When We Get to San Francisco…

"And you'll get there someday, right, Dad?" Charlie asked, still admiring the vivacious flapper who peered out at him from the sepia print. While he might struggle to recall her name, neither of Charlie's parents had any doubt he had long since memorized the beautiful photograph.

"It would be nice to visit the Brockways after all these years, wouldn't it, Bill?" Mary asked.

"But then what would we say when we were talking about someday?" Bill quipped.

"Well, that is certainly a reason to never make the trip!" Mary rejoined, and they shared a laugh. "You know Ben and Marlene would love to see us, though. She said in her letter, they still long to pay us back properly."

"They owe us nothing," Bill said. "All we did was help a deserving friend."

"You played Santa for them, right Dad?" Charlie piped up.

"No, we just told Santa Claus where to find them," Bill replied, with a stern look at Charlie.

"Right, that's what I meant!" Charlie said hastily, having recognized the warning not to spill the beans for Anna, who still believed.

"Nevertheless, Bill, would you deny them a chance to thank us?" Mary persisted.

"Not at all," Bill said. "It would be lovely to see them, and to finally see San Francisco for that matter. It is only that we're so very busy here all the time."

"Tell me again, Mommy," Anna asked. "Why did you and Daddy get off the train?"

"You know they won't tell you that!" Charlie reminded her. "They never tell us that!"

"We will when you're older, you know that," Mary said, in the firm tone that both her children recognized as a tacit declaration that the subject was closed. "Now, Charlie, how was school today?"

"Perhaps he is old enough to know," Mary suggested to Bill in the privacy of their bedroom, hours later, as she sat on their bed and reached up her skirt to remove her stockings. "We have always said we want to raise our children to understand the way the world really works, after all."

"Perhaps he is," Bill agreed, admiring the view of his wife's legs as he unbuttoned his shirt. "But I still vote for waiting until the first time he comes home talking about somebody's sister who got in trouble or some such. Then it will be a lesson he never forgets."

"Do we really want to shock him like that?" Mary asked; with the stockings off, she stood up and eyed Bill hungrily as he pulled his shirt off.

"Believe you me, Mary, sooner or later he's going to get a shock when it comes to girls," Bill quipped, grinning as he stood shirtless before her.

"Oh, you know perfectly well what I mean!" Mary protested. But she did not push the matter further. Her husband's bare chest and welcoming gaze were just too irresistible in the cozy electric light of their room, and she had far more pleasant thoughts on her mind. Slowly, enticingly, she undid the cuffs on her blouse for the one person on earth with whom she was not ashamed of her scars. With Bill, they weren't scars, but rather badges of a battle they had won together. They were a reminder – an almost pleasant one, as perverse as that seemed – of that unbreakable bond they had forged on the train all those years before, a symbol of the injustice Bill had made it his life's work to change. He had done his part and so very much more so, but he was always quick to remind anyone who commented on the matter that he couldn't have done it all without Mary at his side. Few other women Mary knew could say they and their husbands were a team, on equal footing, even in these fast changing times and in a wonderfully progressive city like Denver. But Mary could.

Once again as she unbuttoned her blouse, it tickled Mary to know that Bill, desensitized as he might be to all the mysteries of the female body, still adored the sight of hers. In light of his reaction to Anna's question that afternoon, it appeared he hadn't an inkling about her own growing suspicion about her body. But now wasn't the time to discuss all that. With a welcoming smile she did away with her blouse, and then pulled the pin out of her fiery red hair to let it fall enticingly about her shoulders. "I love you, Bill," she said, and blossomed forth into his waiting embrace.

"I love you, too, Mary," he whispered, enfolding her in his arms just as eagerly as he had done the very first time, that night on the train somewhere in the wilds of Nebraska. As she clung to him, he rubbed her back gently in a rhythm that led naturally to his unhooking her bra. Mary sighed with appreciation as she felt the garment loosen, and without another word she drew her hands around to his front to return the favor with his belt and pants. She drew back just enough to shrug her bra off, and Bill set about rubbing her breasts just right, as he always did. Fifteen years of marriage and it was still a reward like nothing else, the way he could massage away the remnants of their confinement once they were set free at the end of the day. Their tenderness of the moment notwithstanding, she had no complaints about his ever gentle touch.

Bill kicked off his pants, continuing to caress her breasts as he did, and Mary reached down with both hands and found him hard and ready as always. He moaned with delight as she stroked him gently, longing for him to lift up her skirt and return the favor. Presently he did, and soon had her panties out of the way and his fingers teasing her waiting lips. Mary responded with an "ooooohh" followed by a deep kiss. She knew better than to bother him with any jokes about how much practice he got at such things through his day job; he had never liked such comments – but nothing could stop her from thinking of how lucky she was to have a husband who got so much practice in intimate touching like this!

With her skirt bunched inconveniently up over her waist, Mary pulled it over her head and then lay back on the bed, her fiery hair spilling all over the pillows just as Bill had always loved it. In an instant Bill was lying beside her and back to kissing her right breast and running his fingers through her dark pubic hair. A tentative finger inside confirmed that she was wet; with the ice broken, he reached two fingers inside and rubbed gently, just as she had always loved from their very first time together. "God, Bill!" Mary arched her back and wiggled her knees in intense pleasure as he began rubbing faster. He drew himself up to his knees and switched to her left breast, just in time to bring about her first orgasm, which she expressed loudly as always.

"Thank you," she whispered breathily when it was over. "Now you." She drew up her knees and spread her legs, and felt Bill's first tentative poke before he found his way in. Fifteen years and he could still get a bit nervous at the big moment! But it was all a part of the lovely game, and soon she was enveloping him lovingly as ever.

As usual, neither of them moved at first, preferring to look in one another's eyes and savor the fresh intimacy of the moment. A long, deep kiss and then he set about pushing in and out, slowly and reverently at first, Mary savoring each thrust with an appreciative moan. The pale light from the table lamp beside the bed illuminated a gentle, steady rhythm that they had long since perfected. Any concerns that the children or the servants might hear Mary's cries of joy had long since been set aside, since over two years since Bill's return from Europe had brought no commentary from any of them. Even had there been such complaints, Mary had the confidence borne of having bounced back from the depths of despair back in New York, and she had years ago slammed the door on any inclination to apologize for loving sex. And so as Bill pumped into her again and again, she rewarded him with uninhibited responses that only aroused him further. She threw her arms around him as she came, and the added sensation of her embrace and her breasts pressed tightly up against him were just what Bill needed to send him over the edge as well.

For several quiet minutes they lay entwined together, a jumble of the sort of delight only years of love and friendship could bring. When at last they fell separate on their pillows, Mary broke the silence. "Bill, do you ever think of having a third one, like Anna asked today?"

"Well, no," Bill said. "I wouldn't object if one happened, of course, but I feel perfectly content with what we do have, don't you?"

"Completely," Mary said, hoping it sounded more convincing to him than it did to herself. "I was only wondering, since Anna never asked me that before. I wonder if we'll be hearing more of that, with Elsie expecting now."

"Probably," Bill said. "But so what?"

"Indeed. At least there won't be any awkward questions about how it all happens." Thanks to their parents' jobs, Charlie and Anna had known all about how babies were made since they were old enough to talk.

"Aren't we lucky in that regard!" Bill agreed, reaching over to turn off the lamp.

"Not only in that regard!" Mary said, snuggling up beside him in the dark. Soon they were both fast asleep.

A couple of miles away in a downtown hotel, several rooms had lights still visible from the street. Inside one of them, the older man who had spied Bill and Mary outside their office, and then their home, was seated at the desk in his shirtsleeves. Though unaware of the blissful activity they had just completed at that moment, he was hard at work on writing all he had observed about them from a safe distance.

Whatever trouble she harbors in her past, Mary appears to have blossomed into a wonderful, caring mother and a capable nurse. From my enquiries around town, I have found no evidence that anyone is aware of her past as a fallen woman. What they are aware of is a caring nurse who is willing and able to assist young women through their most vulnerable moments and provide frank, no-nonsense answers on the most intimate of topics. As for Bill, he is among the more controversial citizens of Denver; but from what I have been able to discern, he is most proud of that. Deeply committed to his job and his cause, he has inspired remarkable respect and loyalty among the young women of the city and the men who love them. They both put up with all manner of abuse from the puritanical scolds of their fair city; but they hold their heads high through it all. His mother would be...oh, who am I kidding? His mother would be disgusted and outraged.

They have two children, a boy and a girl. I have witnessed them only from a great, safe distance; but they appear well-fed and well-cared for. I can only hope the near future might allow me a proper introduction to them.

His pen lingered long over that final sentence, recalling the lovely sight of the two children when their nanny had brought them out to play much earlier that day, shortly before he had set off for his vigil outside Bill's office downtown. Tomorrow would be another day, of course, but tonight found him flummoxed as to how it might happen. Capping his pen, he turned to look at the waiting bed. There seemed little chance of getting any sleep now that he had seen Bill and Mary and the children. Perfect time to go out and get good and drunk, if only it were legal anymore. If only he knew where to inquire after a speakeasy; likely as not there was one within a few blocks. Alas, there was no choice but to turn out the light and try to content himself with the promise of a closer look on the morrow.

The next morning once again found a small but dedicated clutch of protesters outside Bill and Mary's office building. He had slept later than planned and then enjoyed an uncharacteristically leisurely breakfast at the hotel, for a certain serenity had at long last overtaken him now that he had seen Bill and Mary. After decades of chasing after the almighty legal tender, he was finding retirement more enjoyable than he had ever dared imagine, and now the hole in his heart that had been growing all these years was in sight of relief as well! To his regret, though, he arrived on the scene too late to see the Pierce Arrow zipping up the street. Arriving on the scene to find half a dozen women reciting Hail Marys, he resolved to act like the dignified adult he was and pay Bill a direct visit rather than loiter on the street.

Avoiding eye-contact with the guards, he strode purposefully up to the door. But just as he was about to take hold of the handle, a guard accosted him. "Pardon me, my good man, but have you got business in this building?"

"I certainly do, if you would excuse me," he replied.

"With whom, sir, and may I see some identification?"

"With Doctor Billingston, and I see no reason why you must know who I am."

"With Doctor Billingston," the guard repeated with a sarcastic grin. "And you won't tell us who you are. Heavens, sir, do you think we were born yesterday?"

"I'll have you know my business is both deeply personal and completely irrelevant to anything you need concern yourself with!" he said, struggling now to keep his temper. So close now, after all these years, and this young man thought he could get in his way!

A second guard approached them now. "Got a new one this week, have we, Lou?" he asked.

"It looks that way," answered the first guard, apparently named Lou. "This gentleman tells me he has an appointment with Doctor Billingston. Does he look to you like the type who would?"

The second guard laughed. "Which church sent you, sir, and didn't they at least tell you Doctor Billingston is a gynecologist?"

"An appointment with him indeed," Lou said. "Sir, I shall have to ask you to step off the premises."

"My good men! I –"

"Sir! You can leave peacefully, or we can have you arrested!" the second guard warned him. Grabbing him by the arm now, he half led, half dragged him down the sidewalk. "Whatever we think of the good doctor and what he does up there, we won't have violence in our city. We certainly won't have you compounding the damage by wreaking heaven knows what sort of havoc in his own office." At the corner he gave him a light shove. "Now, off with you, and next time at least come back with a better story!"

As he stood there in the gutter, gathering his wits and trying to make sense of exactly what had just occurred, an agitated looking young woman stepped around him. She gave him a dirty look as she hopped up on the curb, and then smiled hello to the guard. "Caught another one, did you, Jack?" she asked.

"'Morning, Louise. It would appear we did. This genius said he had an appointment with the doctor, if you can believe that!"

Louise laughed. "It might do those old men some good if they did let Doctor Billingston have a poke at them, wouldn't it?"

He retreated across the street to a café to calm his nerves with some tea and ponder his next option. Mustn't let the cops think he was any sort of troublemaker, and now they might just be on the lookout for him outside Bill and Mary's house. He had to think of something fast...

Back across the street, Jack and Lou ushered Louise past the cries of abuse and harassment from the ladies on the sidewalk and into the building. "Thanks, fellas," she said just before they shut the door behind her. As they turned back to face more cries of outrage, they once again put on their poker faces and did their best to ignore it all. Due to the scuffle with first the old man and then Louise, neither of them had taken any notice of the second older man who now stood a few yards off, holding up a newspaper but not reading it. Had they paid him any mind, they surely would have noticed that he hadn't turned the page in several minutes, or that he darted his eyes their way every time their attention was turned elsewhere. Having seen the other man's miserably failed effort at getting into the building, he gave up on his own plan to simply claim to have business with some other tenant. Having seen that Louise was headed exactly where he had feared, he resolved to find a second way into the building, and soon.

Two heads are better than one, he concluded, and folding his paper, he watched as the disgruntled old man took a seat at the café across the street. "Buddy, you've just made a new best friend," he muttered underneath his breath.

Mary was just seeing Bill's second patient of the morning off when Louise appeared in the waiting room doorway. She knew just what the younger woman's presence meant, but as always, she remembered to smile and act professional. "Louise! What a pleasant surprise," she lied, for such a visit was never pleasant nor, regrettably, a surprise. "Care for some tea?"

"I'd love some, thanks." Louise knew the drill, and she remembered to look happy as well until Mary had shut the door to the storage room behind them both.

"What's her name?" Mary asked matter-of-factly, pulling out the notepad she kept hidden behind the filing cabinet.

"Lorene Baker, ma'am," Louise answered. "The poor dear is only eighteen, too. Can you even imagine, Mary?"

"Yes, Louise, I can." Mary gave her a gentle but firm look, and there was no further commentary from Louise. "How many months?"

"Two, she thinks."

"She thinks?" Mary repeated.

"That's what she told me," Louise confirmed. "She said she's been late plenty of times before and she thought this was just another one of those."

"It is perfectly normal to be irregular when you're that age," Mary acknowledged. "The poor thing was probably in denial, too." Mary recalled that feeling all too well, even now, and she struggled to keep her composure. It happened every time Louise came calling. "I take it her parents don't know?"

"Heavens, no!" Louise exclaimed. "They're Catholic and, well, you know."

"I certainly do," Mary said. "I take it she is at school today?"

"I've arranged to meet her after school," Louise said. "She had me over for dinner last week, so her parents think I'm a school chum and we're just going for a matinee today."

"Perfect," Mary said. "Now, I think we can carve out just enough time at three o'clock. Can you have her here at a quarter till, at the back door?"

"I know the process, Mary."

"Very good, then. Now, I hate to have to ask you, but we are absolutely swamped out front this morning. Would you be so good as to prepare the room?" Without waiting for an answer, Mary pulled away the bookshelf that hid the door to what all concerned always called "the room," one of many precautions Bill and Mary took to ensure no one knew of its existence who did not absolutely need to know. With no knob on the outside so as to prevent any disturbances should anyone get past the guards downstairs, the door looked like a panel in the wall. Mary pushed on the "panel" and the door swung open. "You know how dusty it gets when we're lucky enough not to need it for some time," she said.

"Indeed," Louise agreed. Stepping inside, she said, "Ten minutes?"

"That should do," Mary said. As soon as Louise was safely inside and the door shut, Mary slid the bookshelf back into place and returned to her post in the waiting room.

Across the street, the man with the newspaper tipped his hat at the older gentleman and helped himself to a seat at his table. "Good morning, sir," he said without awaiting an invitation. "My name is Frank, and I think you and I may have a common enemy over there."

"I'm Harry," said the older man, setting down his teacup and giving his new friend the once-over. "And I certainly do seem to have a couple of enemies in that place."

"Indeed," Frank said. "I should like a word with Doctor Billingston about keeping his damn hands off other people's daughters and out of our private business." Harry looked at him with surprise and was about to object, but something told him to keep his mouth shut and learn more about what Frank was up to. "You hear about these goings-on and you hate it, but it's none of your concern, and then one day it's your daughter."