Chapter 23

Johanna's turn:

Glorious Saturday morning, drifting along with the light pushing its way through the little gap in the drapes. I hear soft, regular breathing next to me, calming, protecting. That would be my husband. He's sleeping. He's slept all night and I get the best feeling about that. We've been sleeping together two weeks. Married, that is, 'officially' with the public ceremony and a marriage license, for a week today.

In that two weeks, he's wakened in the middle of the night eight times that I know about. I know about it because he sits straight up, his body clammy with sweat. I also know that on the other nights, he's gone through restless spells, his legs working, twisting. I wake up. If he's sitting, I gently touch this man that I love, this man who adores me, and I speak softly to him and help him come back.

Last night, nothing. No sitting. No running. No twisting.

This morning I awake fully rested and I feel inside that my Stoney is rested as well. I felt as much as saw him move away from me, then a big shift and he was on his side facing me, putting his arm around me, pulling me to the place where I was meant to be: In his care.

I closed my eyes, breathed deeply though my nose, catching the manly scent that I'd bought for him just last week, and drifted back to a lazy Saturday morning slumber. A little while later I felt him stir, then felt a soft kiss and heard "My beautiful, beautiful Johanna Elise."

"My Stoney, my husband," I answered, and returned the kiss, softly at first, then reading him, the kiss became hotter, more wanting.

"Don't move," he said. "I gotta..." and he jumped out of bed. I know where he's heading and I went to the half-bath up the hall for my own relief.

"You're not the only one with a bladder, love," I said. "And when you're finished, back to bed!"

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a chuckle.

No sense in just jumping up and wasting a perfectly good Saturday morning. Living twenty-one years, the last three in college, I'd heard a lot about the nuts and bolts of sexuality. Now I had my own laboratory and practical exercises. It's wild! I can play and get played with, and there's no hurry and no worry and...

Between being sexually satiated (for the time being) and starting to miss breakfast, we got dressed.

"Destination," I said, "Just in case you forget."

"Boat," Stoney said.

"You didn't forget."

"'Course not! Let's throw some stuff together," he said.

We loaded up a bag for the day trip, headed out, grabbed a drive-thru breakfast on the road. And in an hour, we were unloading things onto the dock. Thirty minutes later we were under way, me at the helm, weaving out of the marina, Stoney uncovering the sail and stowing docklines under a beautiful autumn sky. The winds even cooperated so that as soon as we cleared the channel into the bay, the sail went up and the engine went off. Only sailors know the peace of that moment. With the wind abaft the port beam, we heeled little and it was just about as tranquil as one can be under sail.

"You slept all night," I said. "Didn't you." It was a statement, not a question.

"I did. I feel rested."

"Talking with Harland, listening to Harland, I think it helped," I said. "You've been facing this on your own. You didn't know everything..."

"Apparently not."

"Stoney, most wives have no idea..." I know this because Dad told me. All his 'war stories' were funny stuff about staff meetings and politics in the ranks and stuff like that.

"It's not exactly the subject of polite conversation."

"I'm your wife. Everything that has ever happened to us is fair game. If I can't share it with you, who do I go look for?"

"You still have your mom and dad," I said.

"Uh-huh. And friends like Key. But since a week ago, those are all second tier. You're it, guy. Better or worse and all that."

"Okay. And you're so far above the best friend I've had in a decade..."

"What about Brad?"

"Brad's a great guy. He was recruited right out of college and had been a staff engineer ever since. The biggest trauma he's ever experienced was a wino running a light one night and T-boning his car. He was by himself and it hit on the passenger side. Or maybe the birth of his first kid. He said life changed as he knew it..."

I giggled. Mom and Dad said the same thing.

Stoney kept talking. "You. You're off the screen. College girl. But I dunno, you seem like you've got it going on. Maybe because your Dad took the time to tell you things."

"And Mom," I said. "Mom sat me down and told me the things that worried Dad. Of course, it was with the warning that I not approach Dad about those questions. They were between me and her."

"You make me feel secure."

"You should feel secure, Stoney. I love you. You love me. Secure."

He smiled. "Yeah, but about that incident..."

"You were there how long before that happened?"

"Six months, give or take."

"You weren't one of those, what's Dad call them? 'Rimffs'?"

"REMF," I said. "Stands for..."

"I know what it stands for," I said. (Auth. Note: Rear Echelon Mother Fucker) "You weren't in the rear with the gear."

He laughed. "Your dad told you about those things?"

I laughed. I remember good poetry. "He had other terms. Said that was something that bothered him after he made major and couldn't justify going out on operations."

"That would be like taking all the music courses and never getting a chance to pick up an instrument."

"Sort of, I guess," I said. "But people don't assault the flute-player." He grabbed my butt and squeezed. I squealed. "Not THAT kind of assault, beast!"

A puff of wind made the stern squat and the wake took on a louder, musical note.

"You wrinkle your nose like that one more time and I will show you an assault."

"Wrinkle my nose?"

"Yes," he said. "It's this terribly charming thing that you do. Irresistible."

I smiled.

"See! You're doing it again!"

"Autopilot!" I hissed. "Turn it on!" Yes, he had one. And I was perfectly sure that it would keep us pointed in the direction we needed to go. Poor dear had all sort of difficulties turning the autopilot on and engaging its clutch, what with some horrible aroused female fondling his dick.

The autopilot was making little 'weenk!' sounds as it maintained course and I was assaulted by Stoney and assaulted him right back, ending up getting myself taken from behind, a concession to a just a little too brisk west wind that made nudity, or even half nudity, a bad idea.

So okay, we scratched that itch. Five minutes, I think. I wonder if anybody else gets that worked up over their guy. Something's there with Stoney. I'm like the lock and he's the key. All my tumblers just line up.

With our pants pulled back up (and this squishy feeling in mine. Oh, well, in a bit I'll go find something to sop up the mess) we snuggled back together. The autopilot was still making 'weenk!' noises as it held our course.

"We can't do that in the summertime," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because we'll get arrested for public lewdness."

"Not if you have that pair of baggy trunks and I have this bikini. And I can sit on your lap..."

Breath hissed when he sucked it in. That's another thing to know and love. One of these days I'll try to explain to him that I see all this. Or maybe not.

I cuddled into his side, letting him wrap an arm around me.

"Stoney?"

"Yes, little dove?"

"Knife. I knew about the gun in that battle. But a knife?"

"Dunno, darlin', he said. "Gun was probably empty. Can't do a mag change with only one arm. All I had, I guess."

"Stonewall Jackson, you weren't even conscious, and your last move was to protect your men. You know, the guy that was there with you, HE thinks you're a hero. So does my dad. And my dad's daughter."

"Okay," he said. "Thank you. You still love me?"

"Only forever," I said. "We're far enough out to head south and anchor, aren't we?"

"Yes we are," Stoney said. He reached over and punched a course change into the autopilot and then said "Hang on! We're gonna jibe!" as he hauled the mainsheet in. He had the boom almost amidships when the wind passed across our stern and he eased the sheet out putting us running before the wind.

That had the effect of almost killing the apparent wind in the cockpit. I went below and retrieved my flute.

"I wasn't going to ask," Stoney said.

"You don't have to ask," I said. "You will have to put up with a week of piccolo, though. I gotta nail that feature for Stars and Stripes Forever for Saturday.

"Week's enough time?" he asked.

"Look, bub," I said. "You can keep the lights on in Guatemala. That's what YOU do. I can do a piccolo piece. That's what I do." I giggled. "Did it before. Haven't forgotten."

"Put your flute down. Let's anchor and then we can both play." He kicked the autopilot off and rounded us up into the wind. I held the nose there while the sails came down and the anchor was set. Soon we were swinging with the boat's bow in the wind and banjo and flute were wafting over the waves, not that there were any others around to hear.

While we're sitting here playing, I look at Stoney. He's concentrating on the fingering of a passage where he's pushed his banjo into a harp sequence and I have a thought. We've done this to each other: taken something that was happy in one place and moved it into something totally different and equally beautiful. His solo wrapped up and I joined him, flute at my lips, for the duet. That's us. Two solos. One beautiful duet.

Cool, almost chilly, breeze out of the northwest, crystal clear day. The wind in the rigging, gentle rocking of the boat, and music with the guy I love.

When we stopped, he smiled for me. "Jo, that's a bigger than normal smile."

"Because I have a bigger than normal happiness, Stoney," I said. "Been a whole week. Still glad you married me?"

"Actually it's been two since we howled at the moon together. And I dwell in ecstasy."

"Good!" I said. "Some of my classmates question my sanity."

"I would guess, marryin' that old scar-faced guy."

"Yeah. And I point out that you're employed and stable and love me to pieces and you're hung like a horse. Like being married to a jackhammer that can lick his own eyebrows."

"You didn't!" he said.

"No, but only because then some of those skanky little bitches would hunt you down to look at your crotch."

"You're talking about your fellow students."

"Look, baby, a skanky bitch is a skanky bitch. I know some that're doing several guys a week."

"I never could figure out that lifestyle," he said.

"Nor I."

"I'm glad, baby. I've dodged a few of the other kind."

"Keep dodging, Stoney. I'm selfish. I want you all to myself."