Tempest in Eden

"I'd accuse you of manipulation, but the man seems so much happier," Ian said, shaking his head in amazement.

"He was lonely, that's all. He needed to be needed."

When Thanksgiving came around, Shay suggested to the ladies' group that they collect baskets of food for indigent families.

"But there aren't any poor families in our community," one of them protested.

With a vengeance, Shay searched until she found several families in a neighboring town whose main breadwinner had been laid off from his or her job. None of the families were members of the church, but by Thanksgiving week the bed of a pickup truck was filled to the brim with staples. A grocer had donated three dressed turkeys, and businessmen in the congregation were looking for positions in their companies for the people who were unemployed.

Feigning jealousy, Ian complained. "When the telephone rings, it's for you now instead of me." It was Saturday morning. Since Mrs. Higgins was off, Shay had cooked him a late brunch.

"Nonsense," she said, plopping down in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, and settling her mouth over his.

They both sighed resignedly when the telephone rang. Shay stretched to reach for the receiver.

"Hello… Oh, yes, Mrs. Turner," she said, sticking her tongue out at Ian's "I-told-you-so" look. "Mrs. Graham had her baby last night? A boy? How wonderful! I'll be sure to tell Ian so he can go see her at the hospital this morning. You're right." Shay began unsnapping her quilted robe until her body, warm and rosy beneath, was fully revealed to Ian. "We should take meals to her family while she's in the hospital. When she gets out, I think we should schedule volunteers to go over each afternoon to help with dinner, don't you?" Without the least change of inflection in her face, she took his hand and placed it over her breast. "Maybe for that first week… Thank you. I can't think of anyone better to organize it… Okay, I'll tell him… Good-bye."

Shay's invitation was more than Ian could resist. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her with his nose and mouth, fondling her with a touch that never failed to arouse her.

"Tell me what?" he mumbled against the velvet cleft between her breasts.

Throwing her head back wantonly, she sighed as his tongue rolled over her tautening nipple. "Tell you that Mrs. Graham is resting, and her doctor requested no visitors until later today."

"Remind me to thank that doctor the next time I see him," he said, sweeping her into his arms and heading for the stairs.

The first blowup came two weeks later, just before Christmas. They had spent a quiet evening decorating the tall tree in the living room, sipping hot cider, and enjoying the fireplace and each other's company. Their love play and frequent kisses had stirred them to desire. They were on their way upstairs when the doorbell pealed.

It was a man from church asking quietly to speak to Ian in private. Ian showed the man into his study, then returned to Shay. "Warm up my spot," he said, patting her fanny lightly and kissing her quickly.

Upstairs, she took a long bubble bath, smoothed a rich lotion all over her body, buffed her nails, and climbed into the wide bed to wait for her husband.

Impatient after an hour had dragged by while she tried to read a less-than-engrossing book, she pulled on a modest robe and went downstairs.

By now Shay was accustomed to members of Ian's congregation calling him at home or cornering him for conversation when they were out in public. Often they bent his ear for no reason other than because they were lonely and needed a sounding board. He always listened patiently, even when they became long-winded. But their visitor tonight was the most verbose of all! No doubt Ian was looking for a tactful way to conclude t

he visit.

Shay grinned impishly as she devised a plan to relieve Ian of their uninvited guest and at the same time get her husband up to bed where he belonged. Conveniently there was a pad and pen on the foyer table.

A few minutes later, she tapped lightly on the door of Ian's study. "Yes?" he called.

She went in, not looking at the visitor, only her husband. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but someone called and left this emergency message for you."

Ian, his face expressionless, looked at her, then at the telephone, which hadn't rung for hours, then back up at her. He took the piece of folded paper she extended to him, unfolded it, and read the message: "Your place in the bed is warm, and there's a hot woman waiting for you. Send him home! Signed, The Hot Woman."

The secret smile curving her mouth collapsed when she saw Ian's furious expression. "Thank you," he said tersely, barely moving his lips.

"You're welcome," she said haughtily. Her shoulders back and chin up, she stalked proudly out of the study and up the stairs. Reaching their room, she whipped off her robe and the sexy negligee it had concealed and pulled on a long, flannel nightgown.

Too enraged to cry, she fumed, pounding her pillow and thumping the covers when they wouldn't cooperate with her thrashing limbs. Since she couldn't sleep, she tried to read again. The words blurred before her eyes, she was so angry for his ignoring her.

But when she heard his footsteps on the stairs, her heart lurched with fear. She had seen hints of Ian's temper before and had dreaded the first time she'd experience its full impact. She knew that time had come the instant the door was flung open and just as quickly slammed shut behind him.

"Don't ever do anything like that again." His eyes flashed with anger. "Never again. Do you understand?"

She flew off the bed, sending pillows scuttling and her unread book sliding to the floor. "No, I don't understand."

"Then let me explain it to you. That man's world is crumbling around him. He needed help, counsel. Thank God he came to me for whatever assistance I might provide instead of seeking solace in a bottle or blowing his brains out, both of which he confessed had occurred to him.