"Thus did he yield me in the shady night
A wondrous and instructive light,
Which taught me that under our feet there is
As o'er our heads, a place of bliss."

"On Leaping Over the Moon," by Thomas Traherne, Lines 67-70. Used without permission.
 

FROHIKE:

I think I must've died and gone to heaven.

Is there any way I could feel this kind of ecstasy on earth?

She is magnificent. Full and soft and curvy. A real woman.

My real woman. In my arms.

I can feel her pressing her breasts against me.

No silicone sister here. They're full and round and real, tiny freckles spraying the top portion, large, dark nipples...

Which I simply cannot resist.

I lower my mouth to one. My only regret right now is that I have only one mouth.

To my delight and surprise, this is pleasurable for her. I can feel the gentle but definite arch of her back as I work first one nipple, then the other, working my lips around one, then the other, using my tongue to increase her pleasure...

She cries out. Oh. My. God. Her skin flushes slightly as her pleasure increases.

We're drenched in warm water and hot pleasure. Her skin shines under the beads of water that flow down on her.

I am so privileged to be here, with her, in this shower, giving her pleasure.

I move my hand gently down to her sex. Hot and damp and lush.

Her hands move down my back and over my ass, and I can feel myself swelling mightily. Her tender hands move up to my balls, where she touches me softly and exquisitely...

I feel my head go light, a dizzy, drowsy rush with a fiery undercurrent of
desire.

Her tongue touches mine, and I feel myself melt into her.

I want her. I want her so badly it aches.

And speaking of aching...

"Martha." I moan to her, very quietly.

"Mmm?" She moves her mouth gently over my neck and shoulders.

"My leg hurts."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. Let's take it to bed."
 

I've never felt so at home in my own bed.

We spoon into one another, me around her.

This is so comfortable. It's as if our bodies were perfectly designed to fit one another's.

I kiss her neck and shoulders. She moans softly and with appreciation.

"Mel," she says gently. "Mel."

"Martha." Her name falls so easily off my lips.

Allison told me once that her name was from the Aramaic word meaning 'lady.'

She is indeed a lady, and she is beautiful.

My heart begins to beat faster. In any other situation, I'd be worried about another heart attack...

But this isn't killing my heart. It's healing it. I feel new life coming into my veins as I feel her skin, her breath, her sweat.

I want to feel her inside.

I wrap my hands tenderly over each breast. She's completely swollen with passion now.

I move my hands again to her sex. The hair is dense and dark red. I can feel moisture seeping from her.

"Mel." She breathes my name.

"I want you," I tell her, without even thinking. That's how strong the desire is.

"Mel. In me."

"Not yet." I want to explore her every curve, every inch of soft skin. I need to know what every bit of her tastes like.

I gently move her legs open and slide myself down into her sex, tasting her, kissing the insides of her thighs. She is almost crying, and so am I.

It's been so long. But it's not just the time. There have been opportunities, but for me, casual sex has never worked. I may have come of age in the sixties, but I could never buy into the philosophy of free love. To me, sex is making love, and only works for me when I feel safe and committed to the person I share my bed with.

Must be that Catholic schooling.

I usually curse it, but today, if that was in fact what made me the way I am in this regard, I count myself among the lucky.

I kiss her gently in what seems to be the right place, and a sudden sharp buck of the hips, a gentle cry...I could come as of this moment, but I won't.

And one of the advantages of being old is you get staying power. It takes longer to start up, but once you're going, you can keep at it.

How long would I like to keep at this?

Not stopping for the next thousand years or so would suit me fine.

She flips me over on my back-Martha's used to handling patients much larger than herself, and I'm on the small side.

She starts at my shoulders, kissing them in every spot imaginable. Moving down to my chest, she gently traces my scar again and plants soft, almost airlike kisses on it.

Gives a whole new twist to the term, kiss it and make it feel better.

Her breath on my nipples is hot and arousing, but she moves lower, and lower, down to my belly, and she begins to work this scar with her own tender magic. Her mouth travels to the bottom of the scar, I can feel the dampness of her tongue make me harder and hotter...she draws me into her mouth, very slowly, torturously, agonizingly sweet.

I want her now. I don't think I can wait anymore.

We fall into a missionary position-conventional, but there is nothing so wonderful as feeling your partner's entire body against yours.

We fit perfectly. She begins her soft whining as I move inside her...

Oh. My. God.

In this moment I'm alive again. Her damp velvet heat wraps itself around me, squeezing gently, releasing, each time squeezing me a little harder...I've completely penetrated her now...

And all the world becomes dark and light, sharp bursts of color and heat. All there is is her. She is the entire universe now, and I am the only one in it...

Nothing but the sound of our cries and our longing and our love.

Bliss.
 

Bliss continued. Sometimes I think the time after is the best part. A feast of warm flesh and soft breath, slow kisses, drowsy contentment. Time isn't relevant here.

I turn my face away for a moment. There are tears in them. And I don't want her to get the wrong idea.

She places her cheek against my shoulder, and if I'm not mistaken, there's a touch of dampness there as well.

Maybe she understands after all.

I turn my head back to her...and I don't move it for a long time.
 

MARTHA:

I can't believe this feeling.

I know I must have had this feeling before...but it's been so long, and so unfamiliar that it seems new.

And I welcome this newness.

We may not have young bodies, but we have newborn hearts today.
 

BYERS:

This is ridiculous.

I wanted this to happen. I had it all planned in my mind what would happen.

It wasn't like this. Life has an annoying habit of getting in the way.

Juliet's laughing. It's a gentle laugh, tender and amused as opposed to mocking and harsh.

"I think I was supposed to be the one to faint," she giggles as she puts a cool facecloth on me. I'm on the sofa with my feet on the arms to keep the blood rush to my head.

Is there a possibility I can spend the next nine months this way?

"When was the last time you ate?" She asks me.

I think it was just before I left the offices-Ally had shortbreads she'd made. She invited me to help myself, and I did, with a vengeance.

"An hour ago?"

This produces more laughter on her part. "John, I'm the one that's supposed to be hungry!"

"Aren't you?"

"Are you kidding? I could be shoveling it in all the time and still be hungry right now!"

We both laugh...she's giving me this very direct look...

"Oh, don't tell me, you're getting sympathy hunger!"

"I am not. I didn't even know you were pregnant till a few minutes ago."

"You are, too."

I can sit up now. "So what about a celebration?"

"A grand idea, so long as it involves food."

"Would it be a celebration without it?"

"Not in my mother's mind, it wouldn't. And speaking of which, I think we should let the happy grandparents know."

"You don't...think we should wait until after the wedding to tell them?"

This causes her to burst out laughing heartily. "John, do you really think my mother gives a damn about that?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on, you know her better than that! She's going to be thrilled, and you know it."

Caroline will be thrilled. Of that I'm confident.

Telling my father, on the other hand...

Would he be pleased? Disgruntled? Or so removed that it would not make an ounce of difference to him?

I have no idea. I know so little of him that I cannot even judge what his reaction would be to such news.

He appears to approve of Juliet, as much as he approves of anything...which never seems to be much...but this news, to him, might well display a lack of planning and discipline on his part...two cardinal sins in his book. At least they were when I was growing up.

He is a grandfather, has been for nearly a decade with Kat's children. I try to think about how is he with her children.

Mostly, he doesn't see them. Holidays were virtually the only time he spent with them, and it's still uncertain as to whether or not that will be part of his and Kat's future modus operandi. They are trying to make tentative repairs to their rift, at least I know Kat is, but I don't know how it's progressing.

I seem to remember him treating the girls affectionately enough, if a bit distantly. Definitely not a grandfather who'd take you to feed the ducks or play ball with.

I momentarily envision Frohike when I bring him this news. Now that's a grandfather. Frohike, if I know him, will develop a new hobby in buying baby gifts. He adores infants and small children.

Juliet is already on the phone with Caroline, and the conversation is at high volume, spirited and joyous. I learn from this that our anticipated due date is June 1.

I didn't even ask-I'm such an idiot!

Caroline wants to speak to me.

"Congratulations, I'm so delighted, this is wonderful!" Caroline's Italian enthusiasm spreads out like spilled warm tea with honey, and I feel a rush of pleasure and pride.

No accusations about our lack of discipline in the contraceptive department. No cool, 'If that's what you want.' No disbelieving 'You?!'

No, just genuine, powerful love and care.

I thank her, and I'm actually finding it hard to talk. Right now, I'm just a little bit overwhelmed.

"You'll be a wonderful father, don't you even worry about that!" She admonishes me in parting.

I hope she's right.
 

"This baby is going to be the most spoiled child on the planet," Juliet groans when she hangs up with her mother.

"I was thinking about that with Frohike."

"Oh, God, not him, too? If I know my mother, she's already got her car keys in hand and is off to find baby things." She grins at this. "We'll need a bigger house for the toys alone. So John? Which father are you going to tell first?"

Which one will it be?

I'm trying so hard to come to some kind of relationship with my father, however difficult and minimal it may be. Yet my uncertainty at his reaction makes me uneasy.

And the knowledge that much of what I do know of fathering, that which is absorbed through one's own upbringing without any conscious awareness, I have learned from him.

And this terrifies me.

I'm going to go the chickenshit route.

I'll call Frohike first.
 

MARTHA:

We sleep for a long time. It's been ages for us, and it was a strenuous encounter.

And I'm anxious for that kind of workout again, the sooner the better.

I awaken first. His head is tenderly laid on my breast, his arm over my hip, and he snores...

Like a chainsaw.

I knew that. I'm glad he does, too. One of the things I missed about sleeping with Daniel-back in the days before he became so horribly ill-was his snoring whenever he was away. It was a melodic backdrop to remind me that all's right with the world.

Once again, it soothes me.

I'm still drowsy and spent, deliriously happy and totally relaxed. It's as if my muscles have melted. All the tension and anxiety of so many years, all the sadness and misery, have drifted up like invisible smoke.

This gentle reverie is broken by the electronic wail of the phone next to him, on the night table, right by the pictures of the kids and his glasses.

I try to reach for it before he awakens, but no luck-he seems to have a built in response to this device that immediately puts him on alert.

Oh please, don't let Michael be having any sort of problem...he's probably more than halfway to New Jersey by now, but if something goes wrong, we'll have to deal with it.

"What?" He murmurs wearily into the phone.

I can't hear the voice on the other end.

"This better be good."

Oh God. Something's happened to Michael, not catastrophic, but enough to get his father irked...

All of a sudden, a huge smile spreads over Mel's face. "That's wonderful, man! You just find out? All right! So when's the blessed event?"

Michael and Kelly are expecting?

I didn't expect this kind of reaction from him.

"That's wonderful news, now if you'll excuse me, I have other...matters to attend to." He gives a sly grin as he hits the talk button to the off position.

He turns to me and smiles. "How do you feel about being a grandmother?"

A what?!

"I...I don't know...I never gave it any thought."

"Well, get used to the idea, it's happening in June."

This lifts up my heart. I'm not a one night stand. He won't come to me in the morning and say this was a mistake.

"I wonder why Michael and Kelly chose to tell you over the phone?"

"Michael and Kelly? No way. Unless you know something I don't."

Well, I do...but I'm not about to give it away.

"No, it's Byers and Juliet. God, if it was Michael, I'd kill him." He winces hard.

I think for my own protection, Michael and Kelly had better tell Daddy, and very soon. I'm not sure how long I can hold my tongue on this.

He turns to me with a worried, anxious expression. "They're not, are they?"

"You mean the kids?"

"Yes, them."

"No, Mel, they're not going to make you a grandfather." Not yet, anyway.

He breathes a heavy sigh of relief. "Good. Now, where were we?"
 

LANGLY:

Wow. It's 7:35...and I'm actually walking through the metal detectors and towards the card key reader, where it will be duly noted by one of the electronic brains around here that I have called it a night.

Earliest I've been off all week.

Least it's gonna be a little quiet, just Patrick around. I do got to make some time for Miranda, she says she's having some problems at school and for some reason, she doesn't wanna tell her mom about it.

That kind of worries me. She's pretty good most times about telling her mom stuff. Why the hell would she want to talk to me?

Not that I mind or anything. But we haven't gotten together yet.

Maybe we can get Patrick in bed early or something, just kick back and watch some bad TV and Ally probably made something real good for dinner, she usually does on Fridays, like it's the only day I'm usually home before 10 at night. She makes good stuff the other nights, I just don't get to eat it on the first pass. Which sucks.

She says her lasagna's better if it sits longer, but that's not the point.

It tastes better if I get to eat it with her.
 

It's real quiet when I let myself in. And the place smells good, and there's some Weather Report in the CD player, Ally likes jazz, so do I actually.

"Hey Ally." I don't see her right off.

"Just a minute." I think she's in the bathroom or something. A minute later I hear the door open. "Hey Langly, we're kidless tonight, Jaleel's cousin took Patrick overnight..."

Oh Christ. Her tight black pants and a black tank top. I praise the gods of Spandex.

And her hair's curled up and tied with a black velvet ribbon...and I can tell she's got no bra on...

I'm a lot less tired now than when I walked in.
 

She just about knocks me over when she grabs me to hug me. Hard to believe, she's so tiny, but she can do it. Mighty Mouse has skills.

I'm about to start the nightly process of pulling out my hair, but she stops my hand and begins to pull each pin out, fluffing each set of strands as she does it.

This is way more fun than doing it myself. I'm gonna have to get her to do this more often. Particularly since every time she takes down a strand, we have another kiss, and each one gets a little longer and goes down a little farther...

Takes a while, but pretty soon, I got my real hair back, if you don't mind the fact that it's covered with gel and mousse and oil, yeah, that still gets in there. You'd think all the crap I put on it would keep the oil from seeping in, but no chance.

She pulls back for a moment. "Hey Blonde One?" Her eyes are all shiny blue and sparkly. And I think she's a little horny, her neck is kind of red like it gets when she's turned on.

"Mmm?"

"Want me to wash your hair?"

"Mmm...what happens if I refuse?"

"Then I guess I'm just gonna have to go to bed with a guy with sticky hair."

"Well...if you're gonna put it like that..."

She starts pulling off my T-shirt, and I surrender to her by holding out my arms. We start inching towards the shower, but she keeps stopping to kiss me.

Two can play this game. I reach for the bottom of her tank top...

I win this round. Not only does this come off easy, but she is indeed braless, and she's obviously turned on now.

More clothes get tossed as we make our way down the hall, and by the time we hit the bathroom, which probably took half an hour, we're finally ready to get wet.

We got to get these kids out of the house more often.
 

BYERS:

We stuff ourselves on Chinese food. I'm amazed by Juliet's choice, but she wanted Hunan food. I would think all that spice would upset her stomach, but she claims she's been craving twice-cooked pork and Hunan pepper chicken for a while now.

And pizza with black olives, and spinach lasagna and turkey with stuffing and mashed potatoes and angel cake and berries...

I know what she means. As I mentioned, I've been a regular at the vending machines.

I need to stop this, or I'm going to look as though I'm the one who's carrying.

We're finally satiated, but we do order a few things to take home-as a midnight snack, if need be.

"So are you tired?" I ask her when we finally get back.

She looks at me with a devilish expression. "Yeah, I'm tired. But more than that...I'm horny." And she pushes me gently down on the sofa and pulls herself on top of me.

"It's okay to be doing this?"

She laughs. "John, it's not only okay, it's recommended."

"Sort of like getting an RDA of vitamins?"

"Sort of like."

"Well, I hate the idea that you or the baby would be malnourished."

She grins more. "Somehow, I don't think that's going to be a problem."

Not likely.
 

MICHAEL:

We finally make it to Mom's. We've only got an hour before we take off again, so we got to get changed. We're staying in her house-hey, the price is right. Kind of a drag she probably won't let me stay with Kelly, but it's not like I can afford the Four Seasons. Or Motel 6, for that matter.

Mom's like so happy to see us. She's so jazzed. I don't remember Mom ever being this jazzed about anything. Then again, she is getting married tomorrow, and most people I think are pretty happy about getting married so long as it's not with a shotgun aimed at them.

"Where you want us to put our stuff?" I ask her.

"I put you and Kelly in the small room in the back," she says.

Kelly and me just grin.

Whatever getting married again is doing to Mom's brain, let's just make sure it keeps happening.

END OF PART 58