Knut was nervous when he phoned Sarah. If this worked out it would take their relationship to a new level, or -- at least -- extend the brief time they had alone together. "This is Knut. 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." Which was delightful to hear.

"Assyrian?" he asked.

"Pardon."

"The Middle-Eastern restaurant." After their date there, they'd gone back to her apartment and necked like teenagers. Maybe, those memories would start her juices flowing.

"Great."

That accomplished his purpose, except to hear her voice. He dragged the call on for that purpose.

He resisted the temptation to call again before Friday night. Then, however, he had a perfect excuse. "This is Knut. Is this a good time to pick you up?"

The answer shocked him "Well, I don't know. You might not want to pick me up at all." There was a long pause. "I'm a total mess."

"You're a sweet woman," he answered. "If you mean in dress, this isn't the fanciest place in town." For that matter, they could eat elsewhere. He could get carry-out and they could eat here in his apartment.

"I mean physically. My period just started."

Damn! And women were all different in their feelings about that. For him, it would be an entirely safe time for a bareback ride. But he could tell that this wasn't on her agenda. "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?"

He kissed only her hand when he picked her up. Poor girl was suffering but she was delightful company. In the car going back, he asked, "I have another movie. Do you feel that sociable?"

"Fine," she said. "But it can't go any further."

What did 'no further' mean? "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?"

That was a weird term. Disappointed, maybe. "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." But she didn't really set the ground rules.

In his apartment, he went after it a different way. "Are we still agreed that when I cross some line, you'll tell me? You won't freeze up?"

"I told you," she said. "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 was taking this very well. Now for the touchy point. "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?" She sounded favorable.

"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?"

"I'm not sure," she said smiling.

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

They tried. He got her out of her outer clothes, then out of pantyhose and panties. He really needed the access to give a good massage. He couldn't find an excuse to remove her bra, though, and she'd said that her breasts were too sensitive right then to be touched. He took some of the kinks out of her shoulders and back first, then got down to rubbing her belly to ease her pain.

He should leave her alone. She'd said she wasn't in the mood. He'd stop the first time she told him to, stop when she froze up. But, when she did tense up, she wasn't showing rejection. He stroked her labia and even her sweet clit. She moaned when she came, almost bringing him with her. It was the sexiest sound in the world, even sexier than her laugh.

Then she blushed. Could she be concerned over that sexy sound? "Nobody can hear you," he reassured her. "Billy's miles away."

Now, she might rest. He covered her with the sheet and laid her robe on the bed. He'd have liked to stay there and watch her, but she deserved her privacy. He didn't want to behave like a dirty old man when she could catch him.

He caught up on his reading until she came out. "I'm sorry," Sarah said, "I dropped off. Not much company, I'm afraid."

"Well," he replied, "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, but I need to use the facilities."

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

"Let me get dressed first."

He kept reminding himself that she didn't want to be touched right now. He couldn't resist a hug when she laughed, though.

At the end of the picture, he did give her a small kiss. "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."

That was a lot of thanks. "The massage was my pleasure," he replied. "Oops! The massage was a gift to you; I didn't enjoy it at all. As for starting the movie, it was a comedy."

"Huh?"

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

She laughed the sexy laugh again. He was on a roll. "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," she said. "You keep seeing the good points of everything I do."

"Will you marry me?" he responded. Oops! Women like to hear a declaration of love first. "Backtrack. 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," she said. Her face looked like she was thinking, not like she was either accepting or rejecting. "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," he reasoned, "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."

He couldn't resist that opening. "See? We're compatible. You can sew, and I can rake in the bucks."

"Knut, you're impossible!"

"Sarah, you're beautiful." He kissed her before leading her out the door. That one didn't seem to bother her, so he took a few more liberties during the kiss before he left her at home.

As long as she hadn't said 'no,' he was better off. He wasn't going to mention it unless she did or she said 'I love you' again. Or, at least, until she came to his apartment again when 'Becca and Billy were away.

His vacation came up. He and 'Becca did some things locally, but the zoo was on their usual agenda. "Why don't I invite Billy?" he asked Wednesday when 'Becca mentioned the zoo.

"And his mom?" Damn! 'Becca was sharp.

"It might be polite, but I'll bet she's working that day. C'mon, you enjoyed showing him around the museum."

'Becca came around. Billy appreciated her hamburgers, after all. 'Becca didn't have so many fans that she could afford to displease one. Now, there were only two other people to win over.

He called late that evening. "I'm taking 'Becca to the zoo next Monday. Would Billy like to go along? 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." But, as she didn't mention his proposal, neither did he.

Billy wasn't that reticent. Knut had been afraid of some argument over the front seat. Instead, Billy got in back and let Knut check his seat belt. 'Becca, who would have made a fuss if she were placed in back when no adult was in front, spent the first ten minutes telling Billy about all the 'neat stuff' at the zoo. When she ran down, Billy asked, "Mr. Gustaf?"

"It's 'GustafSON,' Billy. A real long name."

"If Mom and I move in with you, will I sleep in 'Becca's room?"

Knut managed to keep from running off the road, despite his own reaction to that question and 'Becca's scream. "That isn't under discussion, Billy. I've asked your mother to marry me. If she does, we'll all live in the same house. But it won't be my present apartment; it will be an entirely different place. You'll have your own room; Rebecca will have her own room." Let's not mention just yet that mommy and Mr. Gustafson will be sharing the same room.

"Daddy," shrieked 'Becca in a voice not much lower than her previous scream.

"You're talking too loud, 'Becca. I can't hear you."

She dropped her voice. It was still too loud for the present situation, but no longer painful. "Daddy, why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, there is nothing to decide until Mrs. Jenkins says yes or no. Not much to talk about if she says no, for that matter. Clearly, she feels she needs to consider Billy's reaction."

"You didn't tell me."

"You like her. If she marries me, she'll teach you to cook something else." Which was promising something he hadn't even asked Sarah about. Well, she'd suggested the first lesson.

"You could have asked."

"But you wouldn't put me in Sarah's room?" Billy asked again. Second grade, it was a horror; if this marriage went through he'd be sneaking peeks at 'Becca in well less than a decade. Well, in a decade, 'Becca would be at college.

"No. You'd have your own room. Your mother and I would see that you kept it clean, but Rebecca wouldn't come in unless you invited her; and you wouldn't go into 'Becca's room unless she invited you."

"Absolutely never!" said 'Becca. Knut could live with that. Neither of the kids was thinking of the other as ever being any different. He was thinking of eighth-grade Billy and high-school-senior 'Becca.

The zoo was a great success. Billy loved seeing the animals and having 'Becca as a personal guide. 'Becca loved having a follower to show around. They looked like they had forgotten everything about the marriage, but Knut suspected that those thoughts were merely festering.

Knut was willing to insist that 'Becca yield the front seat for the trip back to Billy if he asked. He didn't, apparently having yielded a precedence to a 'big kid' which he was unwilling to yield to his mother. 'Becca was the one with questions now.

"Will I have to share everything with Billy?" she asked.

"You mean your dresses?"

"Daddy!"

"Everything? No. Some things? Yes. You'll be treated equally. When we get a video, it will be for you both. When you go to the movies, he probably won't go along, but -- in that case -- he'll go to the movies later, and you won't. Probably a different day. He's younger and a boy; some things will be different. Look, when we go to the restaurant together. Do you get to hog the food?"

"No."

"Does he eat as much broccoli beef as you do? Or does he concentrate on sweet-and-sour shrimp?"

"Shrimp," Billy said hopefully from the back seat. 'Becca laughed.

"Not today," Knut told him. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Well, wait until I get a place to pull over. I have a cooler in the trunk."

Really hungry, Billy settled for the carrot sticks from the cooler with good grace. Knut resumed his discussion with Rebecca while she munched. "What were going to do, if we get married -- and I emphasize that Mrs. Jenkins hasn't said we would -- is the same as in the restaurant. You'll get equal treatment, but he'll want one thing and you'll want another. You'll get more of one thing, and he'll get more of another. You won't have to share what you now have, but you might like to share some of what you now have. You might like to lend him some books, for example."

"And if I don't?"

"If you don't want to, then you don't share. And, if you want to invite him to read one book, you might not want to invite him to read another. They're your property. But, if it's books or toys or things like that, you'll keep your property in your room. You won't wave something in front of him and say 'You can't have this.' Look, don't borrow trouble. Remember that people are nice to people who are nice. Those are Rebecca's computer games; nobody can play them unless 'Becca says so. On the other hand, that is Daddy's computer."

"You wouldn't." He had, when she had told him that he couldn't play one of the computer games he'd grown addicted to. It was her property, and he wasn't about to tell her it wasn't. On the other hand, the cords to the computer had gone to work with him the next three days.

"People are nice to people who are nice. You want things from me; you'll want things from Mrs. Jenkins." Damn! He had to think of another name. They had to think of another name, other names, really. 'Mommy' and 'daddy'? Probably not. 'Sarah' and 'Knut'? He hoped not.

They drove along, Knut lost in his thoughts, 'Becca lost in hers. Billy, who hadn't said a thing for a while, was probably lost in his. He'd put up one or two 'remember that this is depends on Mrs. Jenkins's answer' insertions, but he'd mostly talked as if the marriage was a done deal. Billy probably missed those insertions.

Knut could imagine his reports on this conversation. Sarah would be livid. Still, the kids would be worrying about changes. He wanted them to see the marriage as good for them. If it didn't go through, their lives wouldn't be any different. He did not want their hopes centering on 'maybe it won't happen.'

He waited until 'Becca was deep asleep, and Billy probably was too. "This is Knut. I know you're mad, but hear my side of the case."

"I'll listen," she said.

"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. 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?" Did that mean what he thought it did? Or was it just his hopes talking?

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

"Why, thank you," he said. "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."

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

"How about a discussion Friday night?"

That was okay, but he wanted a date, as well. "After dinner? Korean?"

"That works."

"Look." He'd thought about this. Kids' rules and money were the two most important things they'd have to work out. Having a stepfather was something which would cause problems for Billy. Having a larger income would make life easier. Deal with the positives first. "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 said.

She wore slacks to the date -- perhaps a gentle hint that this was going to end in a business meeting, not a night of passion. After the dinner, they settled down in his kitchen to work. Sarah had obviously been more bothered by his making all the decisions -- even when the decision was to feed her instead of letting her starve -- than over the decisions themselves. When he presented her with a list of suggestions, she was willing to use his bank account, willing to move to Evanston, and willing to have the wedding there. She was even willing to take care of two kids summers, which would be a chore.

Instead of the future, her first question was about the past. Well, it would affect the future. "Have you mentioned this to Rebecca?"

"Sort of," he admitted. "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." He'd committed Sarah without asking her, what she always objected to. But he still couldn't see any way out.

"I'd be pleased. I'll teach her to cook some other things, too. Soon enough, she'll get tired of that."

Sarah even said she'd take his name. He was pleased, and she was such an independent woman, too. He brought up the counseling session with Jen. A little sneaky, after Sarah had already agreed to the location. He felt, though, that counseling was something that might well benefit them.

When he asked for her questions, she went to the heart of the problem. "I think we've skirted around the relationship of each of us to the other one's child."

They dealt with that in some depth. It was a problem, but one she saw them as sharing, not something she saw as grounds for cancellation. He brought up the budget again, getting more concrete. With the objective budget data in front of them, after already saying that she regarded teaching as a career, she immediately agreed that her earnings would go into the common pot.

Finally, when she seemed to be running out of steam, he closed it off: "I think this will work. Anything more?"

"I can't think of anything," she replied. "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." Would she accede? She had, after all, worn slacks.

"And you think," she asked, "we should imitate the married couple?" But she was obviously agreeable.

She followed him into the bedroom, cooperated in the kiss, allowed him to strip her topless. When she did end his exploration of her body, it was with the sweetest words imaginable, "My turn."

When he was topless, when she'd kissed his nipple causing an earthquake in his pants, she lay on the bed. It was much easier to kiss her that way, especially the parts below the neck. It was easier to remove her slacks, too. When she was down to her panties, he stripped to his shorts and joined her.

He lay over her to kiss her mouth once more. Her nipples were hard against his barely-touching skin; her tongue responded to his. Paying her breast much less attention than it deserved, he kissed a trail down to her panty line. She raised her center in silent permission to remove these.

He lay beside her with his feet dangling off the end of the bed. Now she was totally open to his hand and mouth. She, so responsive, tensed in preparation for her orgasm before his mouth could reach her sweet center. Perhaps that was for the best. His mouth covered hers when she groaned in completion.

In the first place, that sound was even sexier coming into his mouth. In the second, nobody outside the room -- even with an ear pressed against the door -- could possibly have heard it. He didn't want her embarrased by her response.

He cuddled her while she panted, kissed her when she had recovered, began making love to her again. Again, her interruption signaled acceptance not rejection. She tugged at the band of his shorts. He removed them and replaced them with the Trojan.

Her motions, too, signaled her acceptance. "Oh, Sarah," he said as he felt the labia just at the crown of his cock. She was so warm, so smooth, so welcoming. He shifted his position to reach her sweet breasts as well. "Lovely Sarah!" Her arms enfolded his chest as her cunt had enfolded his cock.

He could feel his orgasm rushing onward, driving his pace faster and faster. But hers came even earlier. "Oh, Sarah!" he said as she clutched around him. Even her hands clasped him. Then he was pouring his love and his juice into her.

He fell sidewise while his muscles were still under his control. He lay panting beside her until she backed completely into his arms. "Sarah!" he said as he tucked her in. Marvelous Sarah was in his arms, would sleep in his arms tonight.

He woke up beside Sarah, a naked Sarah. He was tempted to resume his love-making, but controlled himself. He gave her a hug and went into the bathroom. Bladder emptied, body washed, and face shaved -- he would get a kiss at least, he returned to the bedroom clad in robe and pajamas.

Sarah panicked and held the sheets tightly over her body. He liked the shape that showed, but this wasn't the time to say so. He offered her robe and turned his back.

She looked less frazzled when she came back. "Good morning," he said before a kiss, "breakfast?"

"Still have the corn flakes?"

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

That was rewarded with a delightful laugh. "Corn flakes would be fine." When breakfast was over, she said, "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 pads out of the locked cabinet and sat across from her. "Your turn, I think."

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

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

"No."

"Okay." That was a relief, really. "You want to handle contraception in the marriage?"

"Yes."

"Okay. There may be times when that isn't convenient," like the morning after they've had sex when her contraceptives were back at her apartment, "but you're responsible for telling me when." He was willing to cooperate, but she was in charge.

They dealt with having two kids, raised on different standards, in the same household. Which brought them to chores, which brought them -- brought him, really, to: "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?"

That was quite the wrong way to put it. She wouldn't have the obligation; she'd assign the obligations. "You're head of housekeeping. Somebody has to be. Besides, if I want something different -- and I doubt that I will -- I'll ask you." As opposed to the silent sulks he feared if he assigned things in a way that dissatisfied her.

Then they got to the question of the engagement ring. "We could go today, for that matter," he said. "I'm at a loss, here. I don't know much about jewelers."

"I'm not an expert on them myself. 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, especially married life."

"Ain't that the truth?" Then he had a more cheerful thought. "But I'm going to be married to Sarah. That'll compensate for a lot."

They rose and kissed. And this was going to be one of the good parts about being married to Sarah, but not the best. He should get things cleaned up first, though. "Want me to put your tablet away, too?" She could take it home if she wanted.

"Sure."

Putting the tablets in the cabinet confronted him with the box of Trojans. "Remember that we said you'd tell me if about the special times when condoms are necessary?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Is this one of those times?"

After a pause, "Yes. What is in that cabinet?"

"Everything I want to keep from 'Becca." What he wanted to keep from Sarah, for that matter. But you don't hide things from your wife; she'd suspect it was something worse. "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. But his mother did. She came over behind him to look. He moved behind her. It gave her eyes a little more scope -- and his hands lots more scope. She didn't seem shocked at his possession of porn.

He wanted this to be their private space, their conspicuously private space. He closed and locked the door before returning to lift her chin for a kiss. The kiss as delightful, the feel of her body through the robe was more delightful. Soon, though, the robes were too much. He removed hers and then his own. When she went over to the bed, he dropped his pajamas before joining her.

She was so much easier to reach with his kisses this way! So he kissed, if not all her skin -- he wanted to finish this before lunch -- lots and lots. The breasts were delectable, the nipples were responsive, and she spread her legs to welcome his hand between them. But the juicy labia under his fingers demanded a taste. He teased himself, and -- he hoped -- her, by approaching them slowly and indirectly.

She tasted as luscious as she'd felt. And she responded. "Oh, Sarah!" he said. When her arousal seemed to be nearing its peak, he tore his mouth away. He slipped on the Trojan, climbed between her legs, felt the warmth of her entranceway. "Sarah," he said, "darling, darling Sarah." Then he felt her slickness enfold him. It was delightful, and the motions through it were more delightful.

His orgasm didn't rush in upon him this time. He felt desire, the sensations from his cock were exquisite, but the peak was nowhere near. Even when Sarah moaned beneath him and convulsed around his cock, he didn't follow her. Instead, driven by those tight squeezes, he kept moving in and out.

This went on and on, for an eternity that charmed him even as it began to worry him. Then Sarah, so responsive, responded again. "Oh, darling," he said as he felt her rise against him. His climax was coming. "Oh, love," he said as it neared. And, as it finally came, "Oh, now!"

He gushed into her and dropped beside her. When his breath was nearly recovered, Sarah nestled against him. He turned to enfold her completely. "Sarah," he murmured as he dropped off.

He awoke to an empty bed. She was using the shower. Share it? He suspected that she wasn't ready for that intimacy. She might have negative feelings about his performance just now; he certainly did.

He put the pajamas and robe again, and waited for her to finish. "Good morning, lovely lady," he said when she came out.

"Morning," she said, not angrily but neutrally. She headed into the bedroom.

"Before you go in...." He got his clothes and went into the bathroom. The insides of the Trojan looked hardly damp when he removed it.

"Look," he said when he came out showered and dressed, "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."

"There was nothing to apologize for," she responded. He would have preferred forgiveness.

"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?"

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

"Knut, you just did. You'd really do anything for me?"

"Anything possible." After that compliment, he really would.

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

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

"You joke about hanging her in the closet by her toes."

"I wouldn't do that." Didn't she see 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."

Then he thought of his other joke about punishement. "Thirty strokes with a wet noodle just as bad?"

"Not so bad. Try, that's all I ask. Now, I've got to be going."

"That's worse than the other." But she gave him a kiss on the way out.

'Becca returned. He worked on the budget some days while she was asleep. Other days, he called Sarah. These weren't times for deep discussions; they were times for pleasant conversation.

He printed up the budget and mailed it to Sarah.

Sarah responded by phone. "Am I to assume that this budget is 'hypothetical' only for prying eyes?"

That was one reason. But he wasn't telling her what to do. "Well, yes. But it's also a suggestion, a first draft."

"Well there are two points." But these weren't budget- busters. They were sources of income that weren't explicitly in the budget. Sarah might be spending up to the limit of her present income, but she didn't think of this as the only way to live. She hadn't even brought up furniture for the new apartment.

He called up the church from his office. "Aldersgate- Orrington Avenue United Methodist Church." Quite a mouthful, but the old church hadn't been lost in the merger.

"Might I speak to Reverend Blake, please. This is Knut Gustafson, one of her parishioners." The church secretary was from Aldersgate; Orrington Avenue hadn't been able to afford one for several years.

"Jen Blake speaking," said the next voice he heard.

"Knut Gustafson here. I'm one of the Orrington Avenue crowd, and I have non-emergency business with you."

"Yes Knut. I know who you are. Aren't that many taller than David."

"Well, I just got engaged. I'd like you to perform the service."

"Um. You would like.... Did you consult your fiancee?"

Damn! The woman did know him. "Yes. She's agreeable."

"I'll want to talk with the two of you."

"I told her that you probably would. Problem is that she's working nine-to-five these days. Saturday? Evening? She doesn't go to our church, doesn't live in Evanston."

"I can do a Saturday if that is necessary. I try to keep them free, though. Is Thursday evening possible?"

"I'll have to check with her. It can't be too much before six. We'll be coming from the Loop."

"I'll pencil in Thursday at six. Call me if that doesn't work out. And congratulations."

Sarah was agreeable. Sarah usually was as long as he was clear that she had a choice. He picked her up at her office and drove to the church. He had Sarah call from the car to tell Jen that they were running late. At least, the church parking lot had plenty of room for them on Thursday evening.

Jen didn't blink an eye that they had both been married before. She knew about him, of course, since 'Becca sat with him every other Sunday. She did ask a critical question, though. "You've both been married before. What went wrong with your first marriage? Why did it end? Knut?"

Memory burned through him like fire. It wasn't yesterday, but it felt like it. "I caught Candice in bed with another man."

"Look," Jen said after Sarah had answered, "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. He'd been faithful, even when he began to suspect that Candice slept around when she was in other cities. 'Becca was his, he didn't doubt that. Catching the copilot in his bed had been the last straw, though.

When all the questions had been answered, he showed Sarah around the sanctuary. Outside, he pointed out the original carving which identified the church as 'Orrington Avenue SME Church.

She asked how big a wedding he was picturing. Damn! Had he been making decisions for both of them again? Of course, Jen asked questions and he answered them.

"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."

That wasn't the end of it, though. "Slightly related 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."

"I didn't say that they were." But refusing the offer of paying for the hotel should be left to them. "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 finally figured out that her fright wasn't over his decisions, it was over having to make another decision herself. "To be decided later."

"Is it that obvious?" she asked.

"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."

"Do you have a driver's license?" He'd better make sure of that.

"Sure."

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

"Sure," she said. She handled the car fine. She looked a little rusty, but clearly was a safe driver. While she got Billy, he got into the driver's seat. "You need a car of your own," he pointed out when they were finally on their way home, "but I don't think that's going to come soon. 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."

"Knut," she responded, "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."

"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. Life is complicated."

"Especially, to quote a very wise woman of my acquaintance," she wasn't the only one who could censor herself, "family life."