"He's mine," Sarah said.
"You're the father, but you don't have to think of him as yours unless you want to."
"I don't believe this," Ed Bitter said. "Scout's honor, Cousin Edwin," Ann said. "Cross my heart and hope to die."
"I'm glad you're home safe, Ed," Sarah said. "Goddamn it, don't get off the subject!" he said.
"Why wasn't I told? "Theoretically," Ann said, "because you were off saving the world for democracy, and she didn't want to trouble you.
Actually, because she was afraid of what you would do when you found out."
"Ann!" Sarah said. "Jesus Christ!" Bitter said. "So now that you know, Ed," Ann pursued, "what are you going to do about him?"
"Ann!" Sarah said again, Ed Bitter looked down at the child in his arms.
He felt no emotion whatever. This boy is unquestionably my child, if for no other reason than that a practical joke of this magnitude is beyond even Ann. And if it is my child, I certainly will have to do the decent thing: Recognize it, legitimatize it, marry the mother, give it and her my name. He looked at Sarah. She was staring out a window.
He looked down at the child again. He had no sense of recognition, he thought, no animal sensing that this was the fruit of his loins. It was simply a baby, indistinguishable from dozens he had held as reluctantly as he held this one. "If I seem somewhat stunned by all this," he said, "I am.
I came here with the intention of rushing Sarah into becoming engaged before my leave was up."
"You took your sweet time getting to Memphis, Romeo," Ann said. "And now," he said, ignoring the remark, "it would seem that it is not a question of whether she'll marry me, but how soon."
"You don't have to marry me," Sarah said, not meaning it. "I love you, Sarah," he said, surprised at how easy the words, the lie, came to his lips. "And we owe it to Whatsisname here, don't you think?" Ann laughed.
"Give me Whatsisname," she said.
"And I'll take him for a walk."
"No," Bitter said.
"You take a walk, Ann. But leave him here. I want to get to know him."
Ann looked at the two of them and left, saying nothing. Sarah finally turned to him. He looked gaunt, she thought, but even more handsome than the first time she had seen him. She was reacting to him now as she had reacted to him then. Except now she understood what that reaction was.
He was ore than the most handsome man she had ever seen, he was the sexiest. Perhaps that was really what handsome meant.
She wanted very much to rush to him, to put her arms around him, to feel his body against hers. But that, she sensed, was not what she should o right now. There had been shock in his eyes when he looked at her, d maybe even fear. Certainly not lust. In "How's your friend Canidy?"
Sarah asked.
"Ann hasn't heard from him in a long time, months."
"To hell with Canidy," he snapped.
"Let's talk about this." He raised the baby in his arms. "He's very healthy," Sarah said.
"And most of the time very happy."
"He looks like you," Bitter said. "Too early to tell," she said.
"You like him?"
"I like him," he said, and looked at her and smiled happily. I'll be damned if that isn't true! "I'm glad," she said. She smiled back. It was the first time she had smiled since he had arrived. "Me, too," he said.
"Glad, I mean. Happy. Stunned, but happy and glad."
"It wasn't what you expected, was it?"