We started our lovemaking slowly, allowing the others in nearby bedrooms time to fall asleep. However, once we got going, I'm proud to state my future wife responded robustly, both physically and vocally. I tried to shush her to little avail.
"God, Ben! Don't stop! Please!" I put my hand over her mouth. She began to moan and sunk her nails into my back until we finally flopped back in exhaustion.
"I'm so embarrassed," Betsy said at last. "I have to learn to control myself."
"Please don't!" I answered with a chuckle. "I'm sure neither Quinn nor Martha is surprised and Howie is probably asleep."
I could see her shocked face in the glow from a night light. "He was a priest! I bet he's a virgin! God, he's probably never heard anyone doing that!"
"I'll bet he slept right through it," I said, pulling her closer. The words weren't out of my mouth when we heard his door open and footsteps retreating down the hall.
"Now I'm really humiliated," she said, borrowing her head in the pillow. "Maybe I should go down and apologize."
"You'd just embarrass the poor guy. He's probably just using the bathroom."
"Maybe he thinks I was in pain; that you were hurting me!"
"Why would he think that? Give him a minute; he'll come back up." Several minutes stretched into ten or more with neither of us closing our eyes.
"I didn't hear a flush," Betsy said, her voice drenched in distress. When I didn't answer, she added. "Why don't you go down? You could pretend to use the toilet and see if he's all right. Tell him how sorry I am, and tell him you weren't hurting me. Say I was making funny noises because you were tickling me, or I was having a weird dream."
"Betsy, I'm not going to explain the facts of life to a guy pushing forty!"
She began to push me out of bed. "Go! Please! Do it for me. I'll never get to sleep worrying about him. Just make sure he's not traumatized or something."
I reluctantly descended the stairs, smiling but unsure what to say. My smile disappeared when I saw Howard Abbott on the sofa, his head in his hands. He appeared not to see me until I cleared my throat. He jumped up, as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Sorry," he mumbled, wringing his hands.
"We're the sorry ones," I answered, "for waking you up." I was surprised to see he looked frightened.
"No, no. I just had . . . a dream, I guess. Sort of a flash-back you might call it. It was disturbing as hell." He flopped down on the sofa.