Getting Acquainted

Chapter Twenty-One

Friday passed quickly because most of it was spent painting. Ailsa wanted her room done as soon as possible and she was even willing to help. Iain's compromise had been lilac rather than bright pink, so he was able to spend enough time in the room to help out.

He had been able to convince her that older girls might have different tastes and that she would tire of something as extreme as bright pink. "If you get older, like Maggie..." He wondered if he could get away with saying that.

"She's not very old. Maggie would like pink too, but Grandma doesn't like it."

"Why do you think I'd like pink?" Margaret inquired. She was glad she was not very old. Ailsa could have replied something less complimentary to Iain there. He had set her up very nicely, after all.

"Because you play with me. I know Grandma would be upset if you had dolls in your room, so that's why we always play in my room," Ailsa said wisely. "She doesn't even like blue. She would rather see brown flowers. Mummy has blue," she said to Iain, in case he did not know.

"I know." He was rather fascinated by the fact that Margaret played -- with dolls? He was not surprised at Grandma, which he supposed was not referring to his own mother this time. Somehow he could imagine Margaret's mother preferring brown-flowered wallpaper and wanting the same for Margaret. He could also imagine that Margaret would not like it.

"Blue is for boys." It was difficult to discern what Ailsa thought of her mother's blue.

Iain thought it was perfect. "If it makes boys feel welcome, then it's good, isn't it?"

Ails shook her head. She was not so sure. "If you want them in your room at all. They always break things and call that playing." During the school holidays they sometimes had boys playing at their house and it was not always fun.

He did not know what girls did, but at any rate he was beyond the breaking stage now, just like Margaret was beyond the toy stage. "Maggie doesn't have a whole lot to break."

"Have you tried?" Ailsa asked cheekily, glancing at her mother and hoping Iain would say yes.

"Of course. The first thing a boy checks out when he enters a girl's room is what he can break," Iain answered seriously. Margaret had stopped painting a few sentences ago and she was now staring, he saw. He wondered if she thought he was as serious as he made himself sound. She had to know him better than that by now.

That made Ailsa squeal. "Really?" She had just dipped her brush into the paint and now stood dripping paint all over the newspapers on the floor, too interested in this to remember that she was painting.

Iain took the brush from her and put it in the can of paint. He disliked waste and he was really glad that Margaret had advised to cover the entire surface of the floor and not merely along the walls. She must have some experience with this kind of thing. Either that, or she was extremely insightful and clever. He would believe both explanations. "Yes, really."

"Mummy, is that true?" she asked with such a spin on her feet that she would have sent drops of paint to splatter the whole room if she had still held the paintbrush.

"Of course not. Iain is a very sweet boy." And he always kept a clear head, the way he had saved that paint from getting wasted. She approved of that. People should always be able to stay clearheaded and practical, even while having fun. She never much liked people who got drunk and did stupid things either. For a moment she wondered if she had always thought that way or if it had been the result of circumstances, because that was what others would conclude, but she remembered she had always thought like this. If she had gone to the Olympics and if she had won a medal, she would certainly not have got drunk and she would most certainly not have got pregnant.

Either Ailsa held a different opinion of Iain or she wanted to be provocative. "But he was going to put me under the cold shower last night!" She appeared still excited by the fact that it had almost happened.

"But I also heard he didn't," Margaret commented. "Which is very sweet." She did not mind repeating that if it could cause him to frown a little, as if he did not quite know how to react to it.

"That's only because I said I would throw a bucket of cold water over him in the middle of the night if he did." She giggled at the plan, which she may not even have dared to carry out.

"That would mean trouble with me, Ailsa," Margaret said calmly. "And you know it." She looked at Iain, implying there might be trouble for him too if he had succumbed to a threat from an eleven-year old girl.

"You look very pretty like that," he replied.

"Like what?" She had a fairly good idea of how she looked. She might be glaring. It was very unnerving that Iain did not seem to be impressed, or that he knew precisely what to say to undo it.

"Even prettier." He grinned at her face. "So, go on and tell me, Maggie. I'll listen." But she did not say anything and he grinned even more. "If I can handle you, don't you think I'd be able to handle a little girl?"

On Saturday and Sunday Iain claimed to have things to do in the morning, which upon inquiry turned out to be exercise-related. Margaret was allowed to come, but he said he always went with a few mates, so she decided against it. She did not want to intrude and she would drive to her house instead. There was enough to do there.

He said he could come with her to pack, but she told him it was better for him to work on his figure, to which he raised a skeptic eyebrow. "My figure, Maggie? Does it need work? You always implied you liked me because I was clever. Do I also have to be attractive now?"

"I don't mean that! I was referring to general maintenance, which is also clever, not to improvement, which might make you a little too attractive for my safety. Besides, if you do this every weekend, you should keep on doing it and you shouldn't give it up to help me do something I can easily do alone." Margaret blessed her talent for quick thinking. She had talked herself out of it very well.

He smiled. "To be absolutely honest, it's much more comfortable going alone than having everyone all over me because I brought someone. That can wait. Can I say I'll be married, though, if someone asks?" She might want him to keep quiet about that for a while until they were definitely married. "Not that that cannot wait either. Anything can wait till you're ready for it."

Margaret was grateful and amused by the implication that he would not volunteer the information. It did seem rather unlikely that he would go there and tell anyone without having been prompted. "Why would someone ask? Is that a standard question? Hello Iain, are you getting married yet?"

"Not standard, but not unthinkable either." People did sometimes express an interest in others' private lives, especially when there were developments that were occurring or could still occur. Occasionally they would ask, just to see if they had missed anything.

That was suspicious. "I thought you did this with men." They never asked such questions, to Margaret's knowledge. They never asked her, at any rate, unless they wanted to find out if they stood a chance.

"Some are women." Iain did not know if they were more likely to ask.

That was potentially worrisome. "Oh my goodness. I may need to come."

He laughed at her. He would think most of the women were already married, but he did not even know that. That was how well they were acquainted. "There is no danger, Maggie, but if you want to come, you can. You know that. There are priorities." Reassuring her was more important than feeling embarrassed at having to answer questions. He knew he had to some day, but for the time being he preferred to postpone it if she had no objections to that.

"Nah," she decided. "I'd be paranoid." She would not always be able to come with him and she should not be wanting to. Her uncertainty should be conquered, but following Iain everywhere was not the way to do that. It was entirely her problem and it was all in her mind. He had never given any indication of liking anyone except her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

On Saturday she went to her house alone with Ailsa and on Sunday Mrs. Scott wanted to come to see where Margaret had been living. If she came along she was also better able to think of destinations for superfluous items. There were things Margaret would no longer need that she had said she would gladly give away.

Margaret also met Iain's brothers, who came over to her house on Sunday because their mother had asked them if they had any use for the things Margaret did not need anymore -- and to some extent because Iain was not there. Kirsty had been much too nosy. It might have made Iain wary of other family members.

The brothers looked a little like Iain and they seemed nice. Future family gatherings would be pleasant enough, Margaret thought. It was not like her own, where there were so few family members that there was no escaping them. In this new family there were so many people that there would always be one who did not aggravate her, given that there were four children, four partners of those children, and nine grandchildren with another one on its way.

Unlike Kirsty, who was directly below Iain in age and therefore presumably closer to him, his brothers did not take a special interest in Iain's love life, but they were more accepting of anything that did or did not happen. It might be because they lived a bit further away too. At any rate, they did not look at Margaret funnily, nor did they express any interest in where she stayed before the wedding. She found it rather refreshing.

Margaret had been afraid that her parents would show up if they saw her car parked at the house, but they did not come. She thought it rather likely that they had seen her regardless, because in their place she would have wondered when their daughter was going to move and she would have kept an eye out, but something must have withheld them from visiting.

Perhaps they thought Iain was with her and they did not want to face him again. She contemplated the idea that they were afraid of him. He would certainly not accept any nonsense from them, which they might not like. It might be difficult to deal with someone on whom guilt trips did not work. It was hard to point out anything on a blank slate. They would have to come up with an entirely new way of communicating. She always refused to fall for too obvious guilt trips, but they annoyed her nonetheless, even more so when the suspicion of guilt lingered and festered.

She did not mind telling her neighbours she was moving, nor that her new neighbour was helping her. It was even true. Who would think that she was leaving out the fact that this was also her future mother-in-law? Normally people did not move into a house right behind their parents'. Why had Iain?

"It was for sale. He liked it. He liked us," said his mother with a shrug when she was asked. "It was big enough." It had certainly not been because he had needed care and attention, although it had been given willingly because he was nearby.

"Even for a family." Margaret paused when that led to another thought. She might be made involved in filling the house. "Ailsa seems to have nagged Iain about brothers and sisters." It was not unlikely that Ailsa had spoken to more people, but she did not know what they would have said.

"Yes, she's quite thrilled that he might take care of that," Mrs. Scott said rather dryly. "And he will. I hope this does not scare you." She had not discussed this topic with Margaret before, nor with Iain. A discussion with Iain would be fairly short and probably not surprising, but she had not thought she should bring it up before he had spoken to his wife-to-be. It was different now that the latter mentioned it herself.

Margaret recalled how she had told her mother that if immaculate conception were possible, she might have seven children by now. "I think not. I like him for it, I think. If he had been uneasy around Ailsa or distrustful...but they hit it off instantly and he had quite a child-friendly solution for her when she couldn't come with me...Anyway, I had already understood that he was willing to take care of that, because he was amused, but he didn't actually say so."

"Amused. Hmm." Mrs. Scott pondered that. "It wouldn't have surprised me if he hadn't been completely at ease with the subject." Sometimes the two feelings were expressed in a like manner.

"No wife, no babies, he said, but as that is exactly the type of comment I would make to get people to stop nagging, I'm not sure what will really happen when he gets that wife."

"That wife is you." Mrs. Scott thought it wise to point this out, as the fact did not appear to have registered completely.

"I know it's me, but..." Margaret sighed. It was sometimes hard to understand.

"I should hope you will at least do this in the proper order." She had reasons to doubt this.

"Yes, we will be married first."

Iain's mother did not scream, although she supposed some more excitable people might have. She remained calm instead. "Actually, I don't care if you are married when you start having babies. You and Iain strike me very much as people who find themselves pregnant when they open their eyes one day."

"That would be nice," Margaret said with much less self-mockery than was probably required.

"Oh, undoubtedly you would both be very happy, especially because you've never had to talk about it." Mrs. Scott imagined it vividly. "You might end up having seven children because neither of you would ever discuss stopping!"

"Well..." Margaret did not know where to start thinking. She was sure she was being mocked and that it would never be as bad as that.

"Not seven more grandsons!" Mrs. Scott lamented and then changed her tone. "But just carry on if you have girls."

Chapter Twenty-Three

During the next two weeks many things were arranged, from picking up the wedding rings to signing Ailsa up at her new school. In the meantime Margaret was trying to get her house sold as well as all her possessions transported.

All days began and ended in the same regular manner, which gave them some routine and stability, and which amused Iain's parents no end. Rarely did they see Margaret return after ten o'clock at night and if she did, it was never later than a quarter past ten. The morning run had to be adhered to most strictly, as if that was the only thing that kept them in check.

Perhaps it was.

Margaret had only to think of what Iain had had engraved in the rings to feel rather giddy, so she preferred not to think of them at inappropriate times -- which was precisely when the thoughts occurred to her. Of course Iain always appeared deliciously stable, which was a good check on an imaginative mind.

It was attractive, because she knew he only appeared that way, given the slips of the tongue that increased in frequency. He teased her most badly when he spoke to her on the phone at bedtime, something they had made into a habit after the first time had been so agreeable. Things that did not get said during the day when they were busy had more of a chance to be voiced at night.

On the last Saturday before the wedding Iain thought they might relax their watchfulness, so he took her with him to the swimming pool, no matter how loudly she protested that she did not want to come. His judgement was right, since it was not swimming to which she was opposed.

"You've got to be able to stick it out for five days," he said as if he could read her mind. "I know I'll manage."

The previous two weekends he had gone alone and he had not said much about it, so she assumed he had not mentioned her to anyone else who had been there, whoever that had been, and that she was not taken here because he wanted to show her off. She also assumed she would have to watch -- which was her problem -- but he produced both a bikini and a swimsuit for her. She was shocked that they were both her size, as well as that he had them in the first place. He must have bought them. "How do you know this will fit? Have you been spying on me?"

"Maggie, it's really hard to ask someone about your size, don't you think? It's something I'd never be able to do, because obviously I have no access to anyone who might know." He had discovered that while Ailsa had not known, she had been very willing to find out for him.

He had a point, Margaret conceded. She smiled, because they were very pretty and she would not mind seeing how she looked in them. "I guess I'd better put one of them on then."

"It is rather obligatory in a swimming pool," he agreed, happy that she would try them on, but even happier that she was not coming up with arguments for not doing so.

"Iain..." She gave him a hug. "Thank you. You took me by surprise, but they're really pretty. Did you buy them?"

"No, I found them in the lost and found basket here last week," he said with a straight face.

"Iain!"

"They still have tags on them," he showed her. He had been so clever as to remove the price stickers. "But if you meant to ask if I bought them myself, yes, I did. All alone." He had never done that before, so he was rather proud of himself.

Margaret examined them. "And they're not too much for me to handle." She was happy he had not bought something that was far too sexy for her. This would do fine -- for her. She wondered how Iain would manage. He had sent her away in a swimsuit and towel, but he had been working then. A bikini was a little more revealing than what he had almost seen her in, but she supposed he had realised that as well.

He stretched the fabric of the bikini so that there appeared to be more of it. "I watched out for that, Maggie. I'm sure you look great in anything, but it's all useless if you refuse to wear it and I refuse to buy it."

Chapter Twenty-Four

She was rather taken with Iain in swimwear, Margaret thought when she came out of the changing area and saw him without a shirt. She went back inside to breathe. "Oh dear."

"What is it?" Ailsa asked. "Why are you stopping?"

"It's Iain." It was a new sight that she had to get used to -- and quickly. She would manage. She was not someone on whom the visual generally made a deep impression and this was Iain, who had already made his deepest impression anyway.

Ailsa looked. "Yes, it's Iain. So what? Mummy! Come!" she urged impatiently, eager for a swim.

"Just a minute." Margaret pretended to rearrange everything she was holding, as if that was the reason she was stalling. It was not. She was rearranging things in her mind and she had to pull herself together. Seeing him like that was hardly going to make her want to jump him before time. That was a silly fear.

What if some sort of desire came over her nevertheless because of this visual stimulus? She would not have to act on it.

That was reassuring to know. She peeked around the corner. He was still undressed, which was a predictable conclusion, but at least she could look now without feeling too affected. She was already recovering.

Perhaps her problem was that she was essentially an idiot.

If she was not attracted to Iain she would never have wanted to marry him, so why was a part of her trying to deny the attraction? Today he was just as attractive as he would be on Friday afternoon -- although she could not imagine jumping him on Friday afternoon either. How did that go anyway? She would have to find out first.

Ailsa interrupted her musings. "Are you afraid he won't like the bikini? But he bought it!"

"I'm not afraid of that." It would be impossible to explain it adequately to Ailsa. She remembered what Iain had said. The subject was rather similar, so perhaps she could use his solution. "He's very pretty. He makes me nervous."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Come, Mummy. Don't be stupid."

"All right." Margaret told herself not to be stupid.

"Mmm do you think we could make her our coach?" asked the man Iain was talking to about coaches when he saw a nice-looking woman with an even nicer-looking figure come out of the changing area.

"I'm sure we could ask," Iain said when he saw it was Margaret. "But I don't know whether I'd like that." Dave was practically drooling and he was a known womaniser. It was flattering and disturbing at the same time.

Dave followed the woman with his eyes. "She looks like she knows about sports. Iain, act like a real man for once. No man would mind a coach in bikini. You shouldn't either."

"I don't." He had no problems with that bikini, nor with Margaret as coach, since he suspected she might even be good. His misgivings were wholly caused by Dave's enthusiasm and the suspected production of saliva.

"Then what's your problem?"

"It's my wife." Well, almost. There were only five days that separated him from that. Those five days did not make his feelings any different, however.

In the past weeks they had eaten almost every meal together and worked in his house -- their house. It had been extremely pleasant. He had never befriended anyone so easily, which was a good thing to conclude about his future wife, he supposed.

Furthermore, the strict adherence to those principles of hers meant that he had been forced to voice his feelings much more than he would have done had other options been available. He knew that much. Whether he would have availed himself of any other options was something he did not know. Every situation was different. But it was clear that this situation had many advantages.

Dave uttered an amazed cry. "You have a wife?"

"I will on Friday." Iain was amused to hear that Dave did not realise that his wife-to-be was in fact the woman walking there, which was what he had actually meant.

"Friday! Let me guess. Some horrifically intelligent intellectual type of whom the inside matters most." Dave shuddered at the idea.

Iain smiled at the implication that intelligence and looking good in a bikini were mutually exclusive things. They were not. He was not going to correct Dave yet on anything, not even on what was his type. No lies, but no corrections either. His wife was intelligent and she had a very nice inside. "You could say that."

"So take advantage of looking at bikini girl here. You're not married yet." Dave was not married either and of that fact he took full advantage. He did not always stop at looking.

"But that's exactly why I shouldn't be looking at bikini girl too much." Iain gave Margaret a brief glance. He did not know how strict she really was, because he had always stayed within bounds, but any crossing was going to have to be her decision. True, had she chosen to do so during the first week, he would not have gone along with her. If he looked long enough now, he thought, he would go along with any modest suggestion.

"Your wife won't like it if you do it after you're married."

"Oh, I think she'd prefer that, actually." He did not think she would be very comfortable to find him staring at her all the time at this moment. While by now she liked to hear he loved her -- provided that was during their bedtime phone calls -- she still giggled nervously when he felt inspired to make relatively innocent comments about her looks. But, given that he also had to get used to her making comments about him, he was not overly concerned.

"I don't understand you. You're still free now. You can do as you like until you actually get hitched."

He could do as he liked after he got hitched, actually. "But I like what I'm doing." There was plenty of fun to be had in this manner. "And Dave, why do you think I wouldn't be marrying an attractive woman?"

"Because you don't even see them. You refuse to look!" To Dave this was incomprehensible. "You have to know what you turn down."

"Turn down? Oh, just you wait! Watch me," Iain said and walked away in Margaret's direction, snickering to himself. This was really too easy.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Iain was talking to another man, so Margaret had ample opportunity to study him from behind her sunglasses as she sat down on a bench. Ailsa left her towel with her and immediately started to climb the highest diving board. Margaret gave her a few concerned glances as well, but she seemed to be all right up there. It was more important to get used to studying Iain, especially because he would soon be talking to her and she could hardly start stuttering at him.

Iain left the man alone and came to her. "Does the bikini fit?" he asked rather superfluously. It fit very well, as far as he could see, and it looked good. He supposed she would look good in almost anything.

"Yes, it's perfect. Thank you." She stood up and showed him.

"Very perfect," he agreed with a smirk. "Now why wasn't I allowed to make that observation?"

Margaret pushed her sunglasses into her hair. "You were. I was fearing you were perfect." She did not mind being seen; she minded seeing. For some silly reason -- but she could not mention jumping to him.

Iain understood that perfectly. "Yes, darling. That's why I waited two weeks before I made you wear a bikini. I was fearing you might be very nice to look at and you are. But you were fearing I was perfect and I turned out to be..."

The sunglasses went down again. "Exactly that." She was not prepared for what followed, because sunglasses and all, she was lifted up and carried towards the edge of the pool, from where she was tossed in. When she came up, coughing, she saw Iain had jumped in as well. "Y-Y-You said you would not carry me to a cold shower!" she protested, spitting out water.

"This is not a cold shower." It was a cold swimming pool that would not stay cold forever.

"I thought you were going to be romantic," she said, hanging on to the side and trying to get used to the temperature. She wondered where her sunglasses had gone. They were probably on the bottom. Men had odd ways of showing their affection. She did not doubt that the next best thing to a romantic hug was to be lifted up and thrown into the pool. After all, there was considerable body contact involved as well. She splashed water at the idiot.

"Romantic? Whatever gave you that idea? This was practical. Now you look less like Margaret Maxwell," he teased her.

"Practical? Or did you just need to feel -- I am still Margaret Maxwell, even when I'm wet. I am also still dangerous when wet." She advanced a little, but she was unsure what she was going to do. She could not throw him in because he was already in.

"Yes, very. Don't you think we need to..." Iain hesitated. "Practise for the ceremony?"

"Which part, precisely?" It was a part that made his eyes twinkle and her heart beat faster. She could hazard a guess. It would have nothing to do with placing their signatures.

"The part we might need to practise for?"

"This is an insane way of dealing with it," Margaret commented. The fact that he was not direct told her what it was. The fact that she was not direct either meant they were both in need of some more verbal practice before they tackled the action. "You know I will count on you not to bring anything up that isn't practical or necessary, so I will go along with it and we'll end up doing something under false pretences."

"Why false?" He was interested. If the motive of practicality was false, than what would her true motive be?

"Obviously you have no other compelling reason to want to kiss me than to practise for the wedding ceremony. Such a notion of romance will do wonders for my self-confidence." First he threw her in the pool to make her unrecognisable, then he spoke of practising the marriage ceremony. It was a good thing that she was not stupid and that she could see through him pretty well.

"Your notions of romance don't do anything for your self-confidence," Iain observed. She understood him very well, yet she wanted to hear him phrase it differently. Why? Was there still a bit of doubt?

"No?" Margaret asked in a small voice. She was afraid he might be right. She was constantly fearing she would break her own rules.

"You're not confident right now."

"No."

"You talk far too much."

"Yes."

"You'll be going crazy all Friday morning."

"Yes."

"Drop the ideal. Or don't expect so much of it. Compromise with me. I can think of nicer things than having to kiss a trembling wife who may either shrink from my touch or faint because she's worked herself up too much in advance." Iain spoke gently, but he had a rather naughty gleam in his eyes. "Well, I shouldn't worry, really, because what do you think will happen if you constantly think I mustn't kiss Iain, I mustn't kiss Iain, I mustn't kiss Iain..."

"Iain!" That was something she did not want to think about, because if you thought about something too much, it tended to happen.

"And then when it happens it feels very much like I should have done this long ago?"

"Iain! Stop it." She tried to look away.

"Darling, for every Iain read Maggie and you'll know how I might become obsessed. You wouldn't like it if I did, but the fact is that I, if only to get that voice to stop, would much rather kiss you than tell you I love you."

"No need to kiss me anymore now, because you've just told me." Margaret smiled sweetly and dove to the bottom to find her sunglasses. The water was deliciously cold.

When she surfaced again, Iain was sitting on the side looking at her.

"Are you upset?" she asked, not entirely reassured. "But under water I was thinking that you would never have said it if you'd really preferred to do it, because such a double thing is not efficient. Why say if you can do? But why do if you have not said?"

Iain looked amused. "Don't worry about it, Maggie. I could never become upset with you. Besides, you know that if I can throw you in without asking, I can also kiss you. I'm only winding you up a little, because you are winding me up by forcing me to tell you how I feel. Wise woman." He pressed his fingers to his mouth first and then to hers.

"A little?" Margaret protested. It was more than just a little. She grabbed his fingers and kissed them. Then she heaved herself out of the water and sat beside him. "I never thought I'd do that," she remarked in wonder.

"It's indeed a disgustingly sentimental act," Iain agreed seriously. "I much prefer throwing you in."

"I know why."

"Why?" He was interested in her thoughts, since he had not had any impressive ones about this himself.

"There's more body contact involved in that."

That was correct, even if he had not consciously done it for that reason. "Clever," he commented, noting that she did not sound disapproving of this tactic. She even smiled.

Margaret made up her mind. She felt rather benevolent, although flirtatious was probably a much better word for it. "But you know what, Iain? I like you, so if you can guarantee me you can throw me in without dislocating any limbs or my bikini, you may throw me in as much as you like in whichever way you most enjoy."

Iain stared at her in admiration. He loved Maggie. "I could kiss you for that, but..." He reached behind her and laid an arm across her waist. He was not going to reject this wonderful offer. "We'll settle for a splash."

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