The Plumber's Daughter

*Marie:*

Patrick offered me his hand and helped me get to my feet. He was looking at me thoughtfully with his kind, honest eyes and smiling with his dimples on display. Patrick's smiles make my heart melt. He touched my face gently and said, "Thank you, Marie," just like that, and he meant it.

I was thinking, "What a sweet thing to say. Little intimate things mean so much to him," I remembered how he stood up to thank me when I brought him his cup of coffee. He didn't sit back down in the swing until I sat first. It was such a little thing, that cup of coffee, and the smile on his face told me how much he appreciated it, like now. What nice manners he has. I just adore his polite and gentle ways with women, unless he is making love to them of course, and then, oh and then.

I put my arms around his neck. They belong there now. Patrick is mine, "When are we going to our bedroom to do the broodmare stallion thing."

"That was just dirty talk, Marie."

"You promised," I teasingly said, mussing his hair for a change.

"I still promise. It will be after the Fireman's Carnival later this evening, and only after I eat you out first, my hot and spicy girl. As you well know, I'm committed to selling tickets. I planned on asking you out on our first date and taking you there. Would you do me the honor? I won't be selling tickets the whole day."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," I replied, thinking, "Nope, not for all the money in the world. One way or another I will let that redhead know that she had her chance years ago and blew it, or maybe she didn't blow it and that is why they broke up. Nevertheless, you are mine now," and then I offered, "I'll help you and Susan sell raffle tickets."

"That's great! I'm so glad you're being such a good sport about it. Do you like French fries with salt and malt vinegar? They also have Tabasco sauce there. If I'd known that you liked hot and spicy I would have added hot peppers to the fried potatoes....."

* *

*Patrick:*

While I was in the tub washing, getting ready to go, Marie came into the bathroom wearing only a bra and panties, and I thought, "It is a shame we don't have the time for Marie to join me."

"Which of these shirts do you want me to iron," she asked.

"Did you hear what I said, Patrick? Do you want to wear the red one?" Marie asked holding them up by their hangers, "or this white one with the pearl buttons?"

"The red one will be fine, and you don't have to iron it, Marie."

"Of course I do. My outfit is already ironed and the iron is still hot. It will only take a minute," She then opened the vanity cupboard, leaving the door ajar. She hung the shirts on the cupboard door and took out my baby shampoo and conditioner.

"Sit back and relax while I give you a nice shampoo," I thought, "Who was I to argue with that?"

"If you expect me to grow my hair long, then it will be your job to help me care for it."

"Yes, and it will be my pleasure....that feels wonderful."

"Do like the color of my hair, Patrick?"

"I love the color of your hair. A little bit more to the left."

"Would you like me better as a blonde?"

"No, I can't see you as a blonde. That's it, use your fingers."

"What about if I dyed it red, and then cut my hair really short in a pixie?"

"It is your hair and your choice, but no to a red dyed red hair, and definitely not in a pixie....use your fingers on the crown."

"Why did you go out with Susan in High School? What was the attraction?"

"I know that I'm not much to look at Marie, and I see where this is going. A little bit more to the right...yes, right there. I accept how God made me. Does that seem simplistic to you? What you see is what you get. You are a beautiful woman and that's a fact. You are as God made you... beautiful. Yes, I like long hair on women, and yes, I like your God given hair color very much. I will like it when it turns silver gray or white as will mine, " Marie was thinking, "Silver gray or white, perhaps marriage is in my future," "Yes, I was attracted to Susan at one time because of her long red hair. Susan would let me brush her hair and do anything I wanted to with it like...ouch, not so hard and stop pulling."

"That was an accident. Close your eyes so that I can rinse."

"No, it wasn't and now it is my turn to ask some questions. Don't even think about rinsing with just cold water. Did you ever dye your hair red or cut it really short?"

"No, but I was a blonde for most of my marriage."

"You became a blonde because your ex-husband preferred it that way, right?"

"Yes, it was blonde for him and long for me."

"Your father didn't approve of the change in color, did he, Marie? As a matter of fact, I bet your Dad didn't think much of your ex right from the beginning but kept his mouth shut for you and your mother's sake. My intuition tells me that the Jerk was a self-centered wimp who basically ignored you and was most likely intimidated by your temper and no doubt was scared silly of your father."

Marie was thinking to herself, "Bingo, I assumed right, Patrick wouldn't approve of any dye job, either. He would let me, but he

wouldn't approve and that was all the difference in the world. With the Jerk, blonde was almost a mandate," I didn't answer right away, lost in thought, "I am amazed how close Patrick hit to home, but I am somewhat relieved by it as well and I do want his approval."

"After your divorce you cut your hair shorter as a statement of sorts, a new beginning so to speak. You also went back to your natural color to assert your new found independence?"

"Right again, Patrick. I'm ready to rinse out the conditioner now."

"I can pretty much guess the rest. That being said, this can be a new beginning for the both of us, Marie. We can share a life journal, start a clean white page. I want this house to eventually be your home, our home, as well as the house on Long Island. There is no reason when the time comes not to keep both.

I suggest that you call your mother and father and tell them where you are. You are lucky to have them, you know. I miss mine. I'm sure that they are worried by now. I would like to meet them..."

* *

*Marie:*

It is almost as if Patrick can read my mind. I was going to be a little playful and rinse with cold water, but he was one step ahead of me about that and the living arrangements. Now I really can't wait for Patrick to meet my parents. It seems that we are on the same page about everything so far. Later today we will be putting an entry in our life journal. Our first date at the Fireman's Carnival...................

I haven't been this excited about a date since high school. I dressed carefully for the occasion wishing that I could wear my makeup for him. For the most part we were wearing the same clothing. Patrick was wearing his signature blue jeans, jean jacket, plus the red western cut shirt.

The borrowed jeans that I was wearing fit me like a second skin. I was wearing a similar ladies red western shirt. The back of my jean jacket had two beautifully executed, and exact to scale, hand embroidered red cardinals, male and female on a white birch tree branch.

Even our moccasins boots were the same; double vamped construction and made from buffalo and elk hides by the Russell Moccasin Company of Berlin, Wisconsin. I have to say they are the most comfortable footwear I have ever worn.

There is a wicker basket in the reading room (bathroom) mostly full of catalogs. I'm going to have Patrick measure my feet per the instructions on the template in the Russell Catalog for them to make a wood last for my feet so I can order another pair.

Patrick was in the east pasture talking to White Cloud and feeding her apples when I came out to model my outfit for him. Those moccasins were quiet, and I was almost able to sneak up on him, but White Cloud saw me. She backed up and trotted over where I was walking quietly along the fence drawing Patrick's attention over to us. I now understood why his wife named the horse White Cloud. This gentle old mare was all brown except for a large white patch extending the entire length of her back.

Patrick walked over to me carrying a small, well used dented bucket and flashed a smile like sunshine to greet me. Putting the bucket down, he picked me up and swung me around if I weighed nothing. "You look lovely my lady, my Marie. We could almost be twins by the way we are dressed. Coincidence? I think not."

Patrick was absolutely beaming, and my mind was racing as he kissed me as I thought, "He said, my Marie...my Marie, this was so wonderful! Things do not happen like this in real life, therefore I was going to make the best of it and never wake up from this wonderful dream. This was my chance to climb every mountain and follow my dream of painting and drawing in my own little studio and accountable to no one other than myself. Patrick offered to lend me the studio if I wanted it."

He continued, "You have no idea how beautiful you look dressed like that Marie."

"I believe White Cloud thought that you were her Mistress. She came right over to you and horses can sense things. Many Native Americans believe that horses can read our auras and will choose us, and then their love and loyalty is absolute. Would you like to be White Cloud's Mistress?" he put me down and took a piece of carrot from the bucket, "Put your hand out like this," he put a piece of carrot in my hand, "she won't bite your fingers, but don't pull away...that's it, can you feel her lips?

White Cloud, this is Marie Antoinette, not Anne Marie, but you probably know that now," White Cloud shook her head up and down and then nuzzled my hand, 'Here is another piece. You may pet her, like this, and talk to her....that's it, tell White Cloud she's a grand old lady....."

* *

*Patrick: *

When Marie came out dressed like that she looked so beautiful it was enough to almost make my heart stop. As I was swinging her about and kissing her, I was thinking, "Marie is so patient with me. She lets me pick her up and kiss her. My Marie puts up with my silly antics...I just couldn't help myself. It is only the two of us. I would never embarrass Marie by acting like this in public. Well, maybe I might, just a little."

White Cloud is used to that kind of behavior from me when I am happy. That had to be it. Horses can sense such things. White Cloud would only let Anne or me hand feed her and will only eat her treats out of this bucket for Sam. White Cloud allowed Marie to eat out of her hand and then to hug her neck. That was the clincher. I'm not the most handsome cuss in the world, but Marie chose me, while White Cloud chose her. I can't wait to walk around the Carnival and show Marie off and to introduce my love to everyone.

I haven't attended the Carnival in three years and Susan has been after me to take her there for two. I have to get Susan alone and explain things to her. I owe her that. I just hope that I am not making a mistake by taking Marie with me. But God bless her, Marie is not too proud to wear borrowed clothes for now. What we need is an Adventure to go and get hers...."

* *

*Marie:*

It was a half hour ride to the Fireman's Carnival. We were like teenagers sitting close and I held his hand while we drove there.

Patrick confided in me that he is amazed that White Cloud took to me the way she did. I can't wait to ride her and Patrick is going to teach me.

Until then I have to learn to groom and care for her. He explained that I was chosen by White Cloud. I think that's so cool. We also talked a little about the living together. Patrick said that we can go on our first Adventure in three weeks when the owner of the pregnant mare came and got her. He was very secretive about the details and said that it would be a surprise.

Before we went to the ticket booth, Patrick and I took a quick walk around the Carnival to look around. I was hoping that he would put his arm around my waist as we walked, but I was content when he firmly took my arm, as a gentleman would a lady.

I feel so safe being on his arm. He walks with a confidence that few men posses. I have observed that many men of wealth and privilege walk as he does, but without Patrick's open and friendly manner. I wonder, take away their wealth and power; would they walk the same confidence? Especially those men with their arrogant swagger. What do they have in reserve to back it up.

We casually strolled along as if we owned the ground we walked on but were willing to share it... or make way if politely asked. During

introductions, I would stand as close as I could to him, silently claiming Patrick as mine. He introduced me to quite a few people on the way to our first destination, Darby's French Fry Stand.

Those delicious fries were just as Patrick described them. I watched as Darby or his wife tore a portion of butcher paper from a huge roll to form that section of paper into a large cone and then tape it closed. Every order was made fresh and served in those paper cones.

We took our fries to a picnic table where Patrick unrolled the cone for a makeshift plate. A little salt, a little malt vinegar and a dash of Tabasco Sauce. They were delicious. We sat together on the bench and shared them. We also shared a bottle of ice cold Yuengling Lager, passing the bottle back and forth.

After we finished, Patrick put his arm around my waist and gave me a hug. He then kissed my cheek.

"Is that all I get?" I asked, mussing his thick unruly blonde hair.

"I suppose we must face the inevitable and help sell raffle tickets," he sighed, leaning forward and kissing my lips, "We had better get going."

"Wait, Patrick, I have something to tell you," I put my arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, "I want you to talk dirty to me."

"Not here, Marie. Not with all these people around," he said, starting to stand.

"Are you embarrassed to whisper naughty words in my ear, a big strong man like you?" I asked teasingly, knowing that he wouldn't. I tried to make him sit down, which was impossible, so I got up with him.

"I'm not embarrassed, but this is not the time and the place for it."

"Can we compromise then?" I asked, still holding on to his neck, "I'll whisper dirty words in your ear. A pig fell in the mud."

*Patrick:*

What a pleasure it is to have a beautiful woman on my arm. Marie was very charming when I introduced her around. She has a nice way with people. She seems to fit in, or is trying very hard to fit in. I haven't been on a date in years. I was worried that things might be a bit awkward. That was not the case at all. I can be myself with Marie and everything just seems to blend together without keeping score.

Not that Susan kept score, but Susan is a negotiator and an organizer. She always give me what I wanted, but always wanted something small in return and she would get sulky if I forgot. She was also much more mature than I was at 17. I had a one track mind then, getting laid. Susan had a one track mind as well. I was being groomed to be a husband. Every date was almost an orchestrated event with a script to follow. Not that she wouldn't compromise, or was controlling, she just wanted everything in its place. When it was, Susan is a pleasure to be around. In other words, Susan is not spontaneous and will not just drop things and go like Anne and I did. That would put Susan out of her comfort zone.

Would Susan make a good wife? She absolutely did make a good wife, making a good home for her husband. Susan never left her husband's side when Frank took sick, which was why Sam kept trying to fix me up with her.

When I arrived at the ticket booth, Susan was not at all pleased to see Marie on my arm. She was wearing a nice green dress knowing how much I like to see women in dresses. In her case, it emphasized her voluptuous, buxom figure. She was also wearing her long red hair in a ponytail, just as she wore it high school.

Like the great organizer that she is, Susan was prepared for anything. Although she packed a lunch for two, fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw and apple pie with sharp cheddar cheese for dessert; there was enough for six. It was neatly packed in two traditional wicker picnic baskets; complete with china plates and cups, crystal glassware, her

sterling silverware, and a linen tablecloth... everything.

Susan had decorated the booth with blue and yellow crate paper and red and white balloons, the same theme as we did for the homecoming dance in high school. She also brought a large plastic storage box full of string and twine, various kinds of tape, glue, a staple gun, extra pens and pencils. She brought magic markers, chalk, and paperclips, sticky labels, a label maker, scissors, name tags, etc. I'm sure that you get the picture.

It was an interesting afternoon, to say the least. We did sell, or I should say the ladies sold a plethora of tickets, each trying to outsell one another. They were polite to one another, much like two cats circling a mouse (me) with their claws retracted. Marie complimented Susan on the wonderful lunch. It was a genuine compliment because everything Susan served us was delicious and exceptional. Susan accepted it as such. There was a momentary truce, a time out that lasted for a few minutes, and then game on. I was back on the menu again.

An hour before the draft horse competition, which was delayed, Sam came over to ask me to help him with a temperamental and difficult horse that had thrown a shoe. Perfect! If I milked it, I might be able to catch a good part of the competition and the girls seemed to be getting along fine. Perhaps the Susan problem had solved itself and she finally got the message. Just before I left, I took Marie to one side and made her promise not to start anything.

Sam and I were standing alongside the judges, a privilege afforded to the attending blacksmiths when we both noticed people leaving their seats and rushing in the direction of the ticket booth. I stopped a couple of teenage boys and asked, "What's going on?" The larger of the two replied, "There are two women fighting," and then they were off like a scalded cats.

Sam and I looked at one another and no doubt we were both thinking, "Oh shit!" We both took off it that direction and when we arrived there was a crowd of people watching them rolling around on the grass, fighting.

"This is partly your fault, Dad," I said, "You get Susan, and I'll get Marie," and we waded in much to the disapproval to some in the gathered crowd. One big mouth idiot grabbed the back of Sam's jacket and tried to stop him. The idiot learned the hard way; don't mess with a man who pounds on anvils for a living. Before the idiot could shout, "Hey Rube", and before I could get there to help him, Sam had twisted around and hammered him in twice with his fists, rearranging the idiots face. Sam and I were then back to back facing the crowd of people before the idiot slumped to the ground, unconscious. We were silently daring anyone else to step up, which they didn't, and surprisingly the girls were still at it.

While we were separating the girls, the volunteer firemen were breaking up the crowd and passing out complimentary tickets for rides on the modest midway. Sam and I met with the Fire Chief and a few of the Carneys. It turned out the idiot was a Carney, an employee of the traveling amusement show that the Volunteer Fire Department brought in to run the Midway Rides.

It was agreed that their man was out of line and that was the end of it. Sam and I knew better. We threw one hundred dollars each into a hat to buy beer tickets for the 20 or so Carneys working the Midway. It was a goodwill gesture on our part and they could redeem the tickets at the Fireman's beer tent after hours.

But getting back to the girls...they were a mess. Torn clothing and covered in dirt and grass stains. They both got their punches in though.