“You? The nurse told me not to let you open your jacket because your gun would frighten people. She knew who you are—what you are. She remembered.”

He kissed her hand again. “I wasn’t exaggerating. I loved you when we got married, but I had no idea that there was so much more to it.”

“Joe, I love you the same way.”

“Thank you.” It was barely audible.

When his vacation came they went up every day to Northport. During their courtship they had never gone to the beach; now, with Stephanie on the blanket under the umbrella, they took turns in the water and going on errands, and had a better time than any of the teen-agers they saw. Karen began to believe what he had been telling her, that motherhood had improved her figure. He knew from his own experience that she would not believe him alone. He had never been convinced or flattered when she had told him that she thought he was handsome—she had lied that first night. Now, after trying to assure her about her appearance, seeing both sides, and knowing he was right about her, he had begun to feel some of the pride she said she felt in him. It was an exhilarating feeling; and at Northport, when she was admired by other men, it was a pleasure for her of which he knew he was a part. They felt satisfaction with each other, gratitude and deeper affection. At the end of the two weeks they were much closer and they were rested. They were able to say that the confusion seemed to have been taken out of their lives.

They had people over in the evenings and they alternated going to the movies. By the end of the summer there was still not much to Stephanie; she ate and slept and looked at things at random. The radio did not attract her attention and they had to prove to themselves that she was not deaf. He clapped his hands behind her and she cried, and then he regretted having startled her. He was not very good with her. Karen was good and looked good with her, holding her, cuddling her. It was an element of Karen he had not anticipated. She was a good mother and as time went on she became a better one. It was not in him to see and give as much as she did, but he felt no mystification, only pride, and while his own love for the baby grew, he simply imitated his wife, as happy about it as any of the expected parts of fatherhood.