Then Mary began working with him on verbs, while Fritzi taught him everyday phrases and simple sentences. Curtis began stopping at Sweiger’s almost daily, for coffee and to exercise his expanding German on someone outside his own household. They teased him a bit about his baltisches Deutsch pronunciations, sometimes amusing word choices, and often clumsy grammar, but enjoyed and respected his interest and progress.
They never mentioned how Hansi was doing, or even if they heard from him, and diplomatically, Macurdy never asked. By summer he understood quite a bit that was said at the supper table. Of course, the others spoke more slowly and carefully than they might have, but it seemed to him that before too long he’d be modestly competent with the language.
One of the first things Fritzi had done, when Macurdy came on the job, was introduce him to the .38 police special-show him how to use and care for it. And talk with him about when, and more importantly when not to use it.
Although Macurdy had never before held a side arm, he proved a natural marksman. On occasion, off-duty deputies would get together on the department’s makeshift firing range in what had been the Nehtaka Livery Stable, and before long he was firing the best scores in the department.
One day the following spring, Fritzi sent him with his undersheriff, Earl Tyler, to take a prisoner to Portland. After they dropped the man off, Curtis bought a large picture postcard showing Mount Hood, then wrote on it:
Dear Mom and Dad,
I am traveling and today have stopped in Portland I can see this mountain from the city. It is even more beautiful to the naked eye than in the picture.
I am feeling fine and doing well. I hope you are the same. Give my regards to Frank and Toodie, to Julie and Max, and to Ferris and Bob and Hattie. Also remember me to Trapjaw and Blaze.
I intend to get home someday for a visit, but it will likely be awhile. It is hard to get away from work long enough, and while I travel on the job, I never travel very far east.
Your loving son, Curtis
He gave them no address. Actually he seldom thought about his parents, or Indiana or Yuulith, or even Varia. Though occasionally he dreamed of her, the dreams invariably including sex.
Mary never asked if he dreamed of his earlier wives. If she ever should, he told himself, he could truthfully say he dreamt more often of Vulkan than of Varia–of a half-ton great boar more often than of his beautiful first wife. He’d never told Mary about Vulkan; that would be a little much even for her, it seemed to him-a sorcerer in the body of a giant wild hogl He could never remember much about his dreams of Vulkan, but somehow they seemed meaningful.
His dreams of Varia, on the other hand, he remembered clearly. They were always in the same place, a kind of gazebo on a seashore. They’d talk-about what always escaped him within moments of wakening-and then they’d make love, and when they did, he loved her as much as when they’d married. Maybe more, because now he wasn’t spooked by her powers.
He couldn’t honestly say which of his three wives he’d loved most. When he’d been with Varia, he’d been a different person, ignorant and naive, while his marriage with Melody had been passionate, occasionally even tempestuous on her part. But his new marriage was the happiest, beyond any doubt.
No doubt Varia could say the same thing of hers. Cyncaidh was as good a man, or as good an ylf, as anyone. Along with being wealthy and powerful, he was honest and thoughtful, and had integrity.
He wondered if Varia ever dreamed of him-if perhaps they dreamed of each other at the same time. He rather thought they did.
The next March, Mary came up pregnant, but soon afterward miscarried. They were both disappointed, but not deeply so. There’d be other pregnancies; they made love often enough.
Macurdy had been reading auras for several years-since he’d learned to see them. With Arbel’s help, he’d learned to read emotions, character, to a degree even intention from them.