April
When I got back from taking Gerri to school and dropping Brian at his play school, a moving van was parked in front of the Adams place, two doors down. Of course it was no longer the Adams place. Since it was a warm spring day, I thought a pitcher of lemonade would be a good introduction to the neighborhood.
The woman who was standing on the sidewalk looking up into the van was obviously pregnant. "Hi, I'm Beth Weathers, second house down," I pointed. "I thought you might want something cool to drink, so I fixed some lemonade."
The short, mousy blond turned towards me with an expression of surprise and horror. Then she burst into tears.
"I can't do all this," she wrapped her arms around me as she shook with deep sobs. "Bill got called to headquarters for an emergency and I can't keep track of everything," she wailed. More sobs followed.
"Let's go inside where you can sit down and we'll have some lemonade," I said, gently guiding her towards the door. Brian was only two years old and Gerri was six. I could still vividly remember the violent mood swings of my pregnancy.
Fifteen minutes later Jane Fellows was calmed down and we were keeping track of where the movers were putting things. I started to unpack the kitchen boxes between trips upstairs and outside. At noon I picked up Brian and brought back subs for lunch.
At three I had to go pick up Gerri. "Jane, I think they've got everything in from the truck. I'll be back over after I drop Gerri off in the morning and I'll help you continue unpacking." I called my mother that night. She would pick up Brian in the morning and Gerri after school.
"I've got to take a break." It was two o'clock and Jane and I had been working steadily since a little after nine, except for a short lunch. "My back's killing me." Jane rubbed her lower back and arched to stretch it out.
"Jack used to give me backrubs every day from the fifth month on," I commented.
"God, I wish Bill would do that. That would be heavenly."
"You want me to try? I've given Jack one occasionally when he's had a hard day at work."
"Would you mind? I don't want to put you out."
"You obviously can't lie down flat, or at least I couldn't anyway. Here, let's try the couch."
Jane curled on to her side. I sat on the edge. "I can't reach you well. Let me kneel down."
But the wood floor was too hard on my knees and the couch was a little high. "This isn't working well."
"Well," Jane said hesitantly. "If we go to the bedroom, I'll be able to scoot over so you'll have room to sit."
"Lead the way."
Jane lay down on her bed and squirmed to the middle. I sat down behind her and began at the shoulders.
"Oh, that feels so good. I might even be willing to pay for this."
As I continued the massage, I looked out the window at her pool. "You've got a pool. I wish we had one."
"Why don't you get one put in?"
"I wanted to, but Jack said that for the increased cost of insurance and the liability headaches, we could have memberships in several clubs around town. The hazards of being married to a lawyer. Funny, when he made partner last year, the extra insurance on a new Beemer Z-4 didn't seem to matter. Still, he did get us a membership at the Atlanta Country Club. Gerri likes to swim over there. But they only open it between Memorial Day and Labor Day. You can open yours earlier and keep it open later."
"That's it. That's the spot where it really hurts," Jane exclaimed.
I tried to massage it, but her dress kept sliding around keeping my hands from remaining in one spot. "I can't get to it. Your dress keeps sliding around."
"Unzip it."
"What?"
"Unzip it. I'll slip it down to my waist and then you can rub it good."
I unzipped the shift and Jane wiggled it down, finally just pushing it off completely. She was dressed in pregnancy-white undies. The panties were utilitarian cotton. To cover here tummy they had to be big enough to be used by Roseanne Barr. The bra, also utilitarian cotton, holstered an impressive pair of knockers. She lay back down on her side rolling slightly to expose more back.
"Grab the cream from my top drawer. It'll make rubbing easier, too," she instructed.
The elegant bottle that I pulled from the nightstand bespoke taste and refinement. The wonderful aroma that emerged when I opened the bottle confirmed the high quality. As I began to smooth the lotion over her skin, the pasty white color of winter skin began to glow more like fine porcelain.
As my fingers kneaded her muscles, it felt like silk over fresh bread dough, smooth, soft and springy. I knew from experience with Jack how soothing this was to Jane. After a several minutes, I thought she had dropped off to sleep and I stopped.
"No," she whined. "Do my legs, too."
I took some more lotion and dropped my hands to the top of her thighs and resumed the massage. I glanced over her body. She had probably gained thirty to forty pounds. She had a chipmunk face that I always associated with my pregnancies. Her thighs were flabby although I could feel muscle underneath. "Do you exercise?"
"I did until about the fourth month. I had a little bleeding and my doctor advised me to cut down on my activity. Oh gee, you don't think this moving has hurt the baby?"
"No. I'm sure you're fine. I could feel some long muscles here," I ran my fingers slowly down her hamstring.
She rolled to her back. "You're being so good to me. You just met me and look how nice you've been."
