Confessions From An Affair

Like any other young girl, I had always dreamed of the day when some beau would ask me that very question. During all of those daydreams, however, I never once imagined a scenario quite like this one. Instead of a dashing movie star or an heir to a family fortune asking me to marry him, it was a young man who had never even had the nerve to ask me out on a date for a soda!

Now, hearing me tell you this story, you're probably thinking that I should have said no right there on the spot. But, you weren't alive back then in 1941. How can I explain this?

Do you remember what it was like in the days following September 11th? Perhaps you made donations to your local charity group that was sending money down to New York City. Or perhaps you went off in search of a Red Cross office to inquire about donating blood, even though you maybe never donated before in your life. Do you remember that feeling that you just needed to do something, no matter how small, to help in some way?

It was pretty much the same sort of feeling that we all had in the days after that terrible attack on Pearl Harbor. If anything, we all felt it even more then than we would years later. I don't know if this makes any sense to you or not, but it was a much simpler time back then. Nowadays, you have news channels that broadcast people speaking against the government all the time. Back then, people stood shoulder to shoulder in favor of the government. There was much more patriotism than there is today.

I was feeling all of those things as I stood there on that cold December morning. Jack must have seen the confused look on my face because he quickly said, "I don't expect you to give me an answer right this moment."

I felt relieved to hear him say that, but it was short lived as he next said, "But, I have to be leaving for boot camp in less than two weeks."

No pressure there, huh? I stammered out, "I'll have to think about it some first, Jack."

With that, we both went back inside the warm building. I really don't remember much else from the rest of that day. My mind was spinning with thoughts of what had just happened. Had this young man just asked me to marry him? Hadn't I always dreamed of the day that I would get married? Wasn't Jack just about everything that any girl could ever hope for in a husband?

But, there were other thoughts, too. Do I even know very much about him? Does he know anything at all about me? How could I marry someone that would only be going right off to war and leaving me behind? Shouldn't a girl hear bells and see stars when she is in love?

Love?

We barely knew each other as more than co-workers. I thought that he might have had some little interest in me, but was that only my girlish imagination? What would my parents think of this whole situation? What would my friends think? What did I truly think?

Needless to say, I wasn't much use to anyone at the office that day. When I wasn't staring blankly at the papers on my desk, I was pacing to and fro from my seat to the water cooler -- I just couldn't seem to get enough to drink that day. As you can imagine, any time that I didn't spend at those other activities, was spent in the woman's room.

I only saw Jack once more that day. That was when he was leaving Mr. Charles' office. The boss was pumping Jack's hand and looking at him as if Jack were his own son. With a final clap on the back, I heard Mr. Charles say, "Damn proud of you, my boy! You'll always have a job to return to here anytime you want it."

Jack gave me a glance just before he turned to leave. I may be eighty-six years old, but I can still see that same look after all these years. All I could think of at the time was that he looked like a lost puppy. He was trying to be brave. However, there was also a look that said I need your help. I can't do this by myself.

Somehow, I managed to make it until almost two o'clock before I asked my supervisor if it would be alright if I went home early. I told him that I wasn't feeling too well. I am sure that he could see for himself with just one quick glance that I wasn't exactly myself and he told me that it would be just fine -- as long as I made sure that I was back at work the next day.

I quickly gathered my things and headed out of the building. I didn't even call my father to come with the car to pick me up. I knew I had a lot of thinking to do, so I braved the cold December air and walked the seven miles back to our house.

When I arrived at the house my mother took one look at me and knew instinctively that something was wrong. Two of my brothers were also home and they immediately began teasing me with taunts about how the plant had finally wised up and fired me. Thankfully, Mom chased the two of them out.

She didn't say anything to me for the longest time except to tell me all about how our neighbor, Mrs. Burkett, was recovering from her operation. I just sat there like a lump -- my mind still reeling with the events of today. Mom pretended to not notice my lack of attention until she finally pulled up a chair next to mine and took a hold of my hands.

"Mary Margaret, tell me what's wrong, child"

I didn't know how to begin. My mother sat there with the patience of a saint -- her warm, kind eyes never leaving mine. Then, all of a sudden, my mouth opened and I spilled the whole story out. I'm sure that I was making very little sense, but my mother just kept nodding her head and I felt her grip tighten on my trembling hands.

Much to my surprise, she didn't look at all shocked by anything that I was telling her. I just kept on watching those loving eyes and somehow I believed that she could make everything right. My Father may have been the one that most people thought ruled our household, but in that moment I realized how strong of a woman my mother was and I think some of that strength seeped into me that day.

At last, she reached into a pocket of her apron and handed me a tissue to wipe my eyes. You know, it's funny, but that woman could always make a tissue appear from one pocket or another of whatever outfit she may have had on. I don't know how she did it. I guess it's just one of those magical gifts that mothers seem to possess.

After waiting for me to look back into her eyes my mother began, "I think it's a wonderful thing that Jack is doing. He isn't the first, nor will he be the last -- no, not by a long shot. I think that before long, boys will be flocking in to join up for the war. I've seen it all before, dear."

I waited until she continued on, "I've been holding my breath, expecting to hear each of your brothers coming home to tell me the same thing. They'll surely sign up just like your father did right before we got married."

She paused for a moment while the last of what she had said sunk in. "That's right, Mary Margaret. Your father asked me to marry him in much the same way. Back in 1918, it was. I suppose boys have always played at being brave, but the truth of the matter is that they are still just boys after all. They want someone at home to worry about them and to write to them, and to love them. It's been that way since the dawn of time."

You -- you and dad have always been happy, haven't you?" I asked.

My mother smiled and said, "Yes, child. We've always been very happy."

I paused for a moment -- needing to know, yet fearing her answer to my next question. "You think I should do this, then?"

She shook her head and smiled. "No, silly. Nobody can tell you when you should get married." My mother paused for a moment, then continued, " Women get married for all kinds of reasons. Some can't stand the thought of facing life alone. Some of them do it because it's a way to escape their families. Still others see it as their one big chance to have a family. Who's to say what is a good reason and what is a bad reason?"

I noticed that there was one other reason that she hadn't hit on at all. Love. Hadn't I grown up fantasizing about some of the great love stories that I had seen in the movies? Didn't every girl secretly wish for that one true love that would come and sweep her off of her feet?

As if reading my mind, my mother said, "Respecting each other and working through life's problems together is how love develops."

I would have liked to talk with her longer on this subject, but just then there was a clamor as my brothers came back into the house. I dabbed my eyes and my mother shooed me away towards the stairs to save me from their torments.

I spent the rest of the day and evening in my room thinking about what my mother had said. I certainly wouldn't get married just to escape my family. There was such an abundance of love in our home that my friends had often commented that they wished that they lived with us instead of their own families.

The other two reasons were not so easy to write off - the fear of facing life alone, and the chance to start a family of my own. Those two arguments could not be brushed off as quickly. One of the great fears that I had always had in the back of my mind was that I might not ever find a husband. This town was simply too small. How was I ever to find my Prince Charming from among this mere handful of boys?

I also thought about what she had said about how through respect and working together, love would grow. What Jack was doing by joining the army to defend his country was most assuredly the bravest and most noble thing that any young man could do. It was certainly a trait that anyone would respect. And hadn't he always treated me with respect? I don't remember a time when Jack hadn't been the most proper of gentlemen when I was around.

Well, I guess you know how I made up my mind. God help me, but I came to the conclusion that if Jack wanted me for his wife, then it would be my honor to accept. I knew that Jack would be waiting for me outside the mill tomorrow morning to see if I had thought about his proposal. I couldn't wait to see him and tell him the news! I tossed and turned the rest of the night. I don't think I slept a single wink.

Unbeknownst to me, my parents began secretly asking around about this mysterious Jackson Hawthorne fellow. Every report that they received gave a glowing recommendation. They learned that he came from a very good family, that he was a very hard worker, and that he had never been in any trouble his whole life. My mother would tell me later that he sounded so good, that she wished she were thirty years younger herself!

Jack would come to our house a couple of day later to formally ask my father's permission to marry his daughter. My dad was immediately impressed by Jack's firm handshake. I think my father would have approved just based on the fact that Jack was joining the service in a time of war, but he was also impressed that Jack was respectful and sought my father's advice on what to expect upon joining the army. Men have such funny ways when it comes to acceptance.

My mother, on the other hand, couldn't be swayed so easily by such artificial means. She listened quietly -- studying Jack the whole time that he spoke with them. What won her over was the way he addressed the both of them, not just my father. She thought that showed that he respected women as well as men. Also, she noticed the way his eyes kept flicking over to me. It was as if he wanted to make sure that I was okay at all times. This made her think that Jack would always protect me and take care of me.

All that was left was to plan a wedding in less than a little over a week's time! We spoke with the priest at our local church and he seemed to understand our urgency completely. It seemed as if several other weddings were being similarly planned just as hastily. My mother retrieved her old wedding dress from the attic and she and my aunts found that they could alter it to fit me quite easily. Everything seemed to happen so quickly!

So, there I was - ten days later, walking down the aisle to become Mrs. Mary Margaret Hawthorne. The church pews were filled with family, friends, and well wishers. When you live in a town as small as Loon Lake, the word of our nuptials got around pretty quickly. All week long people had been stopping me on the street to tell my how wonderful it was and what a beautiful thing it was that I was doing.

Jack looked so handsome in his borrowed tuxedo as he waited for me at the altar. I did have the fleeting notion, though, that he looked near scared enough to make a run for the door. I must have instinctively quickened my pace because my father placed his big, callused hand on my arm and forced me to slow down. This was it! This was the moment that every young girl dreamed about her whole life! I had been to many weddings during my lifetime, but this day the familiar ritual seemed entirely different. This time it wasn't a ceremony to unite some other person. Today all of the words were meant for me.

As we got to the altar, my father lifted my veil and kissed me on the cheek. I had barely a moment to register the tear that was forming in his eye. I had never in all of my twenty years on this planet seen this giant rock of a man show anything even remotely close to this kind of emotion. It moved me almost to tears, myself.

My father then turned and offered my hand to Jack. It was only small step from my father's side to Jack, but it was as big a journey as I had ever taken. Jack's hands felt sweaty and it made me glad to see that I wasn't the only one feeling so jittery about this whole thing. However, as soon as he took my hand, he seemed to settle down somewhat. I felt his courage seep into me at that moment.

The ceremony itself was a blur to me. All that I can recall is vague images of flowers, the soft sound of snuffling, and an overwhelming need to pee! I do recall quite clearly Jack and I looking into each other's eyes as the vows themselves were read. The final realization that this was to be the man that would be my husband for the rest of my days was just as beautiful as anything I had ever imagined it would be.

We left the church amid a shower of rice and well wishes from one and all. It may sound really corny to you, but I even loved the tin cans tied behind the car as we sped away towards our reception at the local Elks Club. Five hours later we were headed to the Savoy Hotel in Burlington for our first night together as husband and wife.

The butterflies in my stomach were stirring up such a commotion that I was sure Jack couldn't help but notice. I had learned a thing or two about sex since that long ago afternoon with Jonathon Perkins in my friend Laura's garage, but up until now it had only been words that I had read or heard. There was such a jumble of excitement and nervousness inside me that I thought I just might burst!

We arrived at the Hotel and Jack signed us in on the register as Mr. and Mrs. Jack Hawthorne. I'll never forget that thrill of seeing that epitaph for the very first time. We then made our way up to our room. Jack unlocked the door, then turned and scooped me up off of my feet to carry me across the threshold! I wish that I could tell you that I had this profound flash of being a mere girl who was being carried away into womanhood, but that would only be a bald faced lie.

There was an awkward moment after Jack carried me into the room. We both may have had our own little bit of knowledge about what was about to happen, but nobody had ever explained the process of getting from this moment to that one. We both smiled nervously at each other and then Jack lifted his hand and softly stroked the side of my face.

"Right now, I feel like the luckiest man alive, Peg" he said "I never dreamed that I would meet someone as beautiful as you."

Then he leaned down to give me the sweetest kiss that I had ever experienced. In the battle being waged inside me between excitement and nervousness -- which, up until now, had been pretty even -- the scales tipped decidedly in favor of excitement.

As we broke our kiss, I cleared my throat and said, "Just give me a couple of minutes."

I then opened our suitcase and removed my nightgown before heading into the bathroom to change. It's a wonder that I was able to get changed at all with my hands shaking as much as they were. I stripped off all of my clothes and folded them neatly. There was no need to give Jack the impression that he was marrying a slob, after all. I then slipped the silky nightgown over my head.

I had never owned anything quite so beautiful in all my life. My mother had given it to me amongst many nervous jokes from everyone at a hastily thrown together bridal shower that she had arranged for me. There was a matching silk robe that I demurely tied at the neck and then I took a moment to study my reflection in the mirror.

Jack's flattery aside, I knew that I wasn't a ravishing beauty or anything. My eyes caught the glint of my wedding ring, with its small diamond and my heart beat at an even madder pace. I fussed with my hair to try and make myself as alluring as I could, then switched off the light, took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped out into the room.

It took my eyes a second to adjust. Jack had draped his shirt over the single lit lamp and the room had a soft romantic glow. He had also turned the sheets back and he was standing along side the bed wearing what looked to be a brand new robe. His huge frame filled out the robe better than any model I had ever seen in the Sears and Roebuck catalog. Somehow, I made my feet start carrying me towards my new husband.

That walk across the carpeted floor seemed as long as any marathon that had ever been contested. I remember the feel of the silk gown as it brushed my bare skin hidden beneath it. Jack watched me approach with wide eyes. I had a quick thought that his heart was probably pounding just as hard as mine -- if not harder!

Jack held his arms out to me as I neared him and said, "Mrs. Hawthorne, you are the loveliest thing that I have ever laid my eyes on."

As I arrived in front of him, I placed my hands on his arms and ran them up to his broad shoulders. "And you, Mr. Hawthorne, are the most wonderful husband that any girl could ever hope for."

I felt Jack slip his hands around my waist and pull me towards him. My hands moved from his shoulders to up around his neck as he leaned down to kiss me. The feeling of being held and kissed by your new husband, while wearing so scandalously little, was indeed intoxicating. Our lips parted and out tongues glided against each other's tentatively. I felt Jack's grip around my body tighten and I was drawn harder against his firm body.

Our kiss deepened and a soft moan escaped my lips only to be swallowed up by Jack's mouth -- which was driving me wilder with excitement with each passing moment. I felt Jack's hands moving over my back like he was exploring a new toy for the first time. My nipples -- not covered by a bra for the first time -- hardened as my breasts were crushed against his powerful chest.

Our lips ground against each other's more and more desperately. I didn't want this moment to ever end. Suddenly I became all too aware of something poking into my belly. Jack's manhood had come to full attention and was jutting out from between the flaps of his robe. I could feel its heat through the thin silk and I pressed my lower body tighter against him in an effort to feel it more clearly.

Our kiss finally ended and we looked at each other through dreamy eyes. We were both breathing much more rapidly now than we had been earlier. Nobody else in the whole universe existed in that moment other than the two of us. Jack lifted his hands and tried to untie the top of my robe. Poor boy! His hands were shaking so badly that I thought he may never get it undone.

At last, he got the tie loosened and he gently peeled the robe from my shoulders. I lowered my arms and let it fall to the floor at our feet. Then, while looking deeply into each other's eyes, I reached for the tie on his robe. I don't know how, but I was much more successful at freeing it than he had been. Jack's robe opened and I stepped forward again to feel his naked flesh -- now shielded only by my thin silk nightgown.