Hello there, I just wanted to extend my thanks for the lovely reviews. As per Kasmira36's suggestion, I changed the summary of my story to include angst. I know it can be quite sad at times, even traumatic to read, but being married myself, I know it is simply immpossible for true love to exist in never ending happiness.

In order to grow up, we must grow and more importantly change. It is a eternal process that does end when adulthood is reached, it goes on forever. There must be strife in order for there to be change, especially in true love as contented as George and Mary's, ensuring lovers will progress forward together with one another.

With that being said, thank you again for reading my story. I appreciate all of the reviews. I also want to extend my gratitude once more to Cheetahlee for beta reading, editing, proofing and inputting her own ideas which have helped the story along tremendously. On with the show...

Rated R: Sexual Content

My Darling Love

Chapter 13 – Mother's Scars

"In that second it dawned on me that I had been living here for eight years with a strange man and had borne him three children."

-Henrik Ibsen

The bell on the clock tolled six, and like clockwork, the children of the Darling Residence were hushed by their mother and sent upstairs to dress for dinner. It was a rainy spring day and George was late coming home. Mary fretted between the window and the front door, gazing out when he still was not home by seven. She fed the children their supper and put them to bed without their bath.

Mary waited and waited and waited, but he never arrived home. The children were older and wiser, so they aligned like soldiers arm and arm and gazed over the banister to watch their mother pace the foyer. At nine, and still no George, she put on her coat and left. "I have to go find him, father, what if something happened? Listen for the children."

Grandpa Joe was also wise, and as soon as the door closed, he called to the children and told them to come downstairs and keep him company while they waited. "I'm sure your father's fine, no need to worry, probably just went for a drink at the pub after work with his colleagues and forgot the time." Grandpa Joe assured his grandchildren. But George never went to the pub for a drink or forgot the time, not once in his entire life. The children descended the stairs and waited with concern, not for poor George, but for their mother out on the streets looking for him unescorted.

John and Michael fell asleep on the floor by the fire. Wendy drifted in and out of sleep resting against Grandpa Joe on the sofa. They opened their eyes in the morning and they were safely tucked away in their beds. They had not forgotten what transpired the night before and were anxious to know the whereabouts of their father. With the house quiet, Wendy, the oldest and bravest of the three, was dispatched to peek into her parents' bedroom.

Wendy held an ear to the door and heard not a peep from the inside. Without knocking, and breaking her parents' sacred rule once again, Wendy carefully turned the knob and moved the door open just a tiny bit to see if in fact her mother and father had made it too, safely to their beds.

Mary and George lay entwined in a most peculiar manner. They were hidden under the blankets, but Wendy could tell they were definitely doing something they wanted no other to see. The blankets moved about around them and although she could not be sure, it appeared as if her father was atop her mother bouncing on her quickly. George was making funny sounds and breathing heavily, while Mary only groaned as if in pain.

Wendy watched through the crack in the door with much wonder at what lay beneath the covers on the bed, giggling as her father huffed away and then grunted. Soon, the movements stopped and George rolled off his wife, and stood up completely nude, making Wendy hide her eyes at the sight of him.

George walked to the chair next to the bed and dressed in his pajama bottoms. Wendy only caught sight of his bare bottom before she shielded her face with her hands. She was twelve now, and beginning to understand the difference between male and female. She thought it best, as most young girls do, to discover what a matured woman looks like bare before daring to see the nakedness of man. Therefore Wendy slowly peered through her open fingers in childlike curiosity to gaze at her mother.

It was then, when Mary rose and grabbed her nightgown that was crumpled beside the bed, that Wendy made her presence known in the doorway. As her mother turned towards the door, Wendy saw a ghastly, horrendous disfigurement on her Mary's naked body -- a series of scars that started at below her pelvic bone and ran up to almost her breasts. The longest one, that which ran down from her breastbone to her pubis was thick in size, atrociously a vivid red, and appeared still painful to the touch. Every inch but no more there were scars that ran perpendicular to the lengthy one, shorter in size but just as horrifying. A grotesque mark showing her womanhood removed, a constant reminder to her and George that no more children would ever be born of them. Wendy could not contain her scream and she wailed out in fright running back to the nursery.

Her brothers, John and Michael, were just as terrified hearing Wendy shriek out in fright. Standing in the nursery's doorway, they too, ran back to their beds. But unlike Wendy, who hid under the blankets, they chose a safer means to keep cover and hid under their beds. Mary entered the room to comfort all of her children that gasped as she entered. "It's alright my precious babies, come here, come here." They gathered around her, all wanting a spot on her lap, and she did her best, giving each one a loving embrace followed by a kiss. "What is all the screaming about? You all didn't have nightmares now, did you?" Mary asked glancing about at their worried faces. "No...We just are scared because Wendy is scared and if she is scared then there must be both something scary to scared of," John stuttered along as he shrugged his shoulders, thinking himself silly for hiding under his bed for no good reason. Wendy held her tongue, and so Michael spoke up, "I wasn't scared mother! Not one bit!"

George directed his sons to the kitchen, "Come now, boys, mother must speak alone with your sister," after Mary soothed the children for a short while longer. He nodded to his wife and left Mary with Wendy.

Mary eased her daughter by rubbing her head and telling her not to be frightened, for it was obvious she still was terrified. "It is alright, I am here now, Wendy." She kissed her forehead when she felt Wendy calm enough to answer and asked what had happened. "What did father do to you?"

Mary knew what George was doing to her under the blankets but was unsure about how much Wendy had seen. She cursed herself under her breath for not locking the door. As a matter of fact, when they began their morning passion, George had even told her, "Lock the door Mary." She dismissed his request not wanting to interrupt his seduction.

"Your belly mother, what happened?" Wendy put her hand by Mary's stomach, she, only a child, wanting to alleviate the ache she knew her mother still carried.

Mary was relieved for a moment Wendy had not witnessed more, and gave a sigh of reprieve while thinking of the correct way to explain such private things.

"I was sick after delivering Michael and needed to be fixed. The doctor told your father to take me to the hospital so that I could be repaired. They performed the procedures to make me well again, and what you saw on my belly is all that remains."

Wendy was a young lady in the making, and in no way an ignorant child. She quickly put two and two together and confessed, "That is why you and father cannot have anymore babies." Mary nodded her head, holding Wendy's face in her hands. "Did you want more babies?" Wendy inquired, lowering her face in shame; it was she who still wanted more babies from her mother.

"No, your father and I always dreamed of having three children, one girl and two boys. Our dreams came true and we are thankful to be blessed with what we have." It never occurred to Wendy that George dreamed about anything other than stocks and bonds and the market that raised and fell. To think her father dreamed of babies and such nonsense made her chuckle. Mary gave her daughter a curious expression of what she found so humorous so Wendy answered, "Father dreaming about babies..."

"Oh yes, your father dreamed of babies. He named you, you know." Wendy was surprised, not only did George think of babies, he thought of their names too. "I wanted to name you Georgeanne and call you Annie, but you never looked like an Annie, so your father told me his favorite, and I'm glad we chose it, for if ever there was a pretty young lady that deserved the name Wendy, it's you."

That fact did not sooth Wendy, for she never liked her name. Other girls in school had more fancy names like Katherine and Charlotte, Eleanor and Maryann. Her best friend in class was named Fanny, and Wendy thought that was a lovely name. Still, she was glad her mother and father had not picked Georgeanne. "Yes mother, Annie is an awful name, Wendy is much better." Mary hugged her daughter and gave her one more kiss on the cheek before directing her to dress and come downstairs for breakfast.

"Mother," she called to gain Mary's attention as she too headed to her room to dress herself for the day.

"Yes Wendy?" Mary stopped in the doorway and turned full around to give her daughter her full attention.

"Will that happen to me when I have a baby, I mean, when I am older, if I ever decide that maybe I want one." Wendy shook her head and rolled her eyes feeling foolish to even ask the question, for it was common knowledge -- even at her age -- that Wendy was never to be married nor a mother by her own choice. She preferred instead to go off on wonderful adventures. "Not like I will have children, I'll be too busy with other greater things than babies. But still..."

Mary contained the chuckle at Wendy's illusion that having children was silly, and frowned when her daughter assumed being a wife and mother was not worthy of being called great. It was the "but still" that gave Mary hope of being a grandmother some time in the future, so she replied, "For a woman, Wendy, there is no greater 'great' than giving a baby life and then watching her grow to young girl of twelve who has dreams of doing things greater than that great." Mary moved forward into the nursery to add, "Having a family, Wendy, is an awfully big adventure and I will be there for you when it is your turn to do the greatest great. Worry not after the scar, for it is nothing more than a mark of my life and a souvenir of my passages in womanhood. It is simply a reminder of what I did for the love of your father and my children."

George not only thought of babies and their names, he thought of dogs, too.

After he left the bank the day before, he went immediately to the pet store to chose the correct animal as pet. There were all sorts of dogs and cats, puppies and kittens in cages making noise and running about. George didn't like mess and he didn't like noise, and he didn't like the pet store. Wishing Mary were there to help in his decision, he asked the clerk which one was best.

"Well, are you looking for a guard dog or maybe a family pet? Is it for your wife? Proper ladies like little dogs that do not make much noise and prefer to rest on a pillow or lap. If it were for your children I would recommend a larger dog. The little ones seem to get trampled easily and will need to be replaced quicker."

George looked about the shop and picked the largest dog, which was not an easy task for there were several that were large. The shopkeeper saw the distress on the gentleman's face, not to mention his alarm when he jerked back as the dogs barking for attention charged their cages to get to him. "They are all friendly animals, they just like to be petted." The shopkeeper moved past George and opened a cage with a card that read "Nana," and she was excited to be in service once again to a family.

She jumped down and sat at George's feet and waited to be stroked on her furry coat. "Go ahead sir, she's a harmless thing." George touched the dog's coat and then patted it, sizing it up by looking it over top to bottom, with no idea what he was actually looking for. George knew enough to know "nana," as the card stated, didn't bark or jump up on people. So, persuaded by her perfectly obedient performance, he selected her.

Nana was a St. Bernard, and she was the largest dog for sale. When released from her prison in the pet shop and out into freedom, she jumped on George, knocking him to the ground and licking his face. She was already full grown, and because of that, less expensive, because people buying pets usually purchased puppies. That way they could grow with the children of the house, as opposed to buying fully matured dogs large enough for those self-same small children to ride upon.

George paid, and, with leash in hand, started home. Nana was very strong and dragged George behind her leading him several blocks out of his way so she could pass near the fountains. By the park, another ten blocks further she caught sight of a stray cat and gave chase with George holding her by the leash for dear life. She pulled him all over London, up and down every street. Completely out of breath and drenched in sweat, he could no longer run after her. Finally acknowledging defeat in his attempt to make his children and wife happy, he released her leash and then sat on the curb to compose himself before walking home, the forsaken loser.

Upon release, Nana bounded away from him and up the block in an instant, with her leash trailing behind her. "Ah, good riddance then," George looked on in rueful relief that the cheap dog -- she was too big for his little house anyway -- was gone. He removed his glasses and wiped the sweat from his brow looking up only to find, there beside him waiting, was Nana, with her leash in her mouth. She would not release it to him, and so he walked home without it, Nana following alongside him as he strolled at a much more leisurely pace.

Frequently, when she grew anxious to meet his family and her new charges, she would nudge his legs along quicker from behind. Nana accidentally tripped him twice that way, the second time causing him to fall flat on his face on the sidewalk scraping his palms. She licked them clean for him, as he watched in disgust and made him stop again when he wiped her medicated drool on his pants leg, just so she could slobber them again barking loudly enough to wake the neighbors, warning him that he should let her love licks dry and keep his hands safe from infection. She continued to bark the whole way home, as if telling George her entire life story from pup to princess' maid, only giving her new master a pounding headache.

Up to the doorstep of the Darling residence George looked down at Nana, foolish to speak to a dog, but he did and said, "Now the children are asleep, so you must be quiet." And quiet she was, so they entered with her still holding her own leash.

Wendy was resting on Grandpa Joe and the boys on the floor. "Where's Mary?"

George asked his father-in-law. "She went looking for you," he answered and summoned the dog to him with the pat on the leg. Before George could give his warning of the dog's aggressive nature, Nana tiptoed past the children and to Grandpa Joe. There she took rest on the floor, and Grandpa Joe patted her head and coat. "Excellent choice, George, Mary Elizabeth will be pleased and the children absolutely overjoyed. They may even throw you parade George, for you found the finest dog in all of London."

"Wonderful, I have the finest wife, the finest mother to my children, the finest children, the finest chef and housekeep and now the finest dog in all of London," George thought to himself, taking a seat exhausted and out of breathe on the chair.

Grandpa Joe shot him a look, and he was up and out the door again looking for Mary, Nana in hot pursuit behind him.

Mary walked all the way to the bank and then to the pet shop. Both of course were closed, and she peeked in through the windows with worry. From there she went to the park. She checked alleyways and side streets. She began to panic, finding no sign of George anywhere, and cried as she ran down street shouting his name.

A constable on patrol found her and took her home, "Don't worry, Mrs. Darling, we will look for your husband. It's not safe for you to be roaming the streets this late."

Mary arrived at home after midnight, George have gone looking for her over an hour before. "Why did you not keep him here? The constable told me it is not safe to be out roaming the streets this late at night with all the drunks and prostitutes already out on the corners. The new neighbors down the block told me only yesterday to watch over my children closely when playing outside for they lost a son. Father, their poor little infant boy went missing and was never found!"

"George is a grown man Mary Elizabeth, not a child who gets abducted in the night. He took the dog with him, and if anyone tried to even speak with him on the street, I do believe that fine animal would bite them right on the..." Grandpa Joe retorted as he helped Mary carry the children to bed, and then went out himself on Mary's insistence to find George.

Instead of screaming George's name like Mary had, Grandpa Joe called for Nana. A short while later, Nana and George came running down the street of their home, with the police in chase. The constable nodded to George and the dog at their door, and gave Nana a treat -- the leftovers of his supper. She walked into the house as if she owned it and left George outside with a baffled expression. Grandpa Joe helped him up the stairs into the foyer and reiterated, "What a marvelous pet, and so obedient. Good choice George, the children will love her."

Mary was sitting on the sofa dressed for bed with her tea waiting, with Nana's head lying quite comfortably in her lap. "Oh George, thank you, she's perfect."

George nodded his appreciation of her thanks, and without another word, ascended the stairs without his supper and went to bathe. Mary followed, leaving Grandpa Joe with Nana, who, for that night at least, stayed in his room on a soft and comfy blanket, the best Grandpa Joe had to offer.

Mary gently tapped on the door to the bath, where George was submerged in water soaking his worn out muscles and inquired if he had eaten. "No, but I'm not hungry." He rose and wrapped a towel around his waist and moved to their room, bumping past her in the hall.

She gazed at his bare chest glistening with the bath water still fresh on it and watched as he removed his towel showing the length the his toned legs and firm buttocks. There was no finer specimen of man in the entire world, at least to Mary, for George was her Adonis. He had not one blemish nor scar on his body, with the exception of solitary pockmark on his upper right hand cheek from an illness he had contracted as an infant. He was, especially when exposed to her eyes, perfection in the flesh.

It had been a very long time since they had made love, years in fact.

Eight long years of wanting, waiting and longing.

Mary was not sure if George feared she could still get pregnant (even though the surgeon had stripped her inside) or that the scar the surgeon left on her sickened her husband to impotency. She could count on one hand how many times since Michael was born they engaged in the pleasure they once would have sworn they could not live without. And so Mary would count often on her one hand and found she still had two fingers left.

It was not for lack of trying. George would give her a reason that he was tired or not in the mood. But she saw it in his face, always the same when she removed her dress and undergarments when she changed for bed. It was the same face of repulsion she saw when the surgeon removed her bandages and showed George the damage. Had she not had a stubborn streak, she would of given up long ago, but she loved George, all of George. And unlike her husband, would not so easily accept defeat.

There had been three times since Michael was born that George and Mary enjoyed the privacy of their marriage. The first was that Christmas when Wendy went missing, hiding in her parent's closet. The second was a year or so after that when George got a raise at work. The third had been three years ago when George's oldest brother Peter finally got married to a widow not much younger than Mary. Each time the events of the evening were identical. George was drunk, it was over quickly, without any concern for Mary's readiness or completion and it was in the position Mary cared for least. She found herself on her knees with George entering from behind, holding her at her waist. He never wanted to look at her naked and insisted she not remove her clothes while they were in the act. "Just lift your gown Mary, you can undress when I'm finished." George took her, and moved her flat to the bed helping her raise her attire just enough to expose her undergarments, never removing them, just shifting them to side out of the way to gain access. With a firm grip he would lift her to her knees and plow into her too fast for her to feel anything else but him banging into her backside with his pelvis.

That is what their lovemaking had become at least for those three times in the eight years. All the other days and nights that past those eight years were the same, Mary doing her best to remind her husband of what it once was to unlock her and enter heaven, and George declining his wife with his feet firmly planted on Earth.

And so, this night was no different. Mary wrapped her arms around her husband and told him how handsome he was. "You should stroll around our bedroom bare as the day you were born more often my love." She wanted to give him a kiss on his lips, but settled for his neck as he swiftly covered the parts of him showing. "Please don't cover up for me George, I love to gaze at your body. I find it amazing that after all these years you still have the physique of a young man fresh in the world," Mary continued to kiss his neck and now rubbed his chest, he absentmindedly putting on his pajama top and bottoms as she glided her hands over his body to his member, which remained flaccid and not the least bit stimulated by her advances.

George patted her on her arms and removed her grip from his manhood, speaking matter-of-factly oblivious to her seduction, "To bed with the both of us Mary, tomorrow is Saturday and I have loads to do." First he yawned, false, to show how tired his was and pushed past her to his side of the bed, giving her a peck on the cheek before climbing under the blankets.

Mary stood in the place George had just left from without moving, hugging herself, at a complete loss for affection from her husband.

"You look very pretty in that nightgown Mary, is it new? I'll expect to see a bill from the department store then, now come to bed." Mary didn't reply, the nightgown she wore was from their wedding night, but she did come to bed and as he drifted off to sleep, she slipped out and went to the kitchen where she stayed all night awake.

George got up at dawn and noticed her absence next to him. He went down to the kitchen and found her reading at the table with a fresh kettle of tea brewing on the stove, "Would you like a cup of tea George?" she asked. He nodded, and she served him tea with a crumpet, warm from the oven.

He ate his crumpet and drank his tea and watched her read. The silence between them was not only uncomfortable but also unbearable and George felt he should say something, so he complimented her muffins. "Thank you George." Next he complimented her housework, "You keep things so tidy and neat, I don't think I have found one speck of dust on anything in years, dearest, and everything is always in its place, nothing ever to be found cluttered or lying about. However do you find the time?" She did not look up from her book and only responded, "Thank you George." It was obvious she was not listening to a word he said when he asked her what she had planned for the morning, "Thank you, George, more tea?"

Mary hardly slept at night anymore. In the morning, with George off to work and the children at school, she would clean the breakfast plates and straighten the house. Everything had its place and nothing was cluttered. There was never a mess, so nothing needed to be cleaned any longer than a few moments. With the house in order she would lay fully dressed, complete with her shoes and nap for a few short hours. On the weekends, with George relaxing with Grandpa Joe and the children in the nursery playing, she would retire to their room and sleep all afternoon.

George would wander up the stairs and peek in on her. She was always completely attired lying out above the blankets resting peacefully. She often looked as if she fainted and fell on the bed that way, one arm over her stomach the other raised to her head as she lay on her back, not moving. The moment George took one step forward into the room, or the children called for her, she would wake up, shaking her head ridding it of the cobwebs of sleep. "What is it George?" she then asked. He would have no good explanation of his presence disturbing her slumber, aside from the fact that he missed her company desperately, so he would make up a silly reason he needed her aid. Mary would get up without question and complete the task only to go back to bed until it was time to make supper. George often wondered while at work what she did by herself in the darkness of night. Mostly she sat at the kitchen table with her tea and waited till morning.

Mary was still beautiful; her figure was slim, at the same time shapely, full of womanly curves in all the right places. George would often blush when other men complimented him on his good fortune to have a woman so well endowed. If George had a penny for every time one of his colleagues, business associates or friends told him, "Oh George, if she were my wife..." he would already be a rich man. Mary had always kept her hair long, but never left it down. It sat atop her head in a neatly placed bun. Even when they dressed to go out, which was not often, she still fixed it in the same manner, only meticulously curling the stands that fell loose to accentuate her lovely face. In former days, when they engaged in passion, one of George's favorite things to experience was the simple undertaking of removing the pin that held her hair in place, letting her locks fall down her back and hang free. Now, only when she bathed did she let it down to brush it out, without any help from George. All the compliments from friends and family – even their children -- and only George and Mary (and the doctor) knew of the gruesome mutilation that hid under her pretty dresses and pleasing form.

George got up from the table and stood looking out into the rest of the house. "Mary, I want to show you something," he commanded, reaching for her hand. She put down her book and followed him up the stairs to their room. Once inside her showed her the curtains that hung on the window. "Do you like these curtains?" he asked with his hand on his chin.

"They're fine, George," she answered unsure of his inquiry.

"I was thinking, perhaps we should get new ones, these have hung here as long as we've been in this room. Yes, buy new ones, blue. Yes, and they should be blue," he instructed, watching her expression.

"Alright George, I will purchase new blue curtains, although there is nothing wrong with these, I only just washed them yesterday, and they are blue as well. But if you insist on new all I need to know is how much should I spend?"

George gave it some thought and then told her he would come along on the shopping trip, "and we shall bring the children, a lovely family adventure to the emporium. The children always love to go there. But best not bring their new pet; department stores do not like pets running about. We shall then go to the toy store and buy the children some new games; they often complain to your father that they only receive toys on their birthdays and the holidays. Why make them wait, Mary? Yes we will buy each of the children a new toy. And while we are at it, you should buy a new nightgown as well, the one you are wearing is so old, was not the one from when we were first married, Mary? Yes, you need some new night clothes to sleep in, warmer ones, nothing silk, Mary..."

Since George could not give her what he knew she wanted, he tried to appease her by spending money on her and the children. He had hoped she would smile at his suggestion, but she only agreed, and removed her robe, sitting on the bed. George remained standing rambling suggestions of all the other things in their home that ought to be replaced and made anew. Mary only held her eyes to the curtains, for she loved the pattern. She chose them herself when she was eighteen.

George gazed down at Mary waiting for her to answer a question she didn't hear him ask. "Well, Mary, what do you think?"

Mary thought and answered, "I think the blue curtains will be just fine, no need to buy the children toys, they complain to my father that they only receive sweets and candy on the holidays and at no other time during the year because I told them it would rot their teeth and treats are just that, treats. I would love some new nightgowns as all the ones I own are too revealing for married woman with three children."

George sat and glanced to his wife seeing her somber expression and proceeded to remove his pajamas. "Take off your nightgown, Mary."

She went wide eyed and willingly complied, flirting with him as she untied the straps and let them and the silk fall from her body to the floor. She kept her back to George, watching him as she glided back to the bed and sat down, hiding from him her abdomen. Mary was at that moment the only one willing, for George could not get an erection, even as Mary stroked and licked him with her tongue. His excuse, "I have to use the necessary before we start," as he tapped her head to gain her attention from her work, leaving Mary lying on her back in bed alone.

Mary could stand the waiting no more when he was gone to the washroom for almost an hour and rolled on her stomach. George entered the room and laid beside her, "Lock the door, Mary," he whispered. Mary turned to see it in his eyes now that she could feel him against her leg. Not wanting to miss a moment, she moved to her back and pulled him on top of her kissing his neck and face. He rotated her to her stomach and then pulled her up at the waist, but she resisted and returned to her back. "This way, George, like we used to." She spoke softly. He closed his eyes as she moved beneath him, which filled her eyes with tears, and entered her quickly covering them both completely with the blanket.

Suddenly, Mary was back to the first time with George, the time she lost her virginity. The emotion of that night, the disappointment and feeling cheated, that she was missing something just beyond her reach filled her. But unlike that time when she didn't know what lay hidden behind the door, this time she was totally aware. She had been there already and seen the wonder and adventure found within. She felt him rut in and out, in and out, in and out. She no longer had a lock to open. Now she had a gaping hole that lead straight to her soul. George directed his spear, no longer a special key, into her abyss and cut and sliced away the delicate layers of her spirit. He left multiple scars on her heart, which broke and bled more as he pounded into her. He jerked his completion and rolled off as if she was not even there, rising and putting on the pajama bottoms. "A hole in the mattress, a whore would have been cheaper," replayed in her mind. Mary got up, feeling she would have been better off without the experience, and then when she was sure she could not feel any worse, Wendy screamed.

George was angry; Wendy had been snooping after being told repeatedly their parent's room was private and off limits. "Now she has seen me, a grown man, naked, Mary, I told you to lock the door," he snarled to her as they raced to get dressed. Mary assured him it was herself that Wendy saw naked, and then muttered back, "At least she is honest enough to scream her disgust at me," as she took her leave of him.

George was confused by the comment, he had his own reasons for not wanting Mary in that way, and they were none of what she thought. He trailed her as she went to the nursery, and listened quite bewildered at her fury when she ordered him to take the boys down to their breakfasts when she was done consoling them.

Mary knew making love to the man who was the perfect match was a wonderful and breathtaking event for a woman. She never wanted her daughter to feel any differently. She never wanted Wendy to feel cheated, or think of the sacred act as a chore or bother. When the time came, and Wendy was a woman, she would explain exactly what her daughter would need to know, combining everything her mother, her best friend, and she knew in a way that would make Wendy understand her meaning. She just didn't want to have to do it that morning. But Wendy saw nothing but the visible scar on her mother, giving Mary only mild relief of her burden. She would leave the scars hidden on her heart locked up tightly till another day.