“Mary,” he said in a gentle voice, “I’ve summat t’ discuss with ye.”

She glanced up from her work at him, and the look in his eyes made her stop what she was doing. She dropped the potato and the knife she was holding and wiped her trembling hands in her apron; something was very wrong. John’s eyes were clouded and his mouth was a thin, serious line. Mary felt her knees begin to shake, and she felt the color drain from her cheeks. Without a word, John slid off the counter and pulled her into his arms, gathering her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long, shuddering sigh.

“There’s just no easy way t’say this, Mary,” said John at last. “So I’ll just come right out and tell ye. There’s this gel, y’see...she was here with me about six months ago.” Mary pulled back a bit and looked carefully at his face; it was wide open and earnest; he was hiding nothing.

He frowned at her expression and shook his head. “No, s’nothin’ like what ye seem t’be thinkin, Mary, gurrl,” he went on. “She don’t mean anythin’ t’me. She’s no one, she was just...well, she kinda threw herself at me outside th’studio one night, an’ I was lonely, so I brought ’er home with me. But today I got this.” John fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out a long, white envelope. “It’s a legal paper, Mary,” he added. “She says she’s preggers, an’ she says I’m t’blame.”

“What does she want? Does she want money?”

“If that was all she wanted, it wouldn’t be a problem,” he said in a heavy voice. “She wants a lot more than that. She wants me to fuckin’ marry her.”

Mary gasped and swallowed hard. “Can she make you do that, John?”

“No,” he replied. “She can’t make me do that, but she can make things look pretty ugly for me if I refuse. But of course I have to refuse. I’m still legally bound to Cyn, for one thing, and as soon as that’s finished, I plan t’marry you.”

Mary swayed in his arms, a shock going through her at those words.

Of course, she had dreamed of becoming his wife, but she hadn’t dared to hope that it would ever actually happen. He hadn’t asked her, and it was shocking to hear him say it now, on top of this terrible news. He held her tightly and kissed her hair. Then he seemed to realize what he had just said and he pulled back to look into her eyes.

“Ye will marry me, wontcher, Miss Mary?” he asked, a bit of worry furrowing his brow.

“Oh, John, yes-- of course I will. You know how I feel about you. I just never dreamed you would ever ask. You’re my life. But...what about... what’s this girl’s name, anyhow?”

“I dunno. Sarah-- or Clara, summat like that. Anyroad, I’ve gotta get a lawyer t’ take care o’ this mess. Summat like this could ruin so many things for me, and for the whole group. I don’t really know how much trouble this judy could make for me, but I imagine it’s a fuckin’ considerable amount. I’ll know more in a couple days; I’ll call someone tomorra an’ have ‘em look at these fuckin’ papers an’ find out what the worst of this situation might be.”

Mary leaned against him, her cheek against his shoulder. She could see the pulse beating in his throat, and she reached up to trace a finger along his strong, square jawline.

“Whatever the worst of it can be, it’ll be all right,” Mary whispered.

“It’s just got to be.”

***

One afternoon, while Mary was out at the market, John was wandering through the house alone. He stopped outside of one of the bedrooms and hesitantly reached for the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and swung the door open slowly.

When Mary returned, John was nowhere to be seen. She noticed that one of the bedroom doors was standing ajar, and she went to close it; when she reached for the knob, she heard him...John was sitting in the room, his son’s bedroom, and he was crying softly.  Mary hurried to him and sat on the bed beside him, gathering him into her arms. He pressed his face against her neck and held onto her, his shoulders shaking, his breath coming in little fits and starts. Mary stroked his hair and made soft, comforting sounds to soothe him as one does when trying to calm a weeping child. He gradually began to breathe normally, and Mary kissed him on the top of his head.

“Tell me about it,” she said in a gentle, sympathetic voice. He did not say anything at first, then he sighed and released her, sitting up and wiping his sleeve across his face. He ran his hand through his hair and gestured towards a large shelving unit against the wall with Julian’s toys arranged upon it.

“I just came in here,” he replied quietly. “I do that sometimes. Just to take a look and check on things; I don’t really know why.” He pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and put it into his mouth; he lit it and took a deep drag, releasing the smoke with a shuddering sigh. Facing Mary, he smiled weakly.

“Sorry,” he said in a quiet voice. “I hope I didn’t scare ye, gurrl. I just kinda lose it sometimes when I’m alone an’ it strikes me what a right bastard I truly am.”

“You’re not,” she replied with resolve. “I used to think you were, but really, John, you’re not.”

“Ah, yer sweet, I’m sure, but I really am. I’m no different than me own father, an’ that’s no compliment to me, I assure ye. Only difference is that for him it was th’sea, an’ for me it’s th’ fuckin’ Beatles. This whole legal thing I’m dealin’ with got me thinkin’ about what a fuckin’ lousy father I am t’the son I do have. He’s growin’ up so fast--- he’s to start school, soon--- an’ so far, what’ve I done?”

Mary opened her mouth to answer, but John went on, “I’ll tell yer what I’ve done, Mary; nothin’, that’s what! I don’t even know me own son. I don’t know what his favorite ice cream is, or what shows he likes best on th’ telly. I don’t know what his favorite color is, or what vegetable he hates th’most.”

There were tears standing in his light brown eyes, and his face was earnest. He reached out and traced his fingertips along the curve of Mary’s soft cheek.

“D’yer know what’s worse still, Mary?” he asked, and she wordlessly shook her head, her heart swelling with love for him, a lump in her throat for his obvious pain.

“I know as sure as I’m sittin’ here that as soon as this mood passes, I’m gonna go right back to not even thinkin’ about this stuff I’m sayin’ now, at least until it strikes me again.  Until that happens, it’ll be as if I don’t even care. At all. But I must care, mustn’t I, Mary? I must, or I wouldn’t feel th’ way I do right now,” he added, and the tears in his eyes brimmed over and slid down his cheeks.

Mary reached out for him, and his arms went around her again.

“Of course you do,” she whispered into his hair. “You care a lot. You just don’t know, you just can’t see how wonderful you are. You’re so busy trying to keep people from hurting you that sometimes you forget to show them how much you care about them. Anybody who knows you is able to see that, I’m sure. You have a beautiful heart; that’s one of the things about you that I love the most.”

They sat like that, entwined together, for a few moments without speaking, then John whispered, “Don’t let me forget to show you how much I care about you, Mary. And don’t let me forget to show Julian. I can’t do to him what my father did to me. I want to know him, really know him. You will help me remember, won’t you?”

She smiled and kissed him gently. “You can count on it,” she replied.

***

As the weeks passed, John and Mary spent most of the time when he was not in the studio just staying at home, getting to know one another. From time to time, there was a phone call from Sarah Morgan, the woman who was claiming John as the father of her child, and John would shout at her over the phone and hang up on her. He changed the number twice, yet she always managed to get the new number somehow. Why didn’t she just leave him alone? He had told her time and time again that what had happened between them was meaningless, and while that disturbed Mary, she tried her best to understand that, as a man, John’s thinking and emotional processes were not the same as a woman’s. She herself could not imagine giving in to a man she cared nothing about, and she found it hard to understand how a man could do so. Yet do so they did, and with a cheerful abandon that she found astonishing.

Sarah insisted that John had fathered her child, even though he vehemently denied it, insisting that he had taken every precaution on the night that the woman had stayed with him. Secretly, Mary wondered if this was so; after all, he had taken no such precautions with her. She decided at last to accept his word as truth, since she had not been there. Mary had this on her mind when the doorbell rang after dinner one evening. John was watching television in the living room and got up to answer it, and she was washing up the dishes and putting the leftover food away. She didn’t think anything of the doorbell ringing; often enough, one of John’s bandmates would show up to speak with him or do a bit of work with him. She just figured it was one of them, and went about her business. She would go shortly to see if she could get the men anything.

The sound of a female voice raised in anger made her turn off the water in the sink and go to see what was going on in the living room; John was standing nose to nose with a striking redhead who was obviously pregnant.

The redhead shot Mary an arrogant look.  “Who the hell are you?” she demanded angily.

“I’m Mary Flanagan, and this is my home,” she replied in a cool, even voice. “And I’ll thank you to remove your hand from my future husband, Miss Morgan. I assume that you are Sarah Morgan?”

The redhead’s hand dropped from John’s arm, which up until now she had been clutching so hard that there were imprints upon his skin from her outlandishly long and impossibly red fingernails. John stepped back a bit to stand beside Mary, who swept past him and stopped inches from the woman. To John, Mary resembled nothing more than a dove preparing to engage herself in battle with a garish peacock. The two women stood toe to toe, one tall and busty, with bright, expensive, psychedelic garb from Carnaby Street’s trendy shops, the other smaller and anything but flashy, in modest attire in subdued earth tones. Looking at the two of them together, John could no longer understand what he had been thinking when he had brought the tall redhead home. He thought that he had never seen anything to equal the quiet beauty of the courageous Miss Mary, as he affectionately thought of her.

“Future husband!” cried Miss Morgan, her eyebrows flying up with a snort of laughter. “Future husband, is it? I’ll have you know that this --” and here she indicated her swollen belly, “-- is your ‘future husband’s doing, right here! John Lennon is the father of my child, and if he’s to marry anyone, I’m sorry to have to tell you that it’ll be me!”

Mary’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and she leaned closer to the tall redhead.

“He’d never lower himself to marrying the likes of you,” she said in a calm, quiet voice which brooked no denial. “Now get out of this house, and don’t come back here again.”

Without warning, the Sarah’s hand flew out and slapped Mary hard across her cheek. With an outraged, wordless bellow, John leaped in and grabbed the offending hand, which was drawing back to strike again. Mary laid her hand on John’s arm.

“Stop, John. I can take care of myself,” she told him, fixing him with a look that made him step back without a word, although he shot Sarah a withering look.

Turning her attention back to the pregnant woman, Mary planted her hands on her hips and said firmly, “Now get the hell out of here, you fucking bitch!”

John was unable to control the laughter that burst from him upon hearing such language coming from Mary’s sweet mouth. Sarah stared at the smaller woman for a few seconds, then glared at John and muttered that he would be hearing from her lawyer as she stalked out the door, slamming it behind her. John grabbed Mary and lifted her off her feet, still grinning widely. He kissed her and set her back down.

“I’m that proud o’ ye, Mary, lass,” he said happily. “Ye really gave ‘er what for! Although,” he added thoughtfully, “I must admit t’bein’ a bit shocked by yer language. Where d’ye pick up such fuckin’ terrible words?”

“You should know,” she replied in a prim voice. She smoothed her skirt and smiled up at him. “You and your friends are forever turning the air blue around here. A person is bound to learn a thing or two.” Her smile faded as Sarah’s car screeched out of the drive. She leaned her head upon John’s shoulder, and his arms went around her. She put her arms around his neck and looked up into the warm, brown eyes she loved so much. They were still sparkling with amusement.

“John,” said Mary quietly, “What does that woman want, anyway? Why won’t she just take the money and leave us alone?”

“Partly greed, plain an’ simple,” he replied. “And perhaps a bit o’ stark ravin’ madness as well. Th’ girl wants me money AND me name, an’ she’ll not stop till she has ‘em both. She’s absolutely deranged, but she could make things difficult for us all an’ might yet do so...let’s hope that Thomas c’n take care o’ things one way or another.” Thomas, Mary knew, was John’s solicitor.

“As soon as it hit th’ papers that Cyn had moved out an’ taken Julian, Sarah was hangin’ around th’ studio every day. She was always tryin’ t’get me interested, y’know, an’ even though I had my eye on a certain housekeeper, after a while I kinda decided t’give th’ chippie a tumble. There was nobbut her about that night, me’n th’ lads had been drinkin’, an’ when I came out o’th’ studio, there she was. She was willin’, an’ I was just that ready, so I brought ‘er home. She started tellin’ me right away after we -- well, y’know -- that she just knew that we were meant t’be married. That was all I needed t’hear t’know she wasn’t all there, so I didn’t talk to ‘er again. Even so, she kept comin’ around, but I wouldn’t have any more t’do with ‘er. She was makin’ me nervous, always talkin’ about how she was willin’ t’wait for me t’see th’ light an’ marry her.” He sat down on the sofa and pulled Mary into his lap; she snuggled close, and he buried his face in the warm, soft curtain of her hair, breathing deeply of her scent.

“I finally ended up havin’ t’threaten her with legal action, y’know, t’get her t’leave me alone; she backed off -- for a while,” he said, and the feel of his warm lips against her neck gave Mary a delicious shiver. John kissed her ear and then lifted his head. He rested his chin on the top of Mary’s head and added, “I got involved with you, an’ I never gave her a thought again, until th’ day I got those legal papers accusin’ me of bein’ th’ father of her kid. The lawyers were all agreed that we should just pay her off an’ keep it quiet, but then she turned th’ money down. She says she wants t’marry me, an’ it makes no difference to her that I want nothin’ t’do with her. She says she’s not takin’ no for an answer. She says that I’ve got till she has th’ baby t’change me mind, an’ that if I don’t come ‘round an’ agree t’marry her by then, she’s goin’ t’th papers. I sure hope that Thomas’ll be able t’prevent that. She could really make a mess for all of us.”

Mary wound her arms about John’s neck and pressed her lips against his throat, feeling his strong, steady pulse beating against her mouth. She closed her eyes and sighed softly, turning her head and laying her cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beating there. “I feel kind of sorry for her,” she said after a moment.

“You’re too kind, y’know, me gurrl,” replied John. “She’s not worth worryin’ yerself over.”

“Are you really sure that it’s not your baby?” asked Mary in a quiet voice.

“I’m sure,” said John, hoping with all his heart that he sounded that way. In his heart he knew that it could be true. He thought that he’d taken the proper precautions, but sometimes, he had to admit, he did forget, and he had been so very drunk...he pushed the thought from his mind and gathered Mary close. Her warmth and the pressure of her sitting in his lap were having a very definite effect upon him, and he found himself throbbingly, achingly hard. He wanted her desperately.

She was aware of his condition, and she shifted and turned until she was facing him, straddling him. She kept her eyes on his as she undid his pants and reached inside to pull his erection out. She caressed him firmly with one hand and lifted her skirt with the other. She pulled her underwear to one side and guided him into her wet opening, sliding down slowly to enclose his full length. John uttered a low moan and closed his eyes, shifting his hips and thrusting up into her body, his hands going around her waist, his head going back against the wall behind the sofa.

Mary moved slowly and deliberately, swaying her hips slightly as she did so. He felt so good inside of her, and she resisted the urge to go faster. John’s hands tightened their hold on her waist, and he rolled Mary over with him, keeping himself inside of her. He pulled her legs up over his shoulders and plunged into her deeply; long, slow, lazy, deliberate strokes driving her sweetly and quietly out of her mind as she clung to him as though her very life depended upon not letting him go.

He looked down into her face, a lazy smile both in his eyes and playing about his beautiful mouth, knowing he was torturing her and obviously enjoying it. Then she arched against him and tightened her muscles, and all rational thought left him. He could wait no longer, and he began to pound into her, desperately needing to fill her as she needed to be filled. The world receded and fell away, and they became lost in one another’s embrace, a wild, insane wave of pleasure engulfing them both, carrying them upward to touch the heavens , cresting there, then coming down to deposit them back onto the earth once more where they lay tangled up in one another’s arms breathing heavily, tears running down their faces, the gently ebbing spasms still touching them around the edges of their souls and echoing like little electrical aftershocks deep in their bellies.

“I love ye, gurrl,” he mumbled into her hair before sleep claimed them both, and she nestled closer still by way of reply.

***

It was hours later when Mary woke; it was fully dark outside and the phone was ringing insistently from the other side of the room. Disentangling herself from the sleeping John, she hurried to answer it. On the sofa behind her, John sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and looking sleepily about.

“No, this is Mary,” he heard her say. “Mary Flanagan. Yes, that’s right. That Mary. What happened? Oh, my God. Well, what about the baby? Uh-huh. I see. Yes, of course -- we’ll come at once. What are you saying his name is? All right. We’ll meet you at the hospital, then. Goodbye, Thomas.”

When she had hung up the phone and turned around, Mary nearly collided with John, who had hurried to her side.

“What is it?” he asked, alarmed by the sight of her still, pale face. “Mary, tell me!  What’s happened?”

“Stick your hair up under a hat,” she replied in a tight voice, “And put on your false beard and a pair of dark glasses – not the round ones, the heavy black ones. We’re going to the hospital; I’ll tell you all about why during the drive.”

***

“Okay,” said John as Mary drove the car around the back of the house and then headed down the drive. “Now what the fuck is this all about?”

“It’s Sarah; she went to see her solicitor after she left the house,” explained Mary. “Then after she spoke to him, he called Thomas. Thomas went over to his office to try to negotiate with them yet again, and she refused to budge. She left the office, and Thomas was going to his car right after her. She was upset, and she pulled out of her parking slot right into the path of an oncoming bus. Thomas saw the whole thing, John.”

“Well, is she badly hurt?” he asked, fastening his beard into place. He put on his sunglasses and shot Mary a sharp glance. There was definitely something she was leaving out.

“An ambulance came straightaway,” replied Mary, “To take her to hospital. They sped off with her, and Thomas followed. When they arrived there, they rushed her inside and took her right to the operating room. There was nothing they could do for her, though. She was killed almost if not right away. She’s dead, John.”

“Well then, why are we going to…oh,” he said, his face going white. “Is th’ child…”

“She’s alive; it’s a little girl, John. They took her by caesarean section, and she’s still alive, but she’s not in good shape. She will survive, but she needs a blood transfusion, and they say they don’t have the right type; but you might be able to help, John, if you are her father.”

John’s face tightened. Mary looked over at him as she pulled the car into the parking lot at the hospital. He was staring straight ahead, his face a white, impassive mask; there was no way of knowing what he was thinking until he turned his head to look at her. When he did, Mary felt her heart grow suddenly too large for her chest to contain it; it swelled almost painfully, rising into her throat, threatening to choke her with a wave of intense emotion. She loved him so, and his light brown eyes were brimming with unshed tears, clouded with fear and a rising panic that, to Mary, was almost palpable. She saw his pain, and she knew that he was afraid, no matter how blank he made his expression.

She laid her small, soft hand on top of his. “It will be okay, baby,” she said gently. “You’ll see. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

His control slipped a bit, and for a moment his misery would have been plain to anyone who had seen his face at that moment.

“I’m ashamed that ye’d even know what a bastard I am, gurrl,” he whispered. “I don’t think the baby’s mine, but I was thinkin’ that if it was, it’d be a lot easier for me if it…if she would die. D’ye know how bad it makes me feel t’even think omething’ like that? Yet there it is; I feel that way exactly.” He looked down and took a deep breath. When he raised his head again, the smooth, impenetrable mask had slipped neatly back into place.

“Well,” he said quietly, slipping the glasses onto his face, “Let’s go, then.”

***

Walking beside him into the hospital building, Mary told him that his name had been given as William Robertson. He followed her to the nurses’ station, and Mary told the woman behind the counter there that Mr. Robertson was there to have his blood tested as a possible donor for the premature baby girl from the car crash. The nurse gave John a cursory glance and told Mary to take him into a room across the hall to wait for a technician to come and take a blood sample.

“I’m dead scared, Mary,” said John softly as they sat in the little waiting room; his hand was shaking, and Mary leaned close to him and brushed his cheek above the beard he wore with her lips, pausing to whisper, “Sshh, it’s all right,” into his ear. A rap on the door made them both jump, and Thomas came in.

“You’ll get the blood test, and if you’re a match for the baby, it’ll be assumed that you’re the father. If you’re not, then you can’t possibly be, and you can just go home. But if you are, then you know you’ve got a responsibility here, John,” he said quietly. “If you turn out to be a match, I would suggest that you don’t say anything at all; just let me do the talking. I think it’s best that way. Just promise me that you’ll keep your bloody mouth shut, no matter what anyone says.”

“Not t’ worry, for once I have nothin’ t’say at all,” replied John, and the door opened again; in came a lab technician to draw the blood sample.

“If you’ll raise your sleeve for me sir, and make a fist, this will be over in no time,” said the technician, a middle aged woman who barely glanced at his face. The woman stood between John and Mary, and Mary kept her eyes on John’s face. He flinched when the needle broke his skin, and Mary smiled at him encouragingly. He grinned weakly.

“There you go, sir, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I’ll be back directly with the results,” said the older woman, placing a piece of gauze on the inside of John’s elbow and raising his forearm. “You just hold that right there like this until it stops bleeding -- it should only take a minute.” She left then, and Thomas walked over to the other side of the room, where there was a small table. He opened his briefcase and set it on the table, then began to thumb through the papers inside. Mary scooted her chair closer to John’s and took his hand.

“Don’t look so scared,” she said gently. “If it turns out that you’re the baby’s father, we’ll just have a head start on the family I’ve always wanted to have. If it turns out that she’s yours, I’m sure I would be able to love her. You know, John, she’s just a baby, and none of this is her fault.”

Without a word, John pulled Mary to her feet and into his lap. He clung to her, his face in her hair, his arms tight around her waist, her head on his shoulder.

“Mary,” he said huskily, “Yer too good t’me. I don’t deserve ye, y’know.”

“I love you,” she replied simply, “And I would love any child that was part of you.”

They sat together quietly, their arms around one another, until the technician returned.

“I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, Mr. Robertson,” she told him. “It would seem that your solicitor was correct. You cannot possibly be the father of this child. You would have to be a type B, or an AB...you are neither.”

“I’m a type B,” said Mary, standing up. “I’ll be happy to donate for her.”

“I’ve had enough of this place,” replied John, hauling himself to his feet, “I’ll wait for y’in th’car, if it’s all th’same t’ye.”

Mary bent to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she told him, and she followed the lab technician down the hall.

***

When Mary returned to the car half an hour later, John was lying in the back seat, fast asleep. His funny beard was half askew and his mouth twitched with the suggestion of a smile. Mary felt her heart swell with love for him; she opened the door, and he opened his eyes and sat up, patting his pockets, searching for his cigarettes. He located them, extracted one, and fished for his matches. Mary slid into the back seat beside him, and he lit his cigarette and offered her a bemused smile.

“So, Miss Mary,” he said in the lazy way he always spoke upon awakening, “Who’s t’be drivin’ us home? Didja hire a chauffeur somewhere along th’way?”

“I’ll drive us, don’t be soft,” she replied, shoving his shoulder gently. “I just thought I’d like to sit back here with you for a few minutes first.” She laid her head upon his shoulder, and he draped an arm about her, taking a deep drag on his cigarette and looking out the windows around the parking lot, which was deserted.

“Nobbut us about,” he said quietly, “So, didja see th’kid?”

“Yes, I did. She’s beautiful. Poor baby, with no Mummy and now I guess no Daddy, either.” Mary turned her head to press her face into the hollow of John’s neck; she loved the way his scent seemed to be concentrated there. She could feel his pulse there, regular, steady, and strong.

“I guess I was lucky there,” said John, “Although I must admit t’feelin’ a bit...strange, when I heard she wasn’t mine. I’d kinda gotten used t’th’idea that she might be. Not quite disappointed, mind, but...strange, like I said.”

Mary wrapped her arms around his neck and put her lips very near his ear, in his hair.

“John,” she said softly, “Let’s adopt her. Can we?”

He stiffened, and she pulled her head back to look into his face. His eyes met hers directly, and his mouth was a straight, thin line. There was a question in his eyes, and his throat worked. “Ye know what people would think, Mary, if we were t’do that, dontcher?”

She nodded, her face solemn. “Yes, I know. They’ll think she is yours, and that we’re doing this because we have to.” She became animated as she began to feel safe enough to warm to the idea. After all, he hadn’t said ‘no’ right away, so he must be considering it.

“But what does that matter, John? So what if she isn’t really ours? And who cares what anyone thinks? I don’t, and I know you don’t, either. She’s all alone, and none of what’s happened is her fault—we could give her a good home, and a good life, and I would love her every bit as much as I would if she had been my own. She—she even has some of my blood in her, now,” added Mary, a touch of wistfulness in both her face and her voice. “Oh, John, can we? Please say yes!”

He had been quietly watching her the entire time that she was speaking, watching her eyes light up, hearing the hope and the excitement creeping into her voice as her speech continued. He reached to push a tendril of soft, brown hair away from her eyes and blended it with his fingertips into the tumbled mass that fell to her breasts, pausing to trail his fingers across them and then stroking her cheek before drawing her close to himself.

“Will I ever be able t’say no t’that face?” he asked gruffly. “It’ll mean a kid on our honeymoon, I’m sure, but if that’s what ye want, lass, then yes. We can adopt her.” He kissed the top of her head hard, and when he released her at last, Mary saw him surreptitiously wipe a tear away from his own eye. She let hers fall unhampered; she was that ecstatic.

“Let’s go home, Mary, my gurrl,” said John, getting out of the car to sit behind the wheel in the front seat. She slipped in the other side and leaned against him, sighing happily. John pulled the car around and out into the street; he held the wheel with one hand, and drew Mary close with his left. “I’ll call Thomas when we get home,” he said, “And get him started on th’paperwork. You get busy on me supper—I’m starving’!”

***

Later, sitting across the table from him, Mary was almost too excited to eat. She picked at her food and smiled so that John thought her face would split in two.

“…and the doctor said that now that she’s had the transfusion, she’ll be just fine and ready to leave the hospital in no more than a week,” she said, bouncing in her chair with excitement. “Oh, John, when is Thomas going to call back? I know she doesn’t know it, but I just can’t wait until it’s all official and we know for sure that she’s really ours.”

“Calm yerself, darlin’,” said John with a gentle smile. “Thomas has no doubt that there’ll be no trouble with th’adoption. He’s workin’ on it, an’ he’ll get everything all fixed up. He always does. As for me, well, I can’t see wastin’ all this energy ye seem t’be fairly burstin’ with. C’mon over here and sit on me lap, lass. Let’s see if I cn’ calm ye some.” She came to stand before him, and he pulled her down onto his lap, releasing her hair from the clip she’d put it up in to make his supper, burying his nose in its fragrant masses of deep brown waves.

“I’m gonna hide them damnable fuckin’ hair clips on yer,” he said in a low, sensuous growl. “So yer hair’ll have t’hang free, like. Ye shouldn’t be hidin’ it, gurrl…it’s dead sexy, y’know.” He got to his feet, still clasping her close against himself, and started toward the bedroom, pausing just long enough to flip the light switch off as they left the kitchen.

***

Mary’s heart was beating hard and fast as John lay her down across the big, soft bed.

She looked up at him as he knelt above her, his knees straddling her, his eyes deep and luminous. She reached out to him, and he lowered himself onto her, emitting a low moan. He looked into her face, then, with a slow, lazy smile, he lowered his head to her breasts and tugged at one of the buttons of her blouse with his teeth. It broke free, and he took another into his mouth and broke it off as well.

“John,” she whispered, “My blouse--”

“Shurrup, gurrl,” he said, his voice deep and rough. He took hold of the opening he’d created by removing the first two buttons and tore the rest of the garment away as easily as if it had been made from paper. “I’ll buy yer a new one,” he added, and Mary felt herself go weak as the buttons scattered and rolled across the floor.

He bent his head again and trailed hot, tender kisses across her breasts and up to her throat, finally claiming her mouth with his as he shoved her skirt up with one hand and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties; she raised her hips and he pulled them down in one smooth, deft motion, then tore them away as well. He kissed his way down her neck, breasts, and belly until he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, then he pulled her legs over his shoulders and bent his head to taste her moist opening. Her hips surged upwards when his warm tongue touched her there; the shock of pleasure rocketed straight to her brain, making her head feel all dizzy and faint. She wound her fingers in his hair and pressed more firmly against him, pulling him closer with her legs at the same time.

He brought her right to the edge, and then he stopped and mounted her quickly, sliding deeply, easily into her, throwing his head back as he rammed himself home to the hilt. Mary was astonished by how beautiful he looked as he moved with sure, deliberate grace, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing beneath her hands as she ran them feverishly up and down them, finally stopping with her arms around his neck, pulling his head down for a kiss. She drew his tongue into her mouth, tasting herself on him. She moaned softly; wrapping her legs about his waist, pulling him in as deeply as possible.

He looked down at her, his eyes dark and shining with emotion.

“D’ye want me, gurrl?” he asked in a husky, breathless voice. He slammed into her hard and withdrew almost the whole way, then slid in deep again. His breathing was ragged and harsh, damp tendrils of hair hanging at the sides of his face. His eyes burned into hers, glittering feverishly. She moaned and clutched him; he pulled back again.

“Tell me y’want me,” he whispered, pushing deeply into her. She stared into his eyes, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

“I want you,” she groaned, her nails digging into his shoulders, “So much-baby, please…”

He gave up then, ramming into her fast and hard, holding her close, making the world fall away from both of them. Mary cried out and arched against him at last, and he shuddered and moaned, filling her; then he collapsed on top of her and she covered his neck with soft, frantic kisses. With a final sigh of contentment, he released her for long enough to roll into the middle of the bed. She crawled up beside him, and he dragged the comforter up to cover them both, taking her back into his arms and kissing her gently before immediately falling asleep. Mary closed her eyes and nestled close; she knew that in a couple of hours at most, he would be awake again and wanting more.

***

Mary arose, as usual, well before John woke to start the day. She reluctantly disentangled herself from his strong, warm arms and went to shower and dress.

She sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair; it was towel dried but still quite damp, so she plaited it deftly. She wanted to do some shopping and still get back before John woke. Experience told her that she would probably make it without any trouble. With a last look at his sleeping face, so vulnerable and peaceful, and so unlike the guarded visage he so often wore, she sighed and grabbed her purse, closing the bedroom door quietly behind her.

***

Sure enough, he was still sleeping when she came back. She put the groceries away and went back to the bedroom carrying a slender paperback she’d grabbed on impulse at the checkout counter,1000 NAMES FOR BABY. She undressed and slipped back into bed beside the sleeping man. Settling against his warm body, she laid her head on his shoulder, opened the book to the Girls’ Names section, and began to read.

Within a half hour, she knew what she wanted to name the baby; she was anxious to tell John and see what he would say, but he was still asleep and she knew he didn’t appreciate being awakened without a good reason. Suddenly struck by inspiration, she got into position and pulled the comforter over her head, moving down to take him into her mouth. It was strange to feel him flaccid against her tongue, but it was a fleeting sensation, to say the least. He shifted in his sleep a bit, moving towards her a bit more, his organ stiffening rapidly as she teased its sensitive underside with her tongue, drawing in all that she was able. Once he had expanded to his full size, Mary began to work on him in earnest, finally being rewarded with a muzzy and confused sounding, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, gurrl!” before he thrust forward one final time and spilled into her mouth with a satisfied groan. She released him slowly and scrambled up to nestle in his arms. He was feeling on the nightstand for the obligatory morning cigarette, which, he declared, “I need a lot more than usual today!”

Mary made herself comfortable and smiled up into his face. His hair was tousled and his eyes were half closed as he smoked.

“So,” he said at last, “What brought all that on? Ye just can’t resist violatin’ me even in me sleep, can yer. I’ve created a bleedin’ monster.”

He idly played with one of her braids; he removed the elastic and began to unwind the twists until the hair was loosened and lying across his chest in spirals. He went to work on the other at once, unbraiding her hair as she picked up the book and showed it to him.

“Hmm,” he said, finishing his work and raking his fingers through the loosened hair gently, “Yer right. She’ll need a name, won’t she? Alright, so whatayer wanna name her, then?” He spotted her hairbrush on the nightstand, and carefully began drawing it through her mass of deep brown hair.

“Well, I kind of always liked the name Emily,” she replied, tipping her head back. It felt so good to have him tenderly brushing her hair that she was silent for a moment.

“So it’s Emily then, is it?” asked John, spreading her rich, dark hair across his chest as he continued to brush. “That’s a nice name, and as good as any, I suppose. I kinda had me heart set upon ‘Hortense’, though, so I am a bit disappointed, as you might well imagine.”

Mary could hear the smile in his voice and knew that he was teasing. “Well, if you really like ‘Hortense’ so much, baby, I suppose we could...”

“Yeright,” he said, spinning her around and kissing the hollow of her neck. “She’s not eighty, is she? No, I think Emily is very nice, Miss Mary. That is if yer sure ye don’t wanna call her little Mary.” And he returned to kissing her neck.

“No, and I had almost settled on Emily, but then I realized that I didn’t even need this book,” she declared, tossing it away towards the foot of the big bed. “I realized that there is really only one name for our little girl, John. I want to call her Julia. Would that be okay with you?”

He paused and raised his head, his eyes suddenly naked and filling with tears. He gathered her close and buried his face in her fragrant mass of soft, clean hair.

“That’d be only too fine, Mary,” he whispered, raising his head once more. He gazed at her for a few seconds, and she could see the happiness shining from his light brown eyes like sunshine. “I’d really love that,” he added before he bent his head to claim her mouth hungrily. His hands traveled over her body, always returning to entangle themselves in her hair, seemingly of their own accord.

Mary felt herself responding to him, and the way he made her feel amazed her as it always did. Every nerve felt as if it were standing on end; her nipples were so hard that they almost hurt, but he soothed her a bit there with his soft, warm tongue between kisses. Mary felt a rush of warmth deep in her belly, and there was a pleasant, insistent throbbing between her legs that made her rise up and push against him impatiently. She opened to him and moaned softly when the silky, hot skin of his erection brushed her thigh and the head of his engorged member nudged her most sensitive spot just above her wet opening. Mary was clinging to him, and moving back and up just a bit, she finally managed to impale herself. Both of them inhaled sharply with the shock of pleasure as he sank into her body deeply. He did not move for a few seconds, just stayed inside of her, looking deeply into her eyes until she could not help but feel as shy as she had their first time together. She began to close her eyes, and he moved just slightly, sending a fresh shock rocketing through her.

“What d’ye see, Mary?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “When yer lookin’ at me right now, what is it that ye see?”

“I see the man I love,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes, her heart swelling with love for him even as her body throbbed with need. “I see your soul. I see love.”

“Look at me, Mary,” he said, his eyes fixed upon hers. “Keep yer eyes open an’ look at me, don’t close them, don’t look away. I wanna watch yer eyes. I wanna see what they look like when you come.” He was breathing hard, controlling his urge to thrust. Finally, after a few more seconds, he did move, slowly dragging his hips back away from her until all but the tip was outside of her body, then just as slowly pushing deeply inside once more. Mary felt as if she would faint; she was so close, teetering on the verge of orgasm, staring into his beautiful, enigmatic eyes. At last, he could wait no longer, and he began to move faster, with quick, even strokes that had Mary digging her nails into his shoulders, clutching him convulsively.

“Ah, Mary, gurrl, it’s comin’, I’m close,” he gasped, and that was all she needed to hear to push her over the edge altogether. The intense rush of unbelievable pleasure caught her breath away, and she tried to keep her eyes open, but it was impossible. It was all right, though, because the last thing she saw before she let her eyes close when the wave crashed over her and took her away into its swirling, surging depths was that John could no longer keep his open either; his head was thrown suddenly back, a groan that was almost a full throated cry burst from him, and Mary, through a haze of nearly unbearable pleasure, felt him spasming deep inside of her, filling her, making her complete, and her own spasms clutched and released him rhythmically until at last she came to herself and wrapped her arms around his neck, tears running unchecked down into her ears from the sheer vastness of her love for him. She felt his tears too, hot and trickling down into the hollow between her neck and her shoulder, and she kissed him on the top of his head fiercely, pressing her lips hard into his hair.

“I love you, John,” she whispered, caressing his shoulder, laying her cheek against his head. “I love you more than anything else in this world. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

He raised his head slowly, dragging first one wet cheek, then the other, across her shoulder. He looked down into her face once more, a tender smile playing about the corners of his beautiful mouth, his warm eyes still sparkling with tears.

“I know ye do, gurrl,” he whispered, gently pushing a tendril of hair back from where it lay across her mouth. “I cn’ see that, an’ I cn’ feel it. I don’t know what I’ve done t’deserve it, but I know ye do. And I’m forever grateful for that, an’ just that happy. Mary, ye hafta know how much I love ye.”

“I do know,” she replied, pulling his head closer to hers, “And I’m just that grateful and happy, too.”

Pulling him closer by the final inch necessary, she sought his mouth with tender lips and let the world recede again.

***

Five days later, John and Mary brought baby Julia home. As soon as they arrived, they took her into their bedroom and lay her on the bed between them.

“Look at her hands, Mary,” said John, an excited smile on his face. “So tiny, and just that perfect! I’ve seen babies before, but none t’equal this gurrl here. Mary, she’s just as she should be, isn’t she?”

Mary’s heart turned over inside of her, watching him with her. He was obviously in love, enchanted by the tiny child; with no more than a stretch and a yawn, she had completely wrapped the man around her little pink finger, as effortlessly as breathing. No one would ever imagine that this child was not his own; he seemed to belong to her by nature. Mary thought that she would never feel happier than she did at this moment. John looked across the baby at her, his eyes shining.

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