Chapter 10

It didn't take Paul Sr. very long to decide that his son had excellent taste in lady lawyers. Their early dinner Friday evening was lively with a four-way running conversation, designed to acquaint Lois with Elias family history, and to provide Paul's parents with a detailed portrait of Lois and her family.

The Elias parents had a lot of questions.

Although it soon became clear that, economically at least, the Silverthorn family was a couple of worlds away from the folks Paul had grown up with in Pikeville, Lois' good manners and her earthy way of speaking soon demonstrated to Paul's parents that they had nothing to fear. Lois was not a Princess. She was real people.

After dinner, while Marjorie and Lois were cleaning up the kitchen, Paul and his dad had the parlor to themselves.

"She's sure a pretty thing!" Paul Sr. began.

"Yeah."

"Smart, too!"

"Uh-hum."

"How'd you come to meet her?"

"She's a volunteer, at the hospital. She came around, read to me for awhile, we got to talking."

"Lawyer."

"Yeah."

"It bother you -- her being more educated than you are?"

"Pop, she's got a law degree. There are more lawyers than you can count, Pop. Even here, in Pikeville, there are zillions of them! It's not like she's won the Nobel Prize or something."

"Family's got money, though, right?"

"I haven't really met her family, but, yes, my impression is they're pretty flush."

"That bother you -- her family having all that money an all?"

"No. No, it doesn't bother me. I mean, it makes me want to, y'know, make something of myself, so that when I'm ready to propose to her, I don't feel like I'm bringing nothing to the table. But does it bother me? Hell, no! In my experience, Pop, people with money are pretty much happy folks. I mean, why the hell wouldn't they be?"

"Sometimes, money can't buy happiness," Paul Sr. said, profoundly.

"I know. And I know that's true. But just as a general rule, being financially secure takes folks a long way toward having a good life. You can easily overdo that 'money can't buy happiness' routine."

"Well, you just be sure about her, son. That's all I'm saying. I mean, she looks great, and she seems like a real nice girl, 'n all, but, you just be sure, first. That's all."

"I'm not making any false moves, until I've got something going. A job -- a good one. That's probably going to take me quite a long while. Meantime, there will be plenty of time for me to find out whether there's something wrong with -- with our relationship."

"I just worry, that's all."

Paul could read his father like an open book. "I know, Pop. You're worrying about why a Certified Babe like Lois would take a second look at me."

"No I ain't! Hell, you a good-lookin' young man! You take after your father's side of the family!"

"Sure, Pop. But you're thinking, 'What's this Philadelphia lawyer-lady doin' with my busted-up country-boy son? What's that all about?'"

"Swear to God, I wasn't thinkin' any such thing!" Paul Sr. said.

But what Paul Sr. was thinking, that very minute, was "How does this boy read me so well, without me saying a goddamned thing?"

"Just don't fret about it, Pop," Paul said, bringing that line of conversation to a close. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it'll all fall apart, one of these days. I wonder myself, sometimes, what Lois is doing with somebody as fucked up as I am."

"She's just got good taste," Lois said. Neither of the men had heard her entering the room. Wisely, Lois didn't ask for a summary of the conversation just-ended when she had arrived.

The rest of the evening was spent in reasonably comfortable small talk.

On Saturday, they all went on a picnic high in the mountains above the little city. The weather was perfect and the scenery was spectacular. Lois, clearly, enjoyed the day immensely.

After the picnic, without advance warning, they took her to a high walking bridge emerging right out of a forested mountain. Paul discovered that walking on the slightly swaying structure was now much more of a challenge, on his still-unfamiliar artificial limbs.

Lois found out that she might have just a touch of acrophobia.

That night, they played four games of Scrabble at the kitchen table, three of which were won handily by Lois. (She might have thrown the other one, but if she did, it was done with subtlety and skill.)

At Paul's insistence, they then spent more than three hours playing Monopoly. Paul, who, it turned out, was a vicious, unforgiving capitalist on the game board, ended the night the richest of them all.

After Marjorie and Paul Sr. said goodnight, the young couple gratefully tumbled into the guest room bed. In what had become a familiar ritual, Lois helped Paul to remove his prosthetic limbs, unwound the cloth coverings around what remained of his legs, and rubbed them with lotion.

In what had become a familiar part of the familiar ritual, Paul soon sprung an erection. Lois gave it equal time with the lotion.

"Your parents are good people," she said.

"Wow, now there's a non-sequitur if I ever heard one," Paul said, laughing.

"What?"

"You got both hands on my prong, there, and what comes into your head and out of your mouth? 'Your parents are good people.'"

She smiled. "Well, what? Am I supposed to be so overwhelmed with lust that the only thing I can talk about is this thing?" She jiggled his well-lubricated erection casually in her hand.

"There was a time," Paul intoned, "when you were impressed with Reginald, there."

"Reginald? Where did that come from? I thought this was just 'Little Paul.'"