As much as she had learned to appreciate the beauty and whimsy of life's natural chaos in the year since Professor Harold Hill came to River City, Marian Paroo Hill still found it immensely refreshing when, after wiping lingering fingerprint smudges off the tables, straightening the benches and putting loose-lying books back on their proper shelves, she paused to behold a library that was spotless and pristine enough to be featured as a museum exhibit. While Marian made allowances for a certain amount of disarray in the charming Victorian in which she and her husband resided – although Harold tried his best to please her, she understood that organization of the minutiae would never be one of his strong points – Madison Public Library was wholly the librarian's domain, and she continued to maintain it to the pinnacle of her usual precise and orderly standards.
However, to her consternation and annoyance, Marian was lately discovering that, as she neared her eighth month of pregnancy, she was going to have to relax her exacting specifications. As much as she prided herself on her dogged determination not to let illness or fatigue prevent her from accomplishing the necessary chores of day-to-day living, the sheer exhaustion of carrying a child was unlike anything she had ever experienced, and there were often times she simply had to stop what she was doing and take it easy. Normally, the librarian would have forged ahead anyway in a stubborn rebellion against her own limits, but as the health of her unborn child depended on her own fitness, she could not afford to be selfish. So a stool was placed at the main desk for Marian to sit on when she wasn't assisting patrons or doing anything that strictly required being on her feet, and she had given her solemn promise to both Dr. Pyne and her husband that she would refrain from performing a litany of tasks that could lead to overexertion or injury – such as traversing the library's narrow spiral staircase more than three times a day or making use of the ladder to restock books on the highest shelves.
Although Marian was more than happy to sacrifice a little efficiency for the sake of her child – and was secretly relieved to have the opportunity for rest, as she truly was tired – she still chafed under all the new restrictions. Not being able to climb the staircase too often or put away every book severely limited the scope of what the librarian could accomplish. Even though this problem was soon solved through the hiring of a permanent assistant, Marian longed for the day when she would regain full use of her faculties – even if her schedule at the library would be curtailed owing to the new duties motherhood bestowed upon her, when she did work, she would at least be able to complete her job to the fullest extent of her mental and physical capabilities!
Marian's present circumstances were particularly vexing when, at the end of her evening, she inevitably found herself holding at least one book whose position on the shelf she had misjudged – as much as she tried to stretch and strain, she could not reach high enough to deposit the volume in its proper place. Although the librarian had kept her promise in the past and dutifully surrendered such tomes to her assistant for handling, on this occasion the ladder was resting a mere two feet away. And the home for the book Marian was holding wasn't too high up – just one step would suffice. The librarian paused, and gazed longingly at the tempting sight of the ladder before her. Surely making use of its lowest rung just this one time wouldn't hurt…
"Don't even think about it, Madam Librarian."
At the sound of her husband's dulcet, velvety voice – which tonight held the hint of a genuine scold in it – Marian started, clutched at the book before it slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor, and whirled around.
"My goodness, Harold!" she scolded, trying to catch her breath. "Was it really necessary for you to sneak up on me like that?"
Harold's grin widened. "It wasn't my intention to sneak up on you – at least, not on purpose. I've actually been standing here for the last few minutes, waiting for you to turn around so I could greet you properly." He walked over and plucked the book out of her hands. "But when I saw you eying that ladder, I could no longer remain silent."
"Well, I would only have used the lowest rung, and only for a moment," Marian replied, sore at having been caught so irrevocably. When her husband finished reshelving the volume and turned to raise an eyebrow at her remark, she smirked and retorted, "And startling me like that isn't very good for the baby's health, either!"
Harold approached the librarian, his eyes gleaming with the same playful mischief. "Don't make me tattle to Dr. Pyne on you," he teased, shaking a finger at her. "Or worse – I'll tell your mother what you've been up to!"
Marian caught the music professor's finger mid-waggle. "I thought both Dr. Pyne and my mother advised you to ease my burdens – not add to them," she slyly pointed out.
In response, Harold bent his head and bestowed several tiny kisses on her hand as it clasped his. "You're absolutely right, my dear little librarian – I should atone for all the trouble I've caused," he murmured, a note of real desire entering his flirtatious tone. As Harold's eyes met hers, his free hand found the small of her back, and he pulled her closer. "And I think I'll do that now… "
Even though it was closing time and most of the library's patrons had gone for the day, Marian gasped and stepped back out of his embrace before his lips could land on hers. "We're not alone anymore in the evenings, you know," she reminded him, a tad crossly.
But Harold would not be deterred so easily. "Last I saw your assistant, she was thoroughly engrossed in neatening the card catalog at the front desk," he assured her, wrapping his arms around her waist. His eyes met hers again. "Just one kiss, darling, for old time's sake?"
He was gazing at her with that entreating look she could never resist. Although Marian still didn't think it was appropriate to encourage such behavior and tried not to allow invitation to enter her expression, she couldn't bring herself to move away when Harold grinned and leaned in again.
But before his mouth could meet hers, their promising embrace was curtailed once again.
"Mrs. Hill?" a bright voice rang out, dispelling the romantic mood. "I finished with the card catalog."
Husband and wife quickly moved apart, and Marian smoothed her hair and brushed the wrinkles from her gown before walking to the edge of the aisle, facing the front desk and replying as if nothing was amiss, "Thank you kindly, Miss Peabody."
Jane Edna Peabody, a thin slip of a woman barely in her twenties, looked up and beamed at the librarian as if she had paid her the most flattering of compliments. "Always a pleasure, Mrs. Hill! As much as I like to see River City's healthy appetite for reading, I do so enjoy putting things to rights at the end of the evening."
The young woman's enthusiasm was infectious; despite her lingering embarrassment at having been interrupted in the midst of a somewhat-inappropriate tête-à-tête with her husband, Marian smiled in return. Miss Peabody, bless her dear unsuspecting heart, remained just as oblivious to the music professor and librarian's romantic shenanigans amongst the stacks as she had that day two weeks ago when she first showed up to interview for the position of assistant to River City's librarian.
As ever, Marian had arrived to open the library promptly at eight o'clock in the morning, and found Miss Peabody waiting on the front steps and regarding her with the same cheerful smile as she was now. When the librarian acknowledged her with a friendly smile in return, the woman introduced herself in a polite but forthright manner, offering a pleasantly firm handshake and wasting no time in stating her purpose for being there. Marian's eyes brightened when she heard Miss Peabody hailed all the way from Marshalltown – River City lacking eligible applicants, the librarian had gotten the trustees' and the mayor's blessing to expand her search to the surrounding counties, and she had just put out advertisements for an assistant the week before.
After presenting the requested letters of recommendation and character testaments, Miss Peabody detailed her qualifications, which were quite impressive – not only did the woman possess a college degree, she could read Latin, speak fluent French, and had briefly held a position as a personal secretary to a college professor after graduating high school. At first, Marian was a bit overawed – with her sterling credentials and glowing references, this young woman could have done practically anything she wished! Keeping her expression pleasantly neutral – but unable to prevent awe from entering her voice – the librarian asked why she had decided to come to River City.
Not even batting an eye at Marian's surprise, Miss Peabody cheerfully but matter-of-factly explained her situation. She had been born in Villisca and orphaned as a baby when both her parents were killed in a fire that destroyed her childhood home. Mercifully, a neighbor managed to rescue her from the flames, and her only kin – an aunt and uncle from Marshalltown – took her in. They were elderly and pretty set in their methods and opinions – especially when it came to raising children, even if they had never had any of their own – but they did their best to provide a loving home for their niece, and they were the only family Miss Peabody had. Although her peers found her agreeable enough, she had been a rather bookish child who preferred solitude over company, and the boys certainly never looked her way with enamored smiles – unless they needed help with their homework. Her marriage prospects being rather dismal in the town where she spent her childhood, Miss Peabody had decided to enroll in the University of Iowa. For her sake, her aunt and uncle were hoping she would achieve her "MRS" there, but instead, she finished school with her BA in English. Ever practical, Miss Peabody resigned herself to spinsterhood and decided to make the best of her talents – but she wanted nothing more than to land a good job that was relatively near home, so she could support her family but still visit them on holidays. And so she had come to River City, a fresh-faced college graduate eager to make something of herself.
As Miss Peabody related this tale in her blithely frank manner, the librarian nodded in sympathy and understanding – if her own family had possessed the money to send her to school and Uncle Maddy had not left her the library job, Marian might have been telling a similar story to a potential employer somewhere in Iowa. And there was something endearing about this Jane Edna Peabody – something that made Marian want to do what she could to help her.
Perhaps it was the charming incongruities in her appearance. Although Miss Peabody had a reedy figure and her attire was rather plain and dowdy for one so young, she was not at all unattractive with her wide gray eyes, cherubic cheeks sprinkled with freckles, and mop of chestnut-colored curls that were coifed and twisted into an elaborate chignon similar to Marian's. However, whereas the librarian's sleek blonde tresses lay elegantly against her head the way they were supposed to, the sheer volume of hair Miss Peabody possessed gave the impression of being untamable and itching to burst free from the hairpin prison to which it had been so unfairly confined. Despite the fact that Miss Peabody was a well-organized, neatly groomed woman who obviously took great pains to maintain a respectable appearance, there was something about her dress and demeanor that suggested try as she might, she couldn't tie up every loose seam – a slight tug on her sleeve or catch of her hem on a corner, and she would quickly unravel into a disheveled mess. As Harold later concluded privately to Marian after meeting Miss Peabody, this was a woman who could not contain her intensely robust spirit or the nagging sense that she would always be teetering on some precipice but, by God, she tried her damnedest to do so. The inclination toward concealing the entirety of her true self lest others disapprove was something with which Marian could identify wholeheartedly, even now that she had been accepted into polite society. So in a spirit of camaraderie, she invited her new assistant to refer to her as "Miss Marian."
But when she issued this invitation, the librarian found out Miss Peabody's informal amiability went only so far, as the woman possessed a certain polite reserve that was most likely the result of her careful upbringing. While she thanked Marian profusely for the warm welcome and even obliged at first, she looked vaguely uncomfortable at the prospect of such easy familiarity, and was soon blithely addressing her as "Mrs. Hill" once more. As the two women were only five years apart in age, this somewhat rankled the librarian – even after her marriage, River City's teens, children, female friends who were around her age and even, on occasion, Mayor Shinn still referred to her by this sobriquet. The only people who called Marian "Mrs. Hill" on a regular basis – besides men who weren't her husband – were Mrs. Shinn and her ladies.
But as it was a minor issue and Miss Peabody meant her no malice – on the contrary, she seemed extremely eager to please her new employer – Marian let it pass. Once the librarian finished explaining her own circumstances in a similarly forthright manner – owing to the delicacy of her condition, she needed to have an assistant in place to ensure everything at the library would be running smoothly when things got busy at the start of the school year in September and, of course, when she had to take her leave of absence in October – Miss Peabody offered to begin straightaway.
So Marian had put her to work at once and, from the first, Miss Peabody proved herself to be an invaluable asset to Madison Public Library. Not only did her organizational skills and instinct for neatness rival those of Marian's, her memory for even the most obscure facts was astounding – after a few days in her new position, she didn't even need to check the card catalog when directing people to the books they sought. And she was unfailingly cheerful in her toils, always greeting even the most crotchety and hard-to-please patrons with a perky smile. However, her immense intelligence gave her the unfortunate tendency of assessing situations in a rather blunt, to-the-point manner that was jarring in a young woman; Miss Peabody did not mince words. But her optimistic outlook and genuine good heart softened the effect of her honest tongue – for all her candor, she never spoke a disparaging word about anyone, nor did she repeat gossip. Her frankness was not borne of cynicism or erudition; she was like a child unthinkingly giving voice to the observations that entered her head – even uncomfortable truths that were perhaps best left unstated.
For example, when Harold exited the aisle to rejoin his wife, Miss Peabody jumped a little at his unexpected presence and said in a merry voice, "My goodness, Professor Hill, I had no idea you were here! You sneaked right by me… and for the third time this afternoon alone! You must live in the library."
The enumeration of Professor Hill's frequent visits wouldn't have been so bad if Cissy Gale and her friends weren't sitting at a nearby table. Sure enough, Miss Peabody's innocent comment sent them into a fresh tizzy of giggling – they were old enough to extrapolate that Harold came to the library in search of pleasures far greater than pondering Shakespeare's clever iambic pentameter or perusing Beethoven's brilliant symphonies. Not that Marian was all that concerned about teenage gossip, even if it had been a gang of girls that launched the Salem Witch Trials of yore – but these were the young ladies she had to admonish at least once a month for their unsavory pastime of seeking out the library's more mature material for cheap and licentious thrills. The real-life scenario that was now unfolding before them was better than anything the printed page could deliver and would sate their appetites for scandal-tinged romance in a pinch – how could Marian even begin to scold them for their unladylike actions when her own behavior was no longer demonstrably spotless?
For it was true that Harold had taken to dropping by the library rather often as the librarian's pregnancy progressed – his concern, first and foremost, was that his wife was well and happy. For her part, Marian welcomed any excuse to spend time with her husband, and she was grateful for his loving concern – mostly. Although Miss Peabody tended to pop up anywhere and everywhere in the stacks when she was hard at work, the music professor did not seem to be bothered by the increased potential for interruption – as usual, he never hesitated to maneuver his wife to a more private corner and steal kisses whenever the opportunity presented itself. Even if Marian shared Harold's opinion that Miss Peabody was no threat, she could not allow the woman to be privy to all their secrets. Such remarks, as innocent as they were, could set off a firestorm of gossip if the conditions were right!
Fortunately, the audience for this particular scene was one Marian could easily subdue. "Girls, the library is closing now," she said in her stern, no-nonsense "librarian" voice. "Please bring your books to the front desk for Miss Peabody to stamp."
Frowning as their fun was prematurely cut short, Cissy and her friends nevertheless obeyed and quietly gathered their things. Every now and then the silence was punctuated by a giggle – which was quickly smothered when Marian aimed an icy glare in the perpetrator's direction. Although the librarian had softened considerably since Professor Hill's arrival to town, she retained a vestige of her strictness, and River City's youth still dreaded her blistering scoldings enough to avoid provoking a lecture. Even if there was the tantalizing suspicion that Marian had been engaged in salacious activities, the library was still her domain, and few dared to question her authority here.
Once again, the librarian's impeccable poise erased any doubt as to the uprightness of her character – to their girlish minds, which still retained the naiveté of youth despite their yearning for worldly sophistication, no woman could look so certain of herself unless she was innocent of wrongdoing. So by the time their books were checked out and they were all set for the evening, Cissy and her friends were regarding the librarian with apologetic expressions as they streamed out of the library.
Harold, who looked amused by the whole thing, grinned and gave them all friendly waves farewell as they went by, gestures that perked the girls right up again and which they returned with joy. Professor Hill was considered something of an Adonis among River City's teenage girls – postcards with his likeness were avidly sought after and hoarded like candy, any openings that arose in the small band of baton twirlers resulted in fierce competition to fill the role, and a look or word from the man himself was enough to elevate a girl's prestige with her friends for at least a week. Normally, Marian shared her husband's amusement at this fawning, which came with the territory of being the most admired man in town; for the most part, these crushes were harmless fun and it was one of the rites of girlhood to moon over handsome public figures. But tonight the librarian was weary of such foolishness, and shot her husband a look as the last of the girls exited the library.
Once she had dismissed Miss Peabody as well – the woman gave the music professor and librarian a bright smile and departed, cheerfully unaware of the scene she had inadvertently caused – Marian turned to Harold and admonished, "You shouldn't encourage them – heaven knows they already spend half their days sighing over romantic heroes and scouring the books for love scenes!"
Harold chuckled. "Is that jealousy I hear, Madam Librarian?" he asked with a wink.
"Jealousy!" Marian exclaimed, giving a ladylike snort as she retrieved the building keys from their drawer. "What on earth do I have to be jealous about? I'm your beloved wife and the soon-to-be mother of your child – and they're just silly teenagers!"
Harold's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Weren't we all… at one time."
Even in her annoyance, Marian had to laugh. "I was never that bad!" she protested. "For one, I managed to enjoy stories for more than their romance. And you would never have caught me openly ogling any man who was the object of my affections!" She sighed. "I'm just tired of their shenanigans. It's thanks to them that I had to remove Casanova's Spanish Passions from circulation!"
The music professor's smile turned apologetic. "You're right, darling – I shouldn't encourage them," he said in a conciliatory manner, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentlemanly kiss. "You have my solemn promise that I'll do my best to avoid encouraging them in the future."
Marian raised an eyebrow at her husband. This wasn't the first time he had given up so easily – it seemed Cissy Gale and her friends weren't the only River City-ziens who were loath to inflame the librarian's temper. But even though the librarian sometimes found her bombastic husband's lack of restraint inconvenient and frustrating, she missed their take-no-prisoners repartee, which had lost a bit of its fire as a result of Harold's forbearance.
But perhaps in this instance, he was the wiser one – finding she lacked the energy to prolong their banter, after all, Marian simply smiled and allowed her husband to wrap a shawl around her shoulders before escorting her out of the library.
XXX
Although the librarian had been outside just a few hours ago – Harold had dropped by a few hours after lunch, and the temptation to take a short jaunt to the Candy Kitchen to assuage her cravings for a strawberry phosphate proved too great to resist – she was pleasantly surprised to find that since sunset, the weather had gone from uncomfortably sweltering to agreeably balmy.
However, Marian was still exhausted. Her weariness was made worse by her throbbing feet and aching back; perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to put that pile of books away, even if the shelves were within reach. The librarian was so sore that, even as practiced as she was in soldiering on without complaint, she couldn't completely conceal her discomfort. When Harold placed a gentle hand on the small of her back – the very locus of her pain – she squirmed a little at his touch. Obligingly, her husband gave her aching muscles a squeeze, which somewhat eased her discomfort – at least, enough for her to smile and go back to pretending she was perfectly fine.
When Harold's gaze turned back to the road ahead and he expertly guided them around a pothole without the slightest break in his smooth stride, Marian let out a small, inaudible sigh. Even though she dreaded the idea of labor, she was fast becoming convinced that she couldn't wait for it all to be over. As the librarian had gotten bigger, she began to feel as if she had been pregnant interminably – although it had not really been so long ago, she could only dimly recall being svelte and graceful, able to dance cheek to cheek with her husband, walk for long distances with him and make love with passionate abandon.
But that seemed eons ago – almost another existence. Now when she embraced Harold, she could no longer press her hips against his without the roundness of her stomach coming between them. Now she comported herself in as awkward and ungainly a manner as a waddling goose – while her husband still moved with the same sleek grace and elegance as he ever did! However, despite the fact Marian could no longer match his stamina or aplomb, Harold remained as loving and attentive as he was during their courting days; even as big as she'd gotten, he still looked at her like she was the most glamorous woman he had ever known. Marian found his behavior both alluring and frustrating, as physical intimacy was steadily becoming too difficult and dangerous as her pregnancy progressed.
But they still had their moments. Ever since spending that blissful birthday afternoon canoodling in the faraway field, husband and wife had stopped attempting to deny their desire for each other and, employing the ingenuity and experimentation that had led to the successful refinement of the Think System, they soon discovered other ways in which they could physically express their love for one another. For Marian, the small intimacies that once served as merely a delicious prelude to sensual pleasure were the things she liked best – the gentle but heated caresses of Harold's hands and lips upon her bare skin both soothed her aches and sated her passion. As for her husband's carnal appetites, he seemed just as pleased by the ardent kisses and caresses she generously bestowed upon him in return.
As these evening delights were what Marian dreamed about most, she felt a lovely sense of anticipation and a welcome resurgence of energy when Harold closed the front door of their charming Victorian and escorted the woman he loved upstairs to their bedroom. When they arrived home at night, the first thing her husband did was help her undress – both for practical and romantic purposes.
Tonight, Harold was in fine form. First he unclasped the top button of Marian's dress, which she could no longer reach with ease, and dropped a soft kiss on the nape of her neck that sent a wonderful little shiver down her spine. Then he removed her gown and undergarments until she was clad only in her camisole and drawers, and his capable hands went straight to her lower back to knead the kinks out of it. Once Marian's sighs contained more delight than relief, Harold brought her to a chair and removed her shoes. As she wriggled her toes, happily liberated from their cramped confinement, her husband rolled down her stockings and began to massage her swollen feet. However, even as she continued to sigh appreciatively at his ministrations, her expression turned glum as her thoughts returned to the place she had spent so many of her waking hours since coming to River City.
Ever attentive to his wife's shifting moods, Harold paused in his caresses and looked up at her. "What's the matter, darling?" he murmured, his voice an inviting purr that lulled Marian into instant confession.
"I can't seem to carry out any of my duties, anymore," she lamented. "I can't go to the second floor too often because of that blasted spiral staircase, so nearly half the library has become off limits for me – I can no longer help someone find a book that's been misplaced. Of the areas I can still go into, I can't put away books unless I can reach the shelves without assistance, but I also can't carry more than five books at a time lest my back complain of the load. Because the uncirculated archives are located on the second floor, I can't manage them properly, and I also can't unpack shipments. I certainly can't set up displays! So I spend most of my days sitting behind the main desk, but there is only so much typing and reorganizing of the card catalog that needs doing." The librarian paused to let out a long sigh. "Am I doomed to become a cipher in my own library?"
Chuckling sympathetically, Harold leaned in and placed a tender kiss on the inside of her thigh. "Darling, you are as necessary to River City's library as you ever were. As limiting as it is, your condition is only temporary – and I'm confident that with your robust constitution, you'll soon recover your full capacities." Still grinning, he nevertheless grew more serious in tone and waggled a finger at her as he continued, "But until then, you need to be a little less 'Iowa stubborn!' Let Miss Peabody do all the heavy lifting for a little while – after all, that's what she's there for… "
Marian was inclined to argue that Miss Peabody still had a ways to go before she was ready to assume so much responsibility, but Harold continued his persuasive kisses up her leg, parting the folds of her drawers as he went, until he was teasing and tickling her with his mouth and she could do nothing but giggle and gasp her acquiescence. Once he had extracted her solemn promise that she would relax her hold a bit and allow Miss Peabody to take the reins – the charming music professor had long ago discovered he could get her to agree to anything when he kissed her that way – he let up and grinned at her, as pleased as a cat that had caught a canary.
Marian reached down and pulled him up into her arms. The baby kicked, as if in protest at no longer occupying the center of their focus, but neither husband nor wife paid attention. "That was a dirty trick!" she admonished – although her eyes shone with delight.
"Yes, it was," Harold proudly agreed, his eyes twinkling with seductive mischief. "Should I do it again?"
The librarian let out another gleeful giggle and twined her hands in her husband's rich brown locks as he lowered his head to her lap once more.
XXX
To be continued…