Part 31 (1/2)

”Mrs. Bryant is not at home, but she will return at fifteen thirty,” the instrument said, crisply. ”Would you care to record a message for her?”

He punched the RECORD b.u.t.ton. ”This is Sam, Dolly baby. I'm right behind you. Turn around, why don't you, and tell your ever-lovin' star-hoppin'

husband h.e.l.lo?”

The taxi pulled up at the curb just as Doris closed the front door; and Sam, after handing the driver a five-dollar bill, ran up the walk.

He waited just outside the door, key in hand, while she lowered the stroller handle, took off her hat and by long-established habit reached out to flip the communicator's switch. At the first word, however, she stiffened rigidly--froze solid.

Smiling, he opened the door, walked in, and closed it behind him.

Nothing short of a shotgun blast could have taken Doris Bryant's attention from that recorder then.

”That simply is not so,” she told the instrument firmly, with both eyes resolutely shut. ”They made him stay on the _Perseus_. He won't be in for at least three days. This is some cretin's idea of a joke.”

”Not this time, Dolly honey. It's really me.”

Her eyes popped open as she whirled. ”SAM!” she shrieked, and hurled herself at him with all the pent-up ardor and longing of two hundred thirty-four meticulously counted, husbandless, loveless days.

After an unknown length of time Sam tipped her face up by the chin, nodded at the stroller, and said, ”How about introducing me to the little stranger?”

”_What_ a mother I turned out to be! That was the first thing I was going to rave about, the very first thing I saw you! Samuel Jay the Fourth, seventy-six days old today.” And so on.

Eventually, however, the proud young mother watched the slightly apprehensive young father carry their first-born upstairs; where together, they put him--still sound asleep--to bed in his crib. Then again they were in each other's arms.

Some time later, she twisted around in the circle of his arm and tried to dig her fingers into the muscles of his back. She then attacked his biceps and, leaning backward, eyed him intently.

”You're you, I know, but you're different. No athlete or any laborer could ever possibly get the muscles you have all over. To say nothing of a s.p.a.ce officer on duty. And I know it isn't any kind of a disease.

You've been acting all the time as though I were fragile, made out of gla.s.s or something--as though you were afraid of breaking me in two.

So--what is it, sweetheart?”

”I've been trying to figure out an easy way of telling you, but there isn't any. I am different. I'm a hundred times as strong as any man ever was. Look.” He upended a chair, took one heavy hardwood leg between finger and thumb and made what looked like a gentle effort to bend it.

The leg broke with a pistol-sharp report and Doris leaped backward in surprise. ”So you're right. I _am_ afraid, not only of breaking you in two, but killing you. And if I break any of your ribs or arms or legs I'll never forgive myself. So if I let myself go for a second--I don't think I will, but I might--don't wait until you're really hurt to start screaming. Promise?”

”I promise.” Her eyes went wide. ”But _tell_ me!”

He told her. She was in turn surprised, amazed, apprehensive, frightened and finally eager; and she became more and more eager right up to the end.

”You mean that we ... that I'll stay just as I am--for thousands of _years_?”

”Just as you are. Or different, if you like. If you really mean any of this yelling you've been doing about being too big in the hips--I think you're exactly right, myself--you can rebuild yourself any way you please. Or change your shape every hour on the hour. But you haven't accepted my invitation yet.”

”Don't be silly.” She went into his arms again and nibbled on his left ear. ”I'd go anywhere with you, of course, any time, but _this_--but you're positively _sure_ Sammy Small will be all right?”

”Positively sure.”

”Okay, I'll call mother....” Her face fell. ”I _can't_ tell her that we'll never see them again and that we'll live ...”

”You don't need to. She and Pop--Fern and Sally, too, and their boy-friends--are on the list. Not this time, but in a month or so, probably.”