Message-ID: <60498asstr$1279404602@assm.asstr.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Formez vos Bataillons" 3/4 -- Uther -- (MF MF wl)
Lines: 1965
Date: Sat, 17 Jul 2010 18:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


<1st attachment, "vos-3-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 -- 3/4
  Uther Pendragon
  nogardneprethu@gmail.com
  
  MF MF
  Continued from Part 2
  
  
  When Kate woke her granddaughter in the middle of
  the night, she could hear the rain outside the
  house. She helped Cat onto the high toilet seat and
  down. When she sat down herself, Cat was just
  standing there.
  
  "Levez les Mains." Obediently, Cat raised her hands
  straight up. When Memere said nothing more, the
  hands reminded her of another task. 
  
  "Memere, do you want me to wash my hands?"
  
  "Please, dear." As Cat did, Kate cursed herself
  silently. She should stick to English. 'Lavez,' not
  levez.' And Cat was such a dear, not telling her
  when she was wrong when everybody told Cat when she
  was wrong. After she washed her own hands, she led
  Cat back to bed. "You are a very sweet girl." She
  switched off the lamp.
  
  "Thank you, Memere." Cat snuggled back against
  Memere. She hadn't been quite awake; the sound from
  outside was soothing; the hug even more soothing.
  She was soon back asleep. Kate followed her. 
  
  When the alarm called Kate to duty, the warm body
  in her arms made her reluctant. But she had a
  family to feed, which was much better than
  preparing breakfast for one. "Do you want to come
  to the kitchen with me, dear?"
  
  "Can I?... Please."
  
  "You certainly may! Bathroom first. Can you go by
  yourself?"
  
  "Yes, Memere." And she did, showing a dressed Kate
  her washed hands. After Kate had her own bathroom
  time, they went down to the kitchen. Cat sat on her
  phone book at the kitchen table while Kate
  described the breakfast preparations. "Memere, I
  wish I lived here with you all the time."
  
  "I'd enjoy it, too, dear, But Papa and Maman have
  work to do in Chicago."
  
  "I could stay."
  
  "You'd miss Maman. Besides, right now, Maman makes
  the rules for Cat. You think, no Maman, no rules,
  don't you?"
  
  "Yes." It sounded like Memere didn't think so.
  
  "Well little girls need rules. Now, I don't make
  rules for you, because Maman does, and I trust her
  for the rules to be right." Cat didn't think the
  rules Maman made were right. "If you were my little
  girl, I'd be the one making the rules. And you
  might think my rules were far stricter -- were far
  harder on you. Ask Tante Kathleen. Once, she was my
  little girl and she thought my rules were very hard
  on her. And she didn't eat half the pickles you do,
  not one tenth."
  
  "No?" Maman, however many rules she made, said no
  when she meant no. Memere was a little like Papa.
  Sometimes Papa spoke a long time, and it meant no.
  "No, she didn't. And ask Papa. Little boys need
  rules, too, and he was once my little boy. He
  didn't think I was easy. So, I like you here on
  visits; I like being an indulgent grandmother; I
  wouldn't be so indulgent if you were here
  permanently. Anyway," [it was time to change the
  subject] "you talk about being in your Maman's
  stomach. Have I ever told you about the time you
  were here when still in your Maman's stomach?" Kate
  didn't like 'stomach' for 'belly,' but Jeanette had
  obviously made the choice, and this was Jeanette's
  child, not hers. For that matter, it was Jeanette's
  belly.
  
  "No?" Memere was going to tell her. Cat's
  vocabulary, which included 'portcullis,' didn't
  include 'rhetorical question.' Living with her
  father, though, she had heard plenty. Anyway, she
  enjoyed the stories Memere told, and there was
  something special about being with her in the
  kitchen wearing nightie and slippers when everybody
  else was asleep.
  
  "Well, dear, it was Christmas time. And I already
  knew that Maman and Papa, who weren't your Maman
  and Papa yet, wanted to have a baby." ['Were
  trying' just might raise the question, 'how were
  they trying, Memere?' Giving that talk, when it was
  time, which wasn't now, was Jeanette's
  responsibility. And she didn't envy her. Been
  there, done that, with another girl who was
  intelligent and inquisitive.] "Anyway, that
  Christmas both Maman and Papa looked as though they
  were keeping a secret -- a happy secret. Then, one
  night at dinner, they told us. They were going to
  have a baby. They told Pepere, and Tante Kathleen,
  and me. Charles wasn't here at the time.
  
  "And Pepere was happy to hear that they would have
  a baby and he would be a grandfather. He said that
  the finest gift that Christmas never made it under
  the tree. Because you were in your Maman, and she -
  - of course -- didn't go under the branches of the
  tree. And Tante Kathleen was happy. And I was very
  happy, indeed. But, you know what?"
  
  "What Memere?"
  
  "I don't think any of us were as happy as Maman and
  Papa were. Not about the news, of course, They
  already knew. But they were very happy that they
  would have a baby. And, months later, they did. And
  the baby was you! Then, they were even happier. And
  Tante Kathleen and Charles came to see you. They
  saw you baptized. Have you seen a baptism in your
  church?"
  
  "I think so."
  
  "Well, you were a very tiny baby, and the minister
  sprinkled water on you and gave you the name
  Catherine Angelique. And, since my name is
  Katherine -- spelled with a K, I'll show you -- you
  were named for me. I felt quite honored. And, then,
  you came here that Christmas with your family. I
  mean with Maman and Papa. And we were all glad to
  see you. As I said, as the pictures showed, you
  were teeny-tiny. You didn't walk yet, and everybody
  wanted to hold you. I held you, and Pepere held
  you, and Tante Kathleen held you."
  
  "And Sharl, and Maman?"
  
  "Charles wasn't here again that year. We didn't see
  Charles much until he had ended his residency.
  That's the last stage of a doctor's education. They
  can get very little time off then, and you saw him
  more than we did. And Maman held you sometimes,
  mostly when you were hungry. But we all felt that
  Maman and Papa got to hold you when you weren't
  here. So we wanted to get our chances. Charles turn
  is now. You are such a big girl that I couldn't
  pick you up. But he gets to lift you up way high."
  
  "You need to get dressed, Cat." Jeanette had
  appeared.
  
  "You could leave the next morning's costume for me,
  dear. As it was, we've been up for more than half
  an hour. Would you like scrambled eggs and bacon?
  I'm afraid it isn't real bacon; I got in the habit
  when Russ was here."
  
  "Probably better for us. Yes, thanks. Think Cat
  should eat like this and dress afterwards?"
  
  "If it doesn't break any hard-and-fast rules,
  dear." Not that she thought if did. Jeanette
  wouldn't have brought it up if she weren't going to
  permit it.
  
  "Do you want to eat like this, Cat, and dress after
  breakfast?"
  
  "Please, Maman."
  
  "Very well, you may." 
  
  "I'll get you a plate, too, Cat. Only a little
  eggs, but you can have more if you want them."
  
  "I'll carry them in. Bob'll be along in a minute."
  Katherine's policy was probably better than filling
  Cat's plate and letting Bob finish the remains.
  Better for both of them.
  
  At about the same time, Kathleen was going into the
  bathroom as her brother came out. When she got back
  to her room, she was grinning.
  
  "You think you're welcome here? When you go into
  the john, look who really rates." Charles looked
  around, before shaving. The holder for a glass and
  toothbrushes held two toothbrushes, one of them
  short. He smiled at that.
  
  "I'm not going to feel rejected," he told Kathleen
  back in her room.
  
  "I'd think not. I come second to Cat, and I'm Mom's
  own flesh and blood. Now, when she spends time in
  your lap, then I feel jealous."
  
  "Liar! I've never held your mother in my lap."
  
  "You have definitely spent too much time in this
  house." They went downstairs together and went into
  the kitchen for their food. "Really, Mom, you rise
  first and eat last. Don't you think you should join
  us." Kate followed them back.
  
  "Really dears, have you looked out the window?"
  
  "Build an ark."
  "Unless someone has made important plans for today,
  I suggest we spend it inside." There were nods.
  "The thing is that I have a ham, and I planned to
  serve a feast sometime during this visit."
  
  "As opposed to the gruel we've subsisted on so
  far?" asked Bob.
  
  "Thank you, dear, but I was wondering whether
  Kathleen and Jeanette would join me in the
  preparations. You two could keep Cat amused, and we
  could have the feast as a noon dinner. Does that
  seem reasonable?" She got nods. "And, dear, Cat
  needs to brush her teeth and get dressed." Although
  this was addressed to Bob, Jeanette took her up.
  
  "We're not enforcing the nudity taboo on Cat, Mom.
  On the other hand, Jeanette doesn't want me forcing
  a violation of it, either. Then Cat decides."
  
  "And, some time, dear, she will. Quite suddenly, if
  experience is a guide. Jeanette is a wonderfully
  thoughtful mother."
  
  "I think so, and she has the greatest respect for
  your wisdom. So to speak, she wants to be a modern-
  day version of you rather than of her own mother."
  
  "Well, dear, I'm not certain that either is the
  height of wisdom. Whatever her mother did wrong,
  she did end up with Jeanette. Nobody is always
  wrong, not even mostly wrong. As for me, I read the
  books, but that was decades ago; all the advice is
  certain to have changed."
  
  "That means, Kate, that your advice will be the
  newest scientific breakthrough when Cat has a
  child."
  
  "Really, dear, cynicism about pediatric advice is
  widespread, but from a pediatrician?"
  
  "We're the most cynical of all. Parents have one,
  two, maybe a few, children. They wonder what would
  have happened if they'd done something different.
  We have hundreds of patients. We see all sorts of
  child-raising patterns succeed and all sorts fail.
  Jeanette is a great example. Apparently, her mother
  did everything in her power to crush her self-
  image. She's a strong, confident, woman."
  
  'Well, dear, she is that. And she's trying to raise
  a strong, confident, daughter."
  
  "And, so far, succeeding. Sometimes, a confident
  girl, much less a strong one, embarrasses her
  parents. But it's better than a shrinking violet.
  With apologies to our, non-shrinking, Violet."
  
  "Apologies accepted, Bob." 
  
  "Dear, would you mind terribly going up to my room
  and getting the kitchen timer? It's on my night
  stand. We're going to need it."
  
  "Better than paring vegetables. My kitchen work
  starts now." When Kathleen came back with the
  timer, Jeanette and Cat were right behind her.
  Charles sat down in a chair with a pile of books.
  Soon Cat was in his lap. The three adult women went
  into the kitchen. "Now that you have the timer, why
  was it out of the kitchen?"
  
  "My memory is going, dear. Could it be
  Alzheimer's?" 
  
  "Not if you can remember to cook like you have been
  doing. Are you claiming you don't remember why the
  timer was up there? Because an Alzheimer patient
  wouldn't have remembered where it was."
  
  "Well, dear, Jeanette was afraid that Cat might not
  wake up in time to get to the bathroom. So, as the
  responsible adult, it was my job to wake her.
  Actually, I don't sleep through the night either.
  My bladder wakes me, but I might keep the four-hour
  schedule. It's somewhat more convenient. Sorry
  about that, dear, if it makes it harder for Cat to
  wake up when she gets back home."
  
  "Well, it either will or it won't. I actually
  figure that the number of wet sheets I'll have to
  change is written in heaven. All I can control is
  when they occur."
  
  "Very sensible thought, dear, even if it turns out
  to be incorrect. Motherhood is a journey, not a
  task. Feeling you've failed -- even that you've
  succeeded -- leads to useless frustration."
  
  "Speaks the woman who has Bob Brennan as a son.
  Must be consoling. Now, what should I do." Kate
  assigned their tasks, sitting at the table. She
  began her own preparation of the ham with a jar of
  cloves.
  
  "What I want to hear," said Jeanette when she had
  the rhythm of scraping carrots down, "is this
  business of your enlightened self interest."
  
  "Well, dear, it should be clear. I've had a
  basically happy life. I lost Russ, of course, and
  still cry over that. But I had Russ for decades.
  More happiness there than tears. I've been gifted,
  of course. As I told you, children are potluck. I
  was lucky in mine. Both, despite what Kathleen
  pretends to believe.
  
  "Still and all, I've worked with what I've been
  given to be happy. You are the luck of the draw,
  Cat doubly so. Maybe triply so, because Bob was
  luck, too. But, I made you welcome, I tried to make
  your visits here pleasant. And I think I've
  succeeded more than failed."
  
  "You're always a lovely, welcoming, hostess."
  
  "And I get your visits, don't I? And, these days,
  your visits include Cat. I don't think you regard
  these visits as chores. Oh, they involve chores;
  they involve Amtrak, for heaven's sake. But you
  don't seem to dread them from one year to the next.
  Cat enjoys them, so telling Cat that you are going
  to visit Grandma Brennan doesn't involve screams of
  complaint."
  
  "No complaints whatsoever. A few screams, maybe.
  You're her favorite person. She loves these
  visits."
  
  "And, while you might think I spoil her too much,
  you enjoy the visits partly because she does, too.
  So, I get what I want from you, and I get what I
  want from her. I can't have my husband back, I
  can't have my youth back. But the humanly-possible
  things that I want, I get. Every part of that which
  isn't luck is pure selfishness."
  
  "And this is the woman who talks about my
  sacrifice. I've got what I wanted. Since my
  marriage, I've got nearly everything that I wanted.
  Some of it took a little while, but what I wanted
  most, I got early on. We could have married a year
  earlier, but not sooner than that, not when I was
  still in high school."
  
  "Well, Jeanette, aside from your perverse interest
  in marrying Bob, you put your academic career on
  hold."
  
  "Dear, you drive that argument into the ground.
  Fight with your brother all you want, but you don't
  want to fight with Jeanette. Use a little of the
  selfishness I've been preaching. What draws her to
  Bob is what draws you to Charles."
  
  "Indeed, the first time I saw Charles before The
  Kitten's baptism, I was struck by the resemblances.
  Differences, sure, but he is a lot like your
  brother and how your father was. Tall, deep voice,
  sense of humor."
  
  "That's really beside the point, dear."
  
  "Charles can sing, He has a lovely singing voice."
  
  "Intelligent."
  
  "Dears, none of that matters. The particulars which
  attract a woman might be quite different. You
  didn't look for the best singer you could find,
  dear. If you had, a medical school would be a weird
  place to look."
  
  "Well, no."
  
  "However different the particular attractive
  features, the attraction is the same. I said that
  we could have wished that you'd given your heart
  elsewhere. When you gave your heart to Charles,
  though, that defined the situation. Well, Jeanette
  gave her heart to Bob. Aside from my pleasure in
  her company and her child, my selfishness, she
  could have done worse. Don't blind yourself. He may
  have a weird sense of humor, but he is not nasty,
  an alcoholic, or a wife-beater."
  
  "He supports me."
  
  "Yes, dear, but you supported him for years."
  
  "You don't understand. Yes, his paycheck pays the
  bills, and once mine did -- with generous help from
  you and your husband. But back then, even before we
  were married, he kept me steady. He hugged me when
  I needed a hug. Had he been a perpetual student and
  we had never had a child because I needed to keep
  working, even then I'd have needed him more than he
  needed me. If I need his care less now, it's
  because he's helped mend me.
  
  "You talk about the language study. You want to
  know how that came about? Well, it was the third
  thing I studied after the wedding. The first was a
  course he was taking, Studying with him was all
  sorts of fun, but he was a junior, after all. He
  stopped taking courses without prerequisites. He
  asked me what I wanted to study next. 
  
  "Y'know, Pastor Jim had talked to us about what we
  assumed from the families in which we grew up. He
  wants this, but she wants that. This isn't too
  dangerous, 'cause they are conscious of it and can
  compromise. What's more dangerous is he thinks this
  is what it means to be married and she thinks that
  is what it means to be married. Well, I wasn't too
  worried. I wanted us to be a family, and you were
  the family I most wanted to be like. Anyway, once
  Bob asked me if I minded that he said all the
  graces."
  
  "Jeanette! You didn't let him?"
  
  "You're as bad as he was. I was glad to let him say
  grace. What he didn't ask was whether my picture of
  family was one where somebody said grace at
  dinnertime. Because it wasn't. But, since this was
  the Brennan pattern, and that was what a real
  family looked like, I was glad. I teased him about
  it later, but I only teased. I never suggested that
  we stop. Since I wanted to be a family, I put my
  foot down on some issues. I know that you keep a
  neat house, but you don't seem to have taught him
  that."
  
  "I gave up, dear. He did a good wash, really. I let
  him clean his own room on his own schedule except
  for every other month. Which was often the only
  vacuuming he did. He was always better about
  personal hygiene, dear. Although I remember telling
  him that simple respect for a date required that he
  shower and wear clean clothes whenever he sees her.
  That rule may have been enough. He already showered
  before Church."
  
  "Well, anyway, he never claimed that vacuuming was
  an un-Brennan activity. Nor washing dishes, which
  considering that you had an automatic dishwasher
  and we didn't, would have been a valid claim. I
  think I've lost my point."
  
  "Welcome to the family."
  
  "It's not only your family, Kathleen. Anyway, Bob
  was giving me my free choice as to what I should
  study next. He regarded that as giving me total
  freedom. If I had opted for how oppressive the
  patriarchy was, he'd have got the books out of the
  University library for me. But, being Bob, he
  didn't for a moment consider that I would want to
  study nothing. Anyway, the thing I did want to
  study was typing. I'd taken a little, but far from
  enough to qualify for office work. He clearly
  didn't think that was a real study, but -- since it
  was what I wanted -- he agreed to buy the computer
  course which turned me into a decent typist.
  Believe me, there is all the difference ib the
  world between a typist and a file clerk."
  
  "When I had a job which involved typing, I was
  getting far more practice typing than I wanted. He
  asked me what I wanted to study next. Well I'd
  taken two years of high-school French. I took
  French in the first place because Bob had. Then I
  learned he had switched to German in college."
  
  "He didn't tell you that, dear? He told us. I
  thought he told you everything."
  
  "He told me a great deal. Much of it was about his
  dreams." Some of it was about her, and a lot --
  just when he got back from his first year of
  college -- was about his version of their agreement
  to date others. It wasn't a time to discuss his
  decisions about curriculum. "Remember that year we
  weren't dating and that summer he was back on road
  construction. Anyway, I took two years of high-
  school French which qualified as one year of
  college French. I took second-year French. I didn't
  like the results. I really didn't have the
  vocabulary I should have. Nor the accent. Also, I
  was never going to get credit for studying *East
  Asia, Tradition and Transition*, lovely as that
  study had been. So, to get the knowledge which my
  transcript already said I had, I started learning
  French vocabulary on my own, starting from the list
  in the back of the book I'd studied, For a while, I
  worked on my speech in the language lab. You heard
  about that.
  
  "So, I wasn't denied studies in French because I
  married a Brennan. I may have slighted my studies
  in French because I was dating a Brennan, but I
  wouldn't have learned that much more. I studied
  French because Bob kept asking what I wanted to
  study. I very much wanted to be married to Bob
  Brennan. I -- when pushed as to a subject -- had a
  slight preference for improving my knowledge of
  French."
  
  "I didn't think he was that insistent, dear. I
  didn't think your marriage was like that."
  
  "He wasn't. As I said, he made assumptions. And it
  wasn't only him. I said 'I'm studying French.' You
  all, your relatives out to several degrees, said
  'What Jeanette is is a person who is studying
  French on her own.' And, to be perfectly honest, I
  came to enjoy it. When I really wanted something
  from Bob, I got it. When his assumptions were
  comfortable for me, I went along with them. The
  typing was one example. He did not consider that
  acceptably intellectual, but it was what I wanted.
  Cat was another. We got to the time we could afford
  either to send me to school or to start a child. He
  was certain that sending me to school was more
  important. I asked 'Is this for me?' If it was for
  me, then it should be what I wanted. And then he,
  you too, talks as if it was one more sacrifice I
  made. It was a decision I made. A very selfish
  decision.
  
  "You took art history because the field interested
  you?"
  
  "Yes, dear."
  
  "And you took an MAT because it was something you
  could do with that education?"
  
  "And because staying on campus was suddenly much
  more attractive. I'd met Russ, you see."
  
  "Throughout none of that time had you ever
  considered, let alone desired, teaching third
  grade?"
  
  "Not really. I took the job when our finances were
  in a jumble. I couldn't work as a secretary, even
  were my typing up to yours."
  
  "So, you spend the majority of your life in work
  you never particularly intended. I, on the other
  hand, have spent my adult life, or nearly all of
  it, as Mrs. Bob Brennan. Which is the position of
  which I dreamed for the preceding several years. I
  have a lovely daughter, a girl whose attention you
  covet -- both of you. I live a comfortable life,
  economically. I'm getting an education, a much
  better education than I would have received if I'd
  gone straight on. Really, you think college is more
  than a degree; it's an experience. So, I get an
  educational experience that far surpasses what I
  could have received had I not married Bob. And,
  because it is a little later than it might have
  been, you call that a sacrifice. That's fourth or
  fifth on my priority list, but it's still better
  than what I gave up."
  
  "Then you are happy, dear?"
  
  "Very happy. I cry sometimes, who doesn't? You
  can't be ecstatically happy all the time, but I
  have my moments. I'm usually content. I'm tired of
  hearing about my sacrifice."
  
  "Well, sacrifice or not, dear, you came into our
  family at an awkward time and made our cause your
  own. That made you a Brennan. If our cause was
  yours, your cause, always, is ours."
  
  "At an awkward time for your family. It was a life-
  saver for me. And it was my coming in that made it
  awkward."
  
  "Still, Jeanette," said Kathleen, "whatever you
  said, you put the family ahead of yourself. That
  makes you part of the family."
  
  "Whatever I said?"
  
  "You said, 'What's better for Jeanette?' then laid
  out that your working and being sure of Bob's
  education was better for you than another year of
  school."
  
  "Well, it was. In case you haven't noticed, I'm
  married to an associate professor. The tuition
  money didn't run out. Okay, maybe it would have
  happened anyway. But there was much more in the
  reserves when we flew to France without warning
  your parents. That trip started the difference
  between Northwestern and Podunk Normal."
  
  "We'd have found the money, dear."
  
  "If possible. For either of your children. That's
  who you are -- were -- you are and your husband
  was. But draining the reserve was certainly not in
  my selfish interest, because something else might
  have come up first. All I'm saying is that I love
  you all, but I acted in what I saw as my own best
  interest. First of all, marrying Bob was my bottom
  line. If giving Cat two pickles makes it likelier
  to have her sleep in your bed, and she was anxious
  to do so before she ate them. She'd done so the
  previous night before you'd even thought of that.
  Then not making my marriage to Bob something which
  strained your family finances to the breaking point
  made that marriage more certain. Not draining the
  funds that paid my husband's tuition was totally
  selfish. Draining them would have increased risk --
  maybe everything would have gone all right, but
  there was more than enough risk. 
  
  "And, don't you see, Bob loves his family -- this
  family, I mean, though he loves Cat and me, too.
  You don't increase the love your spouse holds
  towards you by increasing the pain that dealing
  with you causes. 'Because I married Jeanette,
  whatever difficulties this causes, my parents don't
  have to pay my housing expense,' sounds much better
  than 'Because I married Jeanette, on top of all the
  other difficulties, my parents have to pay another
  set of tuition and rent on this apartment.'
  Marriage brings enough friction without bringing
  extra guilt with it."
  
  "Well dear, we see it as a sacrifice. The decision
  to have a child first, too. That sacrificed for
  something you wanted more, but it was a sacrifice
  nonetheless. But, if you don't want us mentioning
  it, maybe we should resist mentioning it. I have
  something else to discuss."
  
  "All right, but isn't that what we all do all the
  time. You sacrifice reading a book you'd enjoy to
  read a book to Cat which you'd never look at
  otherwise. You sacrifice buying the meal that
  tastes sort of good to buy the meal that tastes
  scrumptious. Kathleen sacrificed her chances of an
  affair with Greg to have a romance with Charles."
  
  "My chances of winning the lottery were higher.
  Greg always saw me as an appendage to you. He'd
  treat me in a way you'd approve for news of you.
  He'd have rather cut off his arm than treat me in a
  way which would earn your disapproval. All that
  aside, you're right. When you have a choice between
  two things, choosing the one you like better is
  hardly a sacrifice. Talking to Cat, now, 'Here's
  how much Maman wanted a baby...'"
  
  "All right. And, way back when, I chose to marry
  into a more solvent Brennan family. After all, the
  best things about my freshman year were one, it was
  close to Bob, and two, it was far from my family.
  The next year, I had even more time away from my
  family. I was much closer to Bob. I hated my job
  that year, but the typing is what got me a better
  job. Another year of college wouldn't have helped."
  
  "Well, dear, I swore I wouldn't second-guess your
  parenting and I'm not."
  
  "Which means, Jeanette, that she is about to."
  
  "I'm always ready to listen to your advice. After
  all, your first child turned out fine, whatever
  faults one might see in your second one."
  
  "Hmph!"
  
  "I told you, dear, picking at Bob when Jeanette can
  hear and he can't is a losing proposition. It isn't
  so much advice dear. You're doing a fine job of
  parenting, and I'm sure that your priorities are
  sensible. It's just that -- been there, done that -
  - I know that you have so much you can do. Now, I
  have two -- no three -- things I might do. You
  don't tell Cat things because she needs to learn
  them some day. You tell her all she is willing to
  absorb from you. She might, however, hear something
  more from me. And, you can decide to remind Cat of
  what Memere told her about brushing her teeth. You
  can equally well put that aside without feeling
  that this is another lesson you have given her that
  she has rejected. Because, you see, dear, you
  didn't give it to her."
  
  "Brushing her teeth?"
  
  "Yes, dear, she does an enthusiastic job. And you
  remind her to do it. But she brushes horizontally."
  Kate demonstrated with an imaginary toothbrush.
  "She needs to brush up and down. She also needs to
  brush the backs of her teeth."
  
  "Yes. I hope that all that toothpaste in her mouth
  will kill the germs."
  
  "As I said, Dear, you have so much to teach her.
  And, really, she'll only learn so much from you at
  one time. Cat thinks you give her too many rules,
  and you're well advised to emphasize looking both
  ways at street corners over brushing up and down.
  I'm not trying to change your behavior. I'm
  offering to be the person who tells Cat one thing,
  maybe not on top of your current priority list, but
  maybe useful."
  
  "You said three things?"
  
  "Well, she knows that she spent some time in your
  belly, although she sounds dubious when she says
  it. Also, she says 'stomach.' Well, I have a
  book...."
  
  "A book? A Brennan with a book?"
  
  "Well, yes, dear. The book has a great many
  pictures. It shows a sort of cut-out view of a
  woman. It will show her the digestive tract. It
  will show her the womb. It has other pictures with
  a baby in the womb. Dear, 'stomach' sounds so
  digestive."
  
  Jeanette laughed. "Katherine, sometimes you remind
  me so surprisingly that you're Bob's mother."
  
  "How can you say such a nasty thing about her? And
  she was trying to be helpful, too."
  
  "Dear, you always knew I was Bob's mother."
  
  "But sometimes it's more obvious. I remember back
  on our first visit home with The Kitten. Your
  husband had her, and he was reciting poetry to her
  pacing up and down. Sounded just like Bob."
  
  "I hope you said so."
  
  "I did. To both of them, but separately."
  
  "Bless you, dear."
  
  "Anyway, only a Brennan would complain about that.
  And Bob has. He prefers 'belly.' You prefer
  'womb.'"
  
  "If you're going to go that far, why not 'uterus'?"
  
  "Two more syllables, dear. And 'belly' is what
  Jeanette means by 'stomach.' It's just that the
  book would show pictures of the inside of the
  belly."
  
  "I'll think about it." Indeed, the last few
  sentences had made her think that maybe she'd
  decline.
  
  "Maman," Cat interrupted them, "may I have a
  pickle, please?" Jeanette felt ambushed, and Bob
  was usually so considerate about that. The other
  three deferred to her quite publicly. They clearly
  saw it as acknowledging her as the final arbiter of
  Cat's rules. Cat, and Jeanette to a certain extent,
  saw Jeanette as the Wicked Witch of the West. If it
  were not for her, Cat didn't think she would have
  any rules at all, and Cat didn't like rules. Bob
  was quite willing to be the bad guy. If he thought
  the answer was no, he said 'no.' If he thought the
  answer was yes, he said 'ask Maman.' Sometimes, he
  looked for a ruling from her before answering. (And
  Cat, no fool, probably noticed that.) He clearly
  thought the answer now should be yes, but...
  
  "I don't know, mon Chat. You had two pickles last
  night."
  
  "Then may I have two pickles please?" That brought
  laughter from the women.
  
  "Cat," said Kathleen, "you are a dear, sweet,
  conniver."
  
  "'Conniver' isn't a good word, dear. It means you
  are trying something you shouldn't try. Listen,
  dear, you and I had such a good time last night. I
  would hate to think it made you pushy. Because,
  then I would feel guilty about the good time. Now,
  does your having two pickles last night mean that
  you now get two pickles for every snack? Or does it
  mean that, maybe, you've had this morning's snack
  already last night?"
  
  "Maybe." Which was an ambiguous answer to a
  complicated question, but Kate took the dejected
  tone as signal that the moral lesson had been
  delivered.
  
  "Then ask your mother for one pickle. Ask her, and
  accept her answer as final without any whining."
  
  "Maman, may I have one pickle, please."
  
  "Ask ta memere. They are her pickles."
  
  "Memere, may I have one pickle please?"
  
  "Certainly, dear, since ta maman says it is all
  right. Go get your phonebook, and I'll get the
  pickle." Cat set the phonebook on a chair and
  climbed up on it. Jeanette slid the chair in so
  that Cat had the table right in front of her. Kate
  brought the pickle on a saucer and a napkin.
  Jeanette thought that Katherine's intervention
  sounded as though she'd read her mind. Perhaps she
  had; Jeanette would put nothing past her mother-in-
  law.
  
  "Tante Kathleen, were you once the little girl of
  Memere?"
  
  "Yes, Cat. For years and years." She noted that one
  member of the family was careful enough about the
  French language to avoid the hermaphroditic
  possessive, 'Memere's.'
  
  "And how many pickles did she let you eat?"
  
  "Well, I never had as many pickles in one day as
  you had yesterday -- probably not as many in any
  one week as you've eaten since you got here."
  "Really?"
  
  "Really! I may be forgetting some special week, but
  I didn't eat pickles as often as you do even when I
  was much bigger." Kathleen thought that the real
  "Adult Conspiracy" wasn't keeping kids from
  learning about sex. It was about keeping adults in
  control of everything. And she was now an official
  member. She couldn't remember ever being limited in
  the number of pickles she could eat -- cookies,
  yes, but not pickles. Not that Mom wouldn't have
  limited her had she eaten as many as Cat did. On
  the other hand, suggesting to Cat that she was
  asking for the wrong treats wouldn't be helpful.
  So, she'd avoided Cat's question, avoided it
  artfully enough to fool Cat. And, fooling a kid
  going on seven -- even Bob's daughter going on
  seven -- was nothing to feel proud about.
  
  The food was ready. When Cat was quite done and had
  been sent to wash her hands, Kate turned on the
  oven and the dishwasher at the same time. They
  might as well have all the heat in the kitchen
  while they were out of it. She took the timer and
  shut the door behind them. Cat was back in the
  living room. She climbed back in Charles's lap
  while the adults watched. Both Bob and Kathleen
  wondered what toys they still had for when Cat got
  tired of books.
  
  "You know," Kate said, "I got distracted last
  night. Whether or not we need to learn to desire
  something more than our own best interests, we do
  need to learn to pursue our best interests in a
  more socially-acceptable way than squalling until
  someone takes care of them. And it is something you
  learn. We understand that Cat doesn't read so well
  yet, that division is quite beyond her. We don't
  wait for her to learn those things on her own. We
  don't bitch and scream because she hasn't, Really,
  behavior is the same thing -- or quite similar.
  She, for instance, is unfailingly polite when she
  asks for a treat. I presume that is because she
  doesn't get them when she isn't."
  
  "Jeanette's contribution. She even says 'may I.'"
  
  "I've noticed, dear. But I'll bet that it took a
  lot of work."
  
  "She forgets. Everybody forgets. The only trick is
  for you to remember."
  
  "And, dear, while this may not quite be a trick, to
  be patient while she learns. Bob and I were
  commenting on how good a mother you are. But my
  point is that all behavior beyond squalling until
  our wants are satisfied is learned. And, really,
  learned after squalling until our wants are
  satisfied has been learned very well. Operant
  conditioning. Behavior and reward."
  
  "Mom! You didn't raise us in a Skinner Box."
  
  "Skinner would say that the entire world is a
  Skinner Box, dear. After a while, you had language,
  and that makes things much easier. Instead of
  waiting around for random action to produce the
  behavior we want, we can ask, 'What's the magic
  word?'"
  
  "Please!" Cat waited, thought what she wanted.
  "Sharl, would you read to me, please." And Charles
  went on with the book he'd been reading.
  
  "To quote my mother, 'Little pitchers have big
  ears.'"
  "And every other mother on earth, dear, since
  pitchers really had ears."
  
  "Maybe, but I've waited years to quote that back to
  you."
  
  "And you had justice on your side, dear, if not
  mercy. Do you think this rain will go on forever?"
  
  "Thirty-nine days and nights to go."
  
  "Well, we needed it. And it must be cooling the
  outside down, at least that's why I moved the ham
  up to today."
  
  "Y'know, rain is more often a result of cooler air
  than a cause of it. Cool air moves in and pushes
  warm, moist, air higher. Going higher, the air
  cools until relative humidity exceeds one hundred
  percent. Then the moisture in that air falls as
  rain."
  
  "We all took general science, Bob. Not all of us
  are compelled to regurgitate it."
  
  "It wasn't compulsion. It was entirely voluntary."
  
  "That recitation qualifies as compulsion in any
  textbook on abnormal psychology."
  
  "Yes, but what does a real science make of it?"
  Kate looked at Jeanette. Somebody had to bring up a
  more palatable conversation than this squabble.
  
  "I've said that I don't expect my thesis to take
  long. On the other hand, though, this job market
  might reward a slow thesis. If I don't get a job,
  and there are very few available, having several
  more years getting a degree on my resume would look
  better than getting one faster and then having a
  period of unemployment. And, after all, it's not as
  though being a mother didn't take all the time I
  can spare for it."
  
  "Are translator jobs as scarce as other jobs,
  Jeanette. I'd think the demand was steady. After
  all, few outside the UN and diplomatic corps are
  positions that people keep. Or am I making that up?
  Are translators in positions as fixed as nurses?"
  
  "I really don't know, Kathleen. There isn't a
  translator job market. And, if there were, I
  wouldn't be looking in it. When I look for work,
  I'll look for secretarial work."
  
  "Jeanette!"
  
  "I'm a good secretary with good references. Chicago
  has a French consulate. That's one of the places
  I'll look. Maybe some of the other franco-phone
  countries. Look, there is something about
  translation you don't understand."
  
  "There must be tons about it I don't understand."
  
  "Well, there's parts I don't understand, either.
  But when you want a particular book translated,
  that book is about something. Sounds obvious. But
  you, with time and a good dictionary, could do a
  better translation of a French text on Freudian
  psychology than I could. You wouldn't; there are
  psychiatrists with much more French than you have.
  But, if you did, you would know what every single
  word means, and what every single idea presented is
  arguing against. When history texts are translated,
  they are translated by historians. 
  
  "Aside from the stuff I've done for Bob, I've only
  had one translation job. And that fell into my lap
  because, frankly, I was cheap. I was staying home,
  and I wanted to continue doing something in French.
  Translating Verne was doing something in French.
  And, thanks to the work I'd done with Bob and
  things Bob would tell me, I knew more about the
  background from which Verne was writing than plenty
  of other people. Want poetry translated?
  Understanding the words isn't enough. You want a
  poet. So, there are plenty of translation jobs, but
  quite few professional translators.
  
  "And, taken as a whole, it doesn't pay well. Or,
  rather, they pay others more than they can pay me."
  
  "Jeanette! Discrimination?"
  
  "Not what you think. Look at the books I helped Bob
  with...."
  
  "That you did, and I contributed a little."
  
  "Well, The first one got Bob a doctorate. The
  others got him reputation in his field. He's being
  well-paid for having produced them, and his
  colleagues think the analysis is worth the pay -- 
  they know he didn't do the translation. But I can't
  cash scholarly reputation. If I translated
  documents for a paper he didn't write, I might get
  credit, but that credit wouldn't do me any good.
  That's the sort of pay you get for most
  translation, part if not the entirety. And, of
  course, while the paycheck is in his name, I spend
  the money as much as he does.
  
  "On the other hand, I'll put my degree on my
  resume. There are plenty of places that need a
  secretary, and also -- occasionally -- need someone
  who can read French. I'll even translate business
  letters into French. And nobody does translation in
  that direction -- not if you're a translator.
  
  "And you don't understand about being a secretary,
  either. It's a good-paying job. It doesn't compete
  with MD, but it's a far cry above what a file clerk
  is paid. There are secretaries in Chicago making
  more than Bob does. I'll bet I made more than your
  mother did in my last job."
  
  "Don't take that bet, dear. Unless you count the
  hugs."
  
  "Well, I get my hugs at home."
  
  "Pardon me, Cat. I'll read the next book in a
  minute. Please stay here. I want to tell your
  parents a story.
  
  "Remember, when we first got here, Kath sent me out
  for some last-minute shopping. Anyway, a cop pulled
  me over. He didn't mention a traffic violation;
  I'll swear it was a driving-while-Black pull over.
  He mentioned my Pennsylvania plates, got my license
  and registration. What was I doing down here? I
  said I was visiting Mrs. Brennan. Instant change.
  He asked how you were doing -- said he'd heard of
  your loss. Then said he'd had you in third grade.
  His last words to me were, 'Have a nice day, hear?'
  Man did a hundred-and-eighty between one word and
  the next."
  
  "Well, yes dear. In the last ten or twenty years,
  the kids I had have become adults in all sorts of
  positions. Still young adults, of course. They are
  all younger than Kathleen, and most much younger.
  But I run into those who remember me. Quite a
  change from the first year, when I was 'the
  Yankee.'"
  
  "All through high school, I thought of Dad as
  influential and you as someone whom the powers-
  that-be worked over."
  
  "It's pretty much true, dear. 'Tax revenues are
  down; we have to pay teachers less,' is a constant
  refrain."
  
  "Or lay them off," added Jeanette. "The Chicago
  Public Schools are in a bind and are laying off
  teachers right and left. Somehow, though, the pay
  for top executives at the school board and the
  number of top-executive positions keeps growing."
  
  "The top job in the system," Bob put in, "is called
  'CEO.' That's because state law requires that a
  school superintendent know something about
  teaching. Well, you've got a CEO in charge. He
  doesn't know anything about teaching, but he knows
  about being an executive and working with
  executives. He has a problem, and the schools are
  drowning in problems. He has a problem, and he
  creates a new executive position to deal with it."
  
  "Parkinson's Law. Someday, they'll privatize the
  entire school system, and let the last teacher go.
  The central office will be larger than ever....
  Yes, Cat. I'm as bad as the people I'm complaining
  about. Dealing with the overview of what others
  should do to change the school system rather than
  dealing with the real kid who is my responsibility.
  Let's read Green Eggs and Ham." And he read Seuss
  in a sedate rhythm which was quite unlike her
  Papa's bouncing tones. Cat liked Sharl, though, and
  snuggled down in his lap to listen.
  
  "While, actually," Bob continued his thought, "you
  now have loads of influence."
  
  "Different kind of influence, dear. Your father was
  one of the movers and shakers of he town. The
  president of Brewster Office Equipment was a force
  to be reckoned with. He didn't throw his weight
  around, but he could have. Nobody reckons with my
  force. Lots of people, though, remember me fondly
  and wish me well."
  
  "He was a town father, Katherine, and you are a
  town mother."
  
  "Well, dear, while I'm no longer 'the Yankee,' he
  was always an outsider. The corporation was owned
  from outside, you know, and that always caused some
  resentment. Never, as far as I know, against the
  Brewster family which sold it. But we weren't
  Brewsters, and some people made it a point of
  telling us so. So, not a town father, exactly. And
  I'm only one third-grade teacher among, what? six
  classes in the town and several more schools close
  enough to send kids to the high school. I'd think
  your parents were more deeply rooted in the
  community."
  
  "Well, yes. And that might have been part of what
  they resented about Bob -- what Mommy resented, at
  least. She was at least one level below the
  Brewsters -- maybe two. And you come waltzing in
  and take the Brewsters' place. And you don't even
  care."
  
  "We hardly took the Brewsters' place, dear. That's
  what I've been telling you. We weren't the social
  leaders."
  
  "Your husband sat in the president's office at
  Brewster Equipment. That was the place of the
  kingpin of the Brewster family."
  
  "Which might be why, darling, the company couldn't
  compete until it was sold. Dad didn't want to lead
  the social set. He just wanted to make a solid
  profit... and a solid product."
  
  "And not wanting to lead the social set looked like
  a calculated insult to a woman who was a smaller
  frog in a much smaller puddle. Anyway..."
  
  "Anyway, faculty politics is dreary enough. Do we
  really need to rehash this? Mom is right to value
  the hugs she gets from her current students. The
  issues of graduates and parents can be left in the
  trash can."
  
  "And anyway, Mom, pitchers still have ears. There
  are just fewer pitchers. I have a patient who
  throws pots."
  
  "At you?" Kathleen covered her face so Cat couldn't
  see and stuck out her tongue at Bob.
  
  "Cat, before you start that new book, dear, do you
  think I might borrow Charles?"
  
  "C'mon, Cat," said Kathleen. "It might be a
  miserable day outside, but you don't have to sit in
  one place all day. I have something to show you
  upstairs." While she and Cat went up to look at her
  last doll, Charles followed Kate into the dining
  room.
  
  "As I've said, dear, this is a planned feast.
  Midday, perhaps, but Sunday dinners are midday. Why
  not Thursday dinners? Anyway, I thought of calling
  on you to say grace. Then I thought that springing
  it on you would be no favor. Would you be willing?"
  
  "Certainly. And thanks for the warning."
  
  "You haven't been asked yet, dear. Don't start
  until I ask you, but I will." The timer went off in
  her pocket, and she went into the kitchen to check
  on the ham. It looked fine. She turned off the
  stove and opened the dish washer. She set the timer
  to warn her when the vegetables should start
  cooking.
  
  While they were gone, Jeanette had suggested to Bob
  that they take their showers then. The idea of
  bathing in the middle of the day rather than long
  lines for the bathroom in the morning had seemed to
  work.
  
  "You, of course, could stay down here until I'm
  done. People to talk to."
  "Yeah, I could." But, since the alternative was
  watching Jeanette change, he went upstairs. Some
  things ranked even talking in Bob's preferences.
  
  So Charles was alone when he came back to the
  living room. He went over to the bookshelves. When
  you consider that each Brennan had his own books in
  his own room -- he'd stayed in Bob's room his first
  visit and in Kath's for his later visits -- the
  family selection was intriguing. The famous
  Britannica was years out of date, older than Kath.
  Several atlases seemed to have been published at
  about 20 year intervals, the latest quite recently.
  Neither of Kath's parents seemed to have ever
  discarded a college textbook. (He knew that Kath
  had most of hers in their apartment.) Five separate
  translations of the Bible were shelved next to each
  other. Paperbacks, the ones he checked being
  sociology for general readers, were stacked on
  their faces on several shelves. There didn't seem
  to be any novels. He pulled *Death and Life of
  Great American Cities* from the stack he'd examined
  earlier. 
  
  "Find anything interesting?" Kate asked when she
  came in. He held up the book. "Russ discovered Jane
  Jacobs soon after we moved here from New York.
  Rather bad news, you know, dear. You've just left
  the place best designed for living. I didn't read
  it until the summer after I'd started teaching. I
  don't read outside my studies while I'm studying.
  My children are much more voracious than I am." He
  wasn't sure that only reading non-textbooks when
  you weren't in school disqualified her as a
  bookworm. Most people didn't read much when they
  weren't required to; he'd known any number in his
  undergraduate days who didn't even read
  assignments. But he had another question.
  
  "Did you and your husband have your own stashes
  like your kids did?"
  
  "Oh, yes. Parents are more generous, of course.
  'He'd like this. Let's leave this downstairs; she
  might like it.' You don't think of what your
  sibling might like. But that is only relatively
  generous. If you want to find a book again, you
  keep it where you know where it is. My art history
  books are still in my room. The two lower shelves
  there on the right? That's what Russ had in his
  office."
  
  "I didn't see many novels."
  
  "Well, the three left-hand stacks of paperbacks on
  the top shelf are novels. Many in the third stack,
  dear, are the sort of novel you read for college
  courses. We gave novels to the kids when they were
  young, of course, but the library is better for
  that sort of thing. How many novels do you reread?"
  
  "And I saw art-history books."
  
  "Those are the ones in which France is prominent. I
  sent them to Jeanette and left them downstairs
  after she returned them. Easier to keep track of
  which she's seen that way. She likes to say that
  she is a Brennan, and so she is. But I don't think
  I've ever lent her a book she didn't return. You'll
  never hear me say that about Bob or Kathleen."
  
  "I keep hearing complaints about kids who never
  read. Your seem to have produced two who read all
  the time. Is it just the genes?"
  
  "Probably not, but it might as well be, dear. Russ
  came home from a hard day at the office and curled
  up with a book after supper -- sometimes with the
  paper or a magazine. He was addicted to news shows
  and, sometimes, to radio news. But he got his
  entertainment from print. I'm a little that way,
  myself. So, how did our kids think that adults
  entertained themselves? And, of course, we can
  recommend fascinating books we'd read ourselves.
  
  "Smoking parents have smoking kids. Parents who
  tipple but tell kids that they're too young to
  drink have kids who sneak drinks. Parents who read
  to themselves and read to their kids have kids who
  think that they're big enough to read their own
  books. It'll happen to Cat soon enough. Not when
  you're around, probably. You can see her gloat when
  she's got Charles to hold her and read to her. But,
  one of these days, she'll declare her independence
  by reading her own book."
  
  "Is she really doing that?"
  
  "Quite definitely, dear. And Bob is jealous. She
  sits beside him when he reads to her. Not at
  bedtime of course, but that's not holding, either."
  
  "I'm sorry, I'll..."
  
  "Why be sorry dear? Do you enjoy it?"
  
  "Very much."
  
  "And she enjoys it. It's what I said about
  intelligent selfishness. So long as she asks
  politely rather than throwing a tantrum when you
  aren't available, so long as it is mutually
  enjoyable, as long as it isn't dangerous for her or
  somebody else, then she should get what she enjoys.
  Bob would tell you the same thing. He wants Cat to
  get the enjoyment of your holding her. He just
  wishes that she still enjoyed his holding her. 
  
  "That's the thing about growing up. She's fighting
  her parents with might and main to get
  independence. And they want her to have
  independence. You'd think that fight could be
  settled in a conference, but it never is. And my
  children, dear, were quite used to conferences and
  negotiation."
  
  "I don't see her kicking and screaming."
  
  "I haven't seen her kick. We both heard her scream
  the other night. I understand that she has been
  known to throw a full-blown tantrum or two. More
  usually, she pushes. She doesn't run away from
  home, she sits beside her father when he reads to
  her. And, as I said, she will declare her
  independence by reading her own book one of these
  days. She already reads her school lessons,
  although first-grade school lessons aren't exactly
  Moby Dick. They aren't even Hop on Pop.
  
  "But when a child declares her independence,
  parents may be wistful. but they are a also happy."
  
  "You didn't seem very happy when Kath declared her
  independence."
  
  "I found the way she did it quite insensitive,
  dear. Look, in Vi's -- in Kathleen's -- early high-
  school days, she spoke to me often about her
  romantic feelings. Some boys she adored from afar,
  some seemed to like her but the feeling was
  definitely not reciprocated. You heard about Terry.
  In the middle of that relationship, I went from her
  confidant to her inquisitor. And, dear, I hadn't
  changed one thing. 'Is there something you want to
  tell me, dear?' 'Why do you keep hounding me?'
  After that, we knew when she went on dates and with
  whom. What she felt about it was a deep, dark,
  secret. Of course, you could look at her and see
  whether she were happy or unhappy, but she wasn't
  about to tell you why.
  
  "After she went to college, we never heard even
  that. I presume she went to college dances and all
  the other sorts of dates. College is much better
  than high school; high-school social occasions are
  really set up by adults. Anyway, I never
  complained. She had flown out of the nest. I prayed
  that she didn't get pregnant or seriously hurt, but
  I didn't inquire. She was writing to Jeanette,
  sometimes, and that made me grateful. I figured
  that she'd be willing to tell her more than she was
  willing to tell me."
  
  "But your toleration changed."
  
  "I tolerated silence. I didn't enjoy it, but I
  respected it. Now, let me tell you how Kathleen
  should have behaved with regard to her parents. She
  may have made mistakes with regard to you, but
  that's your business. 'One of my classmates whom I
  especially want you to meet is Charles; he's been a
  great friend these last two years.' Or however long
  it had been by graduation, dear. A letter: 'You met
  Charles. He's more than a friend. I think we're in
  love.' And, then, 'Mother, I'd like to bring
  Charles home. You should know him better, and he
  should know you better.' If she'd done that, dear,
  we'd not have complained, we'd have done the same
  thing we did on your first trip. We'd have put you
  in Bob's room. Then, we'd have locked our door. Of
  course, your second trip -- when Bob and Jeanette
  and Cat were home -- would have been more awkward.
  
  "Look, you find the way she and Bob squabble
  immature, don't you?"
  
  "Well, yes." Which was criticizing his wife, which
  was something you should never do, but how could he
  deny that?
  
  "But she's upstairs playing with a doll. You don't
  find that immature."
  
  "She's entertaining Cat."
  
  "Which is the acme of maturity, really. Even though
  she's doing it by actions three decades below her
  age level. Well, in a sense, squabbling with Bob is
  the same kind of game. She is playing the little
  kid she used to be. Both of them are quite capable
  of resisting. In the family, they don't see the use
  of doing so. But, when she proclaims that she is
  sexually active, she thinks the activity
  demonstrates maturity. She should read the
  statistics, sometime. But, in fact, the
  proclamation demonstrates immaturity.
  
  "But I should leave you to your book. Sorry!'
  
  "Not at all. This was fascinating. You find Kath
  immature and Bob mature."
  "Different kinds of maturity, dear. And different
  kinds of immaturity. Don't let Cat read Hop on Pop
  with you, dear. She is used to acting it out with
  Bob. Jeanette is quite capable of talking as if Bob
  were her second child. She also insists that Bob is
  an absolute rock when she needs him. Bob can be
  childish in many, unimportant, ways. After all, the
  sibling rivalry is quite mutual.
  
  "On the other hand, even Russ became convinced that
  Bob was acting as an adult as a husband and a
  father. And Russ was very hard to convince, dear.
  The university must find him satisfactory. Jeanette
  has been the primary parent, and she talks to Cat
  mostly in French -- not entirely, but mostly. Cat
  clearly has a better English vocabulary than most
  of her classmates. She must have got that from Bob.
  Which means, silliness like 'portcullis' aside,
  that he spends a decent amount of time with her. 
  
  "The way she behaved night before last tells you
  something, dear. Whatever Kathleen might say,
  reciting poetry at you doesn't count as abuse. It
  might be abuse of the poem. And Cat obviously knew
  that she wouldn't get further punishment for
  mouthing off while he was doing it. On the other
  hand, when he threatened to carry her bodily
  upstairs, the threat was credible. Large men have
  advantages as parents. I could never have carried a
  struggling seven-year-old up a flight of stairs."
  
  "So, strength is a requirement for a good parent?"
  
  "An advantage, dear. But I'm not making myself
  clear. Bob might have an immature sense of humor,
  he might squabble with his sister in a way that
  they ought to have outgrown well before you met
  her, let alone him, but he relates to his wife and
  child as a responsible adult. In one of his fights
  with his father -- and, dear, you only think that
  Kathleen and I have disagreements; Russ and Bob
  used to go at it hammer-and-tongs -- in one of
  those arguments, Bob claimed to have all the
  negative virtues. Maybe not quite all, dear, adults
  shouldn't tell fart jokes. But he was talking to
  Russ, after all. 
  
  "'Negative virtues' sounds like those defenses of
  politicians who get caught with their hands in the
  cookie jar. 'After all, he didn't rob banks or
  cheat on his wife.' But, really, while being in the
  best ninety percent of people in one area isn't
  saying much, being in the best ninety percent of
  people in area after area starts looking like an
  accomplishment. If all that the good you could say
  about Bob was that he wasn't a drunk or a wife-
  beater, it would be damning with faint praise. But
  Bob not only lacks a great many negatives, he has
  several important positives."
  
  "Where I want specifics is the negatives Bob
  lacks," Kathleen said from the stairs. "I can't
  think of any."
  
  "Why, dear, I just listed a few. He isn't a drunk
  nor a wife-beater."
  
  "He isn't, as far as we know, a member of Al Qaeda,
  either. That exhausts the list. By the way, Mom, I
  told Cat she could play with that doll in my room
  if she visited when I wasn't here."
  
  "That's very generous of you, dear. Now, about Bob,
  you really should save your insults for when he's
  present. Bob has a juvenile sense of humor. He
  scraps with you in quite a childish way, but you
  aren't in a position to point that out. I can't
  really think of any other vices."
  
  "He can't carry a tune in a bucket."
  
  "Hardly a moral fault, dear."
  
  "He's hard on poor Jeanette."
  
  "In what way," asked poor Jeanette from the stairs.
  "He'll be down in a minute. But I want to hear how
  he mistreats me, and don't get vulgar about
  'hard.'"
  
  "You have more than your share of household and
  child-care duties."
  
  "As I told your father some years ago -- nearly
  seven; how time flies -- how the two of us divide
  our chores is nobody's business but our own. As far
  as child-care goes, he and I share more than most
  couples."
  
  "I was just telling Charles, dear, that Cat's
  English vocabulary demonstrates that Bob spends a
  good deal of time with her."
  
  "And the club of husbands who do the family laundry
  just elected Bob president unanimously. I said he'd
  been unfair to vote for himself, but he said that
  he voted to break a tie."
  
  "Jeanette! Other husbands do the laundry."
  
  "Not all that many. And he kept doing it when I was
  home all day."
  
  "Well, if you're satisfied..."
  
  "And I am. That's not the main reason I love the
  man, but it's one reason to like him."
  
  "Well, I credit Cat's sunny nature to you, despite
  Bob. I just hope that sometime, maybe like when
  she's eighteen, you'll stop praising her for
  actions that would have been praiseworthy at
  eight."
  
  "Your generosity, dear, at least the generosity I
  praised, was not in letting Cat play with your
  doll, but leaving it here instead of taking it to
  Philadelphia to entice her into a visit."
  
  "We, although we would be glad to see you, don't
  really have room in the apartment to be adequate
  hosts. And we're probably stuck there until my
  student loans are paid off."
  
  "Did you two go that far in debt?" Bob had finally
  joined the group.
  
  "My student loans are paid off, Bob, and we have
  money in the bank. Don't look at me. Char's the one
  who went all macho on me."
  
  "Well, it's your inheritance."
  
  "When I was first starting to practice, Char helped
  pay the office rent. I wasn't bringing in even that
  much, let alone apartment rent and groceries. Now,
  he wants to pay the rent alternate months."
  
  "I don't want to live off my wife. I make enough to
  pay my share."
  
  "You may not think I have any right to speak as a
  man who lived off my wife for years and years, but
  I think the money you put into her office rent, and
  the other expenses Kathleen didn't have to cover as
  she started up, were investments in the family
  enterprise. You two should incorporate as 'Paradox
  Inc.'"
  
  "Pair of docs. Bob, you are impossible."
  
  "No, as I tell Jeanette, merely unlikely. Anyway,
  the family enterprise is making a profit. You ought
  to allow it to pay dividends like apartment rent."
  
  "And I'm not so sure that we shouldn't look for a
  house now."
  
  "Kath!"
  
  "Home prices and mortgage interest are both quite
  low. We aren't going to see that again any time
  soon."
  
  "There speaks Russell Brennan's daughter, and she's
  right. Stopped clock."
  
  "And it's not like we'll have all that much choice.
  We want a neighborhood we'll both be comfortable
  in. We'll look forever even in this market."
  
  "Well, dear, investment opportunities aside, is the
  chance of a visit from your niece the reason?
  Remember, at this age, she travels with her
  father."
  
  "No. I just started thinking, and one thing led to
  another."
  
  "Can happen. Try it again some time."
  
  "You can't really say he's the aggressor, this
  time, dear. Ignore him, and tell me how it
  started."
  
  "It started, really, with a piano. but it didn't
  end there. We need one, and the apartment won't
  hold one. A keyboard, or maybe a spinet. But, I
  thought, Char really should play a serious
  instrument. At least a baby grand, maybe a parlor
  grand. That got me thinking about houses, And that
  got me thinking that this was the right time.
  Usually, the low interest rates are met by high
  house prices."
  
  "Well, they are low because people aren't in shape
  to buy. And, when you look at it, neither are we."
  
  "Bob. This is serious. Help them now, and fight her
  another time."
  
  "D'acord, ma femme. Anyhow, Charles, you don't want
  Kathleen pouring her money into your loan
  repayment?"
  
  "No. And, really, I'm up-to-date. Peds may not make
  as much as successful psychiatrists but we aren't
  exactly ditch diggers, either."
  
  "Nor history professors. On the other hand, that
  leaves Kathleen with a lot of money in her name
  which isn't earning all that much interest. That's
  another aspect of the present economy. Borrowers'
  low rates are lenders' low rates."
  
  "Well... But the money is still there."
  
  "Would you live in your wife's house?"
  
  "Huh? Bob?"
  
  "There are two issues. The money issue and
  Charles's ethical issue. The question is whether
  there is a solution which fits both issues. If
  you're going to raise another issue, I'll quit."
  
  "Tante Kathleen, I left her on the bed. Is that all
  right?" Cat was half-way down the stairs.
  
  "Precisely what you should have done, darling."
  
  "Come here, Cat." Charles picked her up and spun
  around.
  
  "Whee!" Kathleen looked about to interfere. Kate
  looked at Jeanette, who seemed approving of the
  rough play. Then she spoke.
  
  "Last phase of the dinner. Could Jeanette and
  Kathleen come help me?" They followed her into the
  kitchen and then to the corner furthest from the
  door. "Look, dear, You may think that I was a
  terrible mother..."
  
  "I've never said that."
  
  "But I did have a long marriage, And Jeanette has a
  successful marriage with Bob, which your opinion of
  Bob must make appear a miracle. There are things
  you do with your husband only in private. The
  first, successful wives do as often as possible.
  The second, successful wives do as seldom as
  possible. But never does any sensible woman do
  either in public.
  
  "The second one is criticize her husband." 
  
  "Sometimes, he's impossible."
  
  "Compared to Bob, dear?"
  
  "Well, I've heard Jeanette..."
  
  "Tease him? So have I, so has Cat. Raise a serious
  criticism? I've never heard her accuse Bob of
  chauvinism. Maybe he's never been guilty."
  
  "He hasn't."
  
  "But when Charles started his rough play with Cat,
  it wasn't your call, dear. It was Jeanette's call."
  
  "She's been locked up all day. Lovely house, lovely
  books, lovely doll and thanks for thinking of it.
  But her body needs as much exercise as her mind."
  "The point is, dear, that he has as much
  intelligence as you do. And, really, more
  experience with kids. When you were in high school,
  Jeanette told me to let you make your own mistakes.
  And I needed that reminder. Let him make his own
  decisions. Now, some decisions are about the two of
  you, and you have to make them jointly."
  
  "Like the house. 'Ethical issue'? It's pure
  machismo!"
  
  "It's both, dear, and more. Your brother, obedient
  to the wishes of his wife, put it in the way most
  likely to persuade Charles. You've been putting it
  in the way most likely to demean Charles."
  
  "I married Bob, Kathleen. You didn't."
  
  "What?"
  
  "Fight with Bob. He enjoys it. I'd rather you did
  it when neither Cat nor I were around, but that's
  just a preference."
  
  "Doing it when Bob isn't around, dear, is simply a
  waste."
  
  "But Charles doesn't enjoy it. He doesn't even
  enjoy your fighting with Bob. So, find out how to
  persuade him. Bob lacks all your best tools. If he
  manages to get an agreement, I'll laugh aloud the
  next time you imply that Bob is stupid."
  
  "Best tools?"
  
  "Dear, you've slowed down since you left our table.
  Once, you would have caught Jeanette's drift. More,
  you would have caught her criticism and lobbed it
  back to her. I'll leave it to her to explicate."
  
  "The third is that Bob's not a woman. The second is
  that he doesn't have sex with Charles. You keep
  mentioning your sex life in public; learn to use it
  in private. The third and most important is that
  Charles doesn't love him. I've said before that Bob
  always gave me what I wanted most. Not when it was
  beyond his reach, but when he could. The problem is
  to figure out what you want most. It isn't to win
  those debating points, is it?" 
  
  "Of course not."
  
  "Then figure out what Charles wants most. Then
  figure out how the two of you can have both."
  
  "You make it sound simple."
  
  "It isn't easy, ma soeur. It is simple. It's easier
  with Bob, because he's looking, too."
  
  "You see, dear, you're hoist by your own petard.
  Jeanette does it, which means that it's possible.
  But Jeanette does it with Bob. Which means that you
  should find it much easier to do it with Charles.
  He's so much more reasonable, isn't he?"
  
  "I'm not saying that."
  
  "No, dear, but -- really -- she is. Now, it's close
  enough to time for dinner that we can start our
  preparations. We'll eat a little early, but nobody
  else will notice. Dear, would you get the
  vegetables out of the refrigerator? They need to
  cook in the saucepan."
  
  She was looking at Jeanette, so she obeyed. They
  put the food on the table before warning Cat and
  the men to wash. Everybody came in and took their
  places. Kate asked Charles to say the Grace.
  
  "Loving Savior, we thank thee for this food, for
  those who are gathered to eat it, and for those who
  worked to prepare it. Sustain us in your mercy and
  guide us in your service. Amen"
  
  As he and the others echoed the 'amen,' Bob noted
  that this was the first time he'd ever heard a
  grace addressed to the Second Person of the
  Trinity. He decided that doing so was a social
  outlier but not a theological fault. His mother had
  assigned carving the ham to him. That shifted
  caring for Cat entirely onto Jeanette until the
  plates were filled.
  
  "So, Charles," he asked when the food had been
  properly praised, "I didn't get an answer to my
  question. If Kathleen owned a house, would you live
  there?"
  
  "But she doesn't. Doesn't that question come
  first."
  
  "Absolutely not. I'm not interested in houses as
  investment property. I wouldn't buy one we wouldn't
  live in." Jeanette noted that Kathleen had the
  Brennan brains. She might have resented the advice,
  but she was adopting it. And the subtle insistence
  that Charles decided where they lived was merging
  several pieces of that advice.
  
  "Well, we don't know lots of things."
  
  "We don't know any concrete thing. We aren't
  talking about a particular house. We don't know
  what the down payment might be, nor the monthly
  charges. But Bob only asked you one question. Let
  me rephrase it. Obviously, if I bought a house in
  North Carolina, you wouldn't live in it. I wouldn't
  expect you to. Do you have an objection to living
  in a house *because* it is in my name?"
  
  "No."
  
  "Then the rest can't be decided here. It is best
  decided in Philadelphia. Let me go on record. My
  preference would be for a house in both our names.
  If, at any time up to the closing, you're willing
  to go that route, we'll change the paper.
  
  "And, I never thought I'd say this, but, thank you,
  Bob."
  
  "You are quite welcome. Hostilities resume
  tomorrow?" Everybody but Cat laughed. Cat wondered
  what everyone found so funny. Sometimes, she got
  the jokes of Papa. Well, she would tell one of her
  own.
  
  "Knock knock."
  
  "Who's there?" Jeanette thought she'd allow Cat
  one. This audience would put up with her willingly,
  and she had been confined to the house by rain.
  
  "Boo!"
  
  "Boo who?"
  
  "Why are you crying?"
  
  "All right, mon chat, no more jokes for a while.
  Eat your ham. Doesn't it taste good?"
  
  "Yes." Cat took another bite of ham.
  
  "Darling, you have your father's sense of humor,
  only more mature."
  
  "I thought, Kathleen, that hostilities were delayed
  until tomorrow." Jeanette wanted to have only one
  child to deal with. How had Katherine handled two,
  and those two?
  
  "And nobody has a more mature sense of humor than I
  have. My jokes are the very oldest."
  
  
  To be concluded in part 4
  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:
  http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm
  
  All the stories written so far about Bob and Jeanette Brennan:
  http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/brennan.htm
  
  The entirety of this story:
  http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/brennan/vos.htm "Formez vos
  Bataillions"
  
  The first story after Cat is born:
  http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/brennan/fortissi.htm "Fortissimo"
  
  

<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <story-submit@asstr.org>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+