They had quit making love in her sixth month, not stopping suddenly, but after having tapered off. The act of love had become of less consequence to her. She was still willing to please him in the ways she could, but he would not let her. It was gratification without the giving of love and he did not want it. She was hurt anyway. She was his lover in spite of what they did not do, and he did not get his fill of caresses and finding her in his sleep. If she did not understand him, it was because she was not capable of understanding him at this time.

She asked him three or four times if he was a conspirator in a baby shower planned for her. Such things worried and occupied her. She had to have his opinion on purchases she made for herself or the baby. It was as though she still wanted to know that she was loved and thought about, and her mind found new ways for her happiness to replace the old, in which she had somehow lost her confidence. The lapse made him love her more, and in some way, it made her more appealing to him. There was a baby shower and he was a conspirator in it, and enough of her college friends came to make it a success. She cried, and she was not a woman who cried. In the next days she showed him that she had been made genuinely happy, and her guilelessness was something he knew he would not forget. She modeled the dressing gowns she had been given and asked which ones he wanted to see, and she worked on ideas to make his life easy the week she would be away.

Stephanie was born on May 5 in the afternoon and he saw Karen that evening during visiting hours. She could not keep her eyes open.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Empty, done—I don’t even want to eat. I tell you, Joe, I don’t want to do it again tomorrow. Or next year.”

“Of course not.”

“Promise me. I may change my mind, but let me have that privilege. Just promise me now.”

“I promise. Don’t think about it. You have to take care of yourself.”

She relaxed. “Did you see her? Did she look all right to you?”

“She looks fine,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind the dark hair.”

“No.” She smiled tiredly. “Do you love me?”

“Yes, very much. I love you very much.” He took her hand. “I’ll go, if you want to rest.”

“No, stay with me. We’ll have more children. I have to get that out of my system.”

“Sure.” He kissed her hand. “I’m so glad you’re well. I’ve been scared to death—dizzy half the time.”