The phone rang while Jen Blake was on the toilet Saturday afternoon. That was what answering machines were for, but she couldn't hear the message until she got out there. "Get it, will you?" she shouted to David. He could take note of the parishioners' messages or get rid of the telemarketer.

But he was still on the phone when she got back to the hall.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "Just a moment." Then, to her, "For me. Bob Lawrence just had a stroke. Know him?"

"Not really. I've heard the name."

"Stick around." Then to the phone, "Yes Reverend Metzger."

"Well, actually, you'd have to ask my wife. 'Love her, cherish her, and attend her worship services.' Isn't that part of the standard service for the marriage of woman pastors?... Strange. Campbell told me it was. Anyway, you can ask her." He handed her the phone.

"This is Terry Metzger. I'm superintendent of the Northern District." She knew that. "Bob Lawrence, the pastor of Aldersgate UMC in Evanston, just had a stroke."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"And I need a substitute preacher for Sunday morning. Would you permit your husband to take that job?"

"Of course I will. I'll keep him in my prayers, too." She meant Bob Lawrence, not David.

"Did Campbell really put the promise to attend your services in the wedding vows?"

"No. Well, you can ask Reverend Campbell, but David's like that. Don't ask him about St. Paul's recipe for chili."

"May I speak with him again?" She handed David the phone.

He finished the conversation and made another call. When he finished that one, she asked, "And just why did you give Metzger that cock-and-bull story about needing my permission?"

"I do need your permission -- need your permission to do anything. I'm terribly henpecked." A henpecked David was a laughable proposition. "Well, why should I do a favor for a DS? I'll never need a favor in return. You, on the other hand, will be up for appointment by the cabinet every year he's on it. Know how long that will be?"

"I could look it up." Since this was Campbell's last year, it wouldn't be Metzger's. "David, you are devious."

"Devious enough to trap you into marriage. I've got to go prepare a sermon."

"Want me to cook dinner?"

"It would take as long to hand over the details," he said.

"And do you want to skip Chronicles tonight?"

"Well, you don't skip 'cause you're going to preach in the morning. I'll be all right. Remember, we had the study last Sunday."

She was always invited for dinner to some parishioner's house after church, and David had been included since they'd announced their engagement. Now she called the Watsons to tell them why David wouldn't be able to make it.

David always prepared dinner on Saturday night because she had duties on Sunday, and he didn't. Now that he had duties on Sunday -- and a sermon to prepare on short notice, too -- she should take over. David had refused, though. He was good to her.

One thing she did prepare for Saturday night was their study of one chapter from the Old Testament. It didn't require that much preparation since she used the same questions from one week to the next. David varied his questions on the lectionary passages to fit the material, but she didn't feel competent to do that yet.

She did clear the table and load the dishwasher after the study was over. He usually did this on Saturdays, but she'd done it before their marriage; she'd done one hell of a lot more housework before their marriage.

David bathed before she woke up, and she waited until after he left. Otherwise they followed their usual Sunday morning schedule. He even cooked breakfast. When she'd kissed him goodbye, she started her own preparations.

In church, she announced the stroke suffered by "Reverend Bob Lawrence," and asked for prayers for him. In doing so, she mentioned that David was covering for him that morning.

Dinner at the Watsons' was bland but bountiful and well- cooked. When David and she had merged their households, he'd moved in most of the contents of his refrigerator, including a jar each of kimchi and salsa verde. She sometimes suspected that there weren't any other jars of either in Independence. She was fairly sure that none of her parishioners even owned a pepper grinder.

David was home when she got there. "You missed a fine meal," she told him.

"What I really missed was a fine wife. Service go okay?"

"Except that I didn't hear your voice on the hymns and the responsive readings." And she'd missed that. "Yours?"

"They had a service. Most were expressing concerns for Lawrence."

"You always say that." He'd said 'They had a service' when he'd covered for her on even less notice. "I bet not many people could preach from the Lectionary on less than 24 hours' notice."

"Not many people could produce a good sermon on 24 hours' notice. Most preachers could produce some sermon on one hour's notice. Anyway, I'm married to you. I had the advantage of the Lectio Divina and hearing your sermon." She had no illusions that David copied her sermon. The man resisted the influence of people far more expert than she was.

They had one kiss before going their separate ways. David cooked supper, hamburgers. He had questions specific to the Scripture for their Lectio Divina. David was insistent on her taking holidays, but he never cut himself any slack. She'd come to see that turning that mind off wouldn't be a holiday for him -- more like death.

She really needed the prelude to their Sunday bedtime that clearing the table and loading the dishwasher together provided. She sometimes suspected that David would be willing to jump her bones in her study right after the service. Shit! He'd been ready for sex that morning; and he'd needed to leave to drive to the service he was conducting hours before she had to leave for the one she was conducting. She needed time after the study together. They were a couple, and she needed to experience David as her helpful husband before she experienced him as her lover.

David, who would go straight into sex from any other activity if he had his druthers, never headed straight into intercourse. Indeed, he sometimes seemed to think enough appetizers made a feast. Tonight, he started on removing her clothes as if that experience deserved the whole night. The night was too chilly for that. Topless and shivering, she broke away to strip herself. Since she'd removed her pantyhose when she'd inserted the diaphragm, it didn't take long. They had a lovely kiss when he joined her in bed. Then, he started kissing down her body.

Her patience ran out when he was kissing her thighs. She pulled his head where she needed it. Even there, he concentrated on her lips and avoided her clitoris. Her arousal grew slowly, but it grew. Finally, her tension demanded relief right then. She pulled his head against her mound.

"David," she gasped as he took her over. The feeling was glorious. The height of her passion reflected the length of the buildup.

And, when it was over, he cuddled her. Although she hadn't any attention to spare for it, the cuddling was a comfort. When she was nearly recovered, she wanted a kiss. She turned her head towards him to invite it. From her mouth, his kisses went lower and lower. He kissed her thighs until desire was wriggling her whole body. Her need spiraled higher and higher while he ministered to her lower lips.

She needed him inside. "David," she begged. Even then he teased, kissing her everywhere as he slowly moved up her body. When she put him where she needed him, though, he pressed inside. "Life," she said. He was alive, and not lying half-alive in a hospital bed. She was alive, more alive like this than in any other situation.

She held him by his rump, pulling him into her and feeling the muscles bunch and relax; she held him more intimately by wrapping her legs around his; she held him most intimately in surrounding his erection as it drove in and out. "Love you," he said.

She felt his love as well as heard it. And she felt her own love, felt it turn into desire and the desire turn into fire. Then the fire raged within her and raised her against him. His fire joined hers; she could feel his throbbing within her throbbing. It was a glorious union.

And, when that was gone, he was still warm, gasping, living, above her. "Stay," she said when he began to move off. His weight was a delight, affirming their love, their commitment, their connection. And, when the burden grew greater than the affirmation, he lay on his side where she could snuggle against him.

The first time she awoke in the night, his skin was warm against her back, his breath was warm against her neck, and his arm was warm all around her. She put on the nightgown when she got up to head for the bathroom, though. The second time she awoke, he was holding her through the nightgown. His erection was pressing against her rump. She had the sleepy thought that she thought she'd taken care of that problem, but he kissed her hair and got up. Monday was her day for sleeping in, not his. The third time she awoke, she was alone. Sunlight flooded the room.