Free Seventy-Two Hours by C. P. Stringham Page B

us.”
    A smile played over his face. “I’m fairly
certain that if that damn phone hadn’t rung, we’d still be otherwise engaged.
Especially with you and the way you can be.”
    “Me?!?” my voice rose to glass shattering
octaves. “Just what do you mean by that?!?”
    “C’mon, Jen, you know.”
    I felt my face go red and couldn’t understand
why I was embarrassed. Discussing sex with the one person that knew me the
best shouldn’t bring on schoolgirl blushing.
    “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “You like your multiple orgasms, don’t you,
Jen?”
    I narrowed my eyes at him ready to argue and
then changed my mind. He laughed at my noticeable hesitation and discomfort.
It had to be funny to witness. I tried to stay angry. I’d even compressed my
lips into thin lines of anger until my face muscles began cramping. Despite all
that, my mouth formed a smile and I found myself laughing along with him.
    “You’re laughing because you know I’m right.”
    “Yes, you’re right.”
    “I didn’t think you’d admit it.”
    “I’ll admit it.”
    Thankfully, he changed the subject. “How
about an early dinner?”
    “Are you making it?”
    He shrugged. “I will if you want, but I thought
we could go out somewhere nice. My treat.”
    It was better than sitting around waiting for
the next argument to happen. But I had another idea yet. “Dinner at home
sounds like a better plan. How about that?”
    “We’ll go home on Monday as planned.”
    “One of us could murder the other by then,” I
murmured.
    “What?”
    “Nothing.”
    He gracefully got to his feet before offering
me a hand up. We walked to the cottage together talking about innocuous
things. The type of light banter you’d expect between polite strangers. Or
two individuals that were attempting to avoid topics that would trigger a
humdinger of an argument, which was our situation. We went our separate ways
once inside so I could take my second shower of the day and into a change of
clothes.
    Our plan was to drive up to Geneva, located along
the northern tip of Seneca Lake, and find a place for dinner. I’d access the
internet from my Droid as we drove to get some ideas. We’d eaten at Belhurst’s
and Geneva on the Lake with the Palmers before, but we didn’t have the proper
attire packed for those fine dining establishments.
    I met Chris downstairs a half hour later. He
greeted me with a smile and held the front door for me. I was already happy
about accepting his offer. If we timed our dinner just right, we could easily
waste three hours. Only 48 hours to go.

Chapter Ten
    July 26, 1991 – Elmira, New York
    I sat in the waiting room of my OB/GYN’s
office paging through an older issue of Newsweek with the headline,
“AMERICA AT WAR.” Other moms-to-be sat around doing a similar action with
other magazines. It would be my 36 week check up with the normal weigh,
measure, and listen routine. It had been 36 long weeks. Our baby’s due date
was soon approaching. As far as I was concerned, August 20th wouldn’t arrive
soon enough. The hot July weather only compounded the physical discomfort I
was having. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat wondering if the skin on my
stomach could possibly stretch any further than it already had.
    Every time the door opened, I looked to see
if it was Chris. While checking in, the kindly, older receptionist informed me
he had called and was running late, but would be there momentarily. Instead of
the Absentminded Professor, I was married to the “Harried, Mad Scientist” as he
worked a summer internship with a company in Corning, New York. Chris was
busting his butt trying to impress them so his internship would lead to a permanent
job when he graduated in December.
    My name was called and as I set my magazine
down, Chris came bursting in the door looking around until his eyes landed on mine.
I smiled and waved for him to join me. I watched as the other women in the
room admired him. He