Free Plantation by Dorothea Benton Frank Page A

out to pull me to his lap. I went along with it and sat down right on him, but then slid back a bit so that we were at opposite ends of the sofa facing each other.
    “The last thing I want is to scar our wedding night with a silly argument. You are the most adorable woman I have ever known, simply the most divine creature, and I love you with all my heart.
    There is no other woman I would like to sleep with besides you.”
    “Good.”

    P l a n t a t i o n
    5 5
    “What I meant was, that in the grand scheme, over the next thirty or forty years of our life together, that if you stepped out a little or if I strayed a bit, it would bear no reflection on my feelings for you or about us. Do you understand?”
    “Of course I understand, but I would never do such a thing.”
    “And I’m sure I wouldn’t either,” he said, pulling me over to his chest. I curled up on him and exhaled. “Shall we make our way to the marital bed, sweetheart?” he whispered to me and kissed the top of my head, stroking my hair.
    He spoke with such tenderness that once again I felt stupid and naïve. I didn’t know what it was that he had said that upset me so.
    Probably my own exhaustion, I decided.
    When I returned from the bathroom in the beautiful white chiffon and lace nightgown I’d splurged on at Saks, he was passed out cold. Good, I thought, I didn’t really feel like making love anyway. Our conversation had annoyed me and, besides, every bone in my body ached. I took off my nightgown, hung it on the padded hanger, and pulled an old white cotton nightshirt over my head. As I had done forever, I brushed my hair up into a ponytail. I covered him up with a comforter and hoped his passing out and neglecting his connubial duty wasn’t going to become a habit. He would be so embarrassed in the morning!
    I went to the guest room, the room that I hoped would one day become a nursery. My conversation with Richard was kind of a joke, really. Every anniversary I could give him a hard time about our wedding night. He would accuse me of driving him to drink with my schoolgirl innocence and I’d tell stories about how I wound up in bed alone. Oh, sure.
    I tossed the bolster cushion on the floor, pulled back the white comforter, and fluffed the pillows as I took them from the cabinet.
    I loved this little bedroom, with its mirrored walls and economic use of space. It was like the inside of a miniature ship, every square inch used for a purpose. Cozy but crisp because of the white linens and reflections of chrome fixtures. I slipped under the sheets of the 5 6
    D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k trundle bed and turned to the mirrored wall before I switched off the light. God, did I look tired.
    I decided I didn’t have anything to worry about, that Richard was just letting the alcohol talk. He was just overtired and rambling on. I thought about Richard a little more. Maybe he was right about the business of an occasional fling. Maybe it had nothing to do with the marriage. After all, I was only twenty-six and he was thirty-seven. He had done a lot more living than I had and he knew things.
    I was glad that Mother and everyone else had stayed at the Pierre. My wedding night story would be a secret I could share with Millie, but never with Mother. She would never understand.

    M i s s L av i n i a ’s J o u r na l I wish I understood why Caroline’s rushing to have a baby.
    Oh, Sweetie tells me that she should because of osteoporosis or some fool thing, but what does she know? Sweetie’s not a doctor! Caroline and I call each other all the time and she tells me little things. I don’t think she should have a child yet, but I never could tell her a thing! If she has a baby, what will happen to her little business she’s trying to build? What kind of mother can she be if she’s running around all the time doing errands for clients! I shouldn’t allow these things to put me in a state of agitation, but when I think of the life she could have