The thought of having it all end between her and Jack, suddenly and cruelly, in one big drunk on Jack’s part or wild romance on hers, scared and depressed her. It mustn’t end that way. They needed each other too much. Their marriage had helped them think of each other as normal. They felt as if they knew where they were going now and life was much better.
Laura missed women. She missed them desperately sometimes. But she was sure now, deep within herself, that the time would come when she and Jack would be secure with each other for the rest of their lives; when they would be able to trust each other without reservation and trust the strength of their union. When they reached that point, it would be safe to satisfy her desires.
As for Jack, he was through with men forever. He had said it and she believed him. The thought that he might take a lover himself some day never occurred to her. It just wouldn’t happen. Nor had she asked him about Terry. Jack was so determinedly happy with her that she was afraid to mention Terry.
It seemed strange to Laura, however, that Beebo didn’t try to find her. She might have found them, one way or another. But there was no word from her. Laura couldn’t help wanting to know what she was doing. She didn’t feel the old, urgent, painful need for Tris, but there was a persistent want that was strong enough to make her wince now and then.
Jack told her once, “If anything bothers you, tell me about it. Don’t sit around letting it eat you up. Better to talk about it and get it out of your system.”
And when he saw that she was pensive he made her talk. But when he didn’t see it, she kept it to herself. There were times when Laura couldn’t share her feelings, when she just hugged them to herself and brooded.
Several times she had nearly talked herself into going down to the Village to wander around. She wouldn’t go near her old apartment. Or Tris’s studio. Or even Lili’s apartment. She wasn’t a fool, she wouldn’t risk being caught.
But she was tempted, sometimes almost hypnotized, by the idea.
Chapter Eight
IT WAS CHRISTMAS EVE. They had a fine big tree, freshly green in a sea of lights and tinsel. No honeymoon, as they had hoped; the office couldn’t spare Jack. So they had a party instead.
“I hate those damn pink trees,” Jack had said when they picked theirs out. “Or gold, or white, or whatever-the-hell color they’re making them this year. Give me a nice healthy green.”
They celebrated at the party and Jack drank eggnog without whiskey and Laura was very pleased with him. There was a lovely girl there—unmarried and probably gay. Laura flirted with her in spite of herself.
Jack teased her about it when they met briefly in the kitchen—he to make drinks and she to get more hors d’oeuvres from the refrigerator. “Looks like you got a live one,” he said.
Laura blushed. “Was I too obvious?” she asked, scared.
“No,” he said. “I just have X-ray eyes, remember?”
“I shouldn’t—”
“Oh, hell,” he said with a good-natured wave of his hand. “Flirt, it’s good for you. Just don’t elope with her.” He gave her a grin and went out, holding five highballs precariously. She felt a flush of love for him, watching him.
It was three a…m. Christmas day before they got rid of everybody. Laura threw herself in their expensive new sofa and surveyed the wreckage with a sigh.
“I’m not even going to pick it up,” she said. “I’m not going to touch a thing till morning.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jack said. He fixed them both a cup of coffee, settled down beside her in the rainbow glow of the Christmas tree and took her hand with a sigh of satisfaction.
“That’s the first goddamn Christmas tree I ever had,” he said. And when she laughed he protested solemnly, “Honest. And this is the first Christmas that ever meant anything to me.” He turned his head, resting against the back of the sofa, and smiled at her….
“You shouldn’t swear at Christmas,” Laura told him.
He gazed at her for a while and then asked, “Are you in love with Kristi? Wasn’t that her name?”
“Yes, it was her name. No, I’m not in love. With anybody.”
“Me?”
“Oh, you. That’s different.”
She smiled a little and sipped her coffee, and then she leaned back on the sofa beside him, absorbed in the soft sparkle of the tree.
Jack was still watching her. “Laura?” he said in an exploratory voice.
“Hm?”
“What would you think of adopting a child?”
She stared at a golden pine cone, her face suddenly a cautious blank. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Have you ever thought about it?”
“A little.”
“What did you think?”
“I told you. Kids scare me.”
He bit his underlip, frowning. “I want one,” he said at last. “Would you be willing to—have one?”
“You mean—” She swallowed. “—get pregnant?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling at her outraged face. “Oh, don’t worry, Mother. We’d do it the easy way.”
“There is no easy way!” she fired at him. “What way?” He took a long drag on his cigarette and answered, “Artificial insemination.” She gasped, but he went on quickly, “Now before you get your dander up let me explain. I’ve thought it all out. Either we could adopt one, or—and this would be much better—we could have one. Our own. We can tell the Doc we’ve had trouble and let him try the insemination. There’s nothing to it, it doesn’t take five minutes. It doesn’t hurt. And if it worked…God! Our own kid. You wouldn’t be afraid of your own, honey.”
There was a long pause while Laura sweated in silent alarm. Why did he bring it up tonight? Why? When they were so contented and pleased with each other, and the world was such a place of glittering enchantment.
“Couldn’t we wait and talk about it later?” she asked.
“Why not now?”
“Couldn’t I have time to think
