the washroom door had a lock. Once he was clean, Meri was willing. Amazing how a woman could shed so many clothes in such a short time. A towel laid down on the floor with Meri on top of it, and he was in heaven.
“I’ve never coupled in a washroom,” he said, when he could speak in normal tones and breathe without gasping.
“Neither have I,” she replied. “If the floorboards leave a mark on my back, you’re in trouble.”
They both laughed. “Eventually everyone will eat, then go home, and I’ll have my way with you on a mattress,” he promised. He stood up and held out his hand. “Up you get, my saucy wench.”
While he dressed, Meri-deelightful looked at the used bathwater, then decided against a quick dip. She settled for a damp washrag and giggled like a bride when he buttoned her bodice, after taking a few husbandly liberties.
He smiled inside, touched by her odd sort of modesty, when she patted her hair in place and asked, “Will I pass muster?”
After that glorious bit of General Merrymaking, he knew he could tease her. “No. You look like you’ve been romping about in the washroom with a randy fellow.”
Ooh. Such a glare. He gave it eight seconds. Nay. Four, and she was in his arms again. “I don’t like separations from you,” she whispered into his neck.
“What a relief that I usually work at St. Brendan’s. Some of those ocean voyages can last two years and more,” he said.
“My goodness.” Meri unlocked the door. “Do wives ever just lie down there on the dock when they see the right ship making harbor?”
He shouldn’t have laughed so loud, but Lord, his genteel wife could pop out with a zinger, when the mood was on her. “Meridee Bonfort Six, you are a rascal.”
“Oh dear, three names. Am I in trouble?” she teased back.
“We’ll make it right later on tonight,” he assured her. “Now let us ask the kind Pegeen to swab out that horrid bathtub and fill it for a lad or two.”
Soon, everyone smelled much better. Before dinner, Ben had escorted Able upstairs so he could shave and put on a clean uniform. Sitting on the end of their bed, his little son informed his Papa of the times Mama cried. His face grew solemn. “I cried, too. Papa, where were you?”
“Sailing against France and keeping Napoleon away from you,” he said. He yanked up Ben’s shirt, blew a big raspberry on his stomach, and flopped down beside his boy so they could laugh together.
“Someone must like Napoleon,” his son said. “Does he have a little boy of his own?”
“Alas, no,” Able told him, touched at how Ben settled so close. There was none of the shy child about his son. It was as if they had known each other since conception. Someday he might ask Ben what his earliest recollection was, but now was not the time. Better to circulate in his son’s orbit while he could, taste of Meri’s sweetness on every level of his life, and return to sea a whole man. He raised up on one elbow to regard Ben. “If he had a little boy, do you think Boney would be a better man?”
Able knew this was not an argument for a one so young to entertain, but he knew this was no ordinary child. Still, Ben surprised him. “Probably, if he had a good mama, too.”
Touché, Ben, he thought. “You have a good mama.”
Ben nodded. “She would be upset if I decided to conquer the world. She wouldn’t think it proper.”
Able laughed and grabbed up his son, setting him on his shoulders. He trotted him down the stairs, Ben hanging on tight to his hair, and into the kitchen where the delight of his life was taking a ham from the Rumford.
“Ben, you’ll never want to go to sea. The food is so good here,” he said as he lifted his son off his shoulders and set him gently on his feet. “Only last week, all we had to eat was ship’s bread, elderly cheese and fish.”
“Mama should be on board to feed you,” Ben pointed out.
He smiled at Meri, who was listening to this exchange with her usual good cheer. He watched her eyes grow misty, and knew how close to the surface her emotions were. Let this war end, he thought. Let it end now. He grabbed her in an all-encompassing embrace that nearly included the ham on the table. “Mama feeds me