The New Neighbor

be on other things.

Karen was his second wife. His first – Robby's mother – had been run down by a drunk driver while crossing the street fifteen years ago and he'd vowed then never to remarry. It had been a wonderful marriage in every way. Of course, it had only lasted four years and might very well have soured with time, but those four years with Laura had been happy ones, with never a fight or a harsh word exchanged, with an openness that George had never experienced before, and a sex life that did not fade a fraction during their marriage but instead grew more exciting and creative. He talked about his first marriage little, if at all, because he found that no one believed that a marriage, even one so brief, could be so good.

But after three years of raising Robby on his own and having no social life whatsoever, outside of his work as general manager of a local FM radio station, George began to grow lonely. He hadn't slept well since Laura's death. For a while, it was because he missed having her beside him in bed, but as time passed, it was simply because he was alone in bed. Then, when Robby had to have his tonsils removed, George met Karen.

She was a nurse in the pediatrics ward at Redding Medical Center and seemed to sense that, although the tonsillectomy was a minor and routine operation, George was worried. One loss had been almost more than he could bear and he feared any possible complications. Karen was friendly and reassuring, but she seemed reluctant when George tried to engage her in more personal conversation, especially when he asked her out to dinner. He was not discouraged, though.

After Robby was discharged, George could not stop thinking about her. She was physically attractive – a soft face with a slightly upturned nose and lovely blue eyes that were at once warm and vulnerable, cautious, as if they had seen their share of pain and disappointment, perhaps more. But she also had about her a soothing calm, an assuredness and strength that seemed to outweigh the shadows of pain in her eyes, and that attracted George as much as her physical beauty.

He dropped by the hospital to visit with her during her lunch break and tried to get her telephone number. When that failed, he sent flowers with another invitation to dinner and his telephone number. Four days later, she called and, with obvious reluctance, agreed to go out with him.

On their first date, Karen told him about Jen, then six-years-old, and said she'd been reluctant to date because she wanted to give all the time she could to her daughter; raising a child alone was difficult and Karen wanted to make sure she had plenty of time available to make up for any mistakes she might make before it was too late. George said he understood perfectly and had no intention of coming between Karen and her daughter.

Their relationship proceeded slowly. There were no fireworks, but George enjoyed her company, warmed up to her easily, and with time, came to care for her a great deal, even love her. Jen seemed to like him and, when she met Rob, they hit it off nicely.

It was some time before George and Karen made love, but when they did, it was tender and loving, although not especially passionate.

Karen’s first marriage had not been a good one and she was reluctant to marry again. She feared she would not be able to fill Laura's shoes, neither as George's wife nor Robby's mother. But George reassured her in his calming way that she had nothing to worry about.

After they were married, George frequently had to remind himself not to compare his relationship with Karen to his previous marriage. Sexually, Laura had been playful, imaginative, eager to please, and always ready to try something new. She often met him at the front door after work in a new piece of lingerie and they made love in every room in the house before having Rob. They’d viewed sex the way a child viewed recess at school – a time to play, to have fun.

Karen seemed to need no variety. She was always willing, but never enthused.

They usually stuck to one position and had sex on a regular, although not too frequent, basis. She always wrinkled her brow at the mention of sex toys and the one time he'd bought her some lingerie – he'd spent the afternoon shopping for just the right pieces – she'd declined to wear them. 'It's too cold to wear that skimpy stuff,' she said. 'I don't have the kind of body you need to wear those things,' she said, and each time he brought up the subject after that, she had a new reason for not wearing them.

But she was a good woman, intelligent and fair, warm and giving, and George decided he could live with that.

They had been married ten years. George was not unhappy. He was not ecstatic, either. But he tried hard not to think about Laura very much. Instead, he told himself that, for four years, he'd had something that most people never experience in a lifetime. He was content. And he loved Karen; in ten years, that love had become worn and soft, like an old recliner that had patches and lumps but was still the most comfortable seat in the house.

George put his beer on the counter and went to Karen's side, put a hand on the back of her neck and squeezed gently as he bent down and nuzzled her hair, kissed the top of her head.

She looked up at him and smiled weakly.

'You look tired,' he said.

'Bad day. We lost a little girl this morning.'

In the past, George would have asked why she hadn't told him sooner, why she hadn't talked about it if it bothered her, but that had become tiresome. He'd learned to live with the fact that Karen was not very open about things that bothered her – even things that made her happy – and that if something was on her mind, she would tell him in her own time, if at all.

'AIDS,' she went on. 'We knew it was coming, but… she was a sweet kid. It hit everybody hard.'

'Sorry,' he said, leaning down to kiss her on the mouth.

She gave him another smile, warmer than the last, then handed him the stack of envelopes. 'You want to put these by the door? They have to go out in the morning.'

As George started out of the kitchen with the envelopes, the doorbell rang. Figuring it was probably Al or Lynda Crane, their neighbors, he put the envelopes down on the small table in the entry way, opened the door.

He froze halfway into his smile, giving his face an odd look of surprise. Then he blinked, cleared his throat, and returned the smile to his face intact. 'Yes?'

'I'm sorry to bother you,' she said, her breath appearing in a small cloud of mist before her face, 'but I'm moving into the house across the street and I have no heat. Yours was the closest house with a chimney and I was wondering if I could borrow some firewood. Just for tonight. I'll replace it first thing tomorrow.'

George blinked again, several rapid blinks in succession, because an unexpected and unbidden – even unwanted – image of Laura materialized in his mind suddenly.

She is above him, straddling his legs as he lies in bed on his back, both of them naked and she smiles as she holds up a white plastic Hitachi Magic Wand vibrator and says, 'Surprise! I bought this today,' turns it on, and places the head against the bottom side of his cock and his head rolls back as he moans with pleasure.

George coughed again, turning his head away from the woman at the door, mostly to hide the red warmth he felt flooding into his cheeks. He felt embarrassed by the wildly inappropriate thought, but he also felt guilty, as if he'd betrayed someone – Laura or Karen, he wasn't sure – because the voice of the beautiful woman at the door made him feel exactly the same way that vibrator had when Laura pressed it against his cock.

'Sure, we've got plenty of firewood,' he said with a forced smile. 'How much do you need?'

'Oh, just enough for tonight, that's all.'

She wore tight jeans and a heavy red and black plaid shirt and she stood with shoulders slightly hunched and her arms folded just beneath her breasts, as if to ward off the cold.

'Come on in,' George said. He stepped back to let her pass, then closed the door behind her. 'You know, if you like, we've got an electric heater you could use.'

'Thanks a lot, but I don't have any electricity yet. I came earlier than I'd expected and didn't have the power turned on.'

'Ah, I see. Well.' George slipped his fingers into the back pockets of his tan slacks, feeling an awkwardness he hadn't experienced since high school. 'Urn, my name's George Pritchard.'

She smiled and held out a hand. 'Lorelle Dupree.'

George took her hand and she squeezed firmly; in spite of the cold outside, her hand felt warm – probably, he decided, from being tucked beneath her arm.

Her hair, which fell over her shoulders in thick waves, was a deep red, the color of redwood, and her almond-