Chapter 7: Legal

Sunday morning, after Carolyn had told him the night before that she would spend the next few days at her dorm, Bill cooked breakfast. They had lots of time. He tried to schedule when they could meet over the next week, but she was having none of that. She studied until it was time to drive her to church. The choir needed to get there a bit earlier, and he met that schedule. During the service, Lily Bell brought Beatrice over to him. He had heard her fussing earlier.

“I give up, Bill. She’s teething.” Well, it was about time, although he’d do better if he and Beatrice had known each other earlier. He dropped his suit coat in the pew while he rose. Then he took Beatrice back behind the wall. She wasn’t happy being carried, which was ridiculous; she was much too young to walk. He tried the Ferris-wheel game, lifting her up high and back down slowly. Three times with that, and he brought her back into his arms. She was happy enough with the game but fussed as soon as she was sitting on his arm. He finally spent the sermon time pacing across the back lifting and lowering her the entire time.

Somehow, Beatrice reminded him of Carolyn. Neither wanted to be in his arms, and both were troubled by internal problems that weren’t his fault. He gave her back to Lily as soon as the service was over. He retrieved his suit coat, put on his outerwear, and met Carolyn when the choir came back upstairs from the robing room. They got in the car and shared a kiss. Then she told her news -- except it wasn’t really news to him.

“The choir saw a baby bobbing up and down over that wall in back. What’s its name?”

“Beatrice. She’s as bad as you are. Sheesh! One’s teething and one’s bleeding, and neither one wants to be held.”

“No! The wall.” How was he supposed to know that? He had a few more years in the church than she had, but the wall had been around longer than he had, probably longer than he had been alive. Jake had called it something, but that wasn’t the sort of thing he tried to remember.

“It has a Latinate ecclesiastical name -- one I’ve heard and forgotten.”

“And Beatrice has a last name?” That’s right. She didn’t pay attention to babies like he did.

“Bell.”

“So, Ray and Lily gave you what you wanted?” That was one way of putting it. Ray and Lily had taken up his offer when Beatrice was much less pleasant company than she would have been when the offer had been made.

“Sort of. The Ferris wheel game tired me, though.”

“Ferris wheel?” Well, she couldn’t be expected to know his names for the games.

“You get a good grip on the kid -- usually under the arm pits. You raise it up high close to you and let it down further away. At the best of times, the path is a fairly narrow oval. You do three or four cycles, and then you hold it mostly sitting on one arm for a while. Except Beatrice didn’t want to sit on one arm; Beatrice wanted to go up again. It very soon looked less like a Ferris wheel than like an elevator. Even so, it was exhausting.” If Carolyn didn’t express any sympathy, she didn’t razz him. She even gave him a nice kiss when she got out of the car at her dorm, but she got out. He ate a large. but not particularly fancy, Sunday dinner before going home.

Sunday afternoon was not the best time for watching TV. Monday evening was better, but he’d have traded the entire evening for an hour watching Carolyn study. Somehow, despite her promise to call, despite all that they were going through preparing for the wedding, he felt that she was reconsidering the whole thing.

Tuesday afternoon, Denise buzzed him.

“A Carolyn Nolan is on the phone.” He couldn’t remember ever turning down a phone call, but his position meant that he always got the opportunity. This one, he wasn’t going to turn down.

“Put her through.”

“Yes, Miss Nolan,” he said when she was on the line. She didn’t play the business-call game though.

“Come straight home, tonight. I’ll leave you some food. And eat that apple!”

“I was scared to. Wouldn’t it prevent you from getting your doctorate?” Didn’t an apple a day keep the doctorate away?

“Nope. Goodbye.” Well, that was short and sweet, or -- at least -- short. On the other hand, she wasn’t reconsidering the wedding. She, for that matter, sounded as if they were already married -- ordering him around as to diet. He knew, from the couples he’d seen interacting, that this would get damn annoying in time. Right now, it felt reassuring.

She’d been there, which the call had implied. Her bookcase was plastic and looked flimsy to him. The food was a meatloaf with directions for cooking it. He followed the directions, left the apple for dessert, and hauled out the last of the Chinese-restaurant rice to go with it. He’d eaten up the rice Carolyn had cooked. It was both older and tastier. When the meatloaf was done, he had a slice over some rice and added catsup. The meatloaf was tasty enough, however. He left the catsup alone for the rest of the meal. He topped it off with the last apple. Apparently, she’d had one herself.

He watched one TV program and drank one beer. Neither really satisfied. He decided to call her -- he had something to report, after all. After the usual intermediaries, she came on the phone.

“Carolyn Nolan speaking.”

“Carolyn! How good to hear your voice. Have I ever complimented you on your telephone technique? The meat loaf was delicious. And I ate the apple.”

“Did you have any more of the lettuce?”

“Um.” Well, she hadn’t said to.

“I’m glad you eat out so much. Restaurants will, at least, serve you veggies and salad.”

“Anyway, I saw the bookcase. Plastic?”

“If you load it evenly,” she replied, “it works fine.”

“And you brought it all the way here?”

“Pick it up. It’s not that heavy.”

“Well, the books will be. I’ll move them.”

He ate out Wednesday night, but had some more of the meatloaf -- with lettuce, since she was so insistent -- for dinner Thursday. Then he called Carolyn again.

“Carolyn Nolan speaking.”

“Bill Pierce here. Why don’t you pack some books to move? I’ll pick you up, drive you to choir practice, get upstairs any books you bring along, and drive you back.” After a minute, she agreed. With the books in the trunk, they had a kiss before he started the car. Then he had his chance at getting some things straight.

“Look...”

“No,” she said immediately. “You look. I’m grateful for the help, but I’m not up for an argument before I’m obliged to have a relaxed tone.” Well, that ended his chance before it started. One thing, though, had to be confirmed.

“Very well, but do I have you for Saturday?”

“After lunch on Saturday.” Why she was insistent on eating lunch at the dorm, he couldn’t figure. She still hadn’t tasted the meatloaf. When he picked her up after choir practice, she found him useful, if not conversation-worthy.

“I’ll bring down another load of books, if you want,” she said.

“Fine, I just stacked those up.”

“Quite the best way. I’ll have to arrange them.” But, this time, she was accompanied by her roommates, each with a load of books. They were nice girls, eager to see their friend’s fiancé. He tried to seem worthy of marrying Carolyn. When he had the books upstairs, more of the books in the apartment were hers than his.

Saturday, he dressed casually and drove to pick her up in front of the building in which she had classes.

“I’m going back to the residence hall for lunch,” was her cool greeting.

“Fine. I’ll drive you. What time should I pick you up?”

“The appointment is at three.”

“Don’t you think we should talk first?”

“One thirty?”

“1:30 it is.” They had an hour and a half to settle any differences they might have about their marriage. When he got to the dorm at 1:26, he found that they had even less time. Carolyn’s roommates were waiting with more books. It was 1:34 before they were on their way.

“You’ve made three conquests,” she said when they were finally rolling towards the apartment.

“They merely want to meet your fiancé. They wouldn’t have given me a glance it you hadn’t been wearing that ring. So, what do we tell Jake?”

“That we aren’t planning for the ideal married couple. We’re planning for what’s best for Bill and Carolyn. If you were planning on a great start for a marriage, you wouldn’t start with Bill and Carolyn. But, when you start with Bill and Carolyn, marriage looks like the best option.” Well, she had thought about this much.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re exactly starry-eyed,” he commented.

“Look,” she said, “don’t get me started.”

“You never finished your list of my faults.”

“Every time I start to set them down in order, I discover a new one for the top of the list. Well, anyway, the next time we fight we’ll qualify for marriage counseling.” She had a point.

“Is that a promise? ... Well, children? Sometime, but when you’re more settled in a career.”

“One child when I’m settled in a career. Whether we’ll have more depends both on our experience with that child and on the career.” Well, that was fair, and -- after all -- he wasn’t going into this marriage to get children.

“Okay. And we’ll live on a balanced budget as soon as you have any real teaching job.”

“You’re not counting teaching assistant as real?” She sounded defensive.

“Not as far as salary is concerned. I’m sure the work is real, but, after all, it’s not like you were lazing around now.” She nodded. They off-loaded the books at the apartment. She took one load up, but she let him get the other loads while she arranged the ones that were there. They had too many to fit in that bookcase. When they drove to the church, Jake was waiting for them.

“Well,” he asked, “have you thought about things?”

“Thought about plenty,” Carolyn answered. “Got decisions on fewer. Y’know, you tell us that sex is a bad foundation for a marriage. Well, we aren’t looking for the ideal couple to form a married pair. We’re looking at ‘What should we do with Bill and Carolyn?’ Take my own case, for instance. If marriage to Bill based mostly on sex is risky, how risky would it be to marry John Doe when I’m much more strongly attracted to Bill, sexually?” She got to the point, and drilled it in.

“Well, millions of married women think Clark Gable is the sexiest man in the country.” Jake was dealing with her, for now.

“Yeah. And they have absolutely no access to Clark Gable, and they see him up on the silver screen and get their sexual charge. Then they go home and work it off with their lawful husband. It’s a little different when you’re talking about a man who you see every day.” As if she saw him every day, but that -- at least -- would change. Well, it seemed to be his turn.

“And, on the issue of planning for Bill and Carolyn, that covers chores as well. I’m sure that Dan has some things he does, and Gladys has some things she does. What our planning for chores is that Carolyn will do them in her slack periods, and I’ll do them in her crush periods. That will take re-planning when she gets her degree, but it doesn’t make sense to plan for that time in the abstract. When I can’t handle the chores -- I’m thinking of cooking dinner -- then I’m in charge of getting take-out.”

“Well,” Jake said, “I’m more interested in whether you’ve thought things through than what your answers are. And it sounds like you’ve thought things through.” He’d made it sound, indeed, like a lot more planning than what they’d actually done. “Budget?”

“That’s not complete. I know that everybody says that they’ll have more in the sweet by and by. But we will owe tuition next year, next academic year, and we’ll have a second salary a year or two after that. We’re agreed on hanging tough until she gets a teaching job.”

“And children?” Well, for once, they’d actually discussed that, if it had been more Carolyn’s decision than their’s. On the other hand, she’d be the one carrying the child.

“That’s also dependent on her schedule. One child when she’s settled enough to get maternity leave.”

“Yeah,” Carolyn said when Jake looked her way. “We figure that any plans for a second child need to be made after we learn what living with a child is like. Also, of course, there is a question as to how much maternity leave the unknown employer will be happy about giving me at an unknown time.”

They got through Jake’s other questions, partly by saying that everything beyond Carolyn’s time of getting her degree would have to be decided when they saw what her situation was then.

“And we have one,” he said when Jake had asked his last question. “We know you won’t perform the service without a license, and that is in process. We both have a nightmare of getting to the church in front of all those guests and then you stop the service because something is missing.”

“The nightmare is understandable,” Jake answered with a laugh, “but not based on reality. I’d perform the service for you dressed as you are now.”

“Not if my mother has a thing to say about it,” she put in. “She wants the whole nine yards.”

“Fine. I was going to say I wouldn’t perform the service with either of you naked or something like that. Really, I’ve known ministers who performed a wedding service in a hospital where one of the party was scheduled for desperate surgery. If you want an elaborate service, we’ll want payment for the church, for myself, and for Miss Armbruster. You need her permission for another organist.”

“That’s no problem,” Carolyn assured Jake. “My mother isn’t going to import an organist I don’t know.”

“And,” he said, “although her parents are planning to pay for the wedding, I’m good for any deficiency. I don’t think there will be one, but mistakes happen.”

“And I don’t stop the service to ask for my check. Do you want to have the reception in the fellowship area?” They were now off planning the marriage to planning the wedding.

“I’ll ask Mama,” Carolyn said, “but I’d bet against it. You don’t allow Champagne in the church.”

“Nor betting. Do you want to invite the entire congregation?”

“Sure,” she said. “Probably some will get written invitations, and some won’t. But this is our church home, whatever Mama thinks, and we’re not planning to shut anyone out of their home. Closer to the time, we’ll say so -- or you can -- in church.”

“Want to finish stacking the bookcase now?” he asked when they got back. Carolyn didn’t respond, and he went on to another issue. “Look, tomorrow is coffee hour. Sure, Jake can issue the invitation in service closer to the time. Do you want me to -- would you object if I -- issued a general invitation then?”

“Go ahead.” Then, after a long pause, “What would going back to the apartment mean?”

“You’d get to set the rules, but I can look at you.” She was always sexy, but she’d be sexier moving around to get books and arrange them.

“Okay. Let’s go by the residence hall. I don’t have the right books.” She took a longer time than he was used to, but she came down carrying stuff.

“Maybe,” he suggested when they were together in the car, “you’ll call your mother during a break in the library work. We need to know precisely what she expects from us. I don’t want off the top of her head on the phone, but can she write us. I have visions of her showing up Saturday morning asking, ‘Who is the photographer?’ Y’know I said I would follow your decisions as to the wedding, but I do need a portrait-style photo of you for my desk.”

“Yeah,” she responded. “You talk about accommodating me all the time, but I think you’ll be expecting me to accommodate you.”

“Maybe so. After all, I’m not talking about accommodating you so much as accommodating your profession. And there are accommodations you’ll have to make to my profession. You’ll have to entertain, sometimes, and when entertaining, you’ll have to play a role. Everybody does. Don’t tell me academics don’t.” She didn’t rise to that challenge.

“So, I’m to be the contented hausfrau?” That wasn’t quite what he meant.

“No. I won’t expect you to lie. But you’ll serve something closer to the lamb chops than to the sloppy joes. And, while you won’t tell them that Richard Nixon was the best president since Herbert Hoover, you won’t argue when they say that, either.” And, before starting on the books instead of on a break, she called her mother and made the request. Then he got to see her bend and flex and move. Those French artists who painted dancers changing clothes had known what made a woman sexiest.

“Study time, now,” she said when the books were arranged as well as she could with only one and a fraction bookcases. That meant that he would have to stop watching, but it also meant that she was staying in the apartment for the night.

“All right, but let me brush your hair before you come to bed.” When she didn’t say him no, he did his bed preparations and went into the bedroom. He turned on the heater and lay down under the sheet on her side of the bed. He played over her flexings, imagining them without the interference of clothes, until he fell asleep. She came in wearing a nightgown but was happy to have him brush her lovely locks. With the heater off and the electric blanket turned on for her side only, they fell asleep.

After taking Carolyn to church for the choir robing, he went to the narthex. Dan was there, Sylvia being in the choir, too. They got the doors open and stood holding bulletins until the official greeters would get there. Mostly, they talked.

“Y’know, Dan,” he said, “this is going to be a formal wedding. I’d like you to be my best man. They’re going to put me in a monkey suit, but I think the best man simply wears a suit.”

“Well, I’m a professor. I have suits.”

“Yeah, you’re a professor, but one of your suits must be presentable.”

“Seriously, though, Bill ... There is more to marriage than sex.” Sure, but how to answer this? “I’ve seen fewer fights than you guys have had lead to divorce.” Well, not fewer. He’d only witnessed one of their fights -- it had lasted more than a year, though.

“Well, one of the privileges of marriage is that your fights don’t have to be public ... Anyway ... Look, there is more to being a professor than standing in front of the class -- you’ve told me some of them. But, if you want to stand in front of a class, you have to go through the rest.”

“And if you want to have sex with Carolyn, you have to marry her? Sounds quite traditional, and it doesn’t explain why you drove her here.”

“If I want to have sex with Carolyn next year -- not ‘74, starting in June -- it means marriage. Anyway, do your doubts mean that you don’t want to be part of the wedding party?”

“No, I’ll stand up with you.”

“Thanks.” And then the official greeter, Ingrid, came out and they took their pews. After service was coffee hour. He got up and made his announcement.

“Most of you know that Carolyn and I are getting married. The date is February 17th, in the afternoon. Everyone within sound of my voice is invited.” Carolyn topped him.

“I’d like to notify parents of small children that, although they are certainly included in the invitation, the Bill Pierce baby-sitting service will not be available. He’ll be otherwise occupied.” One of the students topped her.

“Mommy, what is that strange woman doing up there with my Bill?” The voice was supposed to be that of a kid. So, everyone got the news, and they got some entertainment out of it, too.

As previously arranged, he drove Carolyn back to her dorm.

“And when,” he asked, “will I see you again?”

“How about nine o’clock tomorrow. Call before, okay? And finish up the salad.” The kiss on parting was as passionate as decency permitted in public. He drove off frustrated but certain of the engagement. He went from her dorm to a restaurant for Sunday dinner. He hadn’t been back in the apartment for half an hour when Dan called.