"Go away."
Hamilton looked down at the patio and back at Ted. "Her cousin from
Milwaukee. Henri's making the trip, tonight."
"For the blonde?"
"Don't be naive."
"If you're inferring that my wife, my Ann is going--"
"I only said Henri's making the trip. Maybe, just in hope. But how in
hell will you ever know? Unless you're there, yourself?"
"I'm not going anywhere," Ted said. "You can look for another stooge,
Lucifer. I love my wife...."
For seconds, Hamilton stared at Ted with those beady, black eyes. Then,
"You're serious, aren't you. You're leveling?"
"I'm serious."
Hamilton looked at the nutmeg tree. "Oh, Truesdale, if you knew the
story. If you knew what this meant." He started up the tree, and
paused. "Well, there are others, plenty of them." He went quickly up
the rest of the way.
Ted didn't even glance at the blonde, again, before going back into
the house. He put some Cole Porter on the record player and sat by the
fireplace.
Honolulu and Houston and _Sweeney's_ and the country club merged in
his mind as the whiskey drowsiness started to creep through him. He
couldn't go to sleep, not before Ann came home. He had some things to
tell her.
Before _she_ went to sleep.
Ann, Ann, thirty minutes, Ann, oh beloved darling....
The last record finished and shut off the machine. Ted dreamed of
homering in the ninth, against Louisville, with the bases loaded.
He woke to a black room. Had Ann come in, not seen him in the living
room, and gone to bed? Ann, no. Ann, be awake. Ann, you wouldn't like
Venus--without me. I hope. Ann....
He stumbled out into the hall, and looked up the steps. No lights
there, either. He ran up the stairs, whimpering, and through the
dressing room into her room. He snapped on the big overhead light.
She was asleep. Asleep--and smiling.
He was shaking her. He was sobbing, burying his wet face in her
shoulder, trembling and incoherent.
"Ted, baby, what is the matter? What's happened, darling?"
He told her. Incoherently, but swiftly, holding her tightly all the
while. From the first of Hamilton's words to the last. And finished
with, "I've wanted you so badly, and you seemed so distant. I know
there's no excusing me, but I want you to understand, to know how much
I--"
He was silent, spent, weak as water.
She stroked his hair. She said, "Wanting me isn't enough, wasn't
enough. Can't you see that, dearest? A woman must be needed, not
wanted. Darling, everything's going to be all right, now."
"Ann, I haven't the right to ask. But--did I bring you back from--I
mean, were you on Venus?"
She put a soft hand on his lips. "Sweetheart, what a horrible question.
I'm your Ann, remember? I'm your darling. And nobody else is going to
come between us. This will be our room, tonight, and all the nights."
* * * * *
_The now embodied assembly met above the stream they could hear, in the
glade they could see._
_Ha said, "I've a request from Earthians, that Truesdale pair."_
_"Request?" Peak said._
_"They'd like to spend the weekend, here, all their weekends. He works
the rest of the week, but--"_
_"Earthians, here?" Peak interrupted. "I'll be darned if--"_
_Ha said, "Remember, if it wasn't for them, we'd still be disembodied.
I think this is a voting matter, Peak."_
_"Them? Him, you mean."_
_"Oh, no," Ha corrected. "She was here, too, that final night. Twice,
as a matter of fact. The last time with her husband. I say they're fine
people, and I'd be proud to welcome them."_
_And it was so voted._