Rated R - Sexual Content

My Darling Love

Chapter 14 – The Mind of Mr. Darling

"No mind, however loving, could bear to see plainly into all the recess of another mind."

-Thomas A. Bennet

Mary's comment to George that morning bothered him all day. It bothered him while the family ate breakfast; it bothered him while they shopped in the emporium for new curtains. It bothered him while the children played in the park with their new nurse, the dog named Nana. Just when he thought he finally put it out of his mind, he would look at Mary and see her expression and the comment, "At least she is honest enough to scream her disgust at me," would play again in his ears. It still bothered him after arriving home that evening, later at dinner, and as he sat in the kitchen and read the paper while she did the dishes. Mary went upstairs with the children, and George, still bothered, sat by Grandpa Joe and Aunt Millicent in the parlor and stared the blazing logs in the fireplace.

"Why the perturbed face, George?" Aunt Millicent asked, looking up from her romance novel. He did not answer, for his mind was elsewhere, and Aunt Millicent turned to Grandpa Joe who assured her with a shake of his head to leave well enough alone.

The noises of three children at play with a giant dog could be heard overhead. They would run from nursery to the bath and then back to the nursery. The pitter-patter of little feet followed by the loud thumping of heavy paws creaked the floorboards. George listened to Wendy pout as Mary combed the knots from her hair. "Be still my love, just one more." Then he heard the boys calling each other silly names and once again Mary's voice echoed down to them "Mocking one another is not nice boys, words hurt."

Words hurt indeed. The night Mary gave birth to Michael, George's entire life changed. His once vibrant and strong wife was rendered helpless, and could do no more than lay lifeless, without the strength to raise her head. She had no voice to moan in agony, only able to whimper, "It hurts George, help me..."

That awful night Mary gave life to the last child ever to be born of them, George asked her where she felt the pain, and she did not answer, only telling him she wet herself again. Mary apologized for messing their bed as George removed the blanket covering her and saw it was not urine but blood that drained from her. She was no longer warm to the touch, but cold as ice. As much blood saturated the mattress, the same amount of sweat drenched the sheets.

"Her only hope is the hospital, like the doctor said," George told his father-in-law, so he sent for a cab and carried her down the stairs wrapped in her father's blanket, as there was not another one clean in the house.

Her breathing was labored, and her bleeding continued. By the time they reached the hospital, more blood had soaked through the blanket onto George's clothes, and he, too, was covered in her blood. "We will have to cut her open to find where the tear is," the doctor told George that night. "Surgery is very risky, considering infection and such. But she will die without it." George had to make a choice that moment. Without surgery, she would die, no question. With surgery she might die, some question. With the second option, she would have a chance, so he agreed.

They operated all night, and she was sedated for a week after. The surgeon did not feel good about her outcome for a multitude of reasons. "She has lost an enormous amount of blood, she is running a fever, her wound from the incision is infected, and she is unresponsive. If I were you, Mr. Darling, I would begin to make arrangements with the undertaker and for the care of your children, especially for the newborn, as your wife is unable to nurse him."

The nurse on duty suggested that George read to Mary, so he did. He also sat at her bedside in silence and held her hand. He cried rivers of tears, wondering faintly if he could fill an ocean and sail back to the moment he implanted his seed inside of her. The one thing he did not do was calculate the expense. Every time someone would tell him the cost of a procedure Mary needed to get better, he gave his consent without batting an eye. "It doesn't matter, whatever she needs I'm good for it, I can give the payment this very day if you want, in cash."

Finally, she awoke, but was too frail and in too much pain to speak. She wept endlessly at the throbbing, and begged George to take it away. "Please George, take away the hurting, make it stop." To make matters worse, she beseeched him to take her home, something impossible for him to do. She broke his heart in several different places as she pleaded, "Please George, take me home, I want to die at home. Please George, make it stop, take the pain away, take me home, please..."

They gave her pain medications that made her hallucinate, she scratched her arms till they bled claiming that there were bugs crawling on her. Fearing Mary would go mad, they restrained her on the bed, which only made her wail in anguish. "Why George? Why? Please help me George, let me go. Please George untie me, help me." When the delusions ended, she would stare at George with cloudy eyes and slur her words making no sense. When he had to leave, she would clutch to him and plead, "Plesh thont ho forge. Fake em it ou."

He knew what she said and assured her of his return showing her the clock on the wall and the where the hands would be when he came back. He gathered his courage, hoping some would rub off on her, and offered a weak smile that went along with. "As soon as you're better, Mary, you can come home, and that will be any day now. Now you just rest up. I love you Mary."

This is how it went when Michael was newly born. This is what George's days were like. He worked full time at the bank, full time at the hospital and full time at home with the children. He would come home late at night after everyone retired and slowly climb the stairs to the empty bed that awaited him. Had he not been exhausted and starved, he would never have slept. But he did sleep, though for only three hours at a time when he awoke to start to whole process over again.

Within a few weeks he found it necessary to alter his schedule again. Grandpa Joe suggested that he spend more time with the children, "When everything runs right in this house, they only see you for an hour at supper. With their mother gone, sick at the hospital, you are their only parent. George, if Mary dies, YOU WILL BE the only parent and have to raise them all alone. I saw Mary Elizabeth yesterday, and you'd best prepare yourself for that."

George had hired a nanny and wet nurse to care after the newborn, who evidently cared not for his other children. "She's fine when dealing with Michael, but gets overwhelmed with John and Wendy dancing around her for attention. She may feed Michael, but she isn't much good for anything else. You will need to hire another nanny for the children. Dismiss this one George, she is worthless and her services are very expensive. And George, if I were you I would put an add in the paper today." George knew his father-in-law was correct, he had seen the nurse's horrid disposition to John and Wendy, himself. But he would not bring yet another unfamiliar woman into his home to raise his children, not as long as Mary's heart still beat. Thus he declared, "I will release the Nanny this very evening. You will have to look after the children during the day. I will ask the neighbor to help you. She just told me yesterday, Michael can be fed by bottle, and that is what we will do. In the evening, I will look after them."

Now, George was required by his duty as their father and sole parent to give his children more time. Mary cried, the children cried and so did he. Every single night, he knelt by his bedside and wept, he prayed through the tears on his sheets and begged God not to leave his children without their mother, nor leave him without his wife.

God listened to George; just like he listened to Mary, and weeks later she was released from the hospital. He remembered the doctor telling him, "Mr. Darling, I know how much you want to get her home, but it will be just as bad there. Remember, she still has her stitches and they need to be removed by a physician. I can understand your children miss her, but I would reconsider you taking her from this hell and purposely making another one in your home that your children will see."

Having his wife back home would relieve some his stress of running from this place to that. He remembered that he, George, would have left her there and kept at his frenetic pace, but one day, the nurse pulled him aside. "The longer she stays here, the more likely it is she will contract another illness, one unrelated to what afflicts her now, Mr. Darling. She is strong enough at times now, so you take her home."

He remembered how the next moment, he had his coat and hat on, and was dressing Mary in her traveling clothes. Mary was still under the influence of massive doses of morphine and laudanum, as much as the physician dared give her. George carried his wife home.

He remembered how she thought he was her father and asked to be brought to the park so she could play. "It is a lovely day, cannot I not go on the swings?" When the children greeted her, she had no idea who they were. And as Peter carried her up the stairs she inquired, "Who were those little people, George?"

Years later, Mary remembered none of that, but George remembered it all.

He remembered holding her down while the doctor came to their home to remove her stitches. He remembered how she bit his hand when he covered her mouth to keep her from screaming while one by one they were cut and pulled from her body. He remembered the wreck she was when it was over.

He remembered the infection that followed and how she was bedridden and could not control her bladder or her bowels. She begged him to smother her with a pillow. She begged him to strangle her to death. She begged and pleaded with him to loosen the ropes he had tied her hands to the bed with to keep her from scratching the scabs that had formed over her incisions. When he faltered and did as she asked, she punched him in the face and broke his glasses, calling him nasty names, for, under medication, she was unaware of who he was. She pulled clumps of hair from her own head, and would bang her head against the tub when he would bathe her for the pain of her recovery was unbearable to experience, let alone to watch.

Through all of this, no one else knew what transpired -- only George and Grandpa Joe. George would only let the children visit with their mother when she promised to be good and not frighten them with her behavior. George would give her the medicine to alleviate her torture and then wait until she was barely conscious before he called for the children. Mary would stare and try to keep her wits about her and her eyes open while Wendy would dance about the room telling stories.

Sometimes Mary had enough sense about her to respond, but mostly when asked a question, she would answer, "Ask Grandpa Joe." And Grandpa Joe would answer for her, waiting in the doorway, making sure Mary did nothing to cause concern with the children. George would nap, but have his internal clock timed perfectly to the point when Mary would begin to twitch. He would enter their room and direct the children out, even if they implored him for permission to stay. Of course they couldn't stay, for Mary's condition only got worse from the medicine and she would drool and shake uncontrollably. Thinking George wanted their mother all to himself, they silently protested and informed Grandpa Joe, "I hate my father."

He remembered that little by little Mary got better. Little by little, George and Grandpa Joe weaned her off the morphine and laudanum. She was able to sit up, and then stand, and then walk. She still needed to sleep most hours of the day, but she was alive and getting better. and that was all that ever mattered to George. When before she would have to ask who her children were, she now remembered their names and asked for them. She beseeched George never to leave her, but he had to work, so he would carry downstairs to the chair nearest the window and rest her there. She would eagerly wait for him to return, and once home, he would carry her back to bed. And then in the solitude of their room, he would need to reiterate that he would never leave her, his wife, for the rest of her life. "I have to go to work Mary so we can afford to live, but no, Mary, I will never leave you. I know you are weak and in a great deal of pain, and I understand. Please do not tell me you are not the woman you once were, for soon you will get better and everything will be as it once was."

The surgical incisions healed completely, as did her mind. Memories still escaped her -- the night Michael was born, being in the hospital, her first month back home. To George, it was as if her soul had left her body the moment Michael was taken from her womb and returned to her sometime that autumn. Mary had no recollections of how the scar got there, she just knew it was there. George never wanted to explain what had happened, happy to be able to save her further torment in that way.

George always felt everything that had happened to Mary was his fault. Had he not been careless with her that night, she would have never gotten pregnant again. She told him not to complete himself inside of her, as she had not been keeping track of when and when it was not safe. But in the heat of the moment, he forgot her warning and proceeded with loving enthusiasm. After once, and then twice, he felt 'what would it matter a third?' But the third did matter, for as fertile as his seed was in her empty garden freshly tilled, they were lucky it was not two babies in bloom as opposed to the one.

Furthermore, had George said no to the surgery, she would have died peacefully that night, in her sleep, and would be at rest with her heart intact. Mary's own father tried to keep her from the hospital, "George, let Mary Elizabeth bleed out in bed, she'll grow tired and go to sleep, painlessly dying in her slumber. She is so close to the end now, she already complains of being cold – the slumber will come next, and then she will be freed to heaven. If you take her to the hospital the surgeons will cut into her like savages, they won't even know what they are looking for, and she will be mutilated when she's buried."

But George was greedy, and felt he needed her more than God did. Without thinking of what his actions would cost, he took what he wanted, because he wanted her more than anything else. He cast himself as the pirate captain in Wendy's stories without the brave knight to save the day. He wanted the kiss of the princess, he wanted to sail away on the ship into the sunset and live the happily ever after.

"George, stop blaming yourself for everything." Grandpa Joe puffed from his pipe. Aunt Millicent was snoring on her chair with her head back and her mouth wide open.

"She hates me." George replied, his mind returning to the Darling residence.

"No she doesn't. She is just mindful of her appearance, like all women."

That was exactly what she mindful of. Mary believed she was a horrid monster when naked. She had never seen a mark like the one left upon her abdomen. The first time she saw it she screamed herself, fainting at the sight of the disfiguration she was to be left her entire life with. The nurse's reassurances, "In time it will fade, Mary, and be less noticeable," did not help her, nor her deep-rooted feelings of the ugliness branding her.

George told her it didn't bother him, and she assumed he told her the truth, and he had. It made absolutely no difference to him at all. He loved all her parts, and thought every single freckle, scar and discoloration on her body was lovely and fair.

So what had sent her mind in the other direction -- that George had instead lied and really detested her exterior? George fathomed it was the night Wendy went missing. Up until that time, he had never even dreamed of making love to Mary again. As many stitches held her belly and what was left of her insides together, there were just as many stitches mending her womanhood. She never mentioned it, and he was just as happy to pleasure himself in the bath alone than bother her.

But that night, with a little too much to drink they kissed in the hall. He could not control his urge to feel her naked breasts as it had been so long since she had let him touch her. He pushed down her dress and grasped at them. She apparently had the same idea and began rubbing his member through the open zipper of his trousers. Filled with fear that she was not healed enough with the memory of carrying her home from church the night before, he pulled away from her abruptly, ripping her dress. "I'm sorry Mary," he slurred seeing the damage to the gown he had paid a fortune for, and quickly escaped back into the party to hide from her, ashamed to have been so forward, knowing her condition.

Christmas night, when they retired to bed after their guests left, Mary created the first of three situations he would have hoped to avoid. They lay in bed and she began caressing him, and licking his ear and neck, "Kiss me, George, make love to me..." It had been a long time since he felt the real thing so he obliged, thinking she would know best if she were ready.

As he climbed on top of her and began, slow and well paced as she liked, she told him it hurt. It was not the pain from her mending, for she was healed, it was the pain of not being prepared for his entry. Instead of a long foreplay, which normally preceded their lovemaking, George had eagerly jumped on top of her and began to push in. Terrified, he removed himself from her and apologized. He sobered quickly but Mary was still under the influence, and kept on rubbing the part of him that was throbbing with want.

"Please, George, now, I'm ready now," she groaned still licking his ear moving his hands over her breasts. And she was ready, but with no other ideas and at a complete loss of self-control, he flipped her on her knees and quickly finished to satisfy his urge as well as shorten her pain.

He felt guilty afterwards, just like he had on the night he took her virginity, hearing her weep when he was done. George was not only distressed that she felt nothing but the physical loss of her virtue as he walked in heaven but also a great amount of agony as his thrusted upon the parts of her that had been ripped and damaged in childbirth. That night, Christmas night, years ago, George consoled himself by deciding to never attempt to consummate with her again, and banished the idea of gratifying himself alone as punishment for all she had endured giving his son life.

The night he got a raise at work, the same interaction had happened. It began the way she liked, but once she acknowledged that his weight was heavy upon her and her womanhood stung as he thrust, he rolled off and once again apologized. But Mary insisted he go on, for she knew if they never made love, it would always hurt. She knew they needed to get past the part of her that had tensed from not being used as God intended. For Mary, it would be like losing her virginity all over again, but with the reward that once they resumed a normal intimate exchange, her womanhood would relax and accept him willingly and easily without pain.

"You must finish, George, as reward for hard work and accomplishments," Mary teased, hoping to begin again where they left off. George raised her on her knees and pushed into her only three more times before faking his completion. Mary wanted to continue, and so George lied and said he felt ill from all the wine at dinner. He was too drunk on scotch the night of his brother's wedding to call to mind the specific events although he was positive by her expression the next morning it was a repeat performance for him.

George wanted to tell Mary his private emotions and fears, but the simple fact of the matter was, he had not even the slightest inkling of how to communicate them into words. Mary, his trusting wife, would not dare speak on the matter for fear of insulting not only his heart but his manly ego as well. If he had his reasons and didn't want to share them, they must be as she thought, 'he thinks me a beast when in the nude.' Therefore, George no longer looked forward to making love with Mary or chased after it. And they both silently accepted that it was a part of their marriage that was broken and could not be fixed.

That silence was only to be held by George eventually, for Mary was stubborn. Soon enough she began hounding him. "Please George, I really want to. It's been so long for us? Don't you miss me in that way as much as I miss you?" He gathered his courage three times in eight years and took her as briefly as possible, making sure she would not hurt or be sore, rushing to his finish. He got no pleasure from it at all, only the relief that it was over.

He saw her naked from the bath and in her frilly nightgowns and even cooking by the stove experiencing the excitement that came when a man wanted to seduce his wife. But after a great deal of time, he learned control his desire, and could shut it off. He thought of the bills that needed to be paid, or his supervisor at work glaring at him when Mary ran her hand down his bare body. There were many nights, after the house was asleep and Mary was already in the kitchen with her tea that George tiptoed to the bathroom and did his handiwork while imagining himself inside Mary enjoying the most intimate recesses of her womanly figure. It left him consumed in guilt when he was finished for Mary did not have that luxury.

But Mary did have that luxury, she knew the part of her body that George stroked with his tongue that made her tingle, and rubbed it with her own fingers at times of utter need for contact with him. She dreamed it was him between her legs moving and shifting above her, filling her completely. That is why she napped with her clothes on, to squash the urge to experience the bliss that came when she did. If George was not being satisfied in that way, well neither should she, Mary reasoned. Not everyday, although some days, after the children went to school and the housework was done, with Grandpa Joe in the parlor puffing on his pipe, Mary went to her room and thought of George in that way, and it gave her mild relief of the tension, but saturated her soul with the loss of him, now never truly with her in their passions.

That morning, the morning of his reward for his service in obtaining the finest pet in all of London, she told him "this way" and he closed his eyes. George did everything he could think of to avoid the situation. The scoff the night before killed him, as she ran her hand over his chest and tempted him, he bit his tongue so hard he drew blood, fighting the itch to lift her off her feet right then and there to throw her on the bed and ravish her body. He had to excuse himself to the bathroom the next day, in order to stare at his reflection in the mirror to banish the vision he had of his mother imprinted in his mind that kept him from getting hard. It was his last defense to hold back an erection as his wife moved the soft warm wetness of her tongue over him, Mrs. Frederick Darling jeered at him in his mind and called a pervert, "Your father told me only women of loose virtue pleasure men that way, and only perverts enjoy it." He had no choice but to leave in order to clear his thoughts.

Once he returned to their bedroom, he could tell by looking at his wife, he would either have to make love to her or make up a very good excuse at his delay on the matter. Mary rolled on her stomach, and closed her eyes, knowing by his remorseful expression, he was to get dressed and flee. Thus she could seize the opportunity for some much needed undisturbed sleep, at least until the children awoke. George believed she was tired of him and his endless put offs of her affections. She was and that is why she stayed awake all hours of the night drinking tea in the kitchen.

But poor George was never good at reading any woman's mind, let alone his own wife's. To him, as he stood in the doorway, he could see it, plain as day. Mary, his beloved, saw him enter without those desires to be loved in their bed, rolled her eyes and rolled on her stomach. Now, what was he to do? He had worked himself up by hand in the bathroom, and was wanting for it. So he seized the moment, seeing her already in position to be taken and ask her kindly to lock the door, giving himself another few stolen moments to keep the thought of his mother out of his head.

Mary didn't lock the door, not did she want to be taken from behind. She rolled back over and pulled George with her. It always took him longer when he was on top and Mary knew that, so he moved her to her knees once again. Mary was intent to be beneath him, wanting to talk to him as they made love and ensure him of pleasures long lost could be easily resurrected. She wanted to gaze upon his beautiful angelic blue eyes, she wanted to kiss him, nibble on his ear and keep the fire of their passions burning as long as she could. George obliged politely and remained above her, but closed his eyes and his ears.

This reinforced Mary's fear that he did it as so not to have to look at her. He apparently did not want to listen to her either, for she said, "Please George look at me," and he didn't. But not because of the scar, because he knew Mary was to be in pain and he could not bear to watch anymore of the agony and grief he bestowed upon her in his weakness as a man. He hid the tears that filled his eyes and buried his head in the pillow, never hearing her request. He was already half there by his own measures and it was over in a less than a minute. He courteously rolled off of her to give her relief of his weight, still silently speaking that he did not want to even cuddle with her. He said nothing for he hated himself, and then Wendy screamed and Mary spoke her comment causing George to hate himself more.

"Listen, son." (Grandpa Joe had gotten into the habit of calling George "son" and did it often when they spoke, but it still caught George a little off guard.) "Listen, son, Mary doesn't think you find her attractive anymore, and that's why you haven't been smiling in the morning. And son, women know the pain of giving birth, but as we don't know exactly how they feel when it's happening, they don't know how we feel when it's happening either. Understand?" Grandpa Joe had a way with words and he said what he meant without saying it.

George watched his father-in-law, thinking. It took him a moment, but he got what he meant without hearing it. He sat up and pushed out his chest, the comment that had bothered him all day, "at least she is honest enough to scream her disgust at me," was to be banished from his castle. George was honest enough to scream at his disgust, and so he would. The children were in bed, and now Mary returned downstairs to the kitchen to feed Nana the leftover scraps from supper and George, seeing her dreary face, was ready.

"Sir, I think you are correct. I understand the pain of a man giving birth and I think it is high time I explain it to my wife!" George declared to his father-in-law, rising from his chair in the parlor. Grandpa Joe watched him head off to the kitchen on Mary's apron strings and chuckled, shaking his head.

George stalked in the kitchen with his hands of his hips and held an angry glare on his face. "MARY." He shouted to gain her attention from the dog, drooling at Mary's feet for her dinner. Surprised by his volume, she dropped Nana's dish. Poor Nana was starving and began to bark at both George and Mary. Her loud howls would not stop George who continued on at Mary with, "I AM VERY DISGUSTED WITH YOU MARY ELIZABETH DARLING!"

Not his finest sentiment from the sight of Mary and the constant noise of Nana's "WOOF" but he said it just the same. "Well George, I don't know what to say." Mary spoke in a soft tone, now she knew the truth, and just as she told her sons, words hurt.

Still shouting at the top of his lungs, George grabbed Mary's shoulders and yelled on, "I LOVE YOU, MARY, AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WERE THINKING BY TELLING ME I'M NOT HONEST!"

Mary was wide eyed at his display. Grandpa Joe, hearing George's ranting, also rose from his chair in the parlor and was now standing in the doorway of the kitchen. It made him laugh to see George employing such a forceful manner.

"I don't recall telling you to be honest George, I would never think you a liar." Mary's voice was calm and she stood like a child being reprimanded afraid to move.

"YOU TOLD ME THIS MORNING I WAS NOT HONEST, MARY."

"Alright George, no need to carry on that way. You will wake the children." Aunt Millicent had awoken, and she raced to the kitchen, shushing his behavior.

"AND THE NEIGHBORS! YES, I SHALL WAKE THE NEIGHBORS!" George yelled back at wide-eyed at Millicent.

"Yes George, and the neighbors..." Aunt Millicent concurred peeking out the windows.

"I WANT THE NEIGHBORS TO HEAR!" He opened the back door and stood outside in the pouring rain. "I AM GOING UPSTAIRS TO MAKE LOVE TO MY WIFE BECAUSE SHE IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL LADY IN ALL OF LONDON!"

"GEORGE!" Now it was Mary and Aunt Millicent yelling in unison. Aunt Millicent fainted, and Grandpa Joe laughed loudly.

George picked Mary up in one swift motion, and carried her from the kitchen to the stairs. Up the stairs and to their bedchamber, he locked the door with her still in his arms and plopped her down on the bed.

Once alone he shook his finger at her with an authoritative tone, "Mary Darling, I think you are just as beautiful as the day I met you. I've told you a million times that I don't care if your chin falls off your face and you go bald, I will still love you and want to make love to you."

He paced back and forth and then stopped abruptly, his voice was already choking back the anguish he felt within, "Women are not the only ones to have babies, Mary. Men have them, too. They experience all the pleasure in putting life into their wives, and that is where it ends. For months a man watches his wife grow round in the waist and be sick to her stomach and exhausted, scratching because her skin itches from stretching so, not being able to get up from the chair, waddling around the house as if any moment her back will break from the added weight on her delicate frame. And the man knows he is the reason that she's in that way.

"And then the pain begins, and the baby has to be born, and the woman alone has to do it. And the only thing the man can to do, being the one who made his wife endure all that, is nothing, but know that he is the cause. Mary Elizabeth, you cannot imagine how difficult it is to see someone whose life you value more than your own in that much agony while you stand there without even a headache.

"And for you, the nightmare did not end with Michael's birth. It continued for months, and through everything, I was as healthy and strong as the day we met. You endured it all, you have the scars, and you had pain and illnesses because I was careless when I should have been careful. Eight years after all that, you are still hurting from it and I am still watching. I don't make love to you, my darling, because I can't watch anymore, and I know that just proves I am weak and a coward. I sorry for being a such a selfish husband..."

Mary shushed him as she pulled him down to sit beside her. "George, I don't think you are selfish or weak or a coward. I just want you, I need you, I love you and I can't let what happened with Michael affect the rest of our life. I feel cheated. Because of his birth and all the distress, I lost my husband and lover. I need what's broken to be fixed and you are only man that can fix it," she told him.

"Does it hurt when we...you know..."

She knew and replied, "I don't know, George. It's been so long since we did it the way we used to. If it hurts, it's only because it's been so long, and I'm sure its nothing more than my body just not being used to you in that way anymore."

He took her hand and they gazed eye-to-eye. "It is very important to me that you are not in pain. I want you to tell me if it hurts, because I won't enjoy it if it hurts you at all. Do you understand, Mary?"

He still shook his finger at her, and she thought it was quite funny, he being so strict with her. She began to chuckle which made him chuckle.

He sat next to her and clutched her hands to his chest very seriously. "Mary, I could never think you less of a woman because of what happened, I only think myself less of a man for not being able to save you the suffering. I will always try to make your life good, give you a home worthy of you. And I know you want to only to make me happy, but I cannot and will not hurt you just to satisfy my own desires. If making love to me gives you no pleasure, then I deserve no pleasure."

Mary would always have the scar on her belly, but not the scars on her heart, for that night George mended them.

They made love and it hurt somewhat, not because of the damage caused by a baby being born, but because of the years they wasted not making love.

Silence for them had always been golden, but now they agreed they would needs words – words to explain the breaks in their hearts and the worries of their mind. George never told Mary all the terrible things she endured those months after Michael was born, just wanting to forget it. And Mary never told him she read about it in his journal and remembered. That was the only silence ever to be accepted by Mr. and Mrs. George Darling again.

In the morning Mary made a grand feast for breakfast just for her husband, "To help you get your strength back George," Mary teased and George retorted, "Oh yes Mary, I am quite famished."

George smiled at breakfast, at church, where both he and Mary sang their praises to the Lord extra loud, all afternoon and even during supper. Every chance he was presented with, whether in front of his children and father-in-law or not, he wrapped his arms around his wife's waist and whispered flirtatiously in her ear, causing her to give him a wickedly amorous grin.

In the parlor, after desert, Aunt Millicent inquired after his smile, "and Mary Elizabeth, dare I say you are actually glowing! What is going on here?" In front of all gathered, (except the children already in bed) he responded, "Mary and I made mad passionate love all night long and into the morning. It was the greatest experience of my life and I think not only we will do the exact same thing tonight and tomorrow, but also, I shall die with this very smile upon my face."

Aunt Millicent took to her feet and stormed out the door. It was over a month before she returned to the Darling's dinner table. But when she did, George always made sure to wear his grin from ear to ear.