SERIES: Always Looking Higher

UNIVERSE: Always...

AUTHOR: Missy

EMAIL: lasfic@yahoo.com

PART: 1 of 1

RATING: PG-13 (Adult thematic material, language

PAIRING(s): L/L; S/C; R/S; F/E

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Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

CATEGORY: Romance

FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!

SETTING IN TIMELINE: California, Post-I Do, I Don't

SEQUEL TO: Ever After, Always A Bridesmaid, Always Prepared, Always a Mess, Always Apologize First, Always a Challenge, Always Too Much Lasagna, Always There For You and Always About You.  Tenth in this continuity.

Spoilers For: the entire universe, I Do, I Don't.

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Laverne and Lenny pick a date; Shirley reacquaints herself with Emmaline; Squiggy has a surprising question for Rhonda.

***

Laverne smoothed a hand over her yellow short-sleeved shirt, pushing down the velvet "L" which had begun to peel in the hot California sunlight.  Pulling a brush out of her cavernous shoulder bag, she gave her hair two quick run-throughs, trying to make it seem less a shaggy mess she was trying to grow out and more like the hair of a woman of worldly sophistication.  She glanced sideways at Lenny, who ran a disposable blue comb through his heavily greased hair, staring into the glittering reflection they cast upon the highly-polished storefront of Gambian and Son's Fish Market.

"You ready?"

He stopped in mid-gesture, his blue eyes wide.  "They ain't gonna kick us out in the middle of Mass like the last one?"

She took his free hand.  "The pastor at Saint Peters didn't kick us out, Lenny; they didn't have any more room for the six-o'clock service."  And, Laverne admitted, maybe they were shooting too high to have considered such a grand locale for their wedding, a massive, ornate near-basilica with cupolas from the mid-1800's and a congregation of thousands.  She imagined the small collection of family and friends they might be able to muster up dwarfed by the largesse of their surroundings.  After that, they had immediately crossed off Saint Emmanuel's because it was an Episcopalian denomination, a fact that had somehow eluded the both of them in their perusal of the telephone book.   In their quest, they had traveled from Burbank to LA to East LA, and now they stood a few inches away from Santa Maria's, a Roman Catholic church with a congregation of mixed and loyal patronage, or so their advertisement read.  It was, Laverne told herself, their last hope, so screwing up wasn't an option - all of this was starting to make Las Vegas look very good.  She tugged again at the hem of her brown skirt.  Why did it have to be so hot?  Forget the heat - she should have worn something longer...

"C'mon," Lenny said, grabbing her around the wrist and pulling her away.  "We're gonna be late..."

"Len!" she protested, allowing him to pull her over to the church and thus making less of a scene.  She wrenched her arm out of his grip as they reached the church's walkway.  He let go, and she caught his remorseful look and gave him a forgiving one in return.  Together, they climbed the heavy cement steps up to the thick wooden doors and pushed them open.

Laverne was initially aware of a blast of cool air - a little of it leaking from beneath a set of carved double-doors leading to the main body of the church.  She saw a small basin of holy water grafted to a nearby wall and walked quickly over, anointing herself and marking the sign of the cross upon her forehead.  She waited for Lenny to do the same, then they walked together through the second set of doors into the main body of the church.

Another rush of cool air, being circulated by three electric fans and one ceiling fan, hit her as they entered the main chapel.  It was a tiny but well-appointed place - the dark-grained pews scratched but well-polished.  Though only thirty rows of pews marked the way to the altar, they were well-packed.  The walls were lined with stained-glass representations of the stations of the cross, and over the alter protruded a very old-looking plaster hanging representation of Mary holding the infant Jesus, her nose worn off and her billowing blue robes the color of a hazy summer sky.

Laverne bent and genuflected quickly at the end of the aisle, was aware of Lenny following her lead as she scanned the aisles for space.   In the last pew closest to the door had space enough for two,  though it was occupied by a large family of six in their Sunday best - father, mother, four kids, all sharing one large black hymnal and a copied sheet listing the order and subject of the songs, homily and sermons for the day.   She smiled as they examined the two newcomers with expressions of confusion,  as she slid against the pew and felt the smooth waxed surface push her along toward the middle, leaving enough room between bodies as to not cause discomfort or embarrassment.  They went back to their books, and Laverne averted her eyes, looked at the long runner leading from the door to the altar - a once- exemplary weaving of crimson and gold thistle, now washed out and trampled over time.  The church had seen better days, but it was beautiful, humble, solid, old.  It felt somehow right to her, one who had never had any affection for the old and traditional beyond the occasional flash of guilt or annoyance. 

The soft organ music lilting through the air felt baroque and yet warming.  She didn't recognize the tune of the hymn, but remembered to stand for the entrance of the priest.  She pulled free a hymnal from the bin before her and felt the cracked leather, tracing the embossed golden writing on the front as she pulled free the green sheet of mimeographed paper...

And turned pale.

"Uh oh," she muttered to Lenny.

He had been watching the procession of the priest with the eagerness of a child.  He turned quickly to meet the sound of her voice.  "Huh?"

"Yanno how this is a bilingual church?"

"So?"

The priest opened his mouth, his deep voice echoing through the small interior.  Lenny heard the words, his eyebrows caving toward the center of his face.  Laverne would have laughed had they been anywhere else - he seemed to be worrying if it was the heat getting to him.

"This is a Latin mass," Laverne whispered. 

"What do we do?" Lenny worried.

"Follow everyone's lead," she shrugged.  Just then, everyone around them sat down - and they followed, a few noticable seconds behind, hitting the bench with a resounding thump.  Now everyone was looking at them curiously.

"Oh boy..." Lenny muttered through his teeth.  Laverne pasted on a phony smile.  When everyone turned their eyes away, she glanced at her watch.

Seven thirty, and ten more churches to go...

***

Rhonda Lee peeked over the top of her mirrored sunglasses and directly at the puddle of bubbling tar at her feet.  The early-morning sunlight already felt brutal on her soft skin, but she pulled the bodice of her dress higher, better to hide the bandage taped upon her breast. 

The place where they plug her in, she thinks to herself.    In five days, she would return to Cedars for another round of radiation therapy, a pattern that would repeat in a similar cycle, determining whether she would go on living or be forced to undergo surgery.

She couldn't consider the horrifying possibility that neither would work - that she might end up dying in her struggle.  Her grandmother had accepted death, and so to her descendent defiance seemed the key to survival.

Squiggy flopped down on the ground, sitting up limply like a rag doll beside her.  "You sure it ain't too hot for you to be out?"

Rhonda grumbled to herself at his chivalry.  Some tiny part of her missed the Squiggy who would meet her at the door with a peck and a squeeze of the bottom - now he greeted her presence with worried looks and questions about her appetite, of which she had very little these days.

At the moment, she had no complaints.  She wasn't incapacitating nauseous or tired for the first time in a few days, and her right breast felt less like it was on fire and more like an occasionally throbbing lump of useless flesh.  It was a small improvement, but one she would settle for.

She couldn't stand his grave expression - taking his hand, she laid back on the grass and dragged him to the ground.

"Don't do that..." he groused.

"We're not doing anything, Andy.  Maybe that's the problem."

He laughed, a sharp characteristic bark.  "No."  She drew him in closer.  "Hey..."

"Hay is for horses.  Rhonda used to shovel it out every morning back on the farm, so don't contradict her."

His eyes crossed in an effort to cipher her statement.  "Don't you hurt?"  he asked, in a voice quieter than usual.

"Yes..." he tried to move away from her, but she nestled closer to him.  "But I need you here, and I want you to touch me.  The last thing I need is you to treating me like glass."

"I ain't!  I'm just tryin' to be gentlemanlike and not look up your skirt."

Rhonda tucked her head closer to his, a smile gathering on her lips.  "Then just stay here and hold me."

She had never asked him for that kind of affection before.  The tone of her request made him stop and watch her with his great dark eyes.  "I don't get it.  You wanna neck in a public park?"

The eyes raked her up and down licentiously, and she knew he didn't really understand her new attitude.  "If you're a good boy."

"What happens to bad boys?" he asked, pressing his lips to the crown of her head and lying his arm across her middle.

"They get thrown into tar pits."

He kissed her forehead, for once not raising his hackles.  "'kay.  Then I'll be good."

***

Shirley Ragusa pressed the cheesecloth bag against the side of the only cup she and Carmine had neglected to pack - that ugly orange "I lost my ass in Vegas" mug.  She normally wasn't one for expressing a teabag, but considering the quality of the water and the distress of the person about to drink, speed was of the essence.

She tried not to look too closely at her surroundings and tried to remember the last time she had been inside Lenny and Squiggy's apartment.  Nothing came to mind, though she knew she had jogged the five flights separating their homes in Milwaukee half a hundred times.  Courageously, she glanced around her and was surprised to notice clutter instead of typifying filth and mayhem.  Maybe the boys were becoming refined - more likely they were too busy with the women in their lives to create a storm of dirt. 

In hostess mode, Shirley turned around and confronted Emmy, who sat limply at the dining room table, her chin against it.   Good thing she didn't know about Squiggy and Rhonda's playtime activities, Shirley thought with a shudder.  "Emmaline?  Do you take sugar in your tea?"

"Mommy takes two lumps," a small voice said from the bottom bunk.  Shirley set eyes on little Michael, Emmaline's four-year-old boy.  God, the last time she had seen him was at his christening.  Lenny had been so proud to be his godfather - and so disappointed when Emmaline's husband, Gill, had treated him coldly at the family party afterwards.  But Lenny never gave up, had endured further rudeness from that man to see his sister and his nephew on a regular basis for the first few weeks of the boys' life.  Then he had moved to California, all the while thinking he'd return, and when he didn't their contact had been reduced to rare phone calls and indecipherable (on his end) letters.  Shirley noticed the worry lines around Emmaline's eyes, making her look older than her thirty-one years, and realized that her attachment to her brother had been one more weight on a marriage that had been built on sand in the first place.

"Michael," Emmaline spoke, in a voice that was reprimanding.  "If you have honey, I'll take a little," she said to Shirley.

Shirley nodded, turning back to the kitchen cupboard and cautiously opening one.  She didn't want to think about where it had been, but there was a small bottle of Sue Bee hidden behind a moldy ham sandwich and a copy of Wow!Magazine - Leg Fancier Edition.  She squirted in a liberal dose, stirred the contents of the mug around and then placed the steaming vessel before her guest.

"Thanks," Emmaline muttered, sipping from the mug.  "Would you like something, Mikey?" 

"No thank you, Mommy."

"What do you say to our hostess?"

"No thank you, Miss Feeney," the boy said plainly.  Shirley wondered how someone who so resembled Dennis The Mennace, complete with sun-washed hair and freckles, could be so polite.  Then she sunk tiredly into the opposing chair, deciding not to ask questions. 

"Missus Ragusa."  Shirley corrected.  Emmaline looked up from her cup, wide-eyed, and Shirley wished again that that announcement wouldn't draw such a reaction from old acquaintances.   She held out her left hand so that Emmaline could see both plain rings on her left hand.

"Congrats."  Emmaline said quietly, with a hint of steel in her voice. 

Shirley gave her a puzzled look.  "Didn't Lenny tell you?"

"I haven't talked to Lenny in at least three months.  Things have been going down the drain between me and Gill and it's taken up all my time...."  she leaned in close to Shirley.  "We're getting d-i-v-o-r-c-e-d."

"I know what that means," Mikey said brightly.

"He's so proud of his spelling," Emmaline smiled weakly.   Shirley felt a rush of embarrassment - of course a happy marriage was the last thing someone in Emmaline's position wanted to know about, leaving Shirley in quite a pickle.  "Mikey, honey, would you like to go out to play?"

"We don't have a playground," Shirley admitted. 

"Can he watch tv at Laverne's place?"

"That would be all right, if he doesn't go upstairs."

Emmaline turned around and addressed the boy.  "Mikey-luv, you may watch one hour of cartoons in the apartment across the way, and ONLY cartoons.  Don't go upstairs, don't go looking over the balcony, and don't eat anything."

"But I'm hungry!" he whined, and Shirley was surprised by his abrupt disobedience.

"Then you may have an apple...hush now!  Sugar rots your teeth, and we just came back from the dentist!  Do you want to have false teeth before you're six?"  She patted the boy as he hopped off of the bed, picking up his Uncle's stuffed iguana and clutching it to his chest as he ran through the still-open door.  "Scoot!"  Emmaline watched the boy go quietly.  "God only knows where we'd get the money for candy," she said to Shirley, turning back to the tea.

The brunette felt her stomach grow heavier when she came to understand what Emmaline's presence really meant.   "I'm sorry you're splitting up," Shirley's index finger skimmed the rim of Squiggy's Judy Jetson jelly jar glass, into which she had poured a half-cup of water for herself.  "I always felt that you and Gill were so..."

"...crummy together," Emmaline's mouth twitched.

"No, I didn't..."

"You don't have to lie about it - we must have been terrible to watch.  The screaming matches I had with him in public were famous," she shook her head.  "I guess it was never meant to work out, tho I don't know why it didn't.  We got married young but plenty of people get married young, and things were still good most of the time.  We was doing swell until he hooked up with that rich tramp on Bawny Way - Lucile Lockwash, ever heard of her?" Shirley choked on her tea, raising Emmaline's eyebrow.  "One of Carmine's old flames?"

"Yes," Shirley said throatily.  "You could put it that way."

"I took Mikey out to get his braces off yesterday and came home to find the house locked and a note pinned up on it.  Because I'm classy, I ain't gonna say what it said, except that he's taking off with Lucile to God-knows-where by God-knows-how and I could do whatever I wanted with the house.  And that I could 'have' the kid - classy, right?  Stupid as Gill was, he locked the place up and forgot that  I didn't have a new key."

"What did you do?"

She shrugged.  "Threw a brick through the window, unlocked it and packed us a couple of suitcases."  Shirley's chin had drooped.  "Growing up on Saint Claire wasn't lost on me." Emmaline's smirk turned devilish.  "And dating Squiggy for a year helped, too."

Lost for a comeback, Shirley studied Emmaline's face.  Her resemblance to Lenny was striking - same bright blue eyes, cupid's bow mouth, apple cheeks and turned-up nose, but with a feminine cast and a heart-shaped chin.  The blonde hair on her head was two shades lighter than Lenny's - probably artificially, Shirley noted, glimpsing dark roots -  and was combed in a stiffly artificial way that showed a love for hairspray that rivaled her brother's own for hair grease.  Her overall expression looked worn-out, and she seemed in need of a nice nap and a warm blanket, but otherwise Emmaline still carried an air of grace in her long limbs and model fingers and endless legs. If she looked like anyone, it was a healthier Twiggy. 

She would have turned out looking like a model, Shirley thought to herself.  Looking back through the years, she remembered that Emmaline had been the ardent desire of many members of her graduating class, but due to her father's rules she hadn't dated much aside from her pity "relationship" with a then-fifteen Squiggy - which, everyone but Squiggy knew, was only an excuse that allowed her to keep an eye on her baby brother.  She had carried a nurturing if hectoring sense of bearing, a haughtiness that belied her roots in poverty, desirable qualities all to people in as low a class as they had been.  On graduation she was immediately consumed by her relationship with Gill Haarker, to whom she had been introduced by a friend at a sock hop.  By then things with her father had become stormy, and it was necessary to find a way out - Gill was a career sailor, up for midshipman, had his own car and had an air of intriguing worldly sophistication about him.  That made a pleasing enough picture to one so young, and they had married when she was only eighteen and he nineteen in the presence of her brother and his sister.  Ivor Kosnowski had boycotted the wedding and refused to hear any happy news from friends or family about the union, which seemed to flourish pleasantly enough after Gill bought a cheap track house off in West Milwaukee and he took a desk job with the Navy recruitment office.  The ice between Ivor and his eldest had never really thawed after that, despite Michael's birth and especially as the marriage devolved publicly into a series of extramarital affairs and finger-pointing.  Soon, the grapevines taught Shirley, Emmaline only had her brother and her son to cling to - and she'd lost her brother by abstention.

Emmaline seemed uncomfortable in their silence.  "Where's Carmine?  Still with the singing telegram people?"

"No, actually - he's in New York, trying out for the understudy to Lancelot in Camelot."

She smiled, the gesture momentarily lighting her features.  "On Broadway?  Always knew he'd make it," Emmaline said quietly.  "But why're you still here if you're married?"

"Our friend Rhonda is sick."

"Chicken-soup sick or hospital-sick?"

"It's breast cancer."  Shirley noticed how those words always seemed to suck the air out of the room.   "She started radiation therapy this month."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I.  The side-effects mostly make her sleepy, but she has periods of nausea, and someone needs to make sure she's taking her painkillers.  I'm planning on going to New York as soon as we know for sure which way it's going to go..."  She swallowed hard, driving away the mental image of the other way things might go.   "It's the worry that gets to her and to Squiggy - she's dating Squiggy."

"What does she look like?"

"Around six feet, blonde, curvy..."

"He always went for tall blondes.  Are they serious?" At Shirley's shrug, Emmaline blinked.  "This the actress Lenny wrote me about?" another motion of confirmation.  "Squiggy's moved up in the world."

"So has your brother." 

"Oh?  Is he finally dating someone steadily?"  Shirley swallowed nervously.  "No, I guess not.  It took him almost a year to get over Sabrina Bouch when she dumped him for a tennis player, and he told me he hasn't seen a girl seriously since that tramp Karen left him to go to NYU..."

Shirley wanted to avoid the specter of Lenny's emotional foibles at all cost.  "Would you like some more tea?"

"No, I'm all right."  Emmaline sat back and looked around at her disheveled and rather masculine surroundings.  "I don't know why I came," she sighed.  "I didn't mean to stay here, cause I'll just be putting Squiggy out..."

"You could move in with Laverne..." a sharp look cut Shirley's pleasant thought off mid-stream.

"With her?  I might as well cut Lenny's heart out with a meat cleaver."  She shook her head.  "I don't know why a nice girl like you hangs around with that...that..."

"Wonderful woman."

A sour look.  "Hussy.  Laverne DeFazio is shameless, and she broke Lenny's heart more times than I can count."  Shirley masked her anxiety by gulping water, and Emmaline's tone of voice took on a sense of defeat.  "I guess you're moving back in with her..."

"No.  And Squiggy's staying with Rhonda,  technically..."

She looked at the cluttered apartment, her eyes falling on some very old pin-ups tacked to the walls.  "But his things are..."

"Yes, he comes back for something every once in awhile, but he sleeps and lives with her now."  Shirley's teeth rested on the edge of her lips, a grimace.   "Actually, Lenny might be moving out, too."

Emmaline's brows knit.  "Where?  He can't afford a more expensive rent, and now that Squiggy's living with someone else..."

"No, he's planning on moving to a...a bigger unit in the building.  Squignowski's doing so well on the talent end that the boys can finally afford to live on their own.  Since Carmine's unit's already been rented out, and I'm going to be here for such a short amount of time, I'm moving into this place."

She smiled.  "Have you told the boys that?"

"Well, no..."

"I understand now.  Lenny always thinks such gentlemanly thoughts.  That's the kind of thing he'd do, watch over you for Carmine until you can be reunited..." she stirred her tea.  "He's a total romantic."

"But I wouldn't be staying with...yes, you could call him that."  Shirley worked her tea in slow circles.  Her eyes fell to a horrifying familiar white slip with a black L sewn to the breast lying on the floor right next to Emmaline's foot.  "Unbelievable!  Those boys get pudding on everything!"

"Where?"  Emmaline looked around. 

"It's on the ceiling - no, all the way over your head..."  while Emmaline was occupied, Shirley kicked the slip under the bottom bunk.  Emmaline looked down to see Shirley crossing her legs, sipping at her tea.  "How much money do you have?" she redirected.

"I took about hundred bucks when I left - he drained our Christmas club before he left town, and that was the only joint acount we had.  I scraped up fifty from a few friends and I found more in his pants and in our piggy bank.  I guess that'll get me a month at a motel.  I saw one near the Greyhound station and the pool didn't even look disgusting!"

Shirley winced.  "I think that might even be out of your league."  Emmaline's face fell into a mopey expression.  "One of the first things you learn when you've been living in California for more than a year is that it's expensive.  One single woman could never manage alone on the minimum wage in this part of town..."  She sighed thoughtfully.  "Unless..."

Emmaline leaned in, uncomfortably close, mouth-breathing on Shirley in a way that was a hundred percent Kosnowski.  "Yeah?"

"We could move in together - you, me and Michael.  By the time Carmine's got a steady job in New York and we know about Rhonda's condition, you'll have your own job and a friend to take my place."

"I don't know..."

"We get along pretty well, and this is a nice area to raise a child in..."

"I dunno if I'm staying.  Mikey starts kindergarten in the fall, and all of his friends are back in Milwaukee..."  She sighed.  "He doesn't even know about his father.  As far as Mikey knows, we're on vacation without him."

Shirley smiled sympathetically.  "It's a safe temporary arrangement, I think."

Emmaline rested her chin against the table again.   "If I say yes, then we could stay."  The words seemed to leave Emmaline's lips regretfully.  "It doesn't feel right," she said.  "I've spent a lot of my life taking care of Lenny.  I don't want him to support me."

"Emmaline, I really mean it - Lenny won't be living here with us."

The truth finally grasped the girl's mind and wracked her with horror.  "He's going to try to live on his own?  My Lenny?  How could he do something like that?  He isn't ready!"

Shirley shivered at the woman's possessiveness.  "You're not giving Lenny credit for his capabilities.   He knows how to survive..." 

Emmaline shook her head.  "But only because me and Squiggy forced him to!  He's like a little kid in so many ways - did you know he only learned how to use a stove nine years ago without burning himself?  One time he scorched off his eyebrows, burnt up my good curtains and a brand-new apron trying to make me a mother's day dinner!"

Shirley remembered that and shuddered - Lenny had walked around looking and smelling like a baked ham for a month, his forehead raw and tender and pink from the flames.  "He has great potential."  she said, in a way that closed the matter.  "Will you  join me on the job hunt?  There's a diner hiring nearby."

Emmaline wasn't paying attention.   "Isn't it rich?  The second he thought you girls needed him, he stayed here.   When he would get sick, he wanted Squiggy.  When that bus mowed him over when he was twelve, he asked for Mom.  I always knew you two girls and Squig were more of a family to him than me and dad were, but asking for Mom, after what she did to us..."

Shirley could feel a thousand messy emotions rising up inside of Emmaline, some that were none of Shirley's business.  "He always speaks fondly of the both of you."

"But he didn't stay in Milwaukee for me.  I needed him then more than any of you ever could have, and he left because Squiggy had some new idea he needed to follow." Emmaline said quietly, so low that Shirley nearly didn't hear her.   Quickly, she discounted the statement.  "No, I shouldn't say that - Lenny's a wonderful man, the greatest man I've ever known - at least I did something right in how I raised him..." before Shirley could continue, Emmaline replied, "I let Gill steal some years from us, but it's not too late.  I can stay here with you, and Mikey can get to know his Uncle Lenny, and we can be our own family again."  She brightened.  "I gotta get to work cleaning, make things homier for him.."  She began to pull the blankets down from the top bunk.  "Do you have a laundry room?"

Shirley nodded.  Her smile revealed nothing, but her heart thumped like a kettle drum.   Emmaline had been Lenny's mother from the age of eight, and it was a role she wasn't going to relinquish easily.   When she and Laverne met again, they would no longer be near-contemporaries but a mother-in-law-to-be and a daughter-in-law-to-be,  forced to accept that the man they loved also loved the other and would never consider letting either of them go.  Her best friend had quite a problem on her hands....

***

Carmine Ragusa walked the bustling streets of Manhattan, some small amount of dumb wonder showing up in his usually jaded face.  New York nearly overwhelmed him as it rushed about trailing streaks of neon - an orgy of color, motion, sight and scent.  Voices speaking a million tongues blared out from all sides - native Bronx honks that reminded him of Laverne's, plain Midwestern, Joisy, the rapid patter of Chinese spoken in it's natural patois.  He felt a mixture of confusion and euphoria as his first day in a major metropolis rose up in greeting.

It was barely noon, and he was on his way to his agent's downtown office - though that hadn't been his first task.  On arriving, he'd taken a short cab ride to the address Mister Donaldson'd given him over the phone.  The cab took him to a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, which, to his relief, was indeed leased in his name.  It was a clean one-roomer in a brick walk-up, with a shared bathroom in the hallway - he knew Shirley would hate that part.  The neighborhood more residential than commercial and filled with laughter and music.  It was what he needed - the sort of locale Shirley would love, if not as their permanent home.  He signed the lease without hesitation.

His suitcase locked away back at home, Carmine walked the streets, pausing every once in a while to snap a picture of his surroundings.  Laverne's camera hung around his neck, rented out for the occasion - he knew Shirley would want pictures of everything he saw, to feel as if she were there beside him, walking the streets and smelling the hot wiener carts and hearing horns blaring, casting a cooling shade beside him in her red-checked shirt tied high on an ivory belly, her sunglasses on and her head tipped back to warm in the sunlight.

He couldn't have that, not yet - so he settled for pictures of the skating rink at Rockafeller Center - currently hosting roller skaters instead of ones on ice - , an open hydrant blasting on Fifth, a gathering of teenagers in Central Park eating hot dogs while a band played an easy-listening version of "She Loves You".  The images and the letters would have to do until he had a real job and pay for a phone line, or scare up the courage to go see the DeFazio clan and beg for a few minutes on their line.  Then again,  he thought, eyeing the rise of black-hooded booths all around him, there were the phone booths....As he came upon Arnie's imposing office tower of glass and steel, he squared his shoulders under his blue letterman jacket and vowed that that getting a real job would be exactly what he would do before the week was gone. 

If not for his future, for Shirley's, he decided as he entered.  She had promised to get a job on arriving and help out with the bills, but he just didn't see that as fair to her now - or safe, he thought, as he passed by a cop patting down a swarthy-looking man smelling of vodka.  After only an hour there, Carmine knew that he wanted to spend his life in New York, raise a family there.  He needed Shirley to love it as much as he did, and to do that she definitely needed to see the place for herself, not just in the black and white of someone elses' pictures.   Carmine didn't stop to think over this new attitude of his, as he had done back in California more than twice - he accepted that marriage had changed him.  Where he had once avoided total commitment to one woman, now Shirley obsessed his thoughts.  His father had felt much the same way about his mother - it was a good thing, he decided, to think about one's wife day and night when one was away from her.

Carmine took a deep breath and put on his best Big Ragoo megawatt smile.  For Shirley, he reminded himself, and then entered office right belting out "If Ever I Would Leave You" at the top of his lungs.

***

Laverne watched a stream of coffee trickle into the Styrofoam cup from the automatic dispenser with half-opened eyes.  She glanced at her watch while she put her cup down and poured another for Lenny - all right, nine thirty.  They could make the ten-o'clock mass at Saint Xavier's if they hurried....

But why did she want to go to another church?

She didn't.  The specter of possible disappointment confronted Laverne as she realized that this was Her Church - or, more importantly, her garden. 

She stood in an ancient ornamental place, an ocean of green with riots of roses, peonies, lilies, carnations, violets and Johnnie jump-ups growing in six well-kept earth wedges contained by cement walkways, comprising a compass-like shape, all points meeting in a stone roundabout.  At the center of the walkabout, an ancient-looking statue of Adam and Eve, embracing, a bitten-into apple at their feet had been erected.   Butterflies fluttered from blossom to blossom, heavy bees darting through the green stems and buzzing low.  Children ran in circles around the large cement statue, shrieking in their finery despite the soft Spanish admonishments from their parents.  Enclosed to the west and east by brick buildings, it connected to the church at the north, leaving an unobstructed view from the side street at the west.  It was a private oasis hemmed in by stone fences - somehow pagan and Catholic at the same time.  She blinked after adding sugar and cream to Lenny's cup, but the view never changed - still perfect.

The church used it for functions, judging from bulletin boards posted at the rear exits.  Every Sunday after mass, they held informal brunch out in the Garden of Assumption for newcomers, and apparently they held church bazaars there and special holiday feasts.  Instead of food tents and chattering older women, Laverne pictured herself holding Lenny's hand at the feet of Adam and Eve, their friends sitting on the cement walkways and the air filled with golden leaves being shed by the trees looming from above.

For the third time in her life, Laverne DeFazio fell hopelessly into the snare of true love. 

Speaking of true love, it was time to find Lenny.  She moved down the buffet line, rejecting three sugar-drenched Danishes even as her stomach rumbled.  She hoped Shirley was hungry, because they were going to have one heck of a pig-out at lunch.  Laverne smiled her sweetest smile when she reached the end of the line and the elderly woman manning a small locked box behind the white-clothed folding table - forty cents for each cup of coffee, all of it benefiting their youth league.  She saw her future in the wrinkled face and crooked teeth of the woman as she smiled, clasping her hand fondly as two quarters were taken and added to the coffers, and didn't know if it scared her or not.  She turned and searched the crowd for Lenny, sipping her cup of black.

She took two trips around the path before she saw him, ducked under a fruit tree on a stone bench, trying to cross his awkward limbs in a way that made him seem less fawnish. 

"And God said, "Let There Be Dorks.  And It was Good."

His smiled as he heard her recitation but the vibration in frame showed the sharp edges of his jangling nerves.    "You did great."  She snorted.  "Well, you looked better than me."

"Even when I choked on the communion wine?"

"It was really sweet, who would blame you?" he shrugged.  "Thanks," he took the coffee from her and drank deeply.  She sat down beside him, close enough to give comfort and far away enough to avoid condemning stares.  "So?  Whattya think?  D'you want me to get the truck?"

Laverne shifted to look more deeply into the blue eyes watching her.  "Did you see the flowers?"

"Yeah?"

"You ever seen so many different kinds?"

"I guess..."

"The statue's pretty too - I wonder how old it is.  It looks pretty new, those fig leaves're kinda small..."

"Laverne..."

She tucked her hands before her breast, stood up, and climbed onto the cement walkway.  "Can you see it?"  she asked.  "Your pop over there...Squiggy and Shirley standing up for us. Flowers everywhere...me in a white dress..." Laverne got up and marched up the walkway to an inaudible beat, and then down.  She felt the sun pouring down on her from above, lighting her hair and her skirt.  When she turned to walk back, Lenny was watching her with large, affectionate eyes.

"This is the place," he said in an awed tone, and she grinned, running up and throwing her arms around his neck. messing up his hair and pressing him hard to the tree as he threw his own arms around her.  He cringed, apparently afraid of what God must be thinking - churches always made him so oversensitive.   It was minutes before she heard a voice shouting for her in her mother tongue.

"Laverne!  Hey!"

She looked over her shoulder, releasing Lenny.  "Hey, Juan!"  she held out her hand for a brisk shaking.  "Len, this is Juan DeCarlo.  He's one of Pop's suppliers."

Juan was a short, olive-skinned man with a thick mustache and thinning black hair.  He had dark, smiling eyes and work-roughed hands that were dry when they shook Laverne's.   He examined Lenny closely as he released Laverne's palm and shook Lenny's hand - and Lenny shrunk back beneath the man's scrutiny.  "You're Lenny?"  the blond nodded quickly.  "Huh," he remarked.

"How's the paper supply business, Juan?"  Laverne changed the subject.

"Good," he shrugged.  "We're gonna be in the clear this year.  I got your father to thank for that."  Laverne could feel her face drawing into a sour lemon pout at the mention of her Pop, and Juan blushed when he did it again.  "Your father always said you were smart, but I didn't know you knew Latin."

"I don't," Laverne said, swallowing more of the suddenly-bitter coffee.  "Me and Lenny are looking at churches for the wedding."

His eyes widened.  "Hey, you wanna get married here?"  Laverne nodded.  "That's great news!  We ain't had a wedding in years - all the young people are going to mass at Saint Peter's."

Laverne averted her eyes and hoped Juan didn't see her blushing.  "Do you know the father?"

"Oh sure!"  he turned around spotted the white-robed man at the center of a semi-circle of laughing women.  "Hey, Father Kerry!"

A tall, redheaded young man with a deep tan and green eyes craned his neck and followed the sound of the voice.  A nod of acknowledgement, an excusing smile, and he made his way to the three  of them.

"I had my eye on the two of you," Father Kerry said in a teasing but pleasant voice, addressing Laverne  - now she blushed.

"I'm sorry!"  Lenny babbled, the hysteria he'd stored up over the past few hours suddenly bursting forth.  "We didn't mean to make God mad by coming to a Latin mass!"

That was the one thing she could always count on - Lenny's tendency toward panic snapping her out of her own embarrassment.  She reached back to cosset him out of his fit, but the Father put a comforting hand on Lenny's shoulder.  She watched her fiancé relax beneath the touch.

"Don't upset yourself, son!  I only meant that you made such a joyful noise that I couldn't help but notice you."  Did he mean their singing or their age?  Laverne couldn't dissemble, and didn't try. 

"They want to be married here," said Juan.  Father Kerry's face lit up.

"Well, I'll be!  I guess the saints have finally answered my prayers!" he beamed.  "Come, my office is open!"  he began walking back up the stone path to the back of the church, and Laverne suppressed a smile as she was reminded of Fonzie.

"Thanks, Juan," she smiled, as Lenny seized her hand, dragging her away to end the embarrassing situation as swiftly as possible.   She resisted and he stopped instantly.

"No problem," he shook his head and clucked his tongue.  "Your father is such a worrier!"

Laverne felt a chill run down her spine.  "What's he been saying about me?"

"No, not about you," he looked again at Lenny, who began to tug again at her urgently.  "He don't look like no rapist to me," sighed Juan disapprovingly.

Laverne felt an awful, icy sensation in her stomach.  "Lenny never hurt me!"

"Your Pop made him sound like a monster!"  his eyes fell to Lenny's pulling hand, and when Lenny realized what he was looking at he hung his head and shame and let go of Laverne's wrist.

"Has he been talking about me?" Her father was no gossip, but this had her concerned.

"You know your father.   He don't talk about his problems to strangers."  Juan, Laverne realized, was her father's closest friend in California - two self-made men who came up from immigrant stock with willful -she winced - adult children.   "I had dinner at the trailer with my partner Tom last week, and Frank was telling me he had a fight with your Grandmother.  He was ventin' to her about you getting married and she said she remembered Lenny from your trip to Brooklyn.  He said this Lenny was a bum, and she said she didn't think he was from what she recalled, but she wanted to see him for herself.  Frank says she's not supporting him, she says he's being too hasty, and now he says they're not speaking."

Laverne went pale.  "Did he say when she was gonna show up?"

Juan shrugged.  "Something about Tuesday."

"She's gonna travel alone?  She had a stroke last year..."

"Oh, Frank said she's bringing your cousin."

"Anthony?" she felt her stomach relax a little.  If anyone would understand her being with Lenny...

"That's the one."

"Thanks, Juan.  I dunno why she didn't call me..."

"She probably sent a postcard.  My mother, bless her soul, lives in Massachusetts.  She sends me a letter when she's gonna come for a visit, and always she gets here before they do."

Laverne gave him a polite farewell smile.  "Yeah, I guess that's their way.  Thanks again!"

"Good luck!"

Laverne and Lenny parted company with Juan and walked all the way up the stone path back to the chapel, pausing to compose themselves in the air-conditioned vestibule.

"I'm sorry my Pop's talking about you, Len."

"It's all right.  You can't make him stop."  He acted as if he was used to people saying bad things about him and her heart wrenched within her chest.

"I bet no one believes him," Laverne said.  "And if they do..." she took a breath for bravery, "I don't care.  If they wanna listen to my Pop and kick me out of the family, then it's their loss."

He gave her a thin-lipped, wan smile.  "Missus Babbish told me something a long time ago - she asked me if you and me could be happy just being you-and-me.  She made me realize you're my family, Laverne," Lenny said softly. "You're all I want, and it don't matter if they all hate me if you want me." 

She wrapped her arms around his slim body and held him for a long while.  "Hey, Tigerlily?" he muttered against her neck.

"Mmm?"  she responded to the name for the first time.

"Do you think making a priest wait is a sin?"

She parted from him, seeing the cast of his face - anxiety and love all at once.  "I hope not."

He took her hand and together they searched for Father Kerry's office.

***

Shirley climbed out from underneath the bunkbed, carrying a green nightgown with her with a headful of dust bunnies.  That should be the last of it, she thought to herself, sitting down on the bottom bunk and gathering the three pieces of clothing into a small pile and tucking them into a ball on her skirt.  If anything, she realized, Laverne and Lenny were born to live together - there were nearly as many dust bunnies under his bed as there were under hers.  She stifled a grin and wondered if Laverne knew about her contributions that collection.  A better sign of true love was that Laverne had actually let Lenny undress her at his place.  Shirley's lips ticked up into a private smile as she wondered if, before long, they would need to get Laverne a red gown for the festivities...

"Missus Ragusa?"  Shirley turned on the bottom bunk, hiding the lingerie from the eyes of Mikey Haarker with her middle. 

"Your mother told you not to leave Aunt Laverne's apartment."

The little boy lifted his chin with dignity that was definitely not Kosnowskish.  "There's a man on the phone for you.  He says his name is the Big Ragoo?" 

Shirley squeaked, jumping up and letting the undies tumble to the ground.  She flushed as Mikey looked at the bundle of clothing in confusion. 

"Were you playin' dress-up?"

Shirley managed a smile, gathering together the articles of clothing in a bunch with a few quick gestures.  "Yes."

"Grown-ups play dress up?"

"Sometimes.  Remind me to tell you about the time your Aunt Laverne and I were in a play.  She was the Mad Hatter and I was Alice In Wonderland!"

The very idea made the little boy guffaw - a big laugh that proved his bloodline more than his looks.  "Was Uncle Lenny in it?"

"He was Tweedle Dum - or was it Tweedle Dee?"  She stood up, the clothing under her arm.  "I promise I'll tell you that story soon," she said, ushering him across the hallway and into Laverne's apartment.  When they were inside she closed the door, and watched the little boy scamper to the couch, politely turning down the volume on Heckle and Jeckle and pulling Jeffery into his lap.

Shirley sat down on the landing, taking the phone down from where Mikey had placed it.  "Hello?"

"Shirl?"

"Carmine!"

"Who was that?" he wondered.  She heard him munching something in the background. 

"Mikey Haarker."

"Lenny's nephew?  Man, I ain't seen him since he was a baby.  What the heck's he doing in California?"

"He and Emmaline are here for the summer, maybe longer," she whispered.  "Gill and Emmaline are separated and might be getting d-i-v-o-r-c-e-d."

"I still know what that spells!"  Mikey shouted, crunching on an apple and spilling the juice down his neck. 

"Excuse me!"  Shirley said, in her best lecturing tone.  "Wipe your mouth and watch Hannah-Barbara."

"It's TerryToons!" Mikey snotted, turned around on the sofa and once again intensely involved in Heckle and Jeckle's misfortunes.

"Wish I could say I was surprised," Carmine said.  "Gill was always a real wolf.  Back when we were in high school, he went with this girl from Showland Peepshows..."

"Is that where he met Lucile?"  she asked innocently, and Carmine choked.  "Are you all right?"

A flurry of coughing.  When he got back his voice, Carmine said, "he left his wife for Lucile?  That's stupid!"

"We both know that when a man's with Lucile Lockwash, his blood doesn't exactly go to his brain."

Carmine laughed, and Shirley swallowed down the old, bitter jealousy she felt for the blonde divorcee.  She didn't get him, Shirley reminded herself. 

"Girls like Lucile ain't the marrying kind," Carmine explained, and Shirley gritted her teeth at the ghost of his old double-standard.  "If he's looking for a good time, then he's at the right place, but I hope he doesn't expect happily ever after with her."

"We shouldn't judge him," Shirley said.  "Let's forget about that."  She curled her knees up, resting her chin upon them.   "Where are you?"

"A phone booth - right outside of our place."  Little goosebumps popped up all over the back of her neck.  "It's beautiful here, Shirl - not too much traffic and mostly apartments, with a little club down at the end of the block if we wanna go dancing.  There's a bunch of artists' studios across the street and if you squint when you look through our living-room window, you can see the Brooklyn Bridge." Shirley closed her eyes, envisioning the neighborhood, the view.  He continued, "there's a park around the opposite end, and a few good schools.  And New York - I can't think of the words for it."  Old picture-book images came to Shirley's mind - postcards of Time Square, footage of Rockefeller Center at Christmas Time on a newsreel.  "It's incredible.  It's bigger than Milwaukee and L.A. put together.  People are everywhere, always moving, and the traffic!  It's all cabs, and no one really drives, but it's always bumper-to-bumper."

"You sound excited."  And his excitement always thrilled her.

"I am.  This is the happiest I've been since the morning I put my ring on your finger."

She blushed, looking down at her left hand and the tiny diamond and brass band that marked her commitment to Carmine.  That she wasn't there with him sharing in that triumph stung Shirley.  "What does the apartment look like?"

"It's not bad - one room, whitewashed walls - plain, but no broken windows or cockroaches.   Nice and clean."

"No private bathroom?"

"Nope, but there are two on every floor.  I checked - they're clean and bigger than I thought, and the ones on our floor have a toilet, a tub and a sink."

Shirley felt a twinge of relief, which was evaporated in another thought.  "Did our things arrive?"

"Yep!  All of our stuff is here, and nothing looks broken."

She sighed.  "Good..."  she heard a smacking noise.  "What in the world are you eating?"

"Cheese pizza.  You know they have pizza carts on the streets out here?"

She smiled at the wonder in his tone.  "When I was in Brooklyn with Laverne, we had pizza on the curb every day."

"Speaking of Laverne, how are the two lovebirds?  They find a church yet?"  he had been away for an afternoon and he made it sound like a lifetime had passed.

Shirley's stomach rumbled, making her response tart.  "She and Lenny were supposed to take me to breakfast after they checked out a few churches, but now it's almost noon."

"Are you eating?"  his voice sharpened.

"Yes, Carmine, I haven't stopped eating," she chuckled.  "If Laverne and Lenny don't come home soon, I'm going to have to make something quick for myself and Mikey and Emmaline - once she leaves the laundry room..."

"Laverne and Lenny are young and in love.  They'll come home when they're ready."

She was young and in love too, Shirley thought to herself.  "Yes, and to heck with their hungry best friends and relatives."  She added, not at all bitterly. 

"Shirley?  I didn't call to tell you about the apartment.  Or even that Arnie set me up on six auditions over the next two weeks.  I called because I miss you and I love you, and I needed to hear your voice."  Tears came to her eyes, momentarily robbing her of her voice.  "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

He laughed.

"Yes, Carmine: I miss you, I love you, and I need to hear your voice.  And I really wish I was there with you."

"Me too."

For a long moment they said nothing, only listening to the breathing of the other, pretending they were in the same room together.

The operator interrupted their moment of silence.  "Please deposit five cents for the next five minutes..."

"Yeah, all right," Carmine muttered, digging around.  She heard two coins being plunked into the slot.

"This is no substitute for being together, is it?" Shirley asked.

"Nope, but I'll settle for it until I can see you again."  A short silence.  "Hey, Shirl?  Remember this?"  He started to sing, "See the Pyramids along the Nile..."

She did remember.  Jo Stafford, their senior prom, blue chiffon, bachelor's buttons, Miss Congeniality, second-base in the backseat of his father's car.  She mouthed the words and went back to a place where they could be together in the flesh as well as in the spirit.

***

The priest's office was about the size of a shoebox, with green walls and three large bookcases laden heavily with tomes of all sort boxing in a desk.  What does he do during earthquakes?  Laverne wondered, evisioning the young man buried neck-deep in books.  Behind Father Kerry's head a crucifix hung, framed by a small window that was covered with iron bars.  He watched them come in, offered them firm handshakes and nodded approvingly when Lenny pulled out a chair for her, then sat down himself.

"You're interested in being married here?"

"Yes," they said.

"What are your names?"

"Laverne Marie DeFazio."

"Leonard John Kosnowksi."

"And you're both baptized in the Roman Catholic faith?"

"Yes, Father," they said together.

"Do you have baptismal certificates?  First Communion Certificates?"  Laverne dug into her purse, producing hers.  Father Kerry looked them over judiciously, then smiled.  "Saint Catherine's.  I was a student priest there.  It's a nice parish."

"Yeah," Laverne smiled, trying not to telegraph her nervousness.

"And you, Leonard?"

Lenny squirmed.  "I sent my sister a telegram and asked for her to send them here.  I ain't good with important papers...." 

She reached out for his white-knuckled hand and squeezed it,  stopping the flow of words.  "We took First Communion together," Laverne said.  "If you need witnesses, I can call up his sister or his father..."

"That's not necessary.  You went to church together?"

"Yes, sir," Lenny said.

"How long have you known one another?"

"Since we was three," he smiled at her fondly.

"How romantic," remarked the priest.  "I'm surprised you aren't married all ready."

"Oh, we didn't start dating until February."  Laverne bit her bottom lip, regretful of her admission.

The priest rose his brow, and his eyes zeroed in on her flat belly.  "I see.  Is this a...shotgun marriage?"

"No, sir!"  Lenny cried out, instantly offended on Laverne's part.  "I ain't ever touched her that way, honest!"

Laverne's head whipped toward him and her cheeks turned beet red.  "Lenny!" she said, in a warning, dangerous tone, knowing that his guilt would make him blurt out his entire sexual history, warts and all, to the Father. 

"All right," the priest held out a spread palm, the international sign for 'stop'.  "You'll need to come in for marriage classes, pre-cana counseling.  Are you amenable to that?  Every Tuesday from seven 'till eight for six weeks?"

They both nodded.

"Did you have a special date in mind?"

"Any day in October," Laverne said.  "We have a friend who has cancer.  She started radiation this month, and in May she has to go back for a checkup.  If it spread, she'll have to have chemo and an operation, and if she needs more than one round..."  She was going on endlessly but felt unable to stop.  It was Lenny who cut her off, his hand squeezing hers back.

"...we don't think she'll feel good until October, and I can't get married without her boyfriend there.  He's my best man," Lenny explained.

The priest rolled open the top drawer of his desk, retrieving and then spreading open a red leather date book.  "Truthfully, I'd have been happy to marry you any day you want to - even in the middle of the Christmas mass," Father Kerry confessed.  "This is a small, poor parish, as I said, many of our young people have left for bigger churches, but even more have left the faith to join the new movement at Haight Ashbury in San Francisco."  He shook his head.  "Peace is the opiate of your generation, it seems.  No one looks to the Bible or the Pope for solace but the old and the old-blooded.  I've been to more funerals than weddings in the past year." 

Laverne didn't know how to respond to such high words, only knowing that it wasn't her generation he was dealing with but kids five years younger or more.

"That the two of you want to be married in the faith instead of by some man calling himself Baghwahhn Moon Unit makes me glad," he said simply, looking down at his date book.  "October's a good choice.  Everyone wants to be married in the summer, never the mid-fall..." he flipped through his date book.  "We have Saturday, the twenty-seventh, open."

Laverne's heart leapt.  A day before Lenny's birthday.  A perfect excuse for plenty of time spent alone and a honeymoon.  They shared a quick look - he widened his eyes and nodded his head passively. 

"One more question," she said abruptly.  "Do the flowers still grow out there in October?"

"In the Garden of Assumption?  They do," said Father Kerry.  "That's when the tiger lilies come up."

His hand squeezed hers under the watchful eye of the priest.  When she said yes, she felt as if all that was good in the heavenly world said it with her.

***

"Rhonda?"

The soft, sing-song voice sounded almost velvety to the young actress, but she resisted it.

"Rhooonda Leeeee...."  the voice changed into a pure Squiggy honk.  "Wake up!  Rock Hudson's makin' out with Sandra Dee and you're gonna miss it!!"

She threw her slim arm over her eyes and yawned, ready to tell him just why Rock wouldn't be at all interested in Sandra Dee.  Then several things greeted her at once and halted her speech. 

Squiggy's face, the stinging of her sun burnt cheeks, and a gripping nausea. 

Rhonda managed to pull free of his embrace and run behind a cluster of bushes before the last remnants of her breakfast made a re-appearance, but even when her stomach was empty she wretched.  Tears came to her eyes as she hunched, trembling - how she hated throwing up, always hated that undignifying loss of self-control that made her feel base and disgusting, not the grand starlet but just another sick woman.   She squeezed her eyes shut, tears pouring down her face, waiting for the wrenching nausea to go away.   Marilyn never threw up, she thought to herself.  Rita, Grace and Lana never throw up. Candice and Allie never throw up, unless it's on purpose....

Two arms surrounded the middle of her back, and the jolt of fear that ran through her made the nausea stop.  Before she could hit out at the dark figure, she recognized the scent of Animale and knew it was Squiggy, heard his voice saying in a tone she had never heard him use before, "it's all right.  You're gonna be okay..."

The words made her come apart completely inside, though her iron mask allowed no tears  - no, she would never be all right again.  Even if she survived, she would always remember the sting of the needle piercing her breasts, would always carry the knowledge that her beautiful body had betrayed her, turned against her, tried to kill her. 

How could he stand there holding her while her mouth stank of vomit, with her pocked breast and her burning skin?  The answer came back to her easily, his words uttered solidly, plaintively.  I love you. 

She had never told him she loved him back, had not had the time to think of what she wanted, how he made her feel, and only knew that the sex had been good, plentiful and imaginative until life had intervened..  The news of her condition had wiped away everything but the cancer - she thought, lived, slept and breathed her disease and the hope of its extermination.

What the hell did she know about falling in love?  She thought she had been in love at sixteen, when she lost her virginity to Jake Johannsen in her father's hayloft.  They had been dating for a year and she felt that he would understand her need to transcend Alabama and their one-horse town.  After graduation, he had married Becky Thompson and moved to Tennessee, and she had left for Hollywood on the first bus out of town.

"I'm fine," she said brittley.

"You sure?"

"I'm fine, Andrew," she said, weakness in her voice.  "I don't need anyone.  Rhonda is..."

"Rhonda is sick," Squiggy said flatly.  "Rhonda needs to sit down and rest her pretty ass on the ground for a few minutes 'til she ain't so green."

His catering, plus the knowledge that he had seen her in such a vulnerable state caused humiliation to become anger.  She wheeled on him.  "What the hell do you know about how I feel?" the words come out powerfully but laden with tears.

"Rhonda..."

"Damn it, why don't you treat me like you used to?  Why don't you spend an hour telling me about how you had lunch with Robert Evans?"  Why can't things be the way they were when things were easier?  She choked on her sob but nothing came up.  She tried to fight his arms, but they wouldn't let go.  His arms were around her and held her as she released the toxicity that had built up in her soul.

The arms didn't let go of her.  "Rhonda?"

She hung loose in his arms. 

"Rhonda?"

"What?"  the word came out softly. 

"Turn 'round."

She spun, like a ballerina on pointe - an easy circle.  "Yes?"

The voice was alien of the nasal snap that usually came from Squiggy's mouth.  The words were delivered with something akin to....sweetness? 

It was the meaning behind them that made her heart stop. 

"Marry me."

She looked down into the dark eyes watching her for some sign of humor - some sense he was joking the way he always was.  But he was deadly serious this time.  

How could he want her, a shell of the goddess she had been, perhaps soon to be a half-woman?  How could she accept his offer when she didn't know if she was going to live? 

She devastated him with a shake of her head.

"No."

***

Lenny pulled to a stop in front of Laurel Vista, letting the branches of their old linden tree shade his truck.  He looked to the passenger’s side seat and, as if by magic, the woman sitting beside him turned to meet his gaze.

"It's happening," she said, quietly.

"We're really gonna do it," he added, still afraid to say the words out loud and wake up from his dream. 

Laverne nodded her head, a smile curling her lips.  Her beautiful green eyes lit up.  "Yeah, we're getting married.  We're gonna be family."

He giggled, grabbing her hand and lifting it to his mouth, kissing her fingers in worship.  "Don't swallow my diamond!" she teased, as he accidentally licked his grandmother's ring.

"Sorry, Miss Taylor!" he teased her, using a cockney accent, making her laugh.  The green eyes flashed merrily, drawing him over the divide between seats and up against her.

"Wanna celebrate?" she mumbled against his mouth.

"Sure, I got some beer in the fridge..."

"No, Len - I mean CELEBRATE."  she wiggled her eyebrows for emphasis.

"You need a twenty-four hour notice to get a clown - ow!  Don't hit me!"

"I wanna make love, you dope!"

A huge grin spread across his face and he pulled back and regarded her face.  "Now?" she bobbed her head.  "Today?"  another nod.  "The middle of the afternoon?"  She grabbed him by the lapels and shut him up with a kiss.  He whined when she released him and he remembered why they couldn't.  "We just got back from Church!"

"We just came back from three churches.  I think all that praying cancels out the premarital sex stuff."

Temptation clouded his judgment.  "Still can't," he said against her lips, feeling her breasts pressing against his chest.  "Don't got a rubber on me."   He remembered the drawer full he had up at the apartment, but they wouldn't help him now.

She pulled away from him gently, opening up her purse and wallet.  With a minxish little grin, she pulled free and unrolled a small arsenal of condoms.

His jaw had dropped. 

"I got a call from my gyno yesterday," he frowned at the term and she explained, "my girl-parts doctor.  You know he's the only guy Bardwell’s will cover and he's real popular?  He told me yesterday he don't have an appointment open until September, and I ain't waiting until September for you.  So I took a risk and bought these."

"How did you get all those?" he asked, staring at her lap.

"Men's room at the Cowboy Bills'...Len, your jaw!" she patted it and he collected himself, wincing.  "I had Shirl guard the door and I ran in and jammed a couple of dollars in coins into the machine."  She held up a foil-wrapped pack and asked him, "What’s a French tickler supposed to do?" He knew from the tone of her voice that she hoped it was something extra-exciting.

Lenny's church pants suddenly felt painfully tight.  "Show or tell?" he asked her.

She just grinned and opened the door.

The next few minutes were a blur of motion for Lenny as they left the truck and raced into the building - his next clear sense memory was of pressing Laverne against the door of his apartment and turning the knob. 

Which didn't click.

"Ocked!" he said against her mouth.

"Uhsh?" she slurred between his lips.

He pulled his mouth free and started to yank on the door.  "It's locked, Vernie."

She grabbed him by the lapels again.  "How?" she asked, desperation in her tone.

"I dunno...move over."  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out...nothing.  "I left my keys in the truck!" he moaned.

She reached into her purse and found her key ring.  "Here!"  Lenny recognized the dummy key he'd given her during the first weeks of their relationship.  Lenny grinned as he plunged the key into its lock, spinning it open quickly and kicking the door open.  He faced Laverne, her hungry eyes and bright smile.  "Sure?" he asked her.

She just grinned and threw herself up against him, her legs locking around his waist and causing him to stagger backward through the unlocked door.

Lenny walked to the bed, barely noticing how spic-and-span the room now was, and that his bed had no blankets or sheets on it.  He was only aware of a lumpy mattress against his back and the warm, feminine weight of Laverne against the lower part of his body.  He wriggled them into a more comfortable position - her body below his, her legs wrapped around his waist  Her hands were all over his body, journeying over his chest, trying to yank free his tie and open his shirt at the same time.  His hands traversed her back, looking for a zipper. 

"Ummm, Lenny," she mumbled against his lips, then arched her back as his mouth left hers and found her neck  to lick it. 

"Lenny?"  Another voice filled his ears, a sweetly and, at the moment, unfortunately familiar one.  In shock, he froze and then nearly rolled Laverne to the floor as he sat up to face the unseen disapproval.  Laverne clung to him as he re-arranged himself, not wanting to relinquish the moment.  When she stooped to rezip her sweater he finally recognized the shape shadowing them from the door.  Lenny lifted his chin stubbornly, meeting with calm the baby blue gaze which never failed to turn him back into a five-year-old. 

His big sister Emmaline stood in the doorway, a basket of clean laundry in her arms, her gaze burning into the face of his fiancée with pure disgust.

"Get your hands off of my little brother," she snapped.

END

SOUNDTRACK:

1: Natural Blues - Moby

2: Groovin - The Rascals

3: Chinese Cafe - Joni Mitchell

4: Safe In My Garden - Mamas and the Papas

5: Wishing On Tellstar - Susannah Hoffs

6: Going To The Chapel - Bette Middler

7: Possibly Maybe - Bjork

8: You Ain't Woman Enough - Loretta Lynn

To "Always About You"
To "Always Something Else"