For a long time they lay there spent, savoring the closeness, the quiet aftermath of sex. Finally Jake got up and discarded the condom, but he came right back to bed and curled spoon-fashion around Meghan, cupping one full breast in his free hand.
If making love with Meghan had taught him one thing, it was that there was no way he was going to give up this woman, not for his mother or the Orthodox traditions he’d been brought up with. He’d waited all his life to feel like this, so wanted and so loved. If he was going to be honest with himself, he would accept that he’d realized Meghan was the one for him, from the first day she’d come to his boss’ office, fighting tears when Dr. Kramer had told her the only answer for Joci was a liver transplant—but being strong for Joci.
He’d do whatever it took to claim Meghan as his bride. No compromise would be too great, if only he could spend the rest of his life loving her. Being a father to her little girl and any other children they might be blessed with.
“Meghan. Sweetheart?”
She stretched, ending up closer to him than before. He willed his sex to behave, at least long enough for him to say what he had to say. “Yes, love,” she said, her voice a husky purr.
“You may think it’s too soon, but once I make up my mind, I tend to dive right in. I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you in Dr. Kramer’s office. I don’t think you even noticed me come in the room, you were fighting so hard to stay calm for Joci. I knew for sure when I met you in the hospital, the night before her surgery. It damn near killed me, not being able to say so then, having to wait until I no longer had any part in Joci’s care.
“Will you marry me?” To his surprise, the last few words slid out like butter off his tongue. No hesitation, no regret, only a twinge of guilt because he knew he was letting Meghan in for some possibly very unpleasant time with his mother. When she turned to face him, he put a finger over her lips. “No, don’t answer yet. I have to tell you what you’ll be getting into.”
Her smile took his breath away. “Go ahead, Jake. Say whatever you think you need to say. It’s not going to change my mind. I love you, and I want to be your wife.”
He tried to ignore that last declaration, but it wasn’t easy. “First off, we’re going to have to make some compromises between your religious beliefs and mine.”
“What kind of compromises?” Her smile darkened, but she reached over and cupped his chin with both her small, soft hands. “I don’t mind going to temple—becoming more observant—if that’s what you’re referring to. When my parents were together, we observed all the major holy days. Whatever you may think, I’m not a total heathen even though I married a gentile. That sort of scandalized some of my older relatives.”
Not as much as him marrying her was going to have his entire family in an uproar. “I’m Orthodox.” That ought to give Meghan a hint of what his family would expect of her.
“Oh.” She paused a minute as if pondering what that might mean to her. To them. “But you don’t wear black clothes, or have side curls. You don’t even wear a yarmulke all the time, much less one of those big, black hats like I’ve seen men wear in Brooklyn.”
Jake turned his head and nibbled at her fingers. “I’m not that Orthodox. Some of my ancestors were, though.”
“Do you follow the dietary laws? Do you expect to shun me nearly half of every month and send me to some ritual bath house before you’ll sleep with me?”
“The mikveh.” He laughed. “No, I don’t think there’s any point to that and would never ask you—or myself, for that matter—to sacrifice even one of our nights together. I imagine our ancestors may have thought there was good reason, years before birth control, not to mention the primitive conditions under which they must have lived. Before you ask, I’d never ask you to cut your hair or wear a sheitel, either.”
“Well, that’s good to know. What about keeping a kosher kitchen?”
“I’d appreciate it if you wanted to. Some members of my family wouldn’t eat in our house if our kitchen wasn’t kosher. But it’s not a necessity. I don’t keep kosher, myself, and while I don’t generally eat pork or shellfish, I don’t obsess about how my chicken and beef are cooked, or whether they’re prepared and served up in separate dishes from those used for dairy products. Even my mother isn’t as fanatical about all the details as my grandmothers were. Before she moved to an assisted living facility, Nana Levinson even had two ovens and two refrigerators as well as two of just about every implement she might ever want to use, and she took all her new pots to the mikveh before she’d use them.”
Meghan looked Jake in the eye. “I’ll learn how to keep a kosher kitchen if you want, but there’s no way I’m going to wear a wig or miss out on even one night sleeping with you because of some outdated rules. I’m sure your patients will steal you away from me often enough.”
“No more than I can help. Now that I’m in a private group practice, I can halfway control my nights on call. There are three of us who’re certified to do pediatric transplants. Being the newest one, I have to take an extra night in the rotation, but it beats being a resident or fellow stuck in the hospital virtually 24/7.” Jake wrapped an arm around Meghan, drawing her head onto his chest. He didn’t want to see her reaction when he told her the rest.
“I’m a Levite. I’ve never actually performed the limited ritual duties that being one qualifies a person to do. But I won’t be a member of that group after we’re married, and that may alienate Mama and the nanas.” The height of understatement, Jake thought, picturing the small war that would start when he announced his plans. “I’ll do my best to keep them from going after you, but they’re probably going to assess you with much of the blame for me losing the position.”
She traced a slow circle on his shoulder. “Because I’m not a virgin,” she said quietly, surprising him because she knew that.
“Yes. You must have spent more than a few afternoons at Hebrew school. Not many people would know that much. Don’t worry, though. I’d rather have you than the privilege of being part of the priestly class.” She looked so sad, he had to say something to take her misplaced guilt away. “Anyway, as old as I am, where could I find a virgin old enough to interest me, not to mention one even half as beautiful as you? I don’t believe I’ve run into a pretty virgin much over sixteen. Have you?”
He felt her muscles relax, heard the musical sound of her laughter. “I was a virgin until I was twenty-two. And I’m afraid that very little of what they taught me in Hebrew school stuck—just a few snippets of information here and there.”
“A good girl, were you? I’m glad. You have no idea how much I love you, how I’ve gone to sleep nights and dreamed about you since Joci was in the hospital. And after you took her home. I want to adopt her, if her father’s family won’t mind.”
“They’ve never even tried to see her. They didn’t like me at all, and all their grief was for Bruce after he got drunk and lost an argument with a big oak tree, two months before Joci was born. Speaking of Joci, she adores you. She’ll be thrilled to have you as her daddy.”
For hours they lay together, dozing lightly, caressing each other and talking. “I’d better call Mom and ask her to fix brunch for both of us. No time like the present to tell her. And Joci. If you’re not working one day next weekend, I’d like us to drive to Englewood and break the news to Dad in person.”
“Actually, my day off this week is Tuesday, since I’ll be taking call next weekend. Would going down there then work for you?”
“Yes. I’ll take Joci out of kindergarten and we can spend an hour or so, out on the beach. “
Jake decided to tackle his own mother alone, absorb as much as he could of her vitriol before she started spewing it on Meghan. “That sounds like fun. As much as I’d like to spend all day making love to my future wife, we’ve got family to meet. Plans to make.”