Jen Blake had asked David early on to agree that he wouldn't try to seduce her on Saturdays. She had to preach a sermon Sunday morning. Her time off was Sunday, after the service and dinner with a parishioner, through Monday afternoon. Sunday evening became the Blake family time.

David saw nothing incongruous about going from a joint Bible study to their bedroom. And, as always, he had a valid point. If God had blessed their union, as the wedding service had said very explicitly, then he had blessed their sexual union.

Anyway, he was also right that she needed to have the Scriptures for the next week in her head early. She was grateful for having a professor of New Testament discuss them with her every week. She'd be grateful for his other activities later that night, too, she knew. David was a thoughtful and ingenious lover, seeking her response as much as his own. Jen just thought the juxtaposition rather weird. But, then, David was as weird as he was thoughtful.

"I think my problem is not building more barns for my superabundance; it's despairing over how little I have," she was saying when the phone rang. Which was silly, really. She had a loving husband and work which she enjoyed -- he was usually loving, and she usually enjoyed her work. If her material goods wouldn't make a Rockefeller envious, she had enough for comfort and then some.

"Independence United Methodist Church," David said into the phone. He knew that a pastor's phone needed to be answered always. He was also quite capable of telling off telemarketers without using any language which could be reported as inappropriate for a church phone.

His next words were, "I'll let you speak to your pastor."

"Reverend Blake," said a crying woman, "this is Cathy Mitchell. I think Gary is going."

"What room?" Jen asked. She already knew it was St. Joseph's hospital. She'd learned early on that it was necessary to know where she was headed in a hospital.

"315. Oh, I don't know what I'll do."

"I'll drive you," David said when she'd hung up the phone. He was back in the suit jacket he'd worn to church. No tie though.

When they were in the hospital, a nurse they passed in the hall gave David a questioning look. She probably could see that he was with Jen, though. Anyway, they kept going.

David, who had gone over to seminary teaching partly because he didn't like pastoral counseling, even took on the worst counseling problem. Henry , Gary's middle-aged son, wanted to ask for extraordinary measures to extend Gary's life. Gary had persuaded Cathy to refuse them. David took Henry out in the hall with him, and there was no mention of the problem when they came back.

And, when the heart monitor was sounding only occasionally, and Jen started the Lord's Prayer, David's voice supported her and kept the family with him. He even used the "trespasses" form that Independence was used to.

It was two in the morning when they started home. "I'm glad," said David, "that I offered to drive."

She certainly wasn't in any shape to be behind the wheel just then. "When I was assigned," she told him, "Gary Mitchell stopped attending and cut off his pledge. His next appearance in church was to tell the charge conference that they shouldn't pay our apportionment until the conference sent them a 'real pastor.'"

"Sounds fairly nervy from someone who wasn't contributing towards the church."

"Joe Englehard made that very point. Anyway, why am I crying now?"

"Coupla reasons. It's two o'clock in the morning. Losing an enemy is as hard as losing a friend. You're crying for the family whose loss is quite real. 'We piped for you and you would not dance; we wept and wailed, and you would not mourn.'"

"David, do you always answer rhetorical questions?" Not that he wasn't spot-on.

"Not always," David said. She cried quietly until he stopped in the driveway. When he'd hung up the suit jacket, he held his arms up defensively. "Hit me."

"I'm not mad at you." Well, not very mad, and she could see that she shouldn't be angry at all, certainly not at him.

"But you're mad, and I'm available."

"No, David. Let's go to bed, but...."

"But it's nearly three a.m. I don't claim to be extremely sensitive, but I'm not going to expect sex at this hour."

He held her as she settled down for the night. She needed holding, and -- late as it was -- it took her a long time to get to sleep. When she woke up, it was ten o'clock. David, who must have killed the alarm, was gone. She found him in the tub. She was still a little shy about using the toilet in front of him, but she needed to this time. That is what had awakened her in the first place. "Coffee's made," he said.

"You're good to me."

"We're good to each other." Well, if she was going to be good to him -- as good to him as he was to her -- she would have to take care of his needs. This had been the first Sunday they had skipped. He hadn't mentioned it, but she could see his erection. Breakfast first, though.

"Eaten?" she asked.

"I was waiting for you. Want me to cook?"

"Not this morning." It was a corn-flakes kind of morning.

After he left, she inserted the diaphragm. This morning, after a night with death, she wanted life. But they'd jointly decided to delay children, and she knew she'd be sorry if she ignored the reasoning.

They ate across from each other. David was less flirtatious than usual. He'd been a pillar the night before, and he was still being a pillar. Well, he'd been there when she'd needed him. Whatever he said -- whatever he was carefully not saying -- he needed her right now. She'd be there for him.

Who was she trying to fool? She wanted to be good to David, sure. But, right then, whatever his need for sex, it was a lot less than hers. She needed to know that she was alive, and she was never more alive than when he was in her.

She swayed her rump flirtatiously while climbing the stairs in front of him. In their bedroom, she turned to him for a kiss. He kneaded her rump while kissing over her face. When he broke the kiss, she raised her arms. Leaving the nightgown in his hands, she pulled the top sheet off, lay down, and spread her legs.

Ignoring the hint, he bent over to kiss her. Their tongues dueled, unbrushed teeth or no. While his mouth trailed down towards her breasts, she unsnapped his pajama bottoms. He stepped out of these, and pulled off the tops.

He resumed the kisses where he'd left off. Her patience ran out when he got to her mound. After last night, she knew she wasn't going to climax; and she didn't want more foreplay. She wanted her husband inside. She tugged at his shoulders. When that didn't work, she reached for his erection.

He got all the way into bed and between her legs. He still kissed each of her breasts on his way. Soon, though, he was just outside where she needed him. "Oh, Jennifer," he said in a way she'd found charming for months. This time she could have skipped the delay. Then her lips were being spread, she was being filled. When he was fully inside, he shifted his position so that one hand was on each of her breasts. He raised his shoulders up, pushing himself in her more forcefully.

"Nothing could be finer," he sang,
"Than to be in Jen's vagina
"In the morrrrning."

She couldn't help it. She'd have sworn two minutes ago that she would never laugh again, but she laughed now.

He slipped out while she was shaking with laughter.
"Nothing could taste sweeter," he continued,
"Than my sweetie when I eat her
"In the morrrrrning." This time he drew out that last word even longer.

And, while she was still convulsing, he drew back to kiss her thighs. He obviously intended to 'taste' her as soon as she stopped moving. But that wasn't what she needed. She reached down to grab his hair.

"Inside," she managed to gasp.

"But, Jen...."

"Inside. Now!" She tugged again when he started towards her breasts. When he was safely inside her, she wrapped her legs and her arms around him.

He moved over her and in her. His firmness and his increasing speed showed that she was desirable, was alive.

When he said "Jen" once again, he pressed forward even more than before and throbbed within her, filling her with his sperm -- filling her with life.

After a half-hearted attempt to move away, he collapsed on top of her. She tightened her arms for a minute. Later, though, she was content that he moved to his own side. "Stay here," she said when he started to get up.

He lay beside her and cuddled her as she pressed against him in a spoon. She found tears running down her cheeks yet again.

They were roused from that by the phone's ringing. She got it. If this was a telemarketer, he'd get an earful. It was Cathy Mitchell. "I'm sorry to bother you again. But the funeral is at Myer's. The viewing's Wednesday evening; the funeral is Thursday at 8:00 if that's convenient for you. But I want you to preach it."

"I can. How are you holding up?"

"I'm not sure it's sunk in yet."

"How long were you married?"

"Just under forty years. We were looking forward to our anniversary, and now this."

When she got off the phone, Jen bathed and dressed. Then she called some people who had to know.

"Pete," she left on his answering machine, "the finance meeting on Wednesday is canceled. Gary Mitchell died last night, and that's the wake for him. I hope you and the other members of the committee can make it."

She didn't have to cancel choir rehearsal. Choir neither sang nor rehearsed during the summer.

While she had been on the phone, David had been fixing lunch. It was that time, despite how recently they'd eaten breakfast. They sang grace together, a pleasure of her marriage which was dimmed that day. Still, she was glad she'd married David.

That feeling didn't last long. "Look," he said "you didn't come, and that's not your fault. But I could have helped you there."

"David." He looked across the table at her. "Ooh. Ooooooh. Aaah!" She shuddered dramatically. "Now are you satisfied?"

"I'm sorry." Well he shouldn't be. Well he damn-well should be. He'd made her promise to never fake an orgasm. No, he shouldn't be; he'd been a wonderful comfort this whole time. She tried to say that.

"I'm sorry. You've been wonderful. I don't know what I could have done without you. But, still.... I wasn't going to climax today, and I knew that."

"You're sure." Was she? She'd been damned surprised by the laughter.

"I was sure. And I needed you inside me."

"You really needed that."

"Life." She hoped he knew what she meant by that; she couldn't explain it further, even to herself.

"Okay, then. It's nice to be needed."

"It's nice to be supported, too." She had a sudden thought. David's voice carried. And she'd never know if someone had been on the porch to hear his song. "I just hope none of my parishioners was within hearing distance."

"They shouldn't be. They know this is your day off."