So he says."

"The more I know about the Captain, the more I like him. You have gorgeous legs. And green garters."

"Of course they're green. When I was a little girl, I wore green hair ribbons. I'm too old for hair ribbons, but if there is the teeniest possibility that my curls will be seen, I wear green garters. I have many pairs; Brian gives them to me. Some with naughty mottoes on them."

"Are there mottoes on these?"

"'Little pitchers,' Theodore. Let's get Woodrow settled down in the back seat."

It seemed to Lazarus that "little pitchers" could not be listening; the child was limp as a rag doll. Nor did he wake when he was bedded down; he curled into fetal position, and his mother put the robe over him.

Lazarus handed her into the car, cranked it and joined her. "Straight home?"

She said thoughtfully, "There is plenty of gasoline; Brian Junior filled the tank this afternoon. I don't think Woodrow will wake."

"I know there's enough gasoline; I checked when I went out to meet Mr. Johnson's captain. Shall I find that walnut tree?"