"This is Knut," he said first. This no longer amused Sarah. When you'd been to bed with a man, he didn't have to identify himself on his calls. "Is this a good time?"

"It's fine. Billy's in bed."

"So's 'Becca. Look, they're both going away on Friday?"

"Yes."

"How'd you like to eat out Friday night?"

"That would be fine." It would be better than Saturday, as a matter of fact. Her period was coming up Saturday or Sunday, and she didn't want it to arrive when she was at his house. For that matter, maybe some part of her annoyance was PMS. Knut might identify himself every time he called, but he also always asked if she were busy.

But he was talking again. "Assyrian?"

"Pardon."

"The Middle-Eastern restaurant."

"Great."

They talked for a while longer. Knut seemed genuinely interested in her adventures in her summer job substituting for vacationing file clerks. He saw it from the opposite perspective, of course; file clerks worked for him.

The next few days were pleasant. She helped out one secretary with her boss's grammar; high school themes were even worse. After that, the other office workers were less patronizing about her ignorance of their procedures.

On her way home from work Friday, though, she felt her period come on. She managed to get home without embarrassing herself publicly, but the panties would be a real job to clean up. By the time Fred got there, she was back together. She waved Billy off. Fred might resent her having a court order for her support payment to be withheld from his salary, but it really made their conversations much friendlier.

The phone rang a half hour after Fred had left. "This is Knut. Is this a good time to pick you up?"

"Well, I don't know. You might not want to pick me up at all." Knut was planning a night of sex, and she would have agreed the last time they talked. She was a total mess, though, and she didn't want him seeing her down there. "I'm a total mess."

"You're a sweet woman. If you mean in dress, this isn't the fanciest place in town."

"I mean physically." She took a deep breath. Well, it's not like they hadn't shared a lot. "My period just started."

"Well, that doesn't affect my feelings about you. It might well affect your feelings. Do you really want to cook something for yourself tonight? Why don't you come for the dinner, and then we'll play it by ear?"

They did that. Knut kissed her hand when she came downstairs. Dinner was pleasant. They conversation in the restaurant was fairly light. In the car going back Knut said, "I have another movie. Do you feel that sociable?"

"Fine. But it can't go any further." She was a mess down there. Fred had always been a little sickened by it.

"Well, we ought to establish some ground rules, then. Are your breasts sore -- too sore for my touch, I mean? For that matter, do you object to any touch right now? Or do I get to kiss you so long as you stay dressed? Really, you'll have to set the rules. Candice was a woman, but she was a different woman."

"You're not disgusted?" she asked.

"Why should I be disgusted? It's not affecting my hormones. I just don't want to give you any unwanted attentions. I wouldn't feel disgusted; I might feel rejected."

Once they were in his apartment, he asked, "Are we still agreed that when I cross some line, you'll tell me? You won't freeze up?"

"I told you. I didn't freeze up."

"That's true. And I'm very grateful. Look, I get into bad moods sometimes, and I don't deal with roomfuls of adolescents -- not that some clients are much better. When you don't want to deal with anybody, tell me so. I won't feel rejected. If it's something I have done, on the other hand, tell me that, too. Maybe I can change. Not that I changed the thing about the back seat, but -- at least -- I explained it. Anyway, I can't change what isn't brought to my attention. I'm not what you'd call a sensitive, intuitive, person." She smiled at that description. Knut wasn't the most intuitive person in the world, but he was kind.

"On the other hand," he continued, "I do give great massages, even if I say so myself. It always made Candice feel better. Want to try?"

"You'd do that for me?"

"Entirely and absolutely for you. I wouldn't get any pleasure myself in touching the areas of you which need massage right now. Or don't you believe that?"

She'd have believed that if he hadn't expressed it in that way. "I'm not sure."

"Just because I so enjoyed touching you there when you didn't need a massage? I really have to work on my story. Want to try?"

Why not? He led her into the bedroom. "More room here. Besides, I cleaned it up for your visit, anyway. Let's start with a back rub. I'll bet those muscles are tense, too." The condom sitting on the nightstand seemed to glow like a neon sign. He helped her out of her jacket and blouse and hung them up. "Aren't you afraid of wrinkling your skirt?" he asked. She peeled that off too. He hung up his own suit jacket, but it wasn't the same.

She lay down on the bed on her tummy, and he knelt astride her. He did loosen the knotted muscles of her shoulders. He continued down her torso, going much more gently on her back. "Turn over, now," he said. He stroked, more than massaged, her abdomen. When he got to her mound, the pressure was firm again. "Lift up," he said with his hands on her pantyhose. Obediently, she raised her hips. He slid the pantyhose down and off her legs. A few minutes later, he repeated this with her panties.

His strokes moved from her mound to her labia. He didn't touch her clitoris, but the motions rubbed her lips across it. After a long time of slowly rising tension, she came; and she grunted as she came.

A minute later, she blushed. She'd grunted; could he smell her? -- her smell would certainly be on his fingers; she might even be leaking. "Nobody can hear you," he said. "Billy's miles away." He kissed her abdomen and covered her with the sheet from the foot of the bed. After getting the robe she'd worn before out of the closet and dropping it on the bed, he went out -- closing the door behind him.

When she came out, he was sitting on the couch reading a magazine. "I'm sorry," she said, "I dropped off. Not much company, I'm afraid."

"Well, I'll take the sleep as a compliment. I did miss your company, but I manage to bear that deprivation six days in the week -- sometimes more. Want to watch the movie now? Want to take a shower?"

"Not a shower,..." the man kept talking as if she'd moved in with him, "but I need to use the facilities." She retrieved her purse. With empty bladder, new tampon, and renewed face, she felt much better when she came out.

"I don't mean to nag," he said, "but do you want to watch the movie now?"

Surprisingly, she did. "Let me get dressed first," she said. She was wearing only the robe he'd given her, panties and her bra. He'd left the bra on while he was removing everything else.

The movie was "Ruthless People," and they sat on the sofa with his arm touching her shoulders. He hugged her on the funny lines. Overall, though, he did less touching in his own living room than her high-school dates had in public theaters.

When the closing credits had rolled, he turned her face to his and kissed her. Their tongues touched. "Thanks for the dinner and movie," she said. "Thanks for the massage. Thanks for not starting the movie until I was ready. Thanks for being thoughtful."

"The massage was my pleasure. Oops! The massage was a gift to you; I didn't enjoy it at all." He grinned. Why did his denial convince her that he was interested in her body even like this? Oaths on a bible would have been less convincing. "As for starting the movie, it was a comedy."

"Huh?" Knut's conversation could take some weird turns.

"I like watching it, of course," he said. "But the real pleasure is hearing you laugh. You have a sexy laugh."

She laughed. "Knut, you're impossible. You plan out a date, and I ruin it. You give me a massage, and I fall asleep. You provide the entertainment, and all you can say is that I have a sexy laugh."

"Well, you do have a sexy laugh."

"Knut, I love you. You keep seeing the good points of everything I do."

"Will you marry me?" he asked. Where did that come from? "Backtrack!" Well, it had been nice for the ten seconds it had lasted. "One, I love you. Two, will you marry me? Three, you don't have to answer right now; you can think about it. I have my bad points, as you're painfully aware. But I do love you, and that should count for something."

"I'll think about it. And, now, I do think it is time for me to go home."

"Need the car? Or should I walk you?"

"You don't need to do that."

"In the first place, this is a safe neighborhood, but it's not that safe. In the second place, I enjoy your company; why should you deprive me of that just because you're an independent woman. I know you're an independent woman. Remember that the first time I saw you were escorting Billy around the neighborhood in an outfit you'd made yourself. Didn't make 'Becca half jealous, either."

"It made Rebecca jealous? Billy wanted to buy the Batman costume."

"See? We're compatible. You can sew, and I can rake in the bucks."

That had involved damn little sewing. A little cutting and a lot of folding, maybe. "Knut, you're impossible!"

"Sarah, you're beautiful." He kissed her before leading her out the door. They kissed again, a little more fervently, in her kitchen after he'd taken her home.

There were things to think about. He seemed serious about the proposal. What would it mean?

She'd been in love with Fred; and look where that got her. She'd sworn when she finally got the divorce that she'd never marry again. And, this time, it wasn't just two people. Billy and Rebecca would be involved. At least Knut had always treated herself and Billy as a package.

Still, it was an attractive idea. She liked Knut, and she liked herself when she was with Knut. "What would you think," she asked Billy when they had eaten dinner Monday, "of our living with Mr. Gustafson and Rebecca?"

"I don't know." Well, that was an honest answer, and better than it could have been. She'd wait for him to bring it up again, unless Knut insisted on an answer.

But Knut was far from insistent. He seemed to have forgotten the matter. He called Wednesday to ask if Billy would go to the zoo with him and Rebecca the next Monday. "I know you'll be working. I'll be on vacation. We're not going away this year."

"Billy's not awake," she said.

"I knew that. Well, I expected that. You don't have to answer now. It's just that, if he wanted to and you didn't want him to, you should have a chance to say 'no' before he hears about it."

"It sounds like a good idea to me." If Knut and she were to get married, he'd have to take more of these expeditions. That might have been why Knut asked, but -- if so -- he didn't mention it. Was he having second thoughts? He couldn't have forgotten it. Men didn't forget having proposed.

They all went to the Chinese Lantern on Saturday and shopping on Sunday without Knut mentioning marriage. Knut picked up Billy from Deb's on Monday and brought him back after she got home. "He had some carrot sticks recently," Knut said. "I know it throws your meal plans off schedule, but I didn't want to bring him back really hungry."

For that matter, carrot sticks were better than the sugary snack Deb sometimes fed him. "That's fine."

Warned, she took her time preparing dinner. They sat down to eat a half hour later than usual. Billy poked at his food. Had Knut fed him more than he'd told her? "What's wrong Billy?" she asked.

"If we went to live with 'Becca, would I really have my own room like he says?"

"You'd sort of have to." A girl and a boy couldn't share the same bedroom. There was some sort of law about that.

Billy had some more questions. Clearly, he'd been discussing this with Knut.

Knut called late that night. "This is Knut. I know you're mad, but hear my side of the case."

She wasn't mad. "I'll listen."

"I'm not pressuring you. I'm damn-well not pressuring you through Billy. I want you for a wife, not a victim. Billy brought it up himself. I answered as clearly as I could. I know that our living arrangements have to be a joint decision, even getting married has to be. Well, not quite joint. My position on marriage is out in the open. Your decision is final. He asked, and I answered -- that's all."

"I'm not mad," she said. Billy had asked a question, and Knut had been embarrassed like she had been so often. "Then the proposal is still open?"

"The proposal is open. I'm not trying to pressure you. I just answered Billy's question honestly. Wouldn't you have wanted me to?"

"Yes..., and yes."

"Pardon?" he asked. It hadn't been the clearest statement she'd ever made.

"Yes, I want you to be honest with Billy. And yes, I'll marry you."

"Why, thank you. Now, I'll tell 'Becca. All I could tell her was that I'd asked. Let's get together sometime to hammer out the details. We have lots to decide. I don't claim to decide for you, you know, even when I gave Billy concrete answers."

"You're right," she said. He often was.

"How about Saturday? How about a date Friday night and a negotiating session Saturday morning?"

"How about a discussion Friday night?" She didn't want to have this hanging over her.

"After dinner? Korean?"

She could wear slacks there. She had been dressing up too much for her dates. Especially since Knut had seen her at her worst without blanching. "That works."

"Look. Budget is one thing we'll have to work out. I'll have my figures as to income and expenditures. Would you bring yours with you? If you don't want to share, you don't have to; but I'd be happier if you say: 'I don't want to share that information yet,' than if you say, 'I didn't bother to bring that.'"

"That's fair," she told him.

The dinner was delicious, as usual. The conversation was more strained than her usual conversations with Knut. She suspected that they both were worrying about the upcoming meeting. "I didn't rent a movie," he said in the car on the way back. "I figured we had too full an agenda."

He'd put a pad of paper and three pencils on each side of the table in his kitchen. He poured each of them a cup of coffee after helping her into the chair.

"Well, I can't think of any more reasons for delay," he started off. "You think of teaching as a career, don't you?"

"Yes." That was easy.

"On the other hand, these summer jobs? Are they anything more than putting food on the table?"

"No. But it would be unfair to quit now."

"Okay. Finish off this year; teach in the fall; stay with the kids next summer. You'll start to appreciate the comforts of the office." She grinned.

"Would you mind our keeping my bank account? I've built up something of a relationship with these guys."

"That should work." He didn't seem to think about having two separate accounts.

"I'll get your signature recorded and your name on the checks. That might have to wait until after the wedding. Keep your old account until we're sure. I've been thinking of this longer than you have, but what are some of your questions?"

"What did you tell Billy about having his own room?" she asked.

"Well, as I said, I answered what I was asked. All of this is up for grabs. But would you be comfortable with having less than three bedrooms?"

"No."

"This apartment wouldn't work. Yours would be even tighter. So we need to look for another space. How committed are you to Chicago?" he asked. Did he want to move? Was his firm thinking of transferring him?

"Well, I teach here; and Fred has visitation rights."

"Is Evanston out of the question?" he asked.

"No." She'd known teachers who lived in the suburbs. "I thought you were thinking of New York."

"Well, I moved out to escape everything I'd known with Candice. 'Becca's learning enough in school, but -- when it comes time for college -- Evanston School District on her transcript will look better than Chicago Public Schools. Don't mean to denigrate your employer."

"That's all right."

"Anyway," he continued, "we'll have to look for someplace new. I was going to wait until the end of grade school. But Billy and she can't both make the transition when they'd have to attend a new school, anyway. So, we'll need a new place; one of us will look and the other one gets approval. Unless you'd prefer looking together. Three bedrooms. Apartment? I might be able to swing a house. I had a mortgage, before."

She had long ago given up the prospect of owning a house. Maybe she should think about that. No. They should see what marriage was like first. "Let's put the idea of a house in the 'sometime' file. Let's look for an apartment now."

"Good idea. And when is now? I mean when are we looking for a wedding date?"

"Sometime at the end of the summer. We don't want to move in the middle of a school year."

"Good enough. Which brings us to the wedding. Do you have a locale in mind?"

The courthouse downtown would do for her. She'd had a big church wedding, and look where it had ended up. "No. Do you?"

"I'd prefer my home church and my own preacher. But the wedding is the pidgin of the bride. I'm not going to fight about it. It's just that I'd prefer that. Are your parents going to expect the wedding to be in Milwaukee?"

"No." Her parents weren't expecting the wedding. She might have mentioned Knut to them; she sure hadn't mentioned the proposal.

He seemed to have run out of questions. "Have you mentioned this to Rebecca?" she asked.

"Sort of. Actually, Billy did. Not to 'Becca, but to me in front of her. She was not pleased. Not that she objects to you, but she felt that he'd been told and she hadn't. She came around. You wouldn't mind letting her cook a few meals once in a while, would you? We couldn't eat meatloaf and hamburgers very often."

"I'd be pleased." she said. "I'll teach her to cook some other things, too. Soon enough, she'll get tired of that." That was another side of there being four people in this marriage. Having a daughter would be fun; she had some things to teach her. And Rebecca had always been appreciative of what she could teach.

"Think about names. 'Mrs. Jenkins' won't work much longer."

"It would be a little odd, since I'd be Mrs. Gustafson."

"You would? You'll take my name? I love you. I think I've said that before. Of course, that'll cause some sort of problem for Billy in school."

She couldn't see what was special about taking his name. She was still using Fred's. "Not much of a problem. Schools are used to it. Do you have more questions?"

"I'm sure I've forgotten some. How about you? One thing. If we do use my church and pastor, she'll want to counsel us first."

"She?"

"Jen Blake. My minister. Anyway, what are the questions you have?"

He hadn't said that he had a woman pastor. Not that he talked about church all that much. Questions. "I think we've skirted around the relationship of each of us to the other one's child."

They went on like that. He wrote down answers and questions for later on his pad. She started writing them down on hers, too.

When they got to budgets, he had a list already made up. He'd put in his figures and left a space for hers. "I don't like that," he said when she put down what she'd spent for clothes in the last year.

And some of those clothes were for him to see, too. "What don't you like?"

"My clothes budget is larger than yours. Why don't we assign you the same amount as I get. You don't have to spend it all; I'm sure you'll use your judgment. Billy's getting less than 'Becca is more reasonable. She's older and a girl. Let's assign Billy half the difference. He's getting older."

"Okay." One more growth spurt would use that up, anyway.

Knut got out a calculator and ran the total. "I'll never cover it," he said. "After my raise, I'll never cover it; and that raise is nearly a year away. Am I presuming too much by counting on your pay?"

"No." Fred -- not that Fred had sat down with her to calculate budgets until crises had hit -- had complained that she wasn't bringing in enough. Knut was asking -- asking -- if he could count on her income to help buy the food she would eat.

They worked for hours. Not everything could be definitely determined this early, but they did enough so Knut could say: "I think this will work. Anything more?"

"I can't think of anything. But, maybe, that's because I can't think. We covered a lot of ground."

"And we have more time. Let's call it a night. You know, a dating couple pet and kiss until their need can only be satisfied in bed. A married couple simply finish what they have to do and go to bed."

"And you think we should imitate the married couple?" she asked. It wasn't the most romantic picture in the world, but they had already finished what they had to do. He nodded.

Once in the bedroom, though, he kissed her while they were still standing. His hands unbuttoned her blouse while his tongue was exploring her mouth. He broke that kiss to kiss her neck and shoulder while he was removing the blouse, but he stepped away to hang it up.

"My turn," she told Knut when he'd stopped kissing her breasts to hang her bra over a chair. She stripped off his shirt. When he'd removed his undershirt -- she'd have needed a ladder to pull anything over his arms -- she kissed his chest, ending on one nipple.

"Oh Sarah," he said and hugged her tight.

When he let go, she stepped out of her shoes and lay down on the bed. He kissed her mouth, kissed her left nipple, and removed her slacks. He repeated the process, except that it was her right nipple, for her pantyhose. He sat down on the side of the bed to remove his shoes, socks, and trousers. Then he kissed her thoroughly, his body covering hers as his tongue played with hers.

When he let her mouth he kissed down to her left breast. After licking and sucking on the nipple, he kissed down her torso. When he got to the panties, he put his hand on each side. She lifted her hips for the third time as he removed them.

He lay down to her right. When his kisses reached her breast, his hand stroked up between her thighs. He caressed her vulva as he sucked on her nipple. He shifted his head once to suck her other nipple. Then, when she was near, so near, he kissed her again on the mouth.

She went over during that kiss. When she collapsed back he cuddled her and kissed her forehead and eyebrows. His hand rested unmoving on her mound.

When she turned towards him, he kissed her. Soon his hand was moving again. He kissed from one breast to the other and back, stroking her lower lips the whole time. She wanted him this time. She tugged at his jockey shorts. He rolled away long enough to strip them down. Then he grabbed the condom from the nightstand. That wasn't necessary, but he put it on before she could say so.

Then he was over her and at her entrance. She spread her legs and raised her groin to meet him. "Oh, Sarah," he said. He slid in smoothly, occupying her while he covered her with his body. He put a hand on each of her breasts and kissed her forehead. "Lovely Sarah," he said as he moved out. His pace of his strokes started off slow, but they sped up.

Her arousal was approaching its peak. She ran her hands up and down his back. She pulled him against her as she climaxed. "Oh, Sarah!" he said and thrust more deeply into her.

The next thing she noticed was being cuddled as he lay beside her. She turned on her side and snuggled hard against him in the spoon position. He tucked the sheet and blanket around them and circled her with his arm. "Sarah," he said.

"Mmm, hmm," she answered but he didn't say anything else.

Sarah felt a hug and somebody moving off the bed, but she didn't really wake up until Knut came back into the room. Knut! Now she was awake and clutched the covers over her. This was a little silly; he'd already seen all there was to see.

"Want a robe?" he asked. He handed her the robe and turned his back. In the bathroom, her brain caught up with her body. She was engaged to Knut, after all. She was going to marry him, and he was going to see her every day. She'd wear a nightgown, though.

"Good morning," he said when she returned to the bedroom. He was in pajamas and robe. They had a kiss with his hands smoothing down her back to her butt. "Breakfast?"

"Still have the corn flakes?" she asked.

"Still have the corn flakes. Still have the eggs, for that matter. Well, I have other eggs. I'll have to watch my language married to an English teacher."

She wasn't that hard on her students, much less her fiance; she laughed. "Corn flakes would be fine." They ate breakfast across from each other in the kitchen. He had eggs. Did he expect to cook his own breakfast when they were married? "Look, we still have things to work out."

"Yep. Let's clear this away, and I'll get out the pads and pencils again." He got the bowl, plate, and silverware into the dishwasher. The pads seemed to be in the bedroom.

They sat across from each other with the pads and coffee cups.

"Your turn, I think," he said.

"I am a responsible woman. I can take care of birth control."

"There is a question before that. Do you want another child?"

Want one? Sometimes. Billy was a tremendous hassle but often an even greater source of joy. Plan to have one? Hell no! "No." Would he want one?

"Okay. You want to handle contraception in the marriage?"

"Yes."

"Okay. There may be times when that isn't convenient, but you're responsible for telling me when."

"Do you plan to cook your own breakfasts?" she asked.

"Let's play that by ear. I'm not going to go all macho on you and say, 'You're the woman -- you're the cook.' We'll be four people around the breakfast table. That's one place you're more lenient right now; I won't buy Cocoa Puffs for 'Becca."

"You want me to change?"

"Not unless you want to. Even then, it's not a good idea. Stepfather makes him eat less sugar; Billy resents stepfather. On the other hand, stepmother lets her eat candy for breakfast; 'Becca appreciates stepmother. Anyway..."

"Anyway, we'll see how it works out. Maybe I'll join you for eggs." If he would cooperate, she might not mind actually cooking the breakfasts. Or, usually cooking the breakfasts. She could cook; she made breakfasts for Billy and herself, after all. It's just that he should understand that he wasn't marrying a housekeeper.

"The rest of the meals, you'll probably cook -- or teach 'Becca to cook, which won't be any easier. That's not a sex stereotype; it's a matter of how well I cook."

"I can live with that."

"Off rush times, I can cook some. But it won't be special meals. Mother's day, your birthday, we'll go out to eat." That sounded good. "Right now," he continued "'Becca takes care of her own room except for major vacuuming. I set the standards. Otherwise, I do the cleaning except for special chores."

"Rebecca has chores?" she asked.

"Not, despite her moans and groans, especially heavy ones. Cooking isn't a chore for her; it's something she wants. Probably more work than carrying down the trash and dusting the three rooms."

"That's something which will have to be decided again."

"Sure. A new place, for one thing. Billy will have to do something; I'm sure he does now. Before we move in, I'll give you a list of her current chores. You know more about that sort of thing than I do. You divide up what each one does. Probably, I should tell 'Becca, and you should tell Billy, though. For that matter, you'll have to decide what each of us -- you and me -- does about our room. I don't want either kid wandering through it."

"Okay. I'm head housekeeper?"

"You're head of housekeeping," he said. She could tell that he meant a distinction with the different term, but she couldn't see what. "Somebody has to be. Besides, if I want something different -- and I doubt that I will -- I'll ask you."

"Allowance is something else," he continued. "We'll have to agree on what each gets. Probably 'Becca will get more, but both will increase over age. Billy has to know that what she gets at eleven, he'll get at eleven. (Plus cost-of-living increases, but we won't mention that.) Probably more important is what the allowance covers."

"I don't give Billy much."

"Well, we'll figure it out. I don't want him getting a big jump when he moves in. It would look like bribery. When we figure it out, if it comes to an increase, you can give him the increase earlier. I'll supply it, if necessary."

"Giving it to me wouldn't be bribery?" she asked.

"Lady, if I thought you could be bribed, I would have tried. Believe me."

They talked for hours more. Knut tore another sheet off his pad and wrote down everything which they had put off until later. Finally, he said: "Rings."

"Huh."

"We've talked about the wedding, mostly location, but we need to get you some rings. Two weeks from today? Sooner? I can't see a reason for later. I'm still on vacation next week, but we have two supervisors then. We could go today, for that matter. I'm at a loss, here. I don't know much about jewelers."

"I'm not an expert on them myself." She didn't want to go that day. She felt that, if she had to make one more decision, she'd scream. "Can we close this down?"

"Sure. Think about it. I've been thinking about it for a long time, but not writing my thoughts down. Damn! Life is complicated."

"Life is complicated," she said getting up, "especially married life."

"Ain't that the truth? But I'm going to be married to Sarah. That'll compensate for a lot."

Knut always talked as if she were somebody special. He got up and came around the table to kiss her. Goodness! He had an erection. He held her butt in his hands for the duration of the kiss. "Want me to put your tablet away, too?" he asked.

"Sure." They'd need to go over it again, but they could do that here. On the other hand, Billy wouldn't read her stuff; it was hard enough getting him to read printed material.

Knut carried all the material of their work into the bedroom and put it in a cabinet he unlocked. "Remember that we said you'd tell me if about the special times when condoms are necessary?"

"Yes."

"Is this one of those times?"

Well, her contraceptive jelly was way past its expiration point, and this was somewhere near the peak of her fertile period. The real question was whether they were going to have sex again that morning. Well, why not? "Yes. What is in that cabinet?"

"Everything I want to keep from 'Becca. You don't want to see some of it. I'll clean it out and get you a key before we move to a new place. We'll still have things we don't want the kids to see."

"Billy doesn't snoop," she said.

"Neither does 'Becca. But snooping is one thing, and seeing is another. And, with kids, I'm never sure what changes will come overnight. You know more about kids than I do. That seems damning with faint praise, but I meant that you've studied child psychology and all that -- aside from seeing classrooms every day."

"You're right. They change overnight. But you've made me curious." She went over to peer over his shoulder.

He moved aside and then stood behind her. He nuzzled her neck before straightening. "Our stuff," he said, pointing. "The stuff you haven't seen is real-estate ads from the Evanston Review. Those apartments won't be available when we look, but they gave me an idea of rents. Magazines." He pointed again. "Three tapes with material similar to the magazines. I'm not proud of it, but it was necessary when I didn't have a real, live, woman to relate to." She hadn't used any materials, but she'd released some of her own needs. She wasn't about to confess that, which made her insistence on seeing his secret cabinet a little hypocritical. He didn't mention the box of condoms, but he got one out and put it on the nightstand.

He closed the door to hall and turned the locking knob, a little silly considering that they were alone in the apartment. When he came back to her, he pressed his hand under her chin to tilt her face up for a kiss. The kiss went on and on, switching from a gentle touch of their lips to a deep penetration of her mouth and back. Meanwhile, he stroked her body through the robe before hugging her tightly. When Knut relaxed the hug, it was to remove her robe and -- then -- his.

When she broke away to retreat to the bed, he dropped his pajamas on the floor beside both robes. Once in bed with her, he kissed all over her body. For a while, she thought he was going to stay on her breasts forever. When he left those, his kisses trailed slowly down her abdomen. He shouldn't. She hadn't taken a shower. She tensed, but she decided not to stop him.

He kissed along the hairline of her delta and, then, down to her thigh. He spread her lower lips with his fingers. Then he licked across her lips and clitoris. She tensed. "Oh, Sarah," he said. Then his tongue was on her again.

She soared. She was near her climax when he stopped. He got between her legs and moved forward above her. "Sarah," he said, "darling, darling Sarah." Then he was in her. He moved his hands to hold her breasts, and he kissed her forehead.

His slow and deliberate strokes raised her excitement and raised it again. He barely paused as she went over. She soared, and -- from somewhere far away -- she felt him still moving inside her.

She couldn't respond again, maybe not ever again. But, as he kept moving and kept fondling her nipples, she began to respond again. She felt herself thrust back against his thrusts. "Oh, darling," he said, "oh, love. Oh, now!"

And on the last word, she came again. Spasming around him and gasping. He took two more strokes and then thrust harder than ever before. His pulses within joined her contractions.

She collapsed, more exhausted than she had ever been. He moved off and lay beside her. Even the arm that he curled over her was a weight her chest struggled to lift with every gasping breath. But it was a comfort, too.

Some time later, she gathered the strength to turn on her side and cuddle back against him. He turned on his side, too, curling around her. "Sarah," he said. She waited for the rest of the sentence, but fell asleep before it came.

When she awoke, he was sleep -- still cuddling her. After a few minutes enjoying the embrace, she slipped out of his arms. She took her underwear and her purse into the bathroom with her. She did use the shower this time. When she emerged, refreshed and dressed in her underwear and the robe, he greeted her with, "Good morning, lovely lady."

"Morning," she said and headed for the bedroom.

"Before you go in,..." he said. He went into the bedroom and emerged carrying his clothes. She heard the shower running while she dressed. She was in the living room waiting for him when he came out fully dressed.

"Look," he said, "I'm sorry. I thought I could go, and then -- when I got up to a plateau -- I wasn't going any higher. It just felt too good to stop. I try to control myself, usually."

She figured out that he was apologizing for the last sexual episode. He didn't need to apologize for that! She'd had four orgasms in the last 24 hours. She could name months after the divorce when she hadn't had four orgasms -- months before the divorce, for that matter.

"There was nothing to apologize for." 'For which to apologize,' but she wasn't in front of a class right then.

"You're a wonderful person, as well as being a beautiful woman. I only wish there was something I could do for you."

"Do for me?" Aside from what he'd already done for her.

"Anything. Well, anything possible. I won't fly you to the moon."

That was a great image. "Knut, you just did." He looked aside. Could he be blushing? She didn't want to ask for something he couldn't do. He was already working on the 'King Canute' bit. He might not always succeed -- he might not often succeed -- but that wasn't for lack of trying. Then she had a thought. "You'd really do anything for me?"

"Anything possible."

"Would you try, make an effort, to stop joking about child abuse?"

"Huh? That's not a joking matter. Do you think I abuse 'Becca?"

Not in that way. "You joke about hanging her in the closet by her toes."

"I wouldn't do that, not that it's possible, it was a joke."

"Precisely and, as a teacher, I'm supposed to report suggestions like that."

"I'll drop it; I don't know if 'Becca will."

"That's fine."

"Thirty strokes with a wet noodle just as bad?"

"Not so bad." She wanted him to work on the real problem. "Try, that's all I ask. Now, I've got to be going."

"That's worse than the other." He gave her a kiss and a hug before opening the door for her.

He called about every other day, never with anything important to discuss. He didn't mention that he was sending her a budget until he did. It was labeled 'Hypothetical Budget for a Family of Four.' If that was intended to fool Billy, he way overestimated his vocabulary. The food budget was well over twice what she and Billy spent. The clothing budget for 'Mother' and that for 'Father' were the same amount, well more than she was spending now; the one for 'Son' was more than she was spending on Billy, but less than the clothes budget for 'Daughter.' Large as the expenditures were, they left a substantial amount for savings. They also understated her earnings, even take-home.

She called up Knut. "Am I to assume that this budget is 'hypothetical' only for prying eyes?"

"Well, yes. But it's also a suggestion, a first draft."

"Well there are two points. I bring in more than that."

"I have a suggestion, there -- two suggestions, really. We budget for that income from you. Then, when more comes in, we're happy. If -- some week -- only that comes in, then we don't have to sweat. And, when more comes in, we put it in a special account. Call it the car-for-Sarah account."

That way, when she had the class from Hell, she could say, 'This is going to buy a car for me.' Just like she'd said 'This means Billy will eat' the past year. "You're a smart man, but the other is certain." Was it? Would Fred keep this job? "I have a court order for my support payment. You didn't put that in the reckoning."

"I have a suggestion about that. I get support payments from Candice. I put them away in a college account for 'Becca. I'd suggest you do the same. Billy will have to go to college, won't he? That way, Fred can't bitch about supporting anyone but his son."

"You think so far into the future."

"That's what money's for. When you only make enough to put food on the table for today, you spend your money on today. Tomorrow is the stuff of prayers. When you make more, you push your plans further ahead. Look, what I sent you is a suggestion. Want something different? Tell me. Or make your own suggestion. But I've known you to be desperate about what's coming in the near future -- desperate enough to accept help from an arrogant MF."

She interrupted. "Knut that was unfair of me."

"Darling, love me. I love you, and I want you to love me. But love the real me."

"I do love you. And you are sometimes bossy," which sounded better than 'arrogant' without avoiding the truth, "but you are always kind."

"Anyway, there are two meanings for 'making a budget.' A budget is a formal declaration of how we've decided to spend our money. I'm in charge of the formal declaration; I'm the accountant. But it's our decision. It's yours as much as mine."

"The kids don't get a vote?"

"Not much of one. That's one reason they need an allowance. They need to make decisions on how they will spend money; and when the money is gone, it's gone. If something they want more comes along -- when something they want more comes along -- they'll learn about budgeting."

"You talk like such a hard-nosed father." Rebecca didn't look deprived -- over-controlled occasionally, but never deprived.

"Well, those are my standards. Don't tell Reuben and Metzger how often I slip from my standards. I'm supposed to enforce standards. For example, I intend to hold you up to the standard of being truly beautiful."

And the conversation went on from there in silliness.

The next time that Knut called, he had business. "This is Knut. Look, I told you the preacher would want to talk to us."

"Yes?"

"Is Thursday evening possible? She's a preacher, and -- being a preacher -- wants to keep Saturdays for sermon prep. She knows you get off at five and have to travel. If not, we'll make another appointment."

"Sure," she agreed. "I'll get Deb to feed Billy with her two."

"I'm going to be in the Loop, too, and the CTA must be murder at five. Why don't I pick you up?"

He picked her up. Lake Shore Drive was a parking lot at rush hour, but they finally got to the church. Reverend Blake brushed aside Knut's apology for being late. "You took a time which was convenient for me and inconvenient for you. I knew that your time depended on traffic. I'm Jen Blake," she said to Sarah.

"Sarah Jenkins."

"Why don't you both come back to my office, sit down, and get comfortable?"

She took down a bunch of data first. Sarah couldn't tell whether that were necessary or a ploy to make them comfortable. "Okay," the pastor said after a while, "Knut, what is the thing about Sarah that you like most? You can skip sexual details."

"She's stubborn," said Knut.

"I asked what you liked most; that's the next question."

"I like that she's stubborn. Can you imagine a wimp married to me? One year and she'd be a dishrag. Sarah, never."

"Okay. Sarah, what do you like most about Knut?"

"He's kind and responsible." That hung there. "That sounds like two things, but it's really one. He takes care of me and he takes care of Billy."

"She didn't say that the last version even sounded like two things," the pastor said to Knut. "Remember that. And what do you find most annoying about Sarah?"

"She clams up. I do something that bothers her, and she withdraws. Shit! And this is even before the marriage. I've told her to slap my face instead."

"Sarah?"

"He's bossy. He tries; I'll give him that. But he makes decisions for me, for Billy -- Billy sometimes needs an adult to make decisions for him, but I'm around -- for Rebecca."

"Are you going into this marriage thinking the other will change?"

Sarah laughed. "When hell freezes over."

"But I'll work on it," Knut said. "Sarah isn't going to change, but -- at least -- she won't be able to slam the phone down on me."

"You've both been married before. What went wrong with your first marriage? Why did it end? Knut?"

"I caught Candice in bed with another man."

"Sarah?"

"Fred didn't grow up. Some days, Billy is more responsible; and he hasn't started third grade yet."

"Look," the pastor said. "I'm not going to ask that question again, but the answers bothered me. I want each of you to think about those answers. I don't know your previous spouses, but I know people. Two people make a marriage; when it fails, two people have usually failed. What I heard was that the other guy failed in each case. Knut, your standards are that a woman should always be faithful to her husband. Were you always faithful to your wife? Are you willing to be always faithful to your new wife?"

"Yes," Knut said.

They talked about marriage for a while longer. "What's your picture of a stepparent?" the pastor asked towards the end.

"As close to being a parent as the blood parent will allow," Knut answered immediately. "I'm not worried so much about Sarah; after all, you have to agree even if you're both blood parents. I do worry about Billy's father and about Candice."

"Sarah?"

"I think that a kid needs a set of rules, not necessarily a strict set, but a single set. I do worry about Billy hearing one thing from me, another thing from Knut, and a third thing from Fred. And Knut's right; Fred isn't cooperating on rules right now."

"And," Knut said, "two kids in the same house need to have the same rules. Not precisely the same for an older girl and a younger boy, but consistent. So, leaving aside our disagreements -- Sarah's and mine -- if Billy can do something while he's with his father and 'Becca learns of that, then 'Becca will expect to be able to do that, too. Billy's age is somewhat of an argument."

"But," the pastor said, "not one that seems to impress younger children. Well, you're thinking about that problem. Are you planning to work out the details before the marriage?"

"Yes," said Knut.

"We've already started," she added. "Not that something we've never thought of before won't show up the first week."

The pastor and Knut both chuckled at that. "The wedding," the pastor said. "Do you want the children to participate in that?"

"Flower girl and ringbearer?" Knut asked. "That's a little fancier than I had in mind."

"Sure," the pastor said. "I sometimes say that I went the whole nine yards in my wedding, but I had neither. I didn't suggest that you need a ringbearer or a flower girl; you don't. You might not need to include the children. It might be a terribly bad idea to include the children; send them off with their blood parents, and have them come back to find you married. You do need to make a conscious decision about their participation. What sort of wedding that makes is less important than what sort of family that makes. I doubt anyone will say, 'she didn't wear a long, white, dress; she wasn't entitled to a flower girl.' If one of your friends does, I'd worry more about your friend than about your wedding design."

"We'll think about it," said Knut.

"Want the organist?"

"Yes," said Knut.

"He's a hundred; I'm a hundred; the building is a hundred."

"Fine," said Knut.

"When do you want the wedding?"

Knut's glance gave the question to her. "The end of the summer," she said.

"I'm going away in early August," the pastor said. "Late July or late August?"

Knut was still looking at her. "Late August," she said.

"Look," Knut said, "we can't get it any more exact until we decide on the kids' participation."

They showed her around the sanctuary. "It will be much brighter in the daytime," the pastor said.

Knut told about growing up in this church. When they got outside, he pointed to the words carved over the door. "Orrington Avenue SME Church."

"That's Swedish Methodist Episcopal. Back then, Swedes had their own annual conference."

"You go back a long time," she said. "Look, how big a wedding are you picturing?"

"Big? Not particularly. Fancy? Not unless you want it. Jen's right about the kids. It's much more important that we decide what sort of role they need to play than whether the rest of the wedding matches the role. I see three possibilities: we get married while they're away; we get married with them in the audience. Do you think your parents will come? I can pay the airfare. If they do, Billy can sit with your parents while 'Becca sits with my dad. As you saw, Orrington Avenue -- Aldersgate now -- doesn't have a center aisle. So most people won't be sitting on the groom's side or the bride's side. Anyway, the third possibility is that they have roles as part of the wedding party."

"Slightly related," he continued, "is honeymoon. Do we go off? Do we move into the new house and welcome the kids on Sunday Evening back from their visitation? Do we all move in and come back to the house after the wedding? I can let my dad keep 'Becca. I can afford hotel costs for your parents and Billy."

"My parents aren't poor," she said. For that matter, Mom Jenkins would be glad to keep Billy.

"I didn't say that they were. Asking them to stay a couple of extra days in a hotel to watch a kid who is -- after all -- our responsibility seems somewhat much. Asking them to dip into their own pockets seems worse. For that matter, we could all -- except 'Becca -- go to Milwaukee together. You and I could go on our honeymoon while Billy stays with his grandparents. We could pick him up on our way back." He looked at her face. "To be decided later."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Darling, you've had to make all sorts of decisions, and -- instead of that reducing the pile of decisions facing you -- each one of them reveals a new pile behind it. Look, and these are the last two decisions today, I promise. Billy will have eaten, do you want to stop for dinner before we pick him up?"

"No. I have my dinner already planned." And she wanted Billy home and in bed before he crashed.

"Do you have a driver's license?"

How was that a decision? "Sure."

"Would you want to drive back? I'll tell you the route."

"Sure." Was he tired? Did he feel that he was more tired than she was?

She hadn't been behind the wheel for a while. Knut watched patiently and directed her along a route which was off the expressway.

When she got to Deb's house, Knut changed over to the driver's side while she got Billy. Driving back, he said, "You need a car of your own, but I don't think that's going to come soon." It certainly needn't; she'd been traveling the city by CTA for a long time. "I'll need this one during the rush times, but mostly you won't be working then. Let's figure out who needs it more for the exceptions. Even late at night, the EL runs some sort of schedule. Probably I'd be safer than dozing behind the wheel."

Was this headed where she thought it was? "Knut, this is your car."

"Yep! Now, and when you get one of your own. But, when we're a family with only one car, it'll be the family car. I have an extra set of keys. They work; I checked. I can give you them now, or wait 'til the day." She could tell that he meant 'wedding day.' He was censoring himself because of Billy.

"Knut, you're one inch more generous than you are infuriating."

He laughed. "That generous? Nobody is that generous. But I do love you."

"I'd echo the sentiment if we were alone." She glanced at Billy, who had turned his attention from the passing scene to the front seat. "Life is complicated."

"Especially, to quote a very wise woman of my acquaintance, family life."