door of the apartment so he could twist the knob and kick his way in.
Rosemary, who had been slumped on the bed, leapt up as he entered. “Peter! What did Faith tell you about overstraining yourself?” She grabbed the screen and helped him set it down.
“I know.” He smiled at her. “But you seemed really down and I thought this would cheer you up. Found it in the basement, actually.” He unfolded the screen on stiff hinges and stepped back. “Ta-dah!”
Rosemary pushed her glasses further up on her nose. Before her stood a three-panel screen, with thick canvas stretched over a wooden frame. Asian designs were painted on the canvas. It stood around five feet tall. She looked at Peter.
“A change screen. Thought we could use it,” said Peter. “Especially since Faith finally found some nightclothes for us.” He pulled a bundle from under his arm and tossed it to her.
She caught it and unfurled a one-piece nightgown of white cotton. She grinned. “We don’t have to sleep in our underclothes anymore!”
Peter patted the screen. “And with this baby, I don’t have to stand facing a corner while you change clothes.”
With a whoop, Rosemary darted behind the screen and, before Peter could look away, began undoing buttons and slipping off her overdress. The screen blocked her from the shoulders down, but Peter took two steps back. The top of the screen became drapedwith dress and undergarments. Then Rosemary slipped on the nightdress and stepped out into view. “Ta-dah!”
She was clad in a one-piece slip of sturdy, white cloth, laced at the neck and with short sleeves. The slip ran down to just below her knees, exposing her shins and ankles. She wriggled her toes and Peter caught himself looking.
He pulled his gaze away and grinned at her. “You’ll make them come back into fashion!”
She tossed him the remaining bundle. “Your turn.”
As he got behind the screen, she sat down on the bed to watch. “Other than almost breaking yourself, how was work?”
“Not bad,” said Peter, draping his trousers over the top of the screen. “It actually feels good to work with my hands. Well, not physically. But it feels good to build something. It helps that Mr. Proctor’s sort of taken me under his wing.”
“Mr. Proctor?”
“The foreman. I was right, by the way; he lives in this shed on-site. He has one kerosene lantern. I couldn’t find any spares.”
Rosemary sucked her teeth. “Those things are expensive.”
Peter didn’t say anything. He folded his shirt and draped it over the screen.
“I know,” said Rosemary. “But Faith and Edmund sound like they need the money. They’ve given a lot to us, and I feel guilty just taking from them.”
“I know.” He shrugged on the clothes Rosemary had tossed him, and looked around for the rest of the bundle. He couldn’t find anything. He looked down at himself, then stared.
“Peter? What’s wrong?”
He stepped from the cover of the screen, wearing a white nightgown in the same cut as Rosemary’s. “We didn’t accidentally switch, did we?”
Rosemary smirked and patted the sheets. “Come to bed, Miss Nightingale.”
Peter rolled his eyes and crossed the floor. As he pulled back the sheets, Rosemary stopped him. “Hey.”
Peter looked up. She knelt on the bed and looked him in the eye. “You’ve been good, these past couple of days. When I ...,” she faltered and looked at her fingertips, “... panicked, you were level-headed. You kept me steady.”
“It was nothing.”
“No.” She took his hand. “It’s everything. It’s terrible being here, but ... it would be a whole lot worse if you weren’t here with me.”
He looked away. His mouth quirked. “Thanks.”
“Thank
you
,” she said. And she kissed him.
He kissed her back.
They kissed again.
They paused a moment, and then reached out and pulled each other in. They kissed longer, lingering. His kisses strayed from her lips and over her throat. Clasping him, she
Rosemary, who had been slumped on the bed, leapt up as he entered. “Peter! What did Faith tell you about overstraining yourself?” She grabbed the screen and helped him set it down.
“I know.” He smiled at her. “But you seemed really down and I thought this would cheer you up. Found it in the basement, actually.” He unfolded the screen on stiff hinges and stepped back. “Ta-dah!”
Rosemary pushed her glasses further up on her nose. Before her stood a three-panel screen, with thick canvas stretched over a wooden frame. Asian designs were painted on the canvas. It stood around five feet tall. She looked at Peter.
“A change screen. Thought we could use it,” said Peter. “Especially since Faith finally found some nightclothes for us.” He pulled a bundle from under his arm and tossed it to her.
She caught it and unfurled a one-piece nightgown of white cotton. She grinned. “We don’t have to sleep in our underclothes anymore!”
Peter patted the screen. “And with this baby, I don’t have to stand facing a corner while you change clothes.”
With a whoop, Rosemary darted behind the screen and, before Peter could look away, began undoing buttons and slipping off her overdress. The screen blocked her from the shoulders down, but Peter took two steps back. The top of the screen became drapedwith dress and undergarments. Then Rosemary slipped on the nightdress and stepped out into view. “Ta-dah!”
She was clad in a one-piece slip of sturdy, white cloth, laced at the neck and with short sleeves. The slip ran down to just below her knees, exposing her shins and ankles. She wriggled her toes and Peter caught himself looking.
He pulled his gaze away and grinned at her. “You’ll make them come back into fashion!”
She tossed him the remaining bundle. “Your turn.”
As he got behind the screen, she sat down on the bed to watch. “Other than almost breaking yourself, how was work?”
“Not bad,” said Peter, draping his trousers over the top of the screen. “It actually feels good to work with my hands. Well, not physically. But it feels good to build something. It helps that Mr. Proctor’s sort of taken me under his wing.”
“Mr. Proctor?”
“The foreman. I was right, by the way; he lives in this shed on-site. He has one kerosene lantern. I couldn’t find any spares.”
Rosemary sucked her teeth. “Those things are expensive.”
Peter didn’t say anything. He folded his shirt and draped it over the screen.
“I know,” said Rosemary. “But Faith and Edmund sound like they need the money. They’ve given a lot to us, and I feel guilty just taking from them.”
“I know.” He shrugged on the clothes Rosemary had tossed him, and looked around for the rest of the bundle. He couldn’t find anything. He looked down at himself, then stared.
“Peter? What’s wrong?”
He stepped from the cover of the screen, wearing a white nightgown in the same cut as Rosemary’s. “We didn’t accidentally switch, did we?”
Rosemary smirked and patted the sheets. “Come to bed, Miss Nightingale.”
Peter rolled his eyes and crossed the floor. As he pulled back the sheets, Rosemary stopped him. “Hey.”
Peter looked up. She knelt on the bed and looked him in the eye. “You’ve been good, these past couple of days. When I ...,” she faltered and looked at her fingertips, “... panicked, you were level-headed. You kept me steady.”
“It was nothing.”
“No.” She took his hand. “It’s everything. It’s terrible being here, but ... it would be a whole lot worse if you weren’t here with me.”
He looked away. His mouth quirked. “Thanks.”
“Thank
you
,” she said. And she kissed him.
He kissed her back.
They kissed again.
They paused a moment, and then reached out and pulled each other in. They kissed longer, lingering. His kisses strayed from her lips and over her throat. Clasping him, she
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