This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned. No copyright infringement on the original work is intended.

Copyright Reagan Kavanagh 2005.

Tuesday, 06 September

REAGAN

I looked at him, wine glass halfway to my lips; I think my jaw may have dropped. I took a deep breath before I spoke. I did not want a repeat of the misunderstanding we’d had in May, as he could all too easily perceive this as another rejection. I needed to couch my words in terms that he could not misinterpret as a function of the disparity in our frames of reference.

“Max, we’ve discussed this.” Do note that I called him “Max,” something I’d not done in almost six months. He flinched; he should. That did not stop his pursuit of his goal; this is a man who has faced down tigresses far more threatening than I, and my little display of pique wouldn’t slow him down in the least.

“No, Cara, we have not. You made known your feelings at that time, as did I. We have never truly discussed the matter.” Sometimes his penchant for logic and the precise negotiation of terms gets on my last frigging nerve. I put my glass carefully on the end table and turned to face him squarely.

“Alrighty, then. By all means, let’s discuss the issue.” He frowned.

“I do not care for your tone, Cara.”

“You’re the one who brought it up, Max.” He sighed; I continued. “I did not say I would not consider it. I said that I wasn’t ready to entertain either notion at that point in time.” He frowned again before speaking.

“Yes, I recall all too well your comments at that point in time. I thought we had settled this issue in subsequent conversations.” Whatever sage opined that women have a one-track mind never had the frustration of meeting Maximus Decimus Meridius, nor had he the rather dubious pleasure of attempting to discuss with him something, which – in Maximus' mind - was clearly settled. When Maximus gets it into his head to pursue something – and what it might be is totally irrelevant insofar as his tenacity is concerned – you would be more successful at stopping the rotation of the Earth on its axis than dissuading him from his intended task. This man is a true Taurus …stubborn as a bull when it suits his purposes. Were we having our second argument? It was very civilized, no raised voices, no flying crockery, but it was sure as hell beginning to sound like an argument to me. I willed myself not to let my Irish temper get the best of me.

“We did not settle the issue, Maximus. I said that I was not willing to entertain the issues then. I recall having said perhaps after we had lived together for a while I would consider it, and I specifically recall mentioning a time period …one year comes clearly to mind.” He took a sip of his wine and put his glass on the end table.

“And we have now been together – exclusively - for eight months. Do you not think it time we revisit the matter?” No, I did not think it was necessarily time to revisit the matter, but if he was going to push me, I might as well tell him precisely what my feelings were on the matter. I picked up my wine glass, tossed back the last of the contents, stood, and walked to the kitchen. When I returned, I had the bottle of wine with me; that got a raised eyebrow from him. Before I sat, I refilled my glass, topped off his, and sat the bottle on the end table between our chairs before pushing the coffee table back so that I could sit on the floor in front of him. I don’t know why, but when I’m serious and/or angry, I think better on the floor than on furniture. I also think well when I’m pacing, but that didn’t seem the best posture at the moment. I was serious about Max, more serious that I’d ever been about a man in my life, including the one I had married. Realistically, it was time I let him know that, as he’d made his level of involvement more than clear to me. The fact that I sat on the floor made him sit up a good deal straighter as he looked down at me. He’s learned me pretty well over the last eight months.

“Okay, Maximus, you want to revisit the matter? Fine. But if you take off for the hills when all is said and done, I swear to God that I’ll hunt you down just so I can have the pleasure of saying I told you so before I shoot you.” He smiled …and I know he knows precisely the effect his smiles have on me. It would feel so good right now to call him a bastard, but I can’t because he’s anything but a bastard. Perhaps a royal pain in the arse ….

“Is your decision so negative that you believe it would cause me to leave?”

“Probably not, but I have conditions, and unless and until those conditions are met, nothing is going to happen …at least not in the sense you want.” He drained his glass, refilled it, and seemed to consider his position before looking at me and speaking.

“Fair enough. What are your conditions?” Let the negotiations begin.


"What are your conditions?"  In speaking those words and in the tone of voice he’d used, I suspected he felt as though he were back in negotiations with the Marcommani and facing a particularly shrewd general who just happened to be a woman. I held up one hand and ticked off the conditions, one finger at a time. If the rant I was about to go on didn’t buy me time and breathing room, nothing would.  

“Item One. The Engagement …if we’re doing this, then we’re doing it in the time-honored, Dallas, Texas, fashion. I want a ring, and this time around, I want one, big mother of a diamond. Three carats minimum …Emerald cut, IF, D – E – or F …preferably D, six-prong platinum head.” He interrupted me.

“I agree to engagement, as it furthers my own agenda. I confess total ignorance on everything following the word ring.” I sighed. Of course he would be ignorant …had they even known what diamonds were in his time?

“Emerald cut means a diamond with a rectangular shape …the cut that you see most often in emeralds. IF means the stone is internally flawless when viewed through a 10X jewelers loop. DEF refers to color; in this case, that means a ‘white’ diamond, and D is the highest quality. It has no colour of its own so it reflects all the colours of the spectrum. Platinum head means that the mounting – the prongs that hold the stone in place - is platinum …that lowers the chance of losing a stone due to the head weakening to virtually zero.” I could see by the way in which his eyes glazed over that none of this meant anything to him. Okay, I could make it easy. “Take Terry with you to select it.” He smiled; he was back with me. Goal for me, and I suspected that Terry knew diamonds. Some of his ransom payments had surely been in diamonds. I held up the second finger.

“Item Two. Six months to one year engagement, absolutely no less than six months, option to renew and extend at one year.” If I could get him to agree on this point, I could drag this out indefinitely. No such luck; his response put paid to that little brainstorm. Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time and was certainly worth the try.

“Absolutely not. I will agree to six months but not more than 12. If I am to marry again, I wish to do so whilst I am still young enough to enjoy it.” I interpreted that young-enough-to-enjoy-it bit to mean getting me pregnant, but there was no way I was opening that can of worms in the midst of this negotiation. We would revisit the length-of-engagement issue in a year …and I’d worry about pregnancy when he really started to push the issue. Don’t get me wrong here. It isn’t that I don’t want to marry Maximus, and I do want children – I want both more than anyone knows – but I want to be as sure as I can that if and when I have children, I am bringing them into a stable and loving home …one in which their father will be both physically and emotionally present. Given my own childhood, I refuse to have a child without those conditions having been met well in advance; children deserve better. In truth, I did believe Maximus fit all my parameters more fully than any man I’d ever known, but I wanted a bit more time before committing myself to that irrevocable course of action. Let’s get real here, people; once you marry and commit to having a child, you really can’t do the return-to-sender bit. So, in hope of future beneficence on his part, I conceded on length of engagement …sort of.

“Okay, that point remains open to negotiation.” He smiled, nodding once in that way he has. I held up the next finger.

“Item Three. The wedding …no big, formal Church thing. I’ve done that, and it doesn’t guarantee a lasting union. We can invite anyone either of us wants, but it’s not going to be formal. I’m thinking a simple civil service either in the mountains – Colorado would be nice and the Chapel at Pinecrest on Palmer Lake is beautiful – or the seashore – the Lighthouse Inn in Rockport would be nice, decision contingent upon time of year of the wedding. If you don’t care for either of those options, there’s always The Mansion on Turtle Creek, and that’s right here in Dallas.” His eyes had glazed over again. Hell, as badly as he apparently wanted to marry me, there was no telling what I might talk the man into if I just played my cards right. There was definitely a pow-wow with Dee in the near future to work out long-term strategies. I can just hear her snort now. “ME? You’re asking ME – the queen of avoiding marital encounters – for help planning your WEDDING?” She would be rolling in the floor, helpless with laughter. His eyes unglazed long enough to formulate a response.

“I leave the selection of location and arrangements in your and Diana’s capable hands. I shall present myself – suitably attired and ring in hand – on the day and time you specify.” Yeah, sure he would. All he had to do was show up, slip a ring on my hand, accept the congratulations of his mates, get through the reception, and then enjoy the wedding night. Life is so easy for men, isn’t it? Further, if he thought he was inviting all of Crowe’s incarnations to our wedding he had another think coming, not that I actually thought he would. Mr. Stoic-in-All-Things invite the ravening mob? Not bloody likely, thank God. Still, best get these little details nailed down well in advance so that there were no nasty, last minute surprises.

“Item Four. Guests. None of Crowe’s incarnations that I haven’t met - and approved – will be invited. I’m not having some antisocial nong with an attitude - like Hando - turn the day into a disaster.” That got me a slight frown, but he gave in, though he did ask a question.

“What is a nong?”

“An idiot, which Hando most assuredly is if his behavior is any indication.” He nodded again. Seems he wasn’t any more enthusiastic about that possibility than I was.

“Agreed.” Thank God. Another thought occurred to me.

“You guys don’t actually know Russell Crowe, do you?”

“I have never had the pleasure, though I suspect some may. Why do you ask that?” Another thank God. While I’m sure Russell Crowe is a very nice man, and I would be the first to acknowledge that I owe him a debt I could never repay, I really didn’t want him, his minders/minions, and the paparazzi showing up at my wedding. I’ve never cared for seeing my own face staring back at me from the newsstands (had that happen once) and have no wish for a repeat performance.

“Maximus, I’m sure he’s a wonderful man – he’d have to be to have breathed life into men like you and Terry Thorne - but I don’t really want him at our wedding. No bride wants a man present whose hair is prettier than hers.” Of course, that made Maximus laugh. I don’t think he realized I was more than half-serious; I mean really, the man does have beautiful hair. Okey dokey …moving right along to number five. What the Hell was number five? There had to be a NUMBER FIVE. Maximus had caved far too easily on almost everything else, and I was on a roll. He was silent for a few moments.

“What is your next requirement?” I shook my head. When in doubt, honesty is always the best policy because it buys you bargaining space in the future.

“Can’t think of one at the moment, but I’m sure I will, and I reserve the right to amend the list.” He grinned and held out his hand.

“Agreed.” I held out mine, and we shook on it. Of such things, I suppose, are romantic weddings made.

MAXIMUS

The ease of her acquiescence was unanticipated. What I had failed to realise is that women – even more so than generals - are masters of the art of evasion. She had set forth her demands, and I had agreed; it had not occurred to me that actually succeeding in having her agree to a firm date for our marriage would require all the persuasion I could bring to bear; that knowledge was yet to come. Retrospectively, I suppose it was kind of her to allow me to bask in my self-delusion for a while longer. All that remained for me to do in order to meet her requirements at that point in time was to procure the betrothal ring. I had made note of her specifications and presented myself in Terry’s office early Wednesday morning, prepared to debase myself if required in order to gain his alleged expert assistance. The door was open, but I tapped on it nonetheless; one does not enter private rooms uninvited. He looked up at the sound.

“Max …g’day, Mate. What’s on your mind so early?” It was barely after eight, and the office did not open until nine. I was usually in no later than eight-thirty but had arrived earlier on this day, wishing to discuss my business with him in private. He motioned me in and to a chair. I closed the door and sat, pulling my notes from my pocket. His eyebrows went up at the closure of the door.

“I require your assistance, Terry.”

“Always happy to help a colleague. What can I do?”

“I must purchase a ring – for Reagan – and I have no knowledge of such things.” I thought that would be sufficient to inform him of the nature of my intended purchase, but he completely misread my intention. It had not occurred to me that men purchased rings for women other than those required for purposes of betrothal and marriage. Clearly, I still have much to learn as regards courtship in this day and time.

“Right. Her birthday’s just round the corner …early October, isn’t it? Nice idea. What did you have in mind? A dinner ring? Emeralds? Rubies? Opal is the October birthstone. I can direct you to a jeweler right here in Dallas with a ripper collection of Australian fire opals, though opals are a bit fragile for a ring.” There was apparently nothing for me to do but to spell it out.

“I was thinking of diamonds.”

“Diamonds, eh? Bit pricey those, but I’d have to say Reagan’s worth it. Of course, if you get a ring with several small stones, you should be able to get yourself off the hook for a couple of thousand.” I sighed. He still had not understood my meaning.

“Terry, I am referring to what I believe is known as a solitaire, at least three carats,” I consulted my notes. “IF, D, with a six-prong platinum head.” He had his coffee cup halfway to his mouth and dropped it, splashing coffee onto his suit, his desk, and the remainder soaked into the carpet where his cup landed. He looked at me, eyes widening.

“Mate, that’s an engagement ring.” I nodded.

“Yes. That is what I require.”

“You asked her to marry you?”

“I did.”

“She said …yes?”

“She said yes.”

“When?”

“Last evening.” He picked up a tissue and began mopping at his trousers and then the desk, cleared his throat, and looked back across the desk at me.

“I see. So, when is the happy day?”

“We have not set a date as of this time; however, she has specified not less than six months. I have specified not more than one year.” He smiled, a relieved look on his face.

“Ah, well, early days yet.” He walked to the small bar in the corner of the office and brought out two glasses and a decanter of cognac. Sitting the glasses on the desk, he poured the cognac and handed me one as he took the other.

“Cheers, Max. Congratulations and all the best. I have to admit she’s appears quite the catch.” Though it was early in the day, I surmised that consumption of alcohol at announcement of one’s betrothal was customary, and I joined him in downing the contents of our glasses.

“So, what’s your price range, Max?”

“If you are referring to what I can afford, I suspect you know that as well as I. As to the ring itself, I have no idea what such a ring would cost, so I defer to you.” He nodded as he put his glass on the desk.

“It’s going to cost you big bikkies. You two planning on a single- or double-ring ceremony?” I had no idea.

“Terry, I have no notion as to what that means. Please, enlighten me.”

“Single-ring means all you have to do is find a wedding set that she likes …the wedding ring is matched to the engagement ring. Double-ring means that you wear a ring as well, and, in that case, it’s always nice if your ring matches her wedding set …more or less. It’s also nice if your ring is worn on your hand, rather than through your nose.” I frowned before he continued. “The matching bit for a double-ring ceremony is more difficult to do in that we have to find something both of you like. Of course, you could just find an engagement ring she likes, then have both wedding rings designed to go with that. I know a couple of jewelers ….” I felt quite sure of that and could feel my bank account begin to diminish accordingly.

“Let me find a ring that she will like – with your guidance – and we will worry about single- or double-ring ceremonies later. She has told me that she wishes to be surprised with my choice.” He shook his head at me.

“Christ, Max, you’re more naïve than I’d thought. Do you know if she prefers white, yellow, or rose gold, or is she a platinum girl all the way?” I looked at him, again having no idea of what he meant. He correctly interpreted my look.

“What other sort of jewelry does she wear, Mate? Gold? Silver? What?” Ah. That I could answer. Irrespective of my ignorance of betrothal and wedding customs in this time, I am observant.

“She wears both silver and gold earrings. She wears her late mother’s wedding ring on her right hand …it is golden with silver around the stones. Her favourite necklace is a gold chain with a silver ingot in a gold mounting.”

“Jesus.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“She’s an eclectic, and you don’t have any fucking clue as to her true preferences in jewelry, do you?” I thought I had answered his question quite clearly; apparently, I had not as he was plainly displeased with my response. He shook his head, considered for a moment, then nodded as if to himself and spoke.

“Platinum, Max. The woman hasn’t been born who doesn’t love a platinum wedding set. If she wants you to wear a ring, yours can be white gold. At least that will save you a bit of dosh. Of course, the woman is supposed to buy the man’s ring, so you may want to consider exercising that option.” He looked at me for a moment before resuming.

“How do you feel about wearing a wedding ring, Max?” I smiled.

“I find the notion rather appealing.” He shook his head again.

“Why did I know you were going to say that?” He smiled as he spoke.

“So, THE RING. Two words, Max …De Beers.”

By the time I left Terry’s office, he had booked us on a flight to New York at 0859 the following morning. New York was apparently the closest location of a store owned by De Beers Consolidated Mines of South Africa and, according to Terry, the world’s premiere diamond merchants. He had called and made an appointment for us with one of their representatives, assuring the man that “price was no object,” smiling at me as he said the words. I suspect speaking them gave him great pleasure …after all, it was not his bank account that was, to use his words, “about to be gutted.” What is it in men that makes us take universal delight in watching others of our gender spend large amounts of money on very small objects usually prized only by women?

At 1430 the following afternoon – New York time – we were in one of the private viewing rooms of the New York De Beers’ shop. I had before me an array of diamond solitaires, all emerald cut stones and ranging from two to five carats. The price range was between $25,000.00 and $110,000.00. I picked up the next ring and looked at it. With presentation of the first ring, the jeweler handed me what I had learnt was a jewelers’ loop and following his instructions, placed it into my right eye socket as he held the ring beneath it, holding it at an appropriate angle before allowing me to take it from him. The ring I was now viewing apparently held special interest for the jeweler. His voice had the careful timbre of a man barely controlling his excitement; it was almost sexual in its resonance as he spoke of the stone now in my hand.

“Look at its fire, its clarity, the purity of its colour. Is it not a perfect stone? There are no inclusions and not a single imperfection, not even a feather, even at 100 power.” I had to admit that even to my untrained eye, this stone was superior to the others I had inspected; the flashes of refracted colour and light had stabbed my eye several times and with greater ferocity than had been the case with the other stones. However, not wishing my ignorance of such matters to be so appallingly obvious, I removed the loop from my eye and handed it – and the ring – to Terry.

“What do you think? Will it please her?” He screwed the device into his own eye socket and looked at the stone, moving it about and viewing it from every conceivable angle. This was the fourth ring we had examined, and the stone was 3.04 carats. When he took the loop from his eye and returned it to the jeweler, he was smiling. He turned to me and handed the ring back.

“Bewdy! That’s the one, Max.” I was grateful for his expertise if not for his willingness to spend my money; I now wished only to write the bank draft and be done with it. I looked at the jeweler.

“How much time is required for your bankers to clear my draft? I have business tomorrow in Dallas and, if possible, wish to take the ring with me when I return home this evening.” The man smiled, annoying in his ingratiation. Did he perceive that my ‘business’ was that of presenting this ring to Cassandra?

“Mr. Espan, we have checked your credit references – at the request of Mr. Thorne (he smiled at Terry) in order to facilitate your purchase – and all you need do is write the check or give me your charge card.” Terry was smiling broadly, and I suspected it was in delight at the fact that it was my bank account being depleted rather than his own. Preferring to hold on to my liquidity a bit longer, I pulled my wallet from my pocket, removed my platinum American Express card from it, and handed it to the jeweler along with Cassandra’s birthstone ring which Terry had insisted I confiscate and bring with me. It fit her left ring finger, and he had assured me that a ring that fit her properly would be required in order to size the ring I selected this day.

“Ah, you are sufficiently foresighted to have brought us a ring to use for sizing. How thoughtful.” The jeweler was all but salivating; I wondered what his commission on this sale might be. “I can have it ready for you by five, if that is acceptable.” Terry answered for me.

“Perfectly acceptable. Max, let’s go grab a brew and a sammie. We’ll come back to collect the ring and be on our way to the airport.” He paused a moment and looked at the jeweler. “On second thought, Mate, can you make that four? Our flight leaves at six and we have traffic to consider.”

“Of course, Sir. It would be my pleasure.” He left with my charge card in hand and returned less than five minutes later with the charge slip for my signature. Terry looked at the slip, and his eyebrows rose; I managed not to cough when I saw the total …$94,507.00 before the addition of taxes. He had the temerity to comment at my discomfiture.

“I think this one will work a treat, Max.” Had we been in the arena and the Emperor given the thumbs down, I would have removed his head without a second thought.

TERRY

I know it’s sad – likely a basic character flaw – to enjoy seeing a mate squirm, but watching Max sign the charge ticket for Reagan’s engagement ring was likely the most entertaining thing I’d ever seen in my life. It isn’t as if the bloke doesn’t have the dosh to pay for it – the only thing I know he’s spent a quid on since joining TEO is that Bentley and his flat- and he’s frugal almost to a fault. Hell, mate, I’m frugal, but in some ways, he could teach me a few tricks. However, and apparently where Reagan is concerned, his frugality was out the window.

When we walked out of the De Beers shop at four-fifteen that afternoon and caught a cab for La Guardia, he had the ring in his left breast pocket. He kept his hand on that pocket all the way there and through the airport …and all the way back to Dallas on the flight. As we walked to the Jag in DFW’s car park, I looked at him.

“Max? You planning on giving her the ring tonight, or were you thinking on waiting until the weekend?” He looked at me; the man’s ignorance – and innocence - in such matters is truly astonishing.

“Why should I wait? I have asked her to marry me. She has said yes – at least I hope she has, given what I now carry in my pocket – so why should I wait?” I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Max, what do you mean you hope she’s said yes? She did, or she didn’t. Which is it? Returning that rock to De Beers isn’t exactly going to be a piece of piss if she didn’t mean yes.” He looked like a ‘roo in the headlamps.

“She said she wanted an engagement ring, and we briefly discussed locations for the wedding. Does that not mean yes?” Thank Christ.

“Yes, that means Yes. If not, you’d really be fucked, Mate.” We got into the car and fastened our seat harnesses, and he looked over at me.

“Have I overspent on the ring?” I smiled as I turned the key.

“If it were any woman for you other than Reagan, I’d say you’d been royally fucked over …but Reagan? Yeah, Mate, she’s worth it. ‘Strewth, Max, I can’t imagine you with any other woman on the earth. She’s gonna make you a very happy man.” He seemed to relax …well, as much as a man can after laying out what he had for that rock. Moving ahead, he’d asked about why he shouldn’t give it to her tonight, and he deserved an answer.

“Max, about not giving her the ring tonight. Have you pre-planned this without telling me the rest of the details?” He shook his head in the negative. “You want to give her this ring in the appropriate venue. That means good wine, a good meal, flowers, romance, violins playing in the background. Does she know you went to New York today?”

“No. You indicated I should not tell her, so I kept my own counsel.”

“Good. Make reservations for Old Warsaw for Saturday. She’ll know how to dress. Tell the maitre d’ when you make the rezzies that you want a secluded table and tell him why. He’ll take care of everything. I’d suggest you tip him well - in advance - and slip him the ring at some point when Reagan goes to the loo. He’ll have the sommelier drop it into her champagne flute before he hands her the glass and then you tell her to put the glass down. Get down on your creaky knees and ask her – formally and officially – to marry you then and hand her the flute when she says yes.”

“She has said yes. Why should I ask her a second time? And what if she swallows the ring without seeing it in the glass?”

“Ask her again because she expects it. Trust me, Max, she won’t swallow the bloody ring. It’s a bloody big rock, and even if it weren’t, women have a sixth sense about these things. She may get the glass to her lips, but I doubt it. Once you’ve asked her to marry you, she’ll be looking for the ring when you give her the flute.” He took a deep breath and laid his head back on the headrest, snoozing all the way into town. Ignorance truly is bliss, isn’t it? I think he was actually calmer about the entire bit than I was. When we stopped by the office for Max to pick up his car, I held out my hand to him.

“The ring …give it to me, Max.” He cocked his head in that way he has before he answered.

“Why would I wish to do that?”

“So I can put it in the company safe for safe-keeping until tomorrow. Pick it up on your way out of the office. Until then, it stays here. If you take it home with you now, you’ll give over, and she’ll have it before midnight. Give her the glamour and romance of the nice engagement dinner to go along with the ring, Max. She’ll love you forever for the gesture. Trust me on this one, Mate.” He sighed, nodded, reached into his pocket, and handed me the ring box. I snapped it open to make very bloody sure the ring was there before turning to the wall safe in my office and spinning the dial to unlock it. I put it on top of the packet of ready cash we always keep for travel emergencies, closed the safe, and twirled the dial before I turned back to him.

“If you get killed before you can give it to her, I’ll step in and ask her to marry me.” He laughed for the first time that day.

Friday

REAGAN

Did you ever just know something? Maximus was up to something, but I wasn’t sure exactly what. When he left for the office yesterday morning, he had said he would be late last night …late is one thing, but almost midnight? He was definitely up to something. We’d had the little chat about engagement and marriage late Tuesday evening, and I’d said I would marry him. I had avoided setting a date for the wedding because I wanted to enjoy being single with him for a while longer. I suppose marriage doesn’t hold the allure for me that it does for many women, probably because I’ve been married, and it didn’t work …makes one a bit more reserved about undertaking the process again. However, marriage was very clearly at the top of Maximus’ agenda.

Of course, right behind marriage on his agenda was children, and while I wanted children, knowing how important that was to Maximus left me almost ill with anxiety. I’d had one miscarriage …not the end of the world, as many women do that, but I was now almost 38-years-old. I was not exactly in what you would consider a woman’s prime childbearing years, and I knew that better than most. I wasn’t that worried about being able to conceive, but I was terrified about my ability to carry to term. In most instances, I would have called Dee to voice and work through my fears but not this time. She’d never been married, never been pregnant to my knowledge, and had never expressed any desire for a child nor any regrets for the lack of that experience. I needed to talk with someone who had traveled my path, and I’d no clue as to who she might be. I called my gynecologist.

“Sharon? Reagan Kavanagh. Got a couple of questions for you.” We were friends in addition to my being her patient and often met for lunch on days she could get away from her office or didn’t have a baby to deliver.

“Reagan …what’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while. You must have a man in your life.” Caught!

“Well, yeah, there is that, but I had something else on my mind.”

“Shoot. You can tell me about the man later.”

“Do you know of a support group for women who have had miscarriages and are fearful of attempting pregnancy again?”

“WHOA! Perhaps you’d better tell me about the man now, rather than later. I’ve known you since shortly after you moved to Dallas, and this is the first time you’ve entertained the notion of pregnancy.” Obviously, there was no point in denying that I was now thinking about childbearing because Sharon would only laugh at me.

“Support group data and phone numbers first. We’ll do lunch sometime next week, and I’ll fill you in at that time.”

“You’re damned right you will. Okay, hold on a minute ….” When I hung up, I had information on days and times of meetings close to the university. I looked at my watch. If I left right now, I could just make the one at Southwestern Medical Center that started in 45 minutes. I remembered to call on my way out of the office and leave a message for Maximus, telling him I’d be a couple of hours late arriving home.

 
Retrospectively, I should have told Maximus where I was going before I went to the first meeting. He knew as soon as I walked in the door that I was upset …it’s a bit hard to hide red-rimmed eyes and a pink nose after you’ve been crying. He was walking from the kitchen to the lounge, a beer in his hand, when I walked in, and he turned toward me.

“Cara, I received your message …what is wrong? Why are you weeping?” He put down the can, walking toward me and pulling me into his arms. “What troubles you, Cara?” He let go of me long enough to let me put down my briefcase and keys before nudging me to the kitchen and taking a wine glass from the cabinet, pouring from the bottle we had failed to finish the night before. I didn’t really want to go into it at that point but didn’t see any way not to do so. I took a deep breath and jumped in with both feet.

“You recall that little negotiation session we had earlier in the week about engagement …marriage …that sort of thing?” He smiled, then frowned.

“I do. Does the notion of marriage upset you so deeply?”

“Yes and no …it’s a bit of a story, Maximus, so just bear with me for a few minutes.” He nodded as he handed me my wineglass and opened his beer. “I know that for you, marriage means a family …children. It means the same to me. If a couple doesn’t plan to have children, I personally don’t see all that much reason to marry. I mean, our culture no longer frowns on couples living together, and there’s no social stigma attached to their union and partnership, right?” He nodded, but the beginnings of a frown crossed his face again.

“Of course, many people don’t see any reason to marry even if they plan on having children. I admit to being a bit old-fashioned in that respect. If I’m going to have children, I want them to have the benefit of legitimacy, so that means marriage.” He nodded again, some of the frown leaving his face.

“My problem is that – as you know – I’ve had a miscarriage. I don’t know what precipitated it, and I’ve not attempted to get pregnant since that time. In fact, I’ve avoided the possibility with all due diligence …well, but for that one slip last spring.” He smiled …neither of us would ever forget that life-altering slip. I took a sip of my wine …liquid courage.

“Maximus, I’m not a young woman. I’m almost 38-years-old, and well past my prime childbearing years. In truth, while I want a child or children, I’m terrified of getting pregnant again …because I don’t think I could bear it if I had another miscarriage.”

“Cara ….” His voice was low and resonant, and with so much love and concern in it that I turned away from him in an effort to hide my tears.

“I called my doctor today and asked her for referral to a support group …a group for women who have had miscarriages and are fearful of getting pregnant again. I was late coming home because I went to a group that meets close to the university. I didn’t expect it to upset me after all this time, but it did. I still remember the loss, the feeling of emptiness, and the emotional pain. A couple of the women there are less than two months from their loss. Being in that room just brought it all back.” His large hands on both sides of my face forced me to look at him.

“Cara, while I want another child, if you are this fearful of falling pregnant again and possibly losing another child, I understand - as much as a man can - and will not press you. I would not put you through such pain again. However, whether or not we ever have a child, I want you to be my wife. I am – as Terry says – an Old Roman. The commitment and permanence of marriage is important to me, and I feel it is to you as well, irrespective of your modern views. I would give you the protection of my name – and my money, which is not inconsiderable – as long as I am alive, and for whatever help it may offer you after I am gone.” That was the first time I had ever had a conscious thought of the possibility that Maximus might predecease me, and I burst into tears. This was just not my day.

MAXIMUS

I had no idea that she feared pregnancy because of her earlier miscarriage. So many women in my time lost children before bringing them to full term that we accepted it. It was expected that every woman would lose at least one or two children – usually more - assuming she did not die before reaching adulthood or in childbirth before a miscarriage could occur. Beyond that, all women who bore live, full-term infants lost at least one or two during the child’s first year of life. Infant mortality was high in that time. I am told that even in those areas of the world in which asepsis is not practiced today, infant mortality rarely exceeds 50 children in every 1,000 births. In my time, the figure was closer to 325 per 1,000 …almost one-third of our population died in the first year of life, and that figure did not include stillbirths or miscarriages.

From her tears, I feared that she believed I would not wish to marry her if she would not be willing to risk pregnancy. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. Although I would cherish another child, another opportunity to – as Terry says – ‘get it right,’ all I need, all I truly desire is keeping my Cara by my side throughout Eternity. At this moment, I could do naught but hold her close and allow her to weep. When finally her tears were under control, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Maximus …I release you from your promise. When you asked me to marry you, it was at least partially based on your belief that I would be willing to give you a child, and, while I am willing, I am also afraid …and I can’t promise you that I will go through with it.” Her words struck me like a knife in my heart. Was the difference in my time and this one so great that she thought I would value her only for her fecundity? Had her former husband made her feel so diminished after her miscarriage that she felt her value as a woman lessened …and might that be the true foundation of her fear of another pregnancy?

“Cara, whether you bear me no children or ten, I will love you no less and no more. It is you that I love, not your womb or its fruit. You are all that I require …all else is dust and air.”

Half an hour later, and while Cassandra was changing clothes, I called her gynaecologist, having checked her address book for the number. I had noted with interest that my Cara had her physician’s home telephone number as well as that for her office, and I called the former. I anticipated reaching her answerphone and leaving a message; I was surprised when she answered.

“Sharon Fletcher.”

“Is this Doctor Sharon Fletcher, the gynaecologist?”

“It is. May I ask who’s calling?”

“My name is Max Espan. I am Reagan Kavanagh’s fiancé; I believe she spoke with you this afternoon.”

“Yes, we spoke. Is she all right?”

“I believe she is as well as might be expected after the meeting she attended subsequent to speaking with you. It is difficult for her to again contemplate pregnancy, given her earlier loss.” She did not interrupt me but, as I anticipated, indicated she could not discuss anything with me that she had discussed with Cassandra.

“Mr. Espan, let me stop you right there. While I appreciate your interest and what appears to be genuine concern, I can’t discuss with you anything I’ve discussed with Reagan in a private conversation. To do so would violate doctor-patient privilege, and I won’t do that.” I smiled. Good. As time passed, she would likely be required to keep more than one confidence regarding her patient.

“Dr. Fletcher, I would not ask you to do so. My call has another reason, and whilst I apologise for calling you at home, my hours at my office afford me little time for personal matters. If I am to speak with you, I had little option other than disturbing the sanctity of your home.”

“Apology accepted. Now, so long as you aren’t asking questions about my patient, what may I do for you?”

“I would like to make an appointment for both Reagan and I to consult with you as soon as possible. Because of her distress, I feel there is some urgency involved.”

“I have rounds to make at six in the morning; rounds don’t go on hold just because it’s a weekend. How about you two meet me in the Surgeons’ Dining Room at the hospital at eight-thirty? She has privileges at the hospital because of her former clinical practice, and can get in with no problem.”

“We shall be waiting when you arrive.”

“Mr. Espan, may I ask why you want to speak with me? It’s rare for a husband or partner to want to consult with me prior to the woman’s becoming pregnant.” I was glad of her questions; it would facilitate our meeting on the morrow.

“I wish both of us to speak with you regarding the possibility of Reagan attempting another pregnancy. While I have assured her that I will love her no less than I do at this moment should she never conceive and bear another child, I feel she has doubts. I wish to consult you as a couple, to explore what you believe may have been the cause for her earlier loss and to explore possibilities should she wish to attempt conception at some point in the future. We are not young. She is nearing her 38^th birthday, and I will be 42 in the spring. It occurs to me that our ages may be a factor. As she has expressed a desire for a child but fears complications, it seems logical to me to explore our options together and determine if adoption would be a more appropriate avenue.” I could hear the smile in her voice when she replied.

“I would be more than happy to discuss options and any potential medical complications with the two of you. In situations such as this, I often counsel adoption, assuming both partners are amenable to that option.”

“Very good. We shall be in the Surgeons’ Dining Room at eight-thirty tomorrow morning. I thank you for your kindness in speaking with me and apologise again for disturbing your evening.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Espan. Thank you for your concern for Reagan. She’s my friend as well as my patient, and her best interests are of significant import to me. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

“Good night.” I replaced the phone on its base and poured drinks for us as I waited for Cassandra to return to the lounge.

“You did what?” She was not angry but mystified when I told her of calling her physician.

“I made an appointment for us to consult with her at eight-thirty tomorrow morning. We are to meet her in the Surgeons’ Dining Room at the hospital, following her morning rounds.”

“I heard that part …why?” For an intelligent woman, at times she is somewhat obtuse. Then again, perhaps it had truly never occurred to her that I would wish to work with her toward an understanding of her fears, whether or not such understanding would ever lead to her bearing a child.

“This concerns both of us, Cara, and our future. As long as you carry what appears to be a burden of fear or guilt regarding the loss of your first child, I do not see that you can fully embrace your own life and our life and love together. I have no intention of pressing you to bear me a child, but I do wish to see you put down this burden and move on with your life …with our life, and fully embrace the joy we are due.” The tears formed in her eyes and then slipped down her face as I took her in my arms.

“Why are you so good to me, Maximus? I know how much you want a child, and I want one, too. I just don’t know if I have the courage to try again.”

“Then let us work toward banishment of your fears. After that, if we are meant to have a child – if it is the will of the gods – it will happen when you are ready. The consultation tomorrow is intended to explore options, as your physician deems appropriate for you. You are my concern in this, Cara, you and you alone.” In speaking those words, it occurred to me for the first time that my ancient values for a son to carry on my family line had truly taken on lesser import than I had realised. Yes, I would value another child but if that was not to be, I knew that all I required for happiness in this life or the next was Cassandra.

 
REAGAN
We were sipping coffee when Sharon walked into the lounge at eight-forty-five. I’d managed to persuade Max to forego a suit, and he was dressed in Dockers and a shirt, open-necked and sleeves rolled up. If the man even owns a short-sleeved shirt, I’ve never seen it. Perhaps that’s just as well …the musculature of his upper arms would have women drooling and dropping like flies when he passed them on the streets. I was in my usual black jeans and turtleneck with hiking boots.

“Sorry I’m running late …had to stop and deliver a baby. Occupational hazard.” I laughed and so did Maximus. He’s much better at getting implied jokes than he was when I met him, but I was surprised when he actually commented on her statement.

“I suspect that may be one of the more pleasant occupational hazards one might experience.” She grinned at him as she spoke.

“It is and beats being shot at all to hell.” I’d neglected to tell him that she had worked her way through her undergrad years as a security officer and had been shot at in an attempted robbery. She resigned the following day and finished school like the rest of us had …on federal educational loans. Now she leaned forward, elbows on the table and fingers tented as she looked at us.

“So …you two are getting married.” I nodded, Max smiled and reached over to take my hand in his. For a man mired in second century morés when we met, he’s come a long way. “No ring yet? Or are you doing this without rings?”

“He just asked me Tuesday night, Sharon, and he puts in a minimum of nine to ten hours a day at the office. He hasn’t had time to go ring shopping yet …we’ll get around to it eventually.” Was that a smug look that flitted through his eyes as I turned to him? Nah, not possible. He’d been working his ass off ever since he’d asked me; he hadn’t had an opportunity to go shopping. She nodded.

“Well, I was just being nosey anyway. I love looking at other women’s engagement rings …probably the closest I’ll ever get to one, given the hours I keep. However, you two didn’t come here to talk about rings, now did you? Let’s talk about pregnancy and babies.”


MAXIMUS
When we left the doctor an hour-and-a-half later, I was in no doubt as to the reasons men in my time had been systematically banished from the birthing chamber. I had learnt more in that space of time than I had ever imagined and was beginning now to believe that I feared for more Cassandra’s well-being during childbirth than she feared the possible loss of another child. My ignorance of matters surrounding pregnancy and childbirth had been truly staggering. Cassandra, on the other hand, seemed considerably encouraged and far less concerned than had been the case the previous evening. I shall never understand women and their logic. This must be another example of the adage that knowledge is power.

Although Terry had suggested Saturday, I had tried to make reservations at Old Warsaw for Friday evening but they were booked; fortunately, I had succeeded when I requested Saturday at eight. Terry advised me that I was most fortunate to have gotten so early a sitting on a Saturday evening, positing that someone must have cancelled just before I made my request. In truth, I preferred Saturday evening as when we dine out during the week, Cassandra must take the train in to town and meet me at the office. While the latter is not a concern, I am less than pleased to see her ride a public conveyance alone; I have seen some of those who do so on a frequent basis and would not have her exposed to that calibre of individual if I can prevent it. Understand that I do not refer to those individuals who are unable to afford an automobile; they work hard and are to be admired for their efforts. Those whom I do not wish her to be near are the loud and obnoxious individuals who are unpleasant at any time and those who are visibly intoxicated. I suspect most men would feel the same where their women are concerned.

Saturday arrived, and following our meeting with the physician, we had a leisurely day. We did a bit of shopping as I required a particular sort of knife, and had been advised by Terry that there was only one shop in Dallas-Ft. Worth that might carry what I sought. The shop had several knives that might have served my purpose, but I did not care for any of them. The clerk brought out his catalogue, and in it I found what I sought, a Perejil Island combat knife. Cassandra had raised her eyebrow at me as I ordered the weapon, and we left the store without her having said a word. Once outside, she turned to me.

“Maximus, that’s a combat knife. Are you about to go on a mission and just haven’t gotten around to telling me?” I shook my head in the negative.

“No, but it is always possible that I could be called away at any time; you are aware of the nature of my work. I am dissatisfied with the knife I presently have and simply wish to replace it. Doing so now will save time in the future. I did not realise that seeing me make the purchase would upset you. You, too, were a soldier.” She smiled.

“Fair go.” She has been around Terry just often enough to have picked up some of his verbiage. “You’re right, of course. But I would be less than honest if I said I looked forward to that day.”

We passed a delightful afternoon in the time-honoured fashion, rising around five to bathe and dress for our evening. Cassandra asked where we were going and smiled when I told her, disappearing immediately into her closet. She returned moments later with a dress of a deep red wine colour and lay it on the bed. I pulled on my slacks and fastened the braces, buttoned and tucked in my shirt and turned to watch her dress. She had just completed putting on her nylons, fastening them with a bewitching garment of lace that I have learnt is termed a garter belt. I noted that the bra she wore did not fasten in the usual manner, but had a sort of garter assembly of its own that reached to a band that rode just above her hips. She took the dress from the hanger and unzipped the placket on the side of the skirt before pulling the garment on over her head, zipped the skirt and faced me. I nodded and smiled. She turned slowly to permit me to see the back of her dress …and it had virtually no back. I now understood the necessity of the unusual bra she wore this night. Over time, I would learn that most of her evening clothes were designed thus, that is with virtually no back to the gown.

The dress was cut to her waist, with folds of fabric nestling there in what she termed a draped cowl. The expanse of creamy skin and shoulders above her waist contrasted with the high, demure neckline in front in a manner that was simultaneously almost indescribably erotic and deceptively innocent. The sleeves were long and fitted, as were the bodice and skirt. The deep colour served to make her skin appear luminous and brought an amber glow to her eyes. Not only would my eyes be on her this night but those of every man who saw her. She was truly a vision of loveliness, both erotic and almost virginal at the same time. She looked over at me, a smile playing about her lips.

“I take it that deer-in-the-headlights looks indicates approval?” I nodded, placed my hands on her shoulders and turned her about. I ran one finger down her spine before leaning down to kiss her skin just above her waist, reveling in the shiver I felt run through her body. Her voice was low and husky when she spoke.

“You keep that up, and we’ll never make it to the restaurant.” I smiled; it is good when a man’s efforts are both appreciated and rewarded.

We arrived at the restaurant in good time and were escorted to the table I had requested, one in a secluded alcove. I felt my watch pocket to reassure myself that her ring was still affixed to the clip there and breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, she heard me.

“Are you all right, Maximus? That was a pretty deep sigh.” I took her hands between my own.

“I am untroubled, only a bit thoughtful tonight. I have much on my mind of late …you recall the new client who seems to require so much of my time.” It had been a busy week at work in addition to Terry’s and my trip to New York, and I had spent much of it on conference calls with a new client – the owner of a small oil refinery in Spain – who had recently taken out K&R coverage. We were the abastecedor de la protección – the provider of protection - for his family as well as his employees. Cassandra was aware of this, as I had been almost three hours late on Wednesday because of yet another call. Though she had not asked, I had permitted her to believe he was the reason for my late night arrival on Thursday. She removed one of her hands from my own and ran her fingertips down the side of my face.

“Yes, Señor Navarro Echivera …I remember. Just how much time have you spent on the phone with him this week? Should I be jealous?” She laughed as she said it, and I joined her. I shook my head.

“As for the jealousy, I believe you know the answer to that. As for Señor Echivera, I do not know, Cara. I am only glad that Dino has instituted billing in quarter-hour increments for telephone calls that exceed 15 minutes, as I am told is the custom with law offices, else we would bankrupt ourselves in this long-distance hand-holding exercise with him. I suspect when he receives his first statement, his calls will cease or at least be sharply curtailed.” She laughed before speaking.

“I only thank God he doesn’t have your home number.” I sighed again.

“He has located it through directory assistance. I stopped by my loft before coming home yesterday to check messages, and there were multiple late-night entreaties to call him. He appears to have no concept of time zones. I am grateful that the phone at our home is in your name.” She smiled.

“I like the way you say that …our home. It makes me feel that you truly are happy there. Sometimes I worry that you might feel as if you’ve given up part of yourself in moving in with me …and I never want that to happen.” I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it before seeing the bus boy approach from the corner of my eyes.

“Never think that, Cara. Where you are Gaia ….” I had no wish to be anywhere other than with her. Before this night was done, she would know that beyond any doubt. The bus boy placed water goblets on the table, and the maitre d’ and waiter approached as the bus boy disappeared.

“Mr. Espan. I trust everything is to your liking.” I nodded.

“Quite. I appreciate your attention to detail.” At that comment, Cassandra looked away from me and at our immediate surroundings, apparently taking note of them for the first time. Her favourite St. Patrick roses were in a low crystal bowl in the centre of the table, her favourite piece of classical music – Boccherini’s La Musica Notturna Delle Strade di Madrid No. 6. Op 30 – playing in the background, and her preferred champagne – Veuve Clicquot La Grand Dame – was icing in a bucket beside the table. Her eyes returned to mine, widening slowly as the waiter handed us menus, and placed the wine list beside the golden chaser sitting in front of me.

“Maximus …?” I looked at the waiter.

“We require time to peruse the menu before making our selections.”

“As you wish, Mr. Espan,” and he disappeared quietly, leaving us alone. Terry had instructed me fully in what I was to do to lead up to the presentation of her ring. Now, seeing the look on her face, I cast his advice to the wind. This was my Cara, and I knew better than any other how best to approach her. Taking her hands in mine, I looked at her.

“Cara, earlier in the week I asked you to be my wife, and you accepted my suit. I ask you again …is it still your wish for us to marry? I do not ask lightly and I know you would not answer in such a manner, but I ask you now and for all time …will you do me the honour of being my wife, of sharing my life from this moment throughout eternity?” Tears filled her eyes and brimmed over, making silvery tracks down her face as she looked at me. Her words brought a joy to my heart that I did not think I could bear.

“Yes, Maximus. I will marry you. There is nothing in this life that I want more than to be your wife and spend my life with you.” I somehow managed not to fumble as I reached into my watch pocket and unclipped the clasp to which I had affixed her ring and brought it into her sight. Taking her left hand in mine, I looked at her as I slipped it onto her finger; I know that my voice was shaking when I spoke the words.

“Then take this ring as a token of my love and commitment to you, to our love, and our life together, from this moment until the end of time.” She did not even look at her hand, instead cupping my face in both hands as she leaned forward and kissed me. She is not one given to public displays of affection, nor am I, but on this occasion neither of us cared what others might think. When we broke our embrace she looked at me again, her words as gentle and soft as the wing of a butterfly.

“I love you, Maximus. I will love you throughout eternity.”


The waiter reappeared before we were ready to order and just after the moment she had at last looked down at her hand; I waved him away again. The sharp intake of her breath on looking at the ring indicated either great approval or similar dismay. When she looked up at me, her lips were parted, and, for the first time since meeting her the preceding winter, she appeared speechless. When at last she did speak, her words made me laugh. I had managed to surprise her, both with the style and the quality of the ring.

“Oh my God, Maximus! It’s the most incredibly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She looked again at her hand. “You didn’t get this in Dallas.” Ah. She had caught me out.

“No, I did not. Terry and I made a trip to New York on Thursday …that was the reason for my late arrival home that night. It was his opinion that only De Beers would have a stone worthy of you, and that is where I located and purchased it. In truth, I cannot take full credit for the selection, as I am sure you know. I know nothing of diamonds …Terry believed this to be the truest stone of those we inspected. That is why I chose it …it is as perfect as may be found and thus, the truest possible reflection of you, Cara, and the love we bear each other.” She took a deep breath when she looked at me.

“Maximus, you’ve spent too much on this. I know I said that I wanted a big diamond, but I was being flippant …at least I think I was …maybe I wasn’t?” I took her hand in mine again and looked at her.

“Perhaps you were verbally flippant, but I believe you knew precisely what you wanted. For my part, this is the only ring I inspected that matched you in fire and clarity. Like you, it is internally flawless. I feel it is worth the expense, and Terry agrees. Even with my poor knowledge of diamonds, I easily saw that the other stones we inspected could not compare with this one, as other women cannot compare with you in my eyes. This is the ring I want you to have.” She had been looking into my eyes but turned her gaze to the ring once more.

“It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen …I’m almost afraid to wear it!” I considered her words before answering. She was aware that others had been injured or killed by those looking for an easily overcome person having something of value that they wanted.

“I believe that as long as you do not deviate from the places you usually frequent and continue to vary your schedule – and do not put yourself in questionable situations – you need have no fear. However, should someone wish to take the ring from you, you are to surrender it immediately as it is not worth injury or your life.” She looked at me.

“Is it insured?” She was so serious that I chuckled.

“It is insured.” With that acknowledgment, the woman in her took over again, and she held up her hand, moving it so that the stone caught the light and refracted back all the colours of the spectrum. When she looked from the ring back to me, there was laughter in her voice and a smile in her eyes.

“I have colleagues whose husbands are going to take a verbal and psychological beating over this ring …when you meet them at our departmental winter holiday party, don’t be surprised if they don’t much like you!” I motioned to the sommelier, and he approached the table waiting until I spoke.

“You may open the champagne now …she has accepted my ring and my suit. It is now time for celebration.” The man smiled and held out his hand to me. I shook it as he spoke.

“My sincere congratulations, Mr. Espan and,” as he turned to Cassandra, “permit me to offer you my very best wishes, Ma’am.” He went about the business of opening the bottle, the cork popping audibly and causing heads at the two tables nearest us to turn and look. He poured and as we picked up our glasses, she looked at me before taking her first sip.

“Thank you.” I was confused …for what reason would she thank me at this juncture?

“What have I done to warrant your thanks?” She smiled, took a sip from the flute, and laughed softly.

“You didn’t put the ring in the champagne!” Ah. Perhaps Terry does not know as much about women as he believes.