My Darling Love
Chapter 18 – Dearest Wendy
"A little girl is innocence playing in the mud, beauty standing on its head, and motherhood dragging a doll by the foot."
-Allan Beck
Wendy thought about her mother all day while at school. The beautiful queen, or rather, the wicked witch, banished the lovely princess from the kingdom for not accepting the tin crown presented by the cowardly king. The only way for the princess to again wear the glass slippers would be to beg at the Queen's feet for mercy.
"But what happens if the Queen were to present me with an apple?" Wendy asked John as they met on the street, once dismissed from school.
"If it were poisoned, you would become Snow White," he answered.
"I just would have worn the tin crown," Michael answered, as Nana led them along the streets on their way home, for Nana took the children to school every morning and met them at the corner to bring them home. Mother never came, trusting the children's nurse with their safety. Nana would run in front of them, clearing a straight path, bumping and warning people out the way, and then quickly run along behind them pushing them along.
Only a block from where they met, they saw their mother rushing toward them, past the heedless crowds on the street. She called to them and waved, trying to get past the others simply strolling along. Nana came to her rescue, butting into pedestrians, and then nudging Mary forward to her children. They were surprised and excited to see her. "Look, it's mother! Look Wendy, mother came to walk us home today!" The boys ran to greet her, embracing her at the waist, Wendy hanging back.
"Wendy, darling, come here." Mary waited and Wendy approached her. Mary bent down to her beautiful princess and kissed her on her forehead. With this perfect kiss (but not the hidden one) Mary spoke, "Let us go see your father at the bank."
The children stared up at her as if she were taking them to see God Himself on his throne in Heaven. "We are to see father at the bank? Are we allowed mother?" Michael asked, tugging on her dress.
"Of course we are allowed. Do not be silly children," she replied, touching them all on the cheek, "people go in and out the bank everyday." She took her Michael and Wendy by the hands, directing John to hold Nana's leash, and led them to the bank, where George sat at his desk, hard at work.
Mary was a lovely lady, truly the fairest of them all (and always the fitting heroine for all of Wendy's best stories). She always dressed nicely, and her appearance made all men turn their heads as she passed. She told the children to be quiet, and begged them to behave before they entered. "We mustn't embarrass father at his profession, his manager will be watching." Mary bent down and quickly fixed each of her children's outfits, smoothing down the intransigent cowlicks on John and Michael's heads, and swiftly braiding Wendy's golden locks, which, in her morning haste, had become untidy. Mary even straightened the muss of Nana's coat as the children watched with a quizzical expression, fascinated by her insistence they be dressed as if they really were to meet God on His throne.
"Alright now, we mustn't make any noise, and you are absolutely forbidden to move from my side. No roaming about unattended, this is your father's place of business and there are many grown ups conducting their personal dealings inside. Do you understand?" Mary looked to each of the children, even Nana, who nodded in understanding. Mary placed a pleasant smile upon her face, pinching her cheeks to a sweet blush before opening the large wooden doors to the great foyer of the regal bank inside.
Mary held that same smile as they strolled in and down several steps to the bank constable standing by the front counter. "Mr. George Darling, please," Mary asked, clutching Michael tightly, whom was already turning about gazing at the grandeur found within.
"Wow, mother, does a king live here?" Michael interrupted as the constable questioned, "May I ask who's calling for him Miss?"
Mary put her finger to her mouth, signaling Michael to shush, as he was now attempting to get John and Wendy to agree that this was surely the house of royalty. Wendy and John responded, wide-eyed, shaking their heads. "Be quiet, Michael," Mary ordered in a low but very stern voice. And as though she had not just reprimanded her youngest son to the point of tears, Mary turned her attention to the constable, with that winning smile and politely replied, "Yes, his wife and children."
The constable grinned at the children, who held a dismal expression, fearing they were already in trouble, and had only been inside the bank for less than a minute. Helping alleviate their distress, he patted Michael on the head and exclaimed, "The Queen of England does not live here, young man, but she does bank here!"
The children gazed about in utter amazement that their father was employed by the real bank of London in which the real queen held all her finances, only until their mother showed her serious face reminding them, "Her majesty will not approve of misbehaved children if she should happen to come here to make a deposit." Wendy, John and Michael snapped to attention, pretending to be wooden soldiers and waited as the constable disappeared behind rows of desks and shelves lined with massive ledgers.
Wendy could not help herself and broke her face-forward stance, looking around the bank. She had never been there, either, as far as she could remember. It was a huge room, with marble floors that shone, freshly polished. Dark rich wood counters and cabinets decorated it throughout with proper gentlemen in fancy dress suits doing their business. There were chairs lining a wall, posh seats with crimson cushions and backs, which Wendy imagined were not comfortable at all to sit upon. Her proof was that no one inside rested there, "Only for decoration," she told herself as she moved her head for a better look down the massive corridor.
"Mother, what is down there?" Wendy asked, causing her brothers to loudly chime in their guesses, "That is where the Queen stays when she visits her jewels ... that is where the keep the dragon that guards the money..."
Mary twisted her head and glared down to the children, she didn't have to say anything for Nana spoke for her, not in a thunderous "woof" as would be expected, but by nipping each of the children on their backsides.
Aside from Mary, there were no other women inside the establishment. There was a constant inflow of men entering and proceeding to the line that formed around a velvet rope of crimson. The front counter had gold bars that ran up to the ceiling, more men standing behind them as if trapped in prison.
"Who are they mother, criminals?" Michael asked, tugging on her skirt in his most silent voice. With his question completed, he lowered his head and placed his hand over his mouth, mumbling, "I'm sorry mother," from behind it.
Mary watched her children, all in awe of the simple magnificence of a simple place of business, all scared witless they would embarrass her -- or worse -- their father. She felt sorry for them, all hanging their heads at their shameful behavior, so she knelt down in front of them. She just as quietly answered Michael's question. "No, Michael, they are the tellers. You see, the gentlemen come in and get in line, and when they are called, they go to the teller and either make a withdrawal or deposit from their account kept here. I know you have many questions, and I will answer every single one of them as soon as we leave, alright?"
George Darling was in the middle of balancing his afternoon ledger when the guardsman approached his desk, "Your wife and children are here to see you, Mr. Darling." George was a clerk, and a very well respected one at that. The guard tipped his hat as he turned without another word, and walked back to his post.
George promptly smoothed his hair and affixed his glasses, straightened his suit and tie, and calmly walked past his other colleagues to where his family was waiting. "Is everything alright, Mary? What is the matter with the children?" George's calm was quickly evaporating, and now he nervously checked the children from head to toe, looking for something obvious that would require Mary to bring them to his workplace.
"There is nothing the matter, George, I just wanted the children to see where you worked. They often ask about the bank and your profession, and now that they are older, I felt it was time to show them. You work so hard to be a proper gentleman and being a bank clerk is a noble and respectable position. I just wanted the children to see and understand that. "
George was the professional gentleman while at work. He was serious and never engaged in small talk about nonsense, always keeping his mind on his ledgers and the numbers written there. He stood up straight as an arrow and pushed out his chest proudly, offering John and Michael a handshake. For Wendy, he nodded and smiled timidly.
John and Michael were highly impressed with their father. Wendy was not. "Can we go back to your station, Father, and see where you work?" John queried, with Mary in agreement, "Oh yes George, what a wonderful idea, can they?"
His smile of appreciation altered to shock and he nearly shouted, "No, Mary, are you insane?" He pulled his wife over to the side and out of earshot from the children, lowering his voice, "Children are not allowed where the clerks perform their duties, you know that."
As Mary and George continued their whispered discussion separate from the children, Wendy, John and Michael lingered about, bored by their mother's "treat" of a trip to the bank. A real place, where grown-ups, living grown-up lives, went every day to do proper things like count money and make deposits was of absolutely no interest to them. Truth be told, the children had never asked Mary about their father or his profession. Only John wanted to see where the clerks worked so later on when they played in the nursery he could pretend he was the king of England who demanded the clerks work overtime investing his money, rapping his hand on their desks as he put out his royal decree.
Nana stood alongside the children, guarding them steadfastly to remain obedient to their mother's command. Another woman entered. She was wearing a fox stole, with the head still attached hanging off her shoulder. As she sometimes did when she saw something of interest, Nana took off running, intent of saving the woman from a fox's attack. The woman, her stole wrapped around her neck, strolled over to a group of men gathered chuckling and chatting. The children, lost in their own worlds, daydreaming of the park, and George and Mary still bickering over George hurting the children's feelings -- none of them saw Nana spring into action. Without warning, Nana pounced on the woman and began to drag her kicking and screaming back to the children who screamed and shouted in horror as well. "MARY!" George yelled knocking his wife over and out of the way as he fled to assist the woman to her feet.
"Very sorry ... Mrs. Couch ... family pet...." George apologized frantically as he dusted her off, and helped her into one of the uncomfortable chairs with the crimson cushions. Had it been anyone else but the bank president's wife, George would not have been that nervous and never would have yanked Nana on her collar hard enough to injure her. But she was, so he did, and Nana yelped in agony. "Quite alright, Mr. . . .?" Mrs. Couch began, graciously excepting a glass of water the Bank's constable offered.
"Darling, Mrs. Couch," George answered.
"Darling! I beg your pardon Sir? Did you just title me as Darling?" the great lady asked, shocked.
No, my Lady, never!" George tautly exclaimed. "My name is George Darling. Darling is my last name Mrs. Couch." He clarified. George spoke as if he was giving his name for the last time before being executed, "George Darling."
"Fine, Mr. Darling, I'll see you get the bill and it is deducted promptly from you pay." She fixed what remained of her new fur about her neck and, with the assistance of the multitude of employees surrounding her, made her way back to her husband, the bank's president and the senior board members who had just emerged from a rather important meeting on the other side of the bank.
The Bank's President, Sir Edward Quiller Couch, who (thankfully) did not witness what happened, inquired of his wife's new stole, now wet with dog slobber. She pointed to George, who was still clutching Nana's collar, smiling uncomfortably at Sir Edward's annoyed expression.
In the confusion, George had forgotten that his wife was Mary, the beautiful queen, a proper lady, who now moved past her husband and over to the gentlemen gathered around Mrs. Couch. He watched in trepidation, then in amazement as she extended her elegant hand and her own apologizes. She first bowed to the group of men, and lovingly placed her other hand gently on Mrs. Couch's shoulder, moving her head gracefully up and about, obviously complimenting her on either her lovely dress or her neatly coiffure hair -- perhaps both, for Mrs. Couch beamed with the flattery, and stepped back to give Mary a better look at her ensemble. Mrs. Couch then must have returned the sentiment, touching Mary's face, making her blush and hide an elusive smile behind her hand. They stood and chatted for another moment, with Sir Edward and the other men watching them giggle and whisper back and forth. The interlude ended with Mrs. Couch insisting, "We must have lunch sometime, Mrs. Darling, drop me a note when you are free." With a peck on the cheek, Mary fixed the situation at hand with Mrs. Couch and moved unto the next. Sir Edward Quiller Couch.
The children stood by their father and watched their mother charm George back into the good graces of the Bank and its president. She must have complimented him, too, for he blushed and nodded his proud head up and down to her. Mary took Sir Edward' s hand and led him to the children, smiling to George as she passed, and one by one introduced them to their father's boss. "This is Gwendolyn, our eldest. But she prefers to be called Wendy."
Sir Edward looked at Wendy and praised her on her pretty smile. "And this is John our second." Again Sir Edward nodded and smiled, noting the resemblance to his father was uncanny.
Finally she directed Sir Edward's attention to Michael, who was the perfect division of Mary and George. Michael stepped forward respectfully and raised his small hand offering a handshake. As Sir Edward obliged, Michael spoke loudly and shook back whole-heartedly, "I am Michael Darling, sir, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."
With introductions completed, Sir Edward bowed to Mary, admiring her lovely family, but did recommend that banks were no place for the family pet. "Oh, I agree, it will never happen again. My husband was just telling me this morning," here she turned her and Sir Edward's attention to George, "the children look up to their father so, they are always begging me to allow them to visit him at the bank. Of course, I would never permit it myself, and so I asked George. He was delighted and informed me he thought it is very important for young children to see adults handling their responsibilities properly, for how ever will they learn if they are not allowed to see?"
Her last comment left a lasting impression on Sir Edward, "Oh yes, Mrs. Darling, I agree. I think that was wise of him to suggest you bring them in for a visit, just not the family pet." With Mary's assurance Nana would never visit George at the bank again, Sir Edward Quiller Couch took his leave without a word to George.
"Thank you, Mary," George said (in obvious relief) as he leaned his hand on his wife's shoulder.
"Alright children, home we go." She took them all out, winking to George who was making a fast pace back to his desk and his ledgers.
The children ran home with Nana following and Mary slowly strolling blocks behind them. Once home, the children darted up the stairs, ready to engage in combat at the command of General John to free the captive prince Michael from the evil clutches of the pirate captain Wendy.
But Mary had another idea for Wendy, as she was the last home and up the stairs, Mary interrupted their heated sword fight. "Wendy, I want to show you something." Mary took her daughter by the hand and dismissed the boys to the kitchen, "Your school work before your battle, please, boys." Mary surprisingly led Wendy into the room she shared with George.
"I am not allowed to go into your room," Wendy reminded her mother, still a little apprehensive about Mary's disposition.
"Yes, that is correct, but this afternoon I will make an exception."
Children being children, all of Mary and George's house rules had been broken at one time or another -- all except this one: "You are never to go into our room under any circumstances. You are to knock at the door and your mother or I will either come out and speak with you or direct you to stand in the doorway and speak with you there. But never are you to play in our room or snoop about when we are not around," George told each of the children when each was old enough to understand both the rule and the consequences. Of all the doors in the Darling Residence, this, the bedchamber of Mr. and Mrs. George Darling, was the only one kept closed at all times.
"Father, what is to be the punishment if we break your rule?" Michael had asked when told this, as he was the last one and always the most curious.
"Your mother and I will not trust you for a very long time. And without our trust you will receive no privileges," George replied with no further explanation. The Darlings trusted their children with their own good judgment. For the most part, they were allowed to play in the nursery by themselves and without supervision because Mary believed the best way to develop their imaginations in their own made-up worlds required privacy and no criticisms from grown ups. George simply thought it taught them maturity and responsibility. They went to school alone, only watched over by Nana, the same when they returned. They were also given free rein over the house when George was not home, and at times took their sword fights into the formal parlor or enjoyed a feast for their good service to the Queen and her kingdom at the kitchen table.
But they knew all that would stop if they were not trusted. To help squash the temptation all children felt (not to mention all grownups as well) when something was forbidden, Mary, when not upstairs, locked her and George's bedroom door.
The children never dared venture in, even when Aunt Millicent stayed there. So this was Wendy's first trip inside with her mother since she was a small child. It was a beautiful room, smaller than the nursery. It had a large bed that Wendy knew her parents slept in together. It had a large wardrobe standing against the wall next to mother's vanity, nearest the grand front window of the house. The window was decorated in blue curtains that had hung there as long as Wendy could remember. Every day when she came home from school, she would look up to that spacious window, knowing it was her parents' room, and wonder over the magic she was sure took place inside. As Wendy entered, she saw her father's dresser. It stood by the door, alone against the wall. Mary went to check on Michael and John, and left Wendy standing there, right in front of it. "I'll be right back Wendy, stand here until I return."
George's was a tall dresser, and, just like every room in the house, the furniture in this room matched perfectly. A deep rich cherry wood with pretty design of rose buds carved along the front. It was an odd decoration for a married couple of thirteen years; Wendy thought it should have been something more aristocratic, like the furniture in Grandpa Joe's room. This was the setting of a single young lady living at home with her parents.
But no, she was mistaken, as she glided about in a circle, their bed did not match anything. It was bigger than her bed, but not by much, and the headboard was polished brass, with no footboard. The sheets looked smooth and comfortable, with a huge puffy quilt covering it. The pillows were fluffed and placed perfectly on top. Wendy wanted to jump into it so badly, just to cover herself up and stretch out. "It must be lovely to fall asleep in such a grand bed," she thought to herself.
Wendy heard her mother reprimanding John for stabbing Michael in his shoulder and ripping his school shirt, which she now had to mend again. "If you are done with your school work, John, help your brother with his, so you can both return to your game in the nursery without interruption," her mother suggested downstairs in the kitchen, as Wendy found herself turned back around staring at George's dresser. The top had a gentleman's mirror, small and square. His leather spectacle case sat there with his comb and cologne. She sniffed the bottle, her mother's favorite scent that she purchased for him on his birthday and at Christmas. His old wallet, a pocket watch that was broken, keys to places she was unaware of, and his razor rested there also. Being brave, she opened the top drawer and saw his handkerchiefs neatly folded and lined in rows, next to his socks. The second draw contained his underpants, and Wendy giggled knowing exactly what they were. The third contained his sweaters, but before she could go further she saw her mother standing in the doorway with her arms folded in front of her, watching.
Wendy quickly shut the drawer and lowered her head, sure of her mother's wrath. But Mary just chuckled and kissed the top of Wendy's head. "I love you Wendy, you make me laugh so," Mary reassured her daughter, taking her hand and clasping it firmly in her own.
Mary took Wendy to her vanity table and sat her down in front of the mirror. Had Wendy known the treasures there she would have not wasted time looking through her father's boring dresser. Mary's vanity was stylish and splendid and very fancy. The delicate bench Wendy sat on was very comfy, even for being so small. She gazed down at the wide array of cosmetics and perfumes spread out before her. Wendy had no idea what they were for but she put her nose close to them to investigate. She turned to see her mother flipping through dresses in her wardrobe, so she peeked into the top drawer of the vanity. It contained brushes of every size and shape, "For the application of cosmetics..." Mary responded to Wendy's quizzical expression.
Her mother didn't seem to mind that she snooped through the vanity. "Go ahead, Wendy, you may look if you like," so she continued.
From the top drawer, the vanity split in two sections of drawers, each side having two more drawers, one on top of the other. The first she opened, left side nearest the window, contained Mary's hair items. Hair clips and pins, brushes, combs, setting lotions and strange devices for creating curls where none were present. She closed it and opened the one below. There she found her mother's personal items.
It once had a lock that Mary meant to have secured, for when she caught sight of her daughter picking up her diary she moved quickly to retrieve it and put it back. "Every woman has things that are private, that they share with no one, not their children, not their husband, only with themselves. This is where I keep those things. Do not open this drawer again." Mary closed the drawer, but did not lock it. She pointed to the other top drawer and urged Wendy on. "I think you will find many things of interest in there."
The third drawer, top right side nearest the wardrobe, was a jewelry box lined in velvet with a lid, which was supposed to be filled with the queen's priceless possessions. Wendy only found a bent hair clip with three stones missing, a fancy broche with a shiny glasslike jewel, a collar pin, one gold necklace with a red stone with matching earrings, and a gold bracelet with green jewels encased in it. Mary wore the hair clip, the collar pin and the necklace with earrings, but had never worn the bracelet or the broche and Wendy felt sorry for the beautiful treasures abandoned.
"May I have one, Mother?"
Mary looked over the items and picked up the bracelet. "You can keep this one, it will match the dress I purchased for you."
Overjoyed, Wendy wasted no time putting it on. "I'll cherish it always, Mother," Wendy insisted, as she examined her wrist with the pretty item upon it.
Next to the jewelry there was a wooden box, just like the box George had presented to Wendy, only this one was worn and old. Wendy opened the box and found the exact same set George gave her of makeup case, brush, and comb and hand mirror. Instead of the engraving, "Gwendolyn," her mother's was engraved "Mary Elizabeth..." Mary knelt next to her daughter, and Wendy looked to her mother's lovely face as she smiled that mocking grin. "From Father?" Wendy asked.
"Yes, from Father, but not your father, my father. My father gave this to me when he knew I was a young lady, just as your father presented you with the same. I want you to know, Wendy, your father picked out your gift especially for you. I always adored my gift and treasured it. To me, it meant that my father thought of me as a princess, and being that princess made me priceless in his eyes. He thought of me, and me alone. Watching a girl growing up into womanhood is different for a father than it is for a mother. When a daughter becomes a woman and gets married and has a family of her own, she becomes a close friend to her mother, closer, in fact for there will be so much more we will share in common. But for a father, when his daughter grows up and wants to marry, he has to give her away to another man. He must entrust to that man her whole life. That is the hardest part of being a father, to have to give your priceless princess away and to know, from then on, the moment you walk down the aisle and say your wedding vows, forever he will be replaced as the one and only man in your life. I treasured my gift, for to me it meant my father had accepted that fate, as begrudging and difficult as it is. Your father feels the same way about you, Wendy, he wanted you to have something that showed how proud he was that you are maturing into a young lady. You are priceless in your father's eyes." Mary held Wendy's face as she spoke, and then opened the last drawer of her vanity.
There alone inside was George's gift. Mary cleared the vanity's center section and placed Wendy's box there. "Soon you will be a young lady. There are things inside this box you will need." She took out each item and explained what they were used for, finishing with the makeup case and cosmetics inside. "When you are ready, Wendy, I will show you how to apply these cosmetics, I will show how to set your hair, I show you everything. And every question you have I will answer, when you are ready. Until you are, I will keep it here in my vanity. This is your drawer." Mary took the bracelet off of Wendy's wrist. "This is your bracelet now, and I will keep it in your drawer for you. I will never wear it unless I ask your permission first." Mary rose and gathered the perfume she purchased for Wendy and also placed it in the drawer. "For when you are ready." Mary closed the drawer and gave Wendy the key; this drawer too had a lock.
"Can I come in and visit them, Mother?" Wendy inquired, as Mary took her from the sacred bedroom and led her to the nursery.
"No, Wendy, you must always ask before you enter into mine and your father's bedroom. And those items are not to be played with. They are not toys. They are grown up things and only those who are grown up should use them. When you are ready to grow up, they will be there waiting for you." Mary hugged Wendy tightly and Wendy hugged back with all her might. "As you are not yet ready to grow up, I've placed some things more appropriate for you on your bed." Mary smiled to Wendy as she made her way back downstairs.
Inside the nursery, Wendy went straight to her own jewelry box Grandpa Joe bought for her last Christmas. Of course, she believed Santa gifted it to her, but just the same, she too adored it. She lovingly placed the key to her own drawer in Mary's vanity down within and gently closed the top. She teetered on her feet in front of Michael and John and simply stated, "This is my jewelry box for my 'girly things'." Wendy felt silly so she made a little fun of herself by curtsying to them as she directed her brothers to, "stay away from my 'girly things' please."
Truly, her brother did not care after her 'girly things,' they were more interested in the items their mother had placed on Wendy's bed. "Mother left those things for you. Are they considered 'girly' Wendy? Gees, I sure hope not!" Michael exclaimed. Wendy went to her bed and found the doll with the pretty porcelain face from Paris. Alongside of it, she found a costume, unique for Wendy. Mary had bought it with the funds George had placed aside for his wife's new hair clip. It was an armored bodice with a floral wrap for her waist.
"A warrior princess!" John shouted as Wendy held it to her chest and began to cry.
"Mother told us not to make a peep when you were in her room doing your silly girly things," Michael was jumping on his bed as he spoke. For Wendy, the best part was that it came with her own dagger and wooden sword. "So Captain Hook, you think you can steal away the gracious queen, do you? EN GUARDE!" Wendy yelled.
"There is something else!" John shouted, holding his sword to defend himself. Underneath the doll was a journal, a diary for Wendy. She opened it and read what her father had written on the inside cover.
Dearest Wendy,
For your stories,
Father
"He was afraid to give it to you after you didn't like the tin crown," Michael still jumping on his bed shouted. "Mother said she found it when she unpacked the bags from their holiday." John continued. Wendy looked at the leather bound journal, embossed with her name, her name for short, "Wendy" on the cover, and loved it more than her costume.
George Darling came home from work at ten minutes after six, like he did every day. He removed his coat and hat and went straight to the dining room, his family already waiting, even Aunt Millicent had returned. He sat down and ate his supper; Mary served him first, and he began eating, speaking stocks and bonds to Grandpa Joe. Michael and John challenged one another calling each other dastardly names, which caused Aunt Millicent, who held Mary's ear, to clutch her chest throughout dinner.
No one noticed Wendy who smiled lovingly at her father and did not speak a word.
When dinner was finished, Michael and John escaped to the nursery with Nana, Grandpa Joe and Aunt Millicent to the parlor, and Mary to the kitchen. Wendy approached her father who was preparing to get up from the table. He remained in his seat and watched his eldest child, his only daughter standing in front of him. "Thank you, Father," she said as she smiled and hugged him around his neck.
"You are welcome, Wendy." His face was unsure as he hugged her back. When she removed her embrace, he stood and patted her on the head.
"Goodnight, Father!" Wendy shouted as she disappeared from the dining room up the stairs.
George entered the kitchen with his paper and sat down. Mary was already hard at work scrubbing the pots and pans. "So you gave her the journal then, Mary?" George began, trying not to show his interest.
"Yes, I did." Mary turned to see George nodding. He flipped his paper open, not reading just wanting to know his daughter truly didn't hate him like she had said, when he continued, "I guess she liked it then?" He ended his question on a high note and moved his eyes to Mary who was standing leaning on the counter wiping her hands on her apron.
She walked up behind her husband and hugged his neck, the same way Wendy had. "What do you think, George?"
He smiled and touched her arms, as she leaned her head to see him, he dipped in for a kiss, his kiss and retrieved it. His face was not unsure but secure as he gazed lovingly at his wife. Mary went back to her dishes, George to his paper.
Wendy watched her parents from the hall with a queer expression. She looked to her mother that kiss, always that kiss just for George, and never her.