the entire human race would have been placed at risk. The chances were so evenly
balanced that in half of the futures they died, in half of them they succeeded. A
few ounces of kitten made the difference. He warned them, with the only word he had
mastered: ‘Blert!’
On the way back from Butler Charles had recovered from his postcoital depression; he
wanted to do it again. Well, so did I, but not that day. That buggy ride over dirt
roads had reminded me that what I was sitting on was just a leede tender.
But Charles was raring to go; he wanted an encore right now. `Mo, there is a spot
lust ahead there where we can get a buggy clear off the road and out of sight. Quite
safe.’
`No, Chuck.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s not perfectly safe; anybody else could pull off there, too. We’re late now and
I don’t want to have to answer questions today. Not this day. And we don’t have
another Merry Widow and that settles it because while I do plan to have children, I
don’t want to have them at fifteen.’
‘Oh.’
‘Quite so. Be patient, dear, and we will do it again… another day, with careful
arrangements… which you might be thinking about. Now take your hand away, please;
there is a rig coming down the road – see the dust?’
Mother did not scold me over being a half-hour late. But she did not press Charles
when he refused her offer of lemonade, on the excuse that he had to get Ned (his
gelding) home and curried and the buggy wiped down because his parents were going to
need it. (A too complex lie – I’m sure he simply did not want to meet Mother’s eye,
or be questioned by her. I’m glad Father taught me to avoid fancy lies.)
Mother went upstairs as soon as Chuck left; I went out back.
Two years earlier Father had indulged us in a luxury many of our church members felt
was sinfully wasteful: two outhouses, one for the boys and one for us girls, just
like at school. In fact we truly needed them. That day I was delighted to find the
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Heinlein, Robert A – To Sail Beyond the Sunset.txt
girls privy empty. I flipped the bar to lock, and checked up.
Some blood, not much. No problems. Slightly sore, nothing more.
So I sighed with relief and peed and reassembled myself, and went back to the house,
picking up a piece of stove wood for the kitchen as I passed the wood pile – a toll
each of us paid for each trip out back.
I dropped off the wood and stopped in the wash shed adjoining the kitchen, washed my
hands and sniffed them. Clean. just my guilty conscience. I went to the clinic,
stopping only to tousle Lucille’s strawberry hair and par her bottom. Lucy was
three, I think – yes, she was born in ’94, the year after Father and I went to
Chicago. She was a little doll, always merry. I decided that I wanted one just like
her… but not this year. But soon. I was feeling very female.
I reached the clinic just as Mrs Altschuler was leaving. I spoke politely; she
looked at me and said, ‘Audrey, you’ve been out in the sun without a sunbonnet
again. Don’t you know any better than that?’
I thanked her for her interest in my welfare and went on in. According to Father all
she suffered from was constipation and lack of exercise… but she showed up at
least twice a month and had not, since the first of the year, paid a single penny.
Father was a strong man, firm-minded, but not good at collecting money from people
who owed it to him.
Father entered her visit in his book and looked up: ‘I’m taking your bishop, young
lady.’
‘Sure you don’t want to change your mind, sir?’
`No. I may be wrong but I’m certain. Why? Have I made a mistake?’
‘I think so, sir. Mate in four moves.’
`Eh?’ Father stood up, went over to his chess table. ‘Show me.’
‘Shall we simply play it out? I may be mistaken: