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From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Formez vos Bataillons" 4/4 -- Uther -- (MF MF wl)
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Date: Mon, 19 Jul 2010 21:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "vos-4-hld.txt" begin>

  
  This material is copyright, 2010, by Uther
  Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically
  grant the right of downloading and keeping one
  electronic copy for your personal reading so long
  as this notice is included. Reposting requires
  previous permission. 
  If you have any comments or requests, please e-mail
  them to me at nogardnePrethU@gmail.com .
  All persons here depicted, except public figures
  depicted as public figures in the background, are
  figments of my imagination. Any resemblance to
  persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
  
  
  Formez vos Bataillions -- 4/4
  Uther Pendragon
  nogardneprethu@gmail.com
  
  MF MF
  Concluded from Part 3
  
  
  "Has the rain stopped?" asked Kate.
  
  "I looked out before you called us to dinner. A
  drizzle." Charles felt that this non-sequitur
  change of subject was deliberate, instead of the
  usual Brennan jump. If so, his hostess was quite
  right. He'd follow her in a conversation on the
  weather all night if it meant that Kath and Bob
  would stop their sniping.
  
  "If you don't finish the book here, dear, feel free
  to take it with you. I was talking to Charles, Cat.
  We'll return the library books where we got them.
  He started one of the family books. Jane Jacobs."
  
  "Death and Life or the second one?" Bob asked.
  
  "*Death and Life of Great American Cities*."
  
  "Fascinating book. What urban sociology would be
  were it inductive."
  
  "Bob never met a book he didn't like, Charles, but
  I've found over the years that his recommendations
  often lead to good reads. You'd think that the
  indiscriminate liking would destroy his tastebuds,
  as it were."
  
  "Not really, dear. Would you rather get road
  directions from a taxi driver or from a man who had
  only driven one route in his life?"
  
  "Met a guy once," Bob put in, "who told me that
  he'd only read one science-fiction book in his
  life. He'd enjoyed it, and that was the only well-
  written SF story. Weird opinion. He'd enjoyed 100%
  of the ones he'd read, and he knew -- I don't know
  how -- that he'd not enjoy any other. Wish I'd
  enjoyed every SF story I've read."
  
  "I thought you'd enjoyed every story of whatever
  kind that you'd read."
  
  "No, ma femme. Why talk about the bad ones? But
  Death and Life is a great book. Well, you're
  reading it; I won't try to summarize from memory."
  
  "Wait a few years, dear. This house is a storehouse
  of books, but they are a little old for you now.
  Most of the books Papa and Tante Kathleen had at
  your age they gave away before moving here. But as
  you grow up, you'll find you'll like the ones they
  had here."
  
  "And my books first, Cat. I was younger when we
  moved here, and mine were girls' books. I know she
  sounds like she goes on forever right now, but I
  bet you'll love Nancy Drew when you're old enough."
  Bob decided that Kathleen's brains hadn't rotted
  away -- dealing with Charles, yes -- but Cat always
  wanted to do things she'd been told she wasn't old
  enough to do.
  
  "Truth is, I enjoyed Nancy Drew, too. Not my
  favorite, but I'll bet I read most of the ones you
  have."
  
  "Yes, Bob, but girl detectives provide pleasures to
  girls on top of the pleasures the books provide to
  any reader.  Bet your wife wants Cat to have
  positive, intelligent, female roll models. Apart
  from herself, of course."
  
  "And apart from her grandmother and her aunt. Yes,
  and Bob does too."
  
  "There are advantages in a simpering, dependent,
  diffident wife. There are none in a simpering,
  dependent, diffident daughter. Since I didn't
  pursue the first, I'd be an idiot to want the
  second."
  
  "I could simper."
  
  "Not convincingly, dearest. I've seen you navigate
  the subways of Paris."
  
  "The maps are far more convenient than the CTA's."
  
  "We see three strong, independent, women," Charles
  said. "All three of them are married -- were
  married in Kate's case. Would Gloria Steinem
  agree?"
  
  "Well, dear, the first generation of feminists were
  mostly single. And Steinem was long after that.
  Think Jane Addams."
  
  "And that wasn't even the first generation," said
  Bob. "How many suffragettes went before her?
  Sojourner Truth was a mature woman before the Civil
  War. And she had married. At least, she had
  children. Marriage must have been problematic under
  slavery."
  
  "So," Kathleen said, "strong women can have men.
  'Fish without a bicycle' is far too simplistic.
  They just need strong men." Charles set down his
  fork and made a muscle -- hidden by his shirt, but
  an unmistakable gesture.
  
  "It's nothing like that, Charles," said Jeanette.
  "Convenient as that often is. Strong men are strong
  in the ego. They can have strong women around them
  without feeling that their masculinity is in
  question."
  
  "And, dear." Kate thought that Jeanette was being a
  tad too direct. "How strong any person is depends
  on how you look at it. I've known widows, and a few
  divorcees, who seemed torn out by their roots. Her
  identity was Mrs. John Smith. Now, she had no
  social existence. I was certain I wouldn't be like
  that. Brewster, sure, but that was a tiny sliver of
  my social identity. I had fewer positions in the
  church than Russ had, but they knew me as myself.
  My kids knew me as Mrs. Brennan, which implied that
  there was a Mr. Brennan somewhere. Although, at
  that age, you're not sure they've made the
  connection. They certainly didn't know Russ to
  speak to. 
  
  "And, then, when I lost Russ, I lost myself. I
  still have all the social identity. What I lost was
  my psychological identity. The school sees me as a
  person independent from Russ, so does the church,
  so -- even -- do my children."
  
  "A much different person," said Bob, "a
  countervailing force."
  
  "The only one who doesn't is me. And, dear, what
  you saw as a countervailing force was sometimes a
  conspiracy. Russ gave you the Playboy subscription
  when I was disturbed by your using my art-history
  books."
  
  "You knew?"
  
  "I knew where they were supposed to be, dear. I
  knew when they went missing and noticed them
  cycling in and out. Your father knew why. He didn't
  mind, himself, but he sympathized with my
  objection. And, after you'd received three or four
  issues of more appropriate material, the books
  moved from the living room to our room."
  
  "Bob!"
  
  "Dear, we kept the knowledge from you. All three of
  us did, even though I don't think there was much
  discussion except between your father and myself.
  It would have been natural for you to be shocked at
  that age. Being shocked at this age, however, is
  really silly. And that's not counting your
  profession. Ask your husband sometime what pictures
  he looked at at age fifteen.
  
  "And, now to go back to what I was saying, I miss
  Russ. I can remember being Kate Grant, but she was
  a girl. I can teach fine with him gone; I can't
  live at all." She startled everyone, herself most
  of all, by starting to cry. Four people looked at
  her without a clue what to say or do.
  
  "Memere," asked Cat, "are you remembering Pepere?"
  Her grandmother nodded. "Does crying help?" Kate
  got up from the table and got a Kleenex from the
  kitchen.
  
  "Not any more, dear. I think I'll stop." And she
  did. Cat went back to eating. 
  
  "Out of the mouths of babes," Bob said.
  
  "She's Jeanette's daughter, dear, raising as well
  as genes."
  
  "Don't credit me with that. I was totally lost. I
  think you two have built a connection."
  
  "I certainly hope so, dear. Who wants more salad?"
  At that, the conversation turned to practical
  things and then splintered. When the meal was over,
  Kathleen stood.
  
  "Charles and I'll clear. Is the dishwasher empty?"
  
  "Not yet, dear."
  
  "Well, I know where to put most things." When
  they'd stacked the dishes in the sink, she opened
  the dishwasher and started to put things away.
  "Sorry to draft you. It seemed more discreet than
  calling 'Family conference.' Not that I fooled
  anybody. Now, two questions.
  
  "You did a fine grace. I hadn't thought, although I
  should have. We now have a family. Do you want a
  grace at our meals?"
  
  "I don't know."
  
  "That's fair. I sprang it on you. Dad used to say
  them or ask someone else. Why don't you decide, and
  then decide whether you'd be comfortable taking
  that role?
  
  "And, what sort of pictures did you look at at
  fifteen?"
  
  "Not art books, that's for sure. Playboys and such
  when I could get them. Your mother's right. Bob
  wasn't a monster, just a normal teenage boy."
  
  "You talk as if those were mutually exclusive, or
  even different." 
  
  Charles laughed. "Look, I can stack dishes."
  
  "Okay, these go up on the second shelf of that
  cabinet to your right. How Mom manages, I don't
  know." They worked together until the clean dishes
  were put away in cabinets and the dirty dishes were
  in the machine. Kathleen took a look around and
  decided their work was finished. She gestured
  towards the door.
  
  "You know what I love about you? Others get all
  fixed in their professions. They are lawyers or
  accountants twenty-four-seven. You get near your
  brother, and all your psychiatric training falls
  away."
  
  "That's what you love about me?" She grabbed his
  hand and drew it to her crotch.
  
  "Well, among other things." They hugged and kissed.
  She ground her body against his erection, and he
  caressed down her back to her rump. When they
  parted, he adjusted his clothing. "Just walk ahead
  of me 'til I can sit down." She giggled, but
  complied.
  
  When she'd got back from washing her hands, Cat
  went to Memere to give her a hug. Kate hugged her
  back. When the physical imbalance of having her
  knees hugged and touching only Cat's head bothered
  Kate, she led Cat to the sofa and sat down. When
  she patted the cushion beside her, Cat climbed up.
  This hug was much more comfortable. They were still
  sitting together when Kathleen and Charles came
  back. When Charles had sat down in a deep chair,
  Kathleen selected the chair furthest from others
  that would hold herself and Cat.
  
  "Come here, Cat, and tell me some more jokes." That
  earned her a smile of appreciation from Jeanette.
  Cat needed to be reasonably inactive for the hour
  after dinner, but she would resent any more
  restrictions from Maman. Cat looked to Memere. At
  her nod, she scurried over to Tante Kathleen.
  "Y'know, sweet, when I was your age, ton papa told
  me lots of jokes. I told them to my friends. Ta
  memere warned me to tell them to the students at my
  school, but not to the teachers or other adults.
  That's a good rule, but you can tell them all to
  me. Do you know how to stick out your tongue and
  touch your nose." Cat happily performed that feat.
  
  "Think she'll remember?" Jeanette asked Bob.
  
  "Vi didn't. On the other hand, that's one limit
  that came from the people who normally spoil her.
  Kathleen's doing us a favor, probably quite
  consciously. Did you hear her on books Cat would
  enjoy when she was old enough?"
  
  "And your mother. Despite the way I had to do it,
  I'm sometimes glad to be a Brennan."
  
  "Well, you had to take the husband with the mother-
  in-law. There was no other way."
  
  "I'll suffer through it."
  
  "Not 'til tonight." They shared a smile. They were
  parents, not lovers, just then. They were, however,
  comfortable in both roles. They walked over to the
  couch. "Did Cat help?"
  
  "Very much. I'm sorry, dears. I don't know what
  came over me."
  
  "It's called grief. Don't apologize, Mom. I've felt
  it, too."
  
  "If he doesn't still break out in tears, Katherine,
  you laid out the reason. You're no longer Russell
  Brennan's wife. He is still his son."
  
  "I felt awful when I heard. But, probably, not one
  tenth as awful as I would have felt if we hadn't
  been reconciled."
  
  "And that was your doing, dear. I'm ever so
  grateful, and Russ was, too."
  
  "Well, he was always incredibly kind to me -- even
  when I wasn't kind to him."
  
  "You were standing by your man, dear. And Russ
  would never have blamed you for that. And, of
  course, the man you were standing by was the son he
  loved. Family relations are so complicated."
  
  "Brennans don't know how poisonous they can be."
  
  "Maybe not poisonous, dear, but you'll have to
  admit that our relationships are as complicated as
  any other."
  
  "I'll buy that." Charles had joined them. "I think
  I'm beginning to understand Kath, and then we come
  here, and she's an entirely different person."
  
  "Well, dear, you have to expect that. You've known
  Kathleen for years, but they were years in which
  she had minimal contact with us. I don't have to
  tell you how often residents can come home."
  
  "Those years, she -- indeed I -- had contact with
  Bob and Jeanette." He stopped there. Kath's mother
  might not know about their borrowing Bob and
  Jeanette's apartment for sex. She certainly
  wouldn't want to hear about it if she was totally
  aware.
  
  "And, to a great extent," Jeanette pointed out,
  "the sibling rivalry was muted. You might not have
  thought so from what you saw, but it was at much
  lower volume than it is here."
  
  "And here is where all the memories lie -- at
  least, a different set of memories. You might think
  that those apartments were partly mine. Kathleen
  thought of them as Jeanette's. She wants to be nice
  to Jeanette. I'll give you one clue for free. Our
  dad was adamant on one point, the essence of
  masculinity is loyalty towards your woman. Kathleen
  sat at his table for years while he pounded that
  home. He was talking, usually, to me, but she had
  to have absorbed it."
  
  "I did note," Jeanette said, "when I first met you,
  how many ways you resembled Bob and his father.
  Kathleen may have been rebelling, but she didn't
  get very far when she was looking for a man."
  
  "And, dear, she wasn't rebelling against Russ. That
  was Bob. She was rebelling against me."
  
  "She seems very loyal herself."
  
  "Well, yes. It wasn't like pink and blue. It was
  more that loyalty was the highest virtue for men.
  But it was the highest virtue he mentioned for
  anybody."
  
  "We were just saying, dear, that Russ admired
  Jeanette for standing up to him when he quarreled
  with Bob. She was being loyal, see? And Russ would
  never criticize loyalty, even if it worked to his
  detriment."
  
  "And, you have one very great advantage. She's the
  stubbornest person in a stubborn family. She's
  decided you're her man, and she has never been
  known to change her mind."
  
  "There are other opinions, Charles, of which
  Brennan is stubbornest. But I'll testify that it's
  often an advantage when a stubborn person has
  decided that he's married to you."
  
  "Your daughter isn't that stubborn, ma femme."
  
  "No, mon mari, but her father is."
  
  "Well," Kathleen asked Cat, "If you have a nine-
  hundred pound gorilla, where would he sleep?"
  
  "Anywhere he wants to. I forgot that one."
  
  "Remember any more?"
  
  "No."
  
  "Then go get Charles to read to you. I'm going up
  to take a shower."
  
  "Sharl, may I have some books, please?"
  
  "Certainly. Let's go over there."
  
  "And I think you've all been maligning me."
  
  "Not I. It was Jeanette that said you weren't the
  stubbornest person in the family. I'd never make
  that accusation."
  
  "I'll grant that he fired the first shot this time,
  Kathleen, although you've fired several since the
  truce. But don't you think that a long argument on
  which of you is the stubborner would rather make
  the point that you're each denying." 
  
  "Good point! I'll let the stubborner one have the
  last word. I'm off to the shower unless someone
  needs something from the bathroom first." Kathleen
  headed for the stairs. 
  
  "And," Bob pointed out, "the stubborner one had the
  last word."
  
  "Just now."
  
  "Dear, you married a quite intelligent woman."
  
  "If she was so smart, then why did she marry me?"
  
  "I plead temporary insanity."
  
  "Or, dear, you have qualities which are not
  apparent to a mother."
  
  "Everybody picks on me."
  
  "Dunno. Charles has been notably silent."
  
  "Wisely so, dear." Charles, glad to have wisdom
  attributed to him by the font of Brennan wisdom.
  stuck with Horton and Cat. When she selected the
  next book, though, he deferred to Bob.
  
  "I think you have a special way of reading this
  book, Cat. Do you want to take it to Papa?" It
  turned out that Cat sat on Bob's stomach and
  bounced while he lay stretched out on his back on
  the floor. It was an active way to read, but not
  really hopping on pop.
  
  "I just hope that he doesn't throw up."
  
  "If he does, dear, you can be sure we'll blame him
  and not you."
  "Yes, that's one advantage of visiting here."
  
  "I'm told that you sometime think that you have two
  children." Charles had joined them.
  
  "Can you blame me?" She gestured towards the two on
  the floor.
  
  "And yet, you also say he's a rock when you need
  him."
  
  "Quite. When I think back to our early married
  years, I shiver. I'd had one year of college, he'd
  had two. We were so young and naive, objectively.
  But, hard as it is to believe watching him now, Bob
  was mature where it counted back then -- earlier,
  too.
  
  "It helps, of course, that we'd both decided that
  we wanted to be married to each other. That's
  wrongly stated, but you get the idea. Anyway, Bob
  did for us what he did this morning for you. 'What
  does Jeanette really want? What does Bob really
  want? How can they each get what they want most?'
  And, of course, you can't both have the particulars
  that you want. You have to ask for the reasons you
  want those particulars."
  
  "I'm done," Kathleen called from the stairs.
  "Whenever you can free yourself from your pleasant
  confinement, Charles, the shower is free."
  
  "Come up with me." Jeanette looked a question at
  him. "I want you to talk to both of us."
  
  "Bob would be better."
  
  "Not for Kath." Jeanette saw his point. She
  followed him up the stairs.
  
  "You're going to shower with her?" Kathleen didn't
  even fake anger at the idea. It was just a Brennan
  joke.
  
  "We're going to talk with her. Us!" He led the way
  into Kath's room.
  
  "All right," Jeanette began. "First of all, while
  Charles has a right to commit both of you in most
  situations, this isn't going to work unless
  Kathleen is willing."
  
  "I went to you for advice years ago."
  
  "You've grown since."
  
  "So have you. You're only what? four years older
  than I am. You're nearly two decades longer
  married. I assume that's what this is about. And,
  as Mom points out, you've managed to have a
  successful marriage with Bob."
  
  "Drop that prejudice, Kathleen. This is serious."
  Although it pointed out what Charles had said. Bob
  couldn't do this with this couple. Whether or not
  she could, that was a question. "Okay, let's sit
  down. Do you have pencils and paper?" That was a
  rhetorical question; Kathleen was a Brennan.
  
  "Pens."  When each had paper on a handy book in
  their lap and a ballpoint, Jeanette moved her chair
  where she was facing both and clearly could not see
  the papers.
  
  "Okay, you're each going to make a list. I'm not
  going to see the list. List the ten things you want
  from this marriage. If it's something you don't
  want me to see, I won't. Whether or not it's
  something you want me to see, I still won't. If
  it's something you don't want your spouse to see,
  we're in real trouble." She waited until both
  looked up. "All right. Go over that list. Why do
  you want that thing?" She watched. Some of the
  answers came easily, some with a struggle. "I'm not
  going to go any further. You should. If you tell
  your partner your deepest wishes and he tells you
  his, you can usually find a way to get both. If
  it's something concrete that you see as the way to
  get your deepest wishes, then finding a compromise
  is much harder. If we're going out to eat and I
  want comfort food when Bob wants to give his
  tastebuds an adventure, I might suggest one of our
  old favorites. Bob might suggest the new Ethiopian
  place where we've never eaten. If we tell why,
  we'll compromise on an oriental restaurant where I
  can get won ton soup while he can try something
  he's never tried before.
  
  "Now, let me go from the general to the particular.
  Charles, why do you object to Kathleen's paying all
  the rent?"
  
  "I don't have to have my wife support me. I can
  support myself. When I was growing up, I pictured
  myself supporting my wife, for that matter."
  
  "Ouch! Y'know, I keep saying how much harder it was
  for us since we married earlier. You two were MDs
  out of residency before you moved in together.
  Pardon me if I don't count the wedding as the start
  of your marriage. Let me tell you about us. We
  wanted to get married, but -- we found out -- we
  didn't quite mean the same thing by those words. I
  really think Bob would have been happy camping out
  -- not a tent because there aren't enough
  bookshelves in a tent. But I'd swear that the only
  thing that dissatisfied him about his dorm room was
  that I didn't share his bed. After the wedding, we
  were sleeping together, and he saw that as the
  essence of marriage.
  
  "Okay, I wanted us to be a family. I'm still not
  sure what I meant, it certainly didn't include a
  child in my thoughts back then. But I came out of a
  dysfunctional family, and I was going to be part of
  a functional one. I didn't envy your mother the
  lovely dining-room table with matching chairs at
  which we just ate. I sure-as-hell envied her the
  conversations around that table."
  
  "Jeanette, you'd have died of boredom. I nearly
  did."
  
  "You don't know how poisonous talk can be. Anyway,
  when Bob saw what I wanted, he tried to give it to
  me. I, of course, cooperated with his idea of
  marriage. He would tell you, or would tell you if
  he were more worried about honesty than about
  shielding his wife from criticism, that my
  cooperation wasn't total. And it wasn't. And some
  of the things I wanted he thought silly. But we
  worked out our differences because our ideas of
  marriage weren't opposites. They were different but
  not incompatible.
  
  "Now, you two grew up apart. And you each developed
  an idea of your future. And those ideas may well be
  incompatible. You had the picture of supporting a
  wife." Charles nodded. "And you had the idea of
  being independent." Kathleen nodded.
  
  "Well, you've both already compromised. When she
  walked down the aisle, Kathleen traded that
  independence for something she saw as more
  important."
  
  "Before then."
  
  "And, when you're splitting the rent, you're
  accepting that you're not supporting your wife." 
  
  "I always knew that Kath wasn't that sort of wife."
  
  "So you granted her her independence. Each of you
  pay half."
  
  "Sort of."
  
  "But, you heard her say that she traded in her
  independence for something she saw as better.
  Y'know, I'm going to stop claiming neutrality in
  this. Because I think Kathleen's picture of being a
  family is something near my picture. And I'm
  totally prejudiced in favor of my picture. I'd want
  a joint checking account. I don't know where that
  conditional comes from. We've had a joint checking
  account since maybe a month after the wedding."
  
  "Well, dear," Kathleen said, "I now see that how
  far your agreement to move to a house has
  compromised your picture of yourself. I won't push
  you farther. Someday, though, we have to talk about
  what sort of marriage we have and what sort of
  marriage we want.
  
  "And somehow I can't be affectionate without
  sounding like my mother. Anyway, we'll both leave
  you now. You can have your shower in peace. I'll be
  downstairs. And I love you."
  
  Bob and his mother sat on each side of Cat. One
  read a story book, and then the other did. Cat was
  content for a while. Then she felt that there was
  space in her stomach.
  
  "Memere, may I have a pickle, please."
  
  "Not until your mother comes down, dear. And then
  only if she ways yes." Cat started to get off the
  couch. "She'll say 'Ask ta memere,' won't she?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "And, if you go up those stairs now, I'll say no."
  
  "You will?" Memere never said no.
  
  "If you don't wait for her to come downstairs. Of
  course, instead of 'Ask ta memere,' she might say
  no to a rude girl who interrupted her when she had
  gone off to talk with other people. You still
  wouldn't get a pickle. You have to wait for others
  sometimes, dear. Now, do you want another story?"
  
  "Yes, please." But the tone didn't sound like
  'please.' The tone sounded like a girl who felt she
  had to wait for others all the time. Kate wasn't
  working on tone right now, not with Bob sitting
  beside her. Bob, also content with the words,
  started the next book. Kathleen came downstairs a
  little ahead of Jeanette.
  
  "Cat, your mother is a genius!"
  
  "That means, ma jeune fille, that Maman is very
  smart. The proper response is 'Of course she is.
  She managed to marry Papa, didn't she?'"
  
  "Maman, may I have a pickle please."
  
  "Ask ta memere. They are her pickles."
  
  "Memere, may I have a pickle *now*, please."
  
  "Certainly, Cat. Dear would you get it for her? I
  don't want to move." Jeanette took Cat into the
  kitchen.
  
  "'Managed to marry you'? Hmph!"
  
  "Well, dear, you're rather trapped. Is Jeanette an
  intelligent woman who picked Bob? Or is she a woman
  whom Bob trapped into marriage despite her
  intelligence?" 
  
  "I think the sound is dripping from the trees, not
  rain. I'm going to look outside and see."
  
  "She may be rusty, but she's still a tactician."
  
  "I'm afraid I was spoiling Cat, but am I turning
  too stern?"
  
  "Sounded just right to me. After all, I'm not about
  to teach you about parenting."
  
  "But, dear, you taught me an immense amount about
  parenting. Just as Cat is teaching you."
  
  "I have a list a mile long of things which don't
  work."
  
  "Yes, dear, and remember that the first rule is
  consistency."
  
  "Which means that, when you use something and it
  doesn't work, you're obliged to use it again?"
  
  "Precisely. And, when you have two children,
  whatever you used with the first that was a total
  disaster, he'll remember and complain if you don't
  use it with the second."
  
  "Was I that bad?"
  
  "Dear, you don't want my memories of your youngest
  days. Not while Cat might hear."
  
  "Jeanette claims Cat's stubbornness is inherited."
  
  "That's strange. What does Jeanette know about your
  stubbornness?"
  
  "What don't I know about it?" Jeanette had returned
  and was hoping Cat didn't figure out the subject of
  the discussion.
  
  "Dear, you've only experienced the fading
  remnants." Kate was equally eager to keep Cat in
  the dark. "The full-blown examples were before your
  time."
  
  "Everybody maligns, me. Ma jeune fille, aimes-tu
  ton papa?"
  
  "Je vous aime, Papa. Je vous aime, Memere. Je vous
  aime, Maman. Je vous aime, Tante Kathleen." The
  latter had just returned from outside.
  
  "I love you, too, Catherine Angelique. It has
  stopped raining. Do you want to go out?"
  
  "Get your flip-flops first. Bring them down here."
  Cat scurried off.
  
  "I'm sorry. I should have asked you first."
  
  "No problem. She would have heard you, anyway, and
  she does need exercise. It's just that running
  upstairs for the flip-flops is exercise, too. We
  brought several pairs of shoes, so that pair
  getting wet won't matter." Cat came back at a run
  and handed her flip-flops to her mother. She and
  Kathleen went out.
  
  "Really, dear, you take more care of my carpets
  than I ever did."
  
  "Well, 'Don't track in dirt' and 'Don't go barefoot
  when you're visiting' are good rules. A very wise
  woman told me that children need to learn rules as
  much as they need to learn reading."
  
  "Why thank you, dear."
  
  "Well, you can read rules. Learning reading is more
  important."
  
  "Says the man who reads excellently and knows damn
  few rules."
  
  "Why do I need to control my swearing when you do
  it when she can't hear you?"
  
  "Because I remember whether she can hear me."
  
  "I said 'wissenschaftliche Unmoeglichkeit' in a
  faculty meeting the other week."
  
  "Because you didn't remember where you were."
  
  "Vissin -- um?"
  
  "Jeanette doesn't want me to swear in front of Cat,
  Mom. I thought of German, because it's the one
  language I have that Cat doesn't. But many German
  oaths sound too much like English. 'Sheiss' is
  clear to anyone. On the other hand, a great many
  German words sound like you're swearing. So I
  adopted a truly vile-sounding phrase. I say it at
  moments of great stress. Cat had been known to
  repeat it, and is scolded for that. But she fell
  down in front of the principal of her school. The
  woman, it happens, speaks German. The next student
  conference, she asked us about it. Between my
  accent and Cat's memory, she hadn't been clear
  about the words. Jeanette doesn't believe it, but
  my French accent is better than my German accent."
  
  "I don't say I don't believe it. I just say that it
  is hard to believe."
  
  "Anyway, my accent may be awfully Yank, but it
  isn't bad enough to keep several of my fellow
  teachers from understanding me."
  
  "It means scientific impossibility." Jeanette
  explained. 
  
  "Which is good enough for an oath, at times. That
  wasn't one of the times. You never warned me how
  many limits having a child puts on your life."
  
  "You never asked, dear, and -- after all --
  Jeanette was the one who went through pregnancy.
  And she was the one who nursed her child, too. You
  went much longer than I did, dear, and I admire you
  for that."
  
  "Three generations of Brennans like me for my
  breasts."
  
  "I was admiring your persistence and fortitude,
  dear. I'd guess my milk was as nourishing as
  yours."
  
  "And, of course, her pregnancy and breast feeding
  didn't put any onus on me."
  
  "Not one that you'd mention in front of your
  mother, dear. Hello, dear." That to Charles, who
  had just come down the stairs. "Kathleen and Cat
  decided to explore the outdoors."
  
  "Yes, the rain seems to have stopped. Jeanette..."
  She walked a little away from the others with him.
  They could be overheard, but the conversation -- if
  not private -- was clearly between the two of them.
  
  "First, thank you. I don't know how much help you
  were, yet, but I feel much better. Second, you know
  how Kath ended the conversation. You and Bob always
  say 'I love you' when you part. I wonder whether we
  should do that."
  
  "Well, you gain something, but you lose something.
  Mostly, it's insurance. If something would happen,
  you don't want your last words to the other person
  to have been an argument."
  
  "Argue? I've never heard you argue. That joking
  around..."
  
  "Sniping? Sure. After all, you groan when you hear
  a pun. Bob reported to me once about some fellow
  faculty member that he laughed at puns. Bob
  couldn't figure him out. Anyway, you hear sniping,
  but you don't hear us really arguing. You've never
  seen me have a bowel movement, either, but guess
  what?
  
  "Anyway, see this?" She held up her left hand so he
  could see the wedding band. "That's an external
  sign that you have frequent arguments. Not always,
  of course. Katherine still wears one. But it's
  fairly well a guarantee."
  
  "They're one-sided now, dear. That's all."
  
  "Anyway, the last thing we say as we're going out
  the door is 'I love you.' So, if one of us is hit
  by a truck, that will be the last communication
  that the other ever hears. On the other hand,
  Kathleen was expressing a deep emotion and a
  decision then. You'll have to hear from her what
  the decision was; I haven't the faintest. When Bob
  leaves for work thinking about how he'll start the
  first class on one level, worrying about where he
  parked the car on another level, and checking that
  he has his keys and the right briefcase on a third
  level, his 'I love you' while he's facing the door
  is quite perfunctory.
  
  "When he comes back on his late day, having
  traveled by two EL trains, he walks in and sees
  that the living room is a disaster area. Dinner is
  late. He sees that I look frazzled and that Cat is
  chattering in the kitchen distracting me. He says,
  'C'mon Cat; I'll help you pick up your toys.' Now
  that, when he could be complaining about my not
  doing my responsibility of dinner or having Cat
  pick up her toys before she leaves the room
  permanently, shows a deep love."
  
  "C'mon Cat. I'll help you pick up your toys."
  
  "Context is all, mon sot mari.
  
  "Y'know, Charles, that's an example. Bob enjoys
  being silly, even enjoys being called silly. Did
  Bob trap me into marriage or did I trap him? Which
  of us claims which depends on the day. The truth,
  of course, is rather more complicated. We almost
  grew up together, and high school is full of that
  sort of banter-fights. If you'll forgive my
  criticizing your wife, Kathleen sometimes still
  confuses that sort of thing with real arguments.
  You don't slap your spouse on a real boil. Partly,
  of course, it's that her fights with Bob used to be
  with both of them trying to draw blood. I'm mixing
  my metaphors terribly."
  
  "I think I know what you mean. She crossed your
  line once, and you froze her."
  
  "I don't remember."
  
  "She does. Believe me, she does. Anyway, can't Cat
  pick up her own toys? She seems quite responsible
  to me."
  
  "Sure. And I'm remembering back. Helping her means
  holding up the lid of the toy box while she runs
  around finding most of the toys. Then you ask her
  if those are all. Sometimes, she needs quite
  specific hints -- 'Have you looked under the green
  chair?' She picks them all up. She finds most of
  them by herself. Often, she picks up things and
  puts them in the toy box without supervision. If I
  can't find my purse, I look there. But she is far
  from thorough. Without supervision, she never gets
  them all. I shouldn't say never."
  
  "You two sound so tolerant."
  
  "More tolerant when talking with you than when
  talking with her. Mostly, it's a matter of deciding
  what you'll tolerate now, and what you won't. After
  all, as Katherine points out, you start with a
  person who screams when she wants something -- you
  have to figure out what she wants. She shits and
  pees when she feels like it. All this, you have to
  train her to change. Leaving her toys all over the
  floor and asking 'why' instead of going to bed are
  minor compared to that. It's just that you want to
  be finished."
  
  "And you've just begun, dear. Wait until she starts
  dating."
  
  "Well," Bob said, "she'll be twenty-one then. We
  expect her to be much more cooperative."
  
  "Wrong on both counts, dear."
  
  "Somebody expects Bob's daughter to be more
  cooperative. Not I."
  
  "And twenty-one, dear?"
  
  "It's not worth fighting about now. Not that I
  think that he's serious. I remember what age I was
  when he first asked me out. If he actually raises
  an objection when she's that age, I'll remind him."
  
  "That will be your real problem, dear."
  
  "What?"
  
  "Bob was almost your first date, wasn't he?"
  
  "Third. Second, really. The first dance I went
  stag. Do girls go stag?"
  
  "Well, dear, what happens when Cat goes to her
  third dance with a boy? She's a freshman. She comes
  home and says, 'I'm in love; I'm going to marry
  him; whatever we do is okay.' What then? You can't
  tell her how many boys you were in love with before
  you met the one you married."
  
  "I'll tell her that if it is love, it will grow. If
  he loves her, he'll wait. You don't ask hard
  questions do you? This was supposed to be a
  vacation. Then I'll send her to her aunt Kathleen
  who'll tell her about graduating from college
  before she met her true love. Can't I worry about
  second grade this year?"
  
  "Well," Charles said, "your answer may not satisfy
  Cat. It reassured me. You think Kathleen will be
  talking about me as her true love in ten years
  time?"
  
  "Seven years, dear, and a good fraction. It's clear
  that you two are in love. It's equally clear that
  you haven't settled on an arrangement which
  satisfies you both. The first, dear, is a
  necessity. The second you should work on, but it's
  a poor basis without the first."
  
  "And, when you have it, life takes it away. What
  are we on, Jeanette, our fourth marriage
  arrangement?"
  
  "Something like. It depends on what you count. Was
  every apartment move a new arrangement? My
  pregnancy and then The Kitten's birth were major
  adjustments. Your getting a teaching job was a sea-
  change."
  
  "But those were imposed from without. Did you find
  anything unsatisfactory in your first arrangement?"
  
  "That's a private question. But, yes. We're just
  not going to say what."
  
  "One thing, not necessarily the main thing, was
  that we carefully divided housework at the
  beginning. Jeanette would do certain tasks; I would
  do certain tasks. As time went on, we became much
  more flexible. But, our marriage wouldn't have
  worked without the first division. If we'd left it
  to what each saw that needed to be done, I'd have
  done the laundry, and Jeanette would have done
  everything else."
  
  "And, you and Kathleen are in a quite different
  situation than Bob and I were. At one point, our
  weekly splurge was one ice-cream cone shared
  between us. So our answers aren't anything for you
  to copy. Maybe our questions are."
  
  "Dear, we didn't know."
  
  "Mom, going tight for a temporary period is
  reasonable. You were behind us if we ever really
  needed it. And, one time, we really did. We got it.
  Actually, one shared ice-cream cone a week tastes
  delicious. Probably as much taste as buying a half
  gallon. And much better for my waistline."
  
  "Well, I think I'll join my wife and her niece
  outside."
  
  "Your niece, too."
  
  "Thanks." When Charles went out, Cat rushed over to
  him. He swung her up as far as his arms could
  reach, then brought her down to a hug. "Can you
  tell Tante Kathleen a secret for me?" He got a
  vigorous nod. "Tell her that Charles loves her."
  When he set her down, Cat raced over to Kath. They
  whispered together for a second. Then Cat raced
  back. He bent over to hear her.
  
  "Tante Kathleen says she loves you, too."
  
  "That's nice to hear, Cat. Let's go over to talk
  with her." He reached down two fingers, and Cat
  gripped them. They walked to where Kathleen was
  standing. "She brought me some good news."
  
  "You could have heard it from the horse's mouth ten
  minutes ago."
  
  "And so I did. It's always nice to hear. Maybe my
  message is one I don't deliver often enough myself.
  
  "I always like to hear it."
  
  "I love you, Kath. Are we going to work through
  Jeanette's exercise?"
  
  "Might as well, no sense having a genius for a
  sister-in-law if you refuse her advice."
  
  "Something which didn't seem to fit on the list. I
  want to be married to you."
  
  "And I want to be married to you, too. We just need
  to work out what that marriage looks like."
  
  "Sharl! I thought you were already married to Tante
  Kathleen."
  
  "I am, Cat. We were just establishing that this was
  what we want. Um, we were telling each other that
  we are happy that we are married to each other."
  
  "Oh."
  
  "But enough of this. Ta tante and I will deal with
  this at length when we're driving back together.
  What have you found in this wet place?"  And she
  showed him until Kathleen decided that it was time
  to go back.
  
  At the door, Jeanette met them with Cat's flip-
  flops. She knelt to untie Cat's tennies. A little
  guilty that he would be walking over his hostesses
  carpets with wet shoes when Cat wasn't allowed to,
  Charles lifted her up to make the job easier. When
  Cat had been sent upstairs to put her wet shoes and
  socks in her parents' room, Jeanette turned to
  Charles.
  
  "Thanks."
  
  "My pleasure. And, when it comes to holding Cat, it
  is my pleasure. All you provided was an excuse."
  
  "Do you think she's had enough exercise?"
  
  "To keep her from climbing the walls? Probably. The
  proper amount to maintain her health? Certainly
  not, but it is a confining day."
  
  "Yes. We try to keep her active. And, of course,
  while books aren't activity, we don't have a TV at
  home."
  
  "And she eats pickles instead of cookies."
  
  "And we don't know how long we can maintain either
  rule."
  
  "Well, she's not overweight for her height. I sent
  you the chart. Weight for age is useless. She'll go
  through growth spurts. If you tried to keep her
  from gaining too fast then, she'd starve."
  
  "Don't worry. Growth spurts are nothing new. Drives
  a breast-feeding mother crazy."
  
  "And you have that in her favor. It's less
  significant now than at the time, but breast-fed
  babies do have better odds in their favor growing
  up."
  
  "Sorry. This is supposed to be your vacation. Here.
  I'm using you for a consultant."
  
  "As opposed to my dragging you upstairs to use as a
  consultant? Anyway, I enjoy Cat's company. It's
  because it's Cat, of course. The other thing is
  that she is so damn healthy." At this, Cat
  demonstrated her health by clattering down the
  stairs. "The dilemma of my job."
  
  "I thought you loved your job."
  
  "I love kids. I don't like to see them sick. On the
  other hand, plenty are healthy today because I saw
  them sick. I'm not going to walk away from one who
  needs me. The practice has put me through the
  wringer about that, occasionally." Cat's presence
  was censoring his language. "I told them that I'd
  taken the Oath of Hippocrates. If they wanted to
  dump me because I kept that oath, I'd report them
  to the licensing board. Y'know, I get on my high
  horse about not being supported by Kath, but I
  don't know if I'd have taken that risk without
  her."
  
  "Tell her that. One thing that they knew about
  their parents is that they'd support them in a
  crisis -- even a crisis of their own making. Bob
  had a chance to study some original documents in
  France. We jumped on a plane and sent them the
  bill. Kathleen may never have acted that way, but
  she knew she could."
  
  "Sharl!" Cat had been patient for an awfully long
  time while people who should be paying attention to
  her talked about other things.
  
  "Yes, my niece. Do you want another book?"
  
  "Niece?"
  
  "Charles est le mari de ta tante Kathleen. Ainsi il
  est ton oncle. Ainsi, tu es sa niece. Quand on parl
  Anglais, on dit 'neess.'" Then to Charles, "Sorry."
  
  "Don't be. I didn't follow all of that, but I got
  the gist. Patience, Cat, patience." This because
  Cat, tired of being ignored, was pulling him
  towards the chair by his hand.
  
  "What do you say, Cat?"
  
  "Sharl, may I have more books, please?" This
  sentence. the epitome of politeness, was rather
  spoiled by her not stopping the tugging to say it.
  
  "Cheer up, dear, she's learned one lesson. We
  mothers all say, 'Act polite!' Well, why despair
  just because she's clearly acting?"
  
  "She sees a houseful of adults as so many people to
  entertain her. It seems so selfish."
  
  "But Charles enjoys it. She gets what she wants,
  mostly, by pleasing others. Remember what I said
  about intelligent selfishness. She hasn't the
  social skills, even the patience, that you and I
  have. But I think she's being intelligent in her
  selfishness for her age."
  
  "More than her grandmother, I mean..."
  
  "I know whom you mean, dear."
  
  "And it's kind of you to speak of us as having the
  same level of social skill. Not accurate, maybe,
  but kind."
  
  "Now, dear, I remember the knottiest problem I'd
  faced in years. I couldn't solve it. You did. I'll
  never gainsay your social skills."
  
  "She has an unfair advantage in manipulating me."
  
  "Not in influencing your father, dear. But what do
  you think will happen in Illinois in November?" And
  the conversation drifted into political
  predictions, wishes, and fears.
  
  Kate excused herself when it was time to fix
  supper. Jeanette started to get up to help her, but
  rethought the gesture. She sat back down.
  
  "We'll go in in a minute and set," Kathleen told
  her. "Mom taught me to cook, but she really only
  wants assistance on the fancy meals. I think she
  burned more calories sitting at the table telling
  me what to do than she did doing it herself. Now,
  Bob was only taught two meals, so you're spared
  that."
  
  "He knows more now. Actually, maybe not up to your
  mother's standard, but Bob is a good cook. Limited
  choice, but each meal is good."
  
  "The best spice," Bob said, "is 'I don't have to
  cook this.' I always use it when I'm preparing a
  meal for her."
  
  "Self depreciation, false modesty."
  
  "The only kind I have."
  
  "Actually, remember back to Charles's first visit.
  To us, I mean, not here. Bob cooked the main course
  of the first meal, and you said nice things about
  it. Bob could feed himself and Cat forever on his
  cooking. I'd get awfully tired of the selection
  awfully fast. Five main meals, and any frozen
  vegetable that you want boiled."
  
  "Is she like him? She'd eat one thing meal after
  meal?"
  
  "Well, I don't really know. But she eats one cereal
  for breakfast, and it has to be Cheerios or else.
  Breakfast at Memere's is a treat, but I don't want
  to risk eggs for breakfast at home. Maybe she would
  go with the same lunch for a month and the same
  dinner for a month. I wouldn't, and I wouldn't feed
  that to her. Anyway, I've never heard her complain
  that we had something the last meal. And, in cold
  weather, Bob fixes her the same snack four days a
  week on coming home."
  
  "You can always eat cream-of-tomato soup. Cooking
  it in the summer might be a drag."
  
  "Wrong subject of that sentence, mon sot mari.
  *You* could always eat cream-of-tomato soup. Normal
  people want variety."
  
  "Their loss."
  
  "Let's go set that table, Jeanette, while I
  remember that we're on truce."
  
  The meal was delicious, and everybody said so. 
  
  "Actually, dears, it's nice to have people to cook
  for. I miss that. Russ lost his appetite after a
  while, but he would still enjoy the taste. He'd
  just not eat so much. You get used to certain
  pictures of people, and then they go wrong. I hope
  there's nothing wrong with your health, dear."
  
  "Nothing except overweight." Bob had guessed that
  he was target of the last comment.
  
  "You don't look *that* heavy, dear."
  
  "He's not way overweight, but should we wait until
  he was?"
  
  "Cat's growing up, so she needs another direction
  in which to expend her mothering. At least, I'm
  safe from boils."
  
  "Really, I don't think boils have all that much to
  do with diet."
  
  "Um, Char, a watched pot."
  
  "Oh."
  
  "Actually, Katherine, even if he weren't watching
  his weight..."
  
  "Me watching? Hmpph!"
  
  "Before anyone was watching his weight, Bob cut
  back from what you remember. Somehow, professors
  get less exercise than students. Maybe, it's that
  he drives more, although we try to keep up our
  walking. And he slings Cat around, heavy as she is.
  But, once upon a time, he used to lift me
  occasionally."
  
  "Yes, dear. A strong man is attractive even beyond
  the immediately useful. I certainly thought it was
  part of my attraction to Russ. It was part of my
  image of him. The last year, he would get up from
  bed in stages -- feet over the edge, roll to a
  sitting position, get his feet under him, sit for a
  moment, finally rise. He wasn't a strong man then,
  dear, but I didn't love him less."
  
  "I never thought of Dad as terribly strong."
  
  "Not 'never,' dear. There was a time when you
  practically worshiped him and his ability to carry
  you and keep you safe. He was never one for flexing
  his muscles or engaging in athletics. But he only
  stopped picking you up when you made clear that you
  didn't want him doing so. Bob, too. And you were
  all the quicker because he was no longer picked up
  Bob."
  
  "So, when I say 'never' it applies to times I can't
  remember."
  
  "Really, dear, grammatically it does. And I was
  disagreeing with your use of one word, not
  disputing your honesty. There is only one person at
  this table who doesn't have fond memories of baby
  Kitten. And, really, 'always' and 'never' are used
  in relative fashion. What I can remember. And then
  we have history and geology to tell us that there
  were things happening before anyone alive can
  remember."
  
  "I was talking to Bob about the relationship
  between Poland and Russia, and he took me back to
  Genghis Khan to explain the complexity."
  
  "And, while nobody can remember that directly,
  there are people in both countries who are aware
  that it happened. What were you singing yesterday?"
  
  "La Marseillaise," said Cat. They'd all been
  talking about things that she couldn't follow,
  except Pepere. He hadn't picked her up, how had he
  been able to pick up huge Tante Kathleen? But when
  they got to a question she could answer, she
  answered first.
  
  "In class, mon chat, do you raise your hand."
  
  "Oui, Maman. Yes. Should I raise my hand here?" It
  wasn't fair, nobody else raised their hands.
  
  "No. I was just reminding you. Remember that when
  you get back to school." It had sounded a lot like
  a school answer.
  
  "And the Marseillaise was appropriate for that day
  because of events that happened in 1893. Do we
  remember that? Not directly, but we remember that
  it occurred. Idiots were denigrating the French
  military not many years ago. They forgot that
  Washington scored a war-ending victory at Yorktown
  rather than a minor coup because of the French
  navy."
  
  "Now that," said Charles, "is a story I've never
  heard."
  
  "The British army was overpowered. They retreated
  to the seacoast, as overpowered British armies have
  done ever since, and waited for the navy to take
  them off. But the French had a fleet off that coast
  that had driven off the British Fleet. Without
  shelter from the fleet's guns and ships to take
  them off, the army had no choice but to surrender.
  Yorktown was a British defeat; Dunkirk was a
  victory. And the difference had nothing to do with
  the condition of the army."
  
  "I'm not certain that Dunkirk was a victory, dear."
  
  "*They* are certain. And as he tried to plan an
  invasion for the next year, Hitler must have
  regretted that those soldiers weren't in gulags."
  
  Cat had been very patient, but enough was enough.
  She turned to her father to get her more creamed
  corn, and then told him about her day. The rest of
  the conversation splintered until they were nearly
  done. Then Kate had a suggestion.
  
  "PBS is broadcasting a concert of the Dresden
  Philharmonic this evening dears. Would you all like
  to hear it?"
  
  "Dresden Philharmonic? Do you pay for that?"
  
  "It's public Television, dear. Somebody pays, but
  not I."
  
  "That's the problem with current television,
  gratuitous Saxon violins."
  
  Everybody else groaned, but Cat had heard the magic
  word. "Television!"
  
  "I don't think this is a program you'd enjoy, dear.
  And it starts after your bedtime."
  
  "Oh, Maman, may I watch?"
  
  "Please don't answer that, dear. Cat, you and I are
  going upstairs for a little talk. After that,
  you'll come down and ask again. Are you ready?" Cat
  was so ready that she got down. "Then, dears, if
  you'll excuse us? My room, dear." The last to Cat
  who was already half-way up the stairs.
  
  "I think," said Bob, "that my sister and I will
  clear." Kathleen gave him a look, but got up.
  
  "Look, dear," Kate said upstairs in her room, "I
  don't think you'll enjoy this show."
  
  "Memere? Please?"
  
  "Having heard me say that, do you want to watch
  it?"
  
  "Oh yes! Please?"
  
  "Well, I can't say yes. But you don't want your
  Mother to say no."
  
  "No."
  
  "And, having been a mother, I'll guarantee -- I'll
  tell you for sure -- that she'll say no if you ask
  her dressed like you are now." Cat looked puzzled.
  "She would have to get you in your sleep clothes
  after the show. And that would be a struggle. Now,
  I can't guarantee that she'll say yes. but what we
  are going to do is to go through all the steps of
  getting you ready for bed. Then, you'll go
  downstairs and ask her again. And ask her nicely."
  
  "Okay." Memere, after all, was talking about
  getting what Cat wanted.
  
  "And, if she says no, then you don't raise a fuss."
  She was afraid of saying 'kick and scream.' That
  might give Cat ideas. "If you say, 'yes, Maman, you
  have decided,' then you'll sleep in Memere's bed
  tonight. If you make an ugly fuss, I can't invite
  you into my bed. It would be too much like
  rewarding the ugly fuss."
  
  "Okay, Memere." Which didn't sound like agreement
  at all. But Kate had laid out the consequences. Cat
  had to learn that the consequences were real. She
  had, after all, done her share of child-raising.
  But she got the pleasure of Cat. It was her duty to
  provide a little of the guidance to Cat. And, with
  any luck, Jeanette would say yes. Which would teach
  Cat several lessons -- including that her Memere
  was telling her the truth when she said that she
  wouldn't like the broadcast. And, after all, there
  wasn't any age too young to be exposed to good
  music. They got Cat ready.
  
  When Kathleen carried the first stack of dishes
  into the kitchen she turned to Bob who was carrying
  the second stack.
  
  "You carry. I'll wash."
  
  "Y'know, Kathleen, you've really lost your edge,
  but I don't think you're totally an idiot."
  
  "Damned by faint praise." She didn't think Bob had
  decided that the two of them were to clear the
  table on the basis of some checklist of duties
  performed. After all, she and Char had done the job
  last time.
  
  "But, if you mention a piano to Charles again I'll
  sign your commitment papers to the home for the
  feeble minded myself."
  
  "But I want..."
  
  "So, the next thing you say about a piano is 'Happy
  birthday!' Or Christmas or anniversary. I seem to
  have heard that the guy is married."
  
  "You not only are smart, you're thinking of me."
  
  "Truce period, remember? Anyway, you talk about how
  you want to spend the family money he thinks of as
  yours, and he'll balk. Spend your own money in your
  own way, he'll be thankful. And you enjoy his
  playing don't you?"
  
  "Yes. A great deal." There was no reason to tell
  Bob the other ways she enjoyed Char's magic
  fingers.
  
  "So, tell the world that you're claiming that as a
  gift to him but that it really increases your own
  pleasure 'cause you get to hear him play so much
  more often. Now, I'll get the next load. You start
  rinsing."
  
  After they'd cleared the table and filled the
  dishwasher, they went back into the living room.
  Bob plugged the TV back in. Cat hadn't started
  fiddling with the set, yet. But she'd find it
  didn't work if she tried. They were fairly certain
  that Cat hadn't seen anyone plug in a TV during her
  visits to houses which had TVs. Kate came
  downstairs with a Cat who was all dressed for bed.
  
  "Maman, may I watch the show *please*?"
  
  "You didn't want her to bathe tonight, did you? She
  bathed last night."
  
  "Fine." Jeanette couldn't say 'no' to Katherine
  without Cat hearing it as directed towards her.
  "Mon chat, since you're all ready for bed, you may
  stay up and watch the show. I don't think it's on
  yet, though."
  
  "May we have the couch?" Bob didn't stop for
  permission. "Charles, if you'd help me move the end
  tables." The two of them moved the end tables far
  from the ends of the couch. Bob sat towards one
  end, and patted the cushion even closer to that
  end. 
  
  Cat, who might have preferred other company, sat
  there. Getting to watch television, like everybody
  else did, was more important. Soon Memere turned
  the television on. There was a great deal of
  talking. All of it was in English, and little of it
  made sense. And the speakers never gestured. Half
  the time, the picture wasn't even of the man
  talking. Finally, one of the people in the picture
  gestured dramatically. He even waved his arm. But,
  instead of shouting, instead of someone shouting
  back, you only saw him from the back, and you heard
  nothing but music. Indeed, you heard nothing but
  music for a long while.
  
  When Cat slumped down, Bob turned her so that she
  was lying on her back with her feet off the end of
  the couch and her head on his lap. She wriggled to
  a position from which she could still see the
  screen, but then she relaxed. At the end of the
  first piece, he held his hand in front of her eyes
  until she batted it away. At the end of the second
  movement of the next piece, he held his hand in
  front of her eyes again. When he got no response,
  he lifted her in his arms, braced himself, and
  stood up.
  
  "My bed, dear." Bob glanced at Jeanette, who
  nodded. When he got back, he sat at the end and
  tugged her towards him. She could have shaken her
  head no, but the restfulness of the music, his care
  for their child, and the approval of the company
  were in his favor. She lay down with her head in
  his lap and her feet off the end of the couch. She
  wondered if he would try to carry her up to bed if
  she were to fall asleep. In the event, she stayed
  awake.
  
  When the concert was over, they all got up. Kate
  turned off the set, and Charles unplugged it. Bob
  went to check the locks. 
  
  "Katherine," Jeanette said, "you are a genius."
  
  "Really, dear it was something you couldn't do. I
  could tell her you'd say no if she weren't ready
  for bed when she asked. Were you to say something
  like I suggested, it would be permission if she got
  ready first. Now, if you re very lucky, she'll
  remember and get ready before asking you the next
  time she wants to stay up late. More probably, it
  was a one-shot event. But it was one with only
  positive lessons learned."
  
  "One of which is my lesson as to how smart you
  really are."
  
  "If you think that, dear, have you thought about my
  offers on the other things I might help on? You're
  in charge dear, but you have so much you have to
  teach her."
  
  "Tooth brushing is fine. I should have told you
  earlier. You could have started tonight. I don't
  think that the sex-ed is for you to do. When you
  and Kathleen were talking about 'womb' versus
  'uterus,' I kept picturing Cat's asking me in a
  loud, penetrating, voice, 'Maman, does that woman
  have a baby in her womb?'"
  
  "Yes, dear, especially if the woman in question is
  definitely overweight but doesn't appear pregnant.
  But is the alternative, 'Does she have a baby in
  her stomach?' that much more attractive?"
  
  "No. But 'A-t-elle un enfant dans sa matrice?'
  suddenly sounded much better." Katherine laughed.
  "The public schools may teach what they want. As
  far as the sex-ed I teach at home goes, it will all
  be in French."
  
  "Very wise, dear."
  
  "The book you mentioned, on the other hand. Maybe I
  could borrow it."
  
  "Dear, it's yours. If Kathleen changes her mind,
  she can get her own. Do you want the book on
  breast-feeding, too?"
  
  "No, thank you. We have our own pictures --
  starring Cat."
  
  
  The end
  Formez vos Bataillions 
  Uther Pendragon
  nogardneprethu@gmail.com
  
  
  My thanks to Denny for his help with this story.
  
  
  The index to almost all my stories:
  /~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm
  
  All the stories written so far about Bob and Jeanette Brennan:
  /~Uther_Pendragon/brennan.htm
  
  The entirety of this story:
  /~Uther_Pendragon/brennan/vos.htm "Formez vos
  Bataillions"
  
  The first story in which Charles appears:
  /~Uther_Pendragon/brennan/elise.htm "For Elise"
  

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