eyes. But I couldn’t, and I hated it. I wanted to open my mouth and tell them to
do something else besides whisper and creep around. I wanted them to yell, to
laugh. Yes, I wanted to hear laughter and perhaps some music. But there wasn’t
any, just whispers and endless, fathomless, deep silence.
It was in the deep of night. I don’t know how I knew this, but I did. I felt
warmth, supple warmth, and it touched me everywhere. And there was George’s wuff,
right near my ear. I wanted to smile, wanted to tell George not to drive John
mad with his naked adoration.
The warmth covered me and seeped inside me, to my very bones. I realized it was
John, and he was holding me against him. I felt his big hands rubbing up and
down my back. I felt the hard warmth of him against me. I felt his warm breath
against my temple. I liked it. I felt comforted and safe.
He was speaking, his voice warm against my temple. I loved the sound of his
voice, the feel of it, how it rumbled deep in his chest. I knew he loved me,
knew that he was frantic with worry, but there was just nothing I could do. Then
he said, his voice impatient, no whispering now, “Listen to me, now, Andy. I
have had quite enough of this. I have treated you kindly, gently, but you haven’t
come back to me. I have decided that you don’t deserve my gentle touch anymore.
You will obey me, damn you. You will be my wife, and a wife is supposed to obey
her husband.
“Why are you refusing to wake up? You have been like this for six days now. The
doctor doesn’t know what is wrong with you. He babbles on about shock and female
nerves and female brainstorms and such, but I told him that your nerves could
stretch from here to France without breaking. As for female brainstorms, I told
him you would stomp me to the ground if I ever said anything like that to you.
He just shook his head, probably appalled.
“Then I told him that you shot a man and there had been so much death, so much
pain and fear, that perhaps you had simply been unable to bear it, that you had
retreated to where it was safe, and you would remain there until you could deal
with it again. Yes, I suppose I believe that. Perhaps he did, too. He just
grunted. I think he liked much more his pronouncement of female brainstorms.
“But it has been six days, damn you, Andy. It is time for you to deal with life
again, deal with it, and marry me, and play the pianoforte for me and let me
make you laugh. We could wager with Judith on which bush George would select to
relieve himself.
“All right, you just listen to me. I love the feel of your breasts, very nice
soft breasts you have. I love the feel of your mouth, but your lips are dry. I
must remember to rub cream on your mouth. Your father is mending. Dr. Boulder
has remained here since the beginning. I think it is because of the excellent
meals Cook is preparing. He eats his weight in her thin ham slices.
“It is very cold now, we’ve had snow for the past three days, and Small Bess is
nearly well. She whinnies whenever someone comes to her stall. She misses you.
“All of us are waiting for you to open your beautiful eyes and make some sort of
impertinent announcement, like perhaps demanding a glass of brandy with your
chicken broth. And that includes Peter. He has been pacing about, sitting here
for hours watching you. He is fast losing his grip, Andy. You must come back to
everyone and have your brandy. What do you think?
“Open your eyes, Andy, smile at me. I want to kiss you and teach you how to kiss
me. I want to make love to you and show you that a man and a woman can be magic
together. We will be magic, you will see. And you will trust me and love me and