9 comments/ 51366 views/ 14 favorites Taking Care of Tilly By: A_Little_Show Matilda Swanson stepped off the bus into the Colorado January sun. She clutched a heavy coat purchased in St. Louis during an overnight layover. The Florida native gritted chattering teeth and cursed the cold. A breathtaking view spread out before her. Far below and miles away, her husband performed his duty as a soldier training at Fort Carson. Teaching high school art classes may have been his calling, but he loved being a medic in the Army Reserves almost as much. "Tilly, over here," her father shouted and waved as he waited for a line of slow moving cars to pass before he crossed the street. When a gap formed, he jogged to stand beside the young woman and followed her gaze into the distance. "Let's get in my truck. It's warm." Tilly had mentally rehearsed a greeting, but her tongue stumbled over the words when she started talking. She had met the man the day before her wedding to his son, and he asked her to call him "Papa" then. They had only spoken on a few occasions since that day. She wasn't used to the name that seemed overly familiar given their relationship so far. She had never known her father or any grandparents and couldn't remember ever uttering the word. He opened the passenger door for her. When Tilly struggled to lift a foot to the high step into the cab, he grasped her hips and hoisted her in. She reached for the handhold to pull herself the rest of the way while he steadied her. "We'll have to work something out for the car seat," he said in a way that assured he had the matter well in hand. Tilly noted a kick as she fussed to find the buckle for her seatbelt under the overhang of her coat. Papa watched her struggle and said, "Let me help." She sat back and he snapped the belt tight enough to compress the heavy coat between her swollen breasts. Tilly tugged on the shoulder strap for some slack but found it locked. Papa had left the truck running to fill the cab with blessed warmth. Tilly unzipped her coat while Papa merged with traffic on the two-lane highway headed west into the mountains. She watched him drive in silence. He didn't ask her about her trip or the baby or even her husband. A half hour later, the truck rolled to a halt in front of a log home. Gray smoke wafted from three of its four chimneys. She estimated he had enough firewood to build the house again stacked on a long cement slab a few yards from the door. "What's the cord for?" Tilly asked as Papa snapped a power cable out from under a dusting of fresh snow. "It's for a block warmer," he explained. "The truck's got a diesel engine. It can't start when it's too cold. There's an electric warmer to keep things above minimums." He connected the cable to a short plug hanging out of the truck's covered radiator. Inside a small foyer, Tilly kicked off her snow-covered shoes and hung her coat on a peg in the wall. Papa brushed snow off her travel bag and set it on the floor beside her. "Did the rest of my things arrive?" she asked. "Already in your room." George, Tilly's husband, had always called Papa's place a cabin, but Tilly saw it was more than that. The foyer opened to a large space containing a gourmet kitchen, a dining area, and a living room with two fireplaces. Papa pointed to a door off the living room, and Tilly opened it to find a large bedroom. An unmade queen-sized bed occupied the middle. She saw folded sheets and blankets stacked on a shelf. As Papa was busy in the kitchen, Tilly decided to explore her new home. Five cardboard boxes stacked against a wall contained everything she owned. When George's unit got called up, he knew he'd have to find a new teaching job. The school pretended to be sympathetic, but they wouldn't hold his position for the year or more of his deployment. The newlyweds sold their furniture and let the lease on their condo lapse. Tilly shipped everything else to Colorado and bought a bus ticket. With a baby on the way, it seemed best to stretch George's meager salary by living with his father during two months of pre-deployment training at Fort Carson. Being less than an hour away meant they'd reunite when he got weekend leave. Tilly couldn't wait to see her husband. Pregnancy hormones revved her already high libido into overdrive. The two weeks they'd been apart since he reported for duty were a special kind of hell. Being less than an hour away meant he could be present for the birth of his child. Tilly found a grand bathroom en suite and shook her head at her reflection in a wall sized mirror. She certainly looked eight months pregnant. "You're going to be a mother. You should have more self control," she muttered, recalling the times she masturbated during the three day bus ride and blushing with a moment of embarrassment. The first time, she held a demure pose with her thighs crossed and flexed muscles for relief. The second time, she used her hand under a blanket. She suspected one of the other passengers knew. Tilly relieved her bladder and wiped away excess moisture that wasn't urine. The bathroom featured one of the luxurious walk-in showers Tilly had only seen in magazines. A clear glass wall formed an S-shaped path preventing water from escaping without requiring a door. An expanse of floor tile under a stained glass window left ample space for a bathtub, but none was installed. The empty space gave Tilly a sensation of being exposed on the toilet. All she could reach from her position was a wicker basket full of toilet paper rolls. She washed her hands, splashed water on her face, and tucked a few loose strands of hair back into her ponytail. A delicious aroma prompted Tilly to rejoin her father in the kitchen. The soothing shower she coveted would have to be postponed. "I know you're a vegetarian," he said when she leaned around him to see the cast iron skillet. "It's acorn squash." He shook a bag of pine nuts into a thin layer of bubbling oil surrounding the squash and put the whole skillet back in the oven. "Protein," he said. Tilly hadn't said much, and Papa didn't press her. Over dinner, she complimented him on his home. "Thank you," Papa replied with some pride. "It will be tight here. I expected to live alone and didn't put enough thought into guest accommodations." When he saw Tilly's look of concern, he added, "But, I'm delighted to have you." Tilly understood he meant what he said, but she still felt awkward. "You really built this by yourself in one year?" He nodded. She asked where he was going to sleep, and he pointed to a couch. "Can I borrow your truck to go to the Army Hospital on Tuesday?," she asked. "I need to check-in and meet the Army's obstetrician." He nodded and answered, "That's fine, or I can drive you." Papa didn't own a TV. He stretched out on his couch under a flannel blanket and worked on one of the super high-end Apple laptops she'd been coveting for years and could never afford. Tilly felt like chatting, but she didn't want to disturb whatever he was doing. She made her bed and savored a long hot soak in the gigantic shower. In the morning, she cooked oatmeal for the two of them while Papa fetched logs and stoked the fires. She noticed he carried a half-full glass bottle out with him and brought it back empty. Taking Care of Tilly He said, "Each baby comes from a place where it's cherished and loved with perfection. She enters the world as a gift for all of humanity. The child is an example and reminder to us. In her perfection, Georgette is helpless and vulnerable as anyone in love must be. Our duty is to receive her message and answer it with our love. She will grow callused from the harsh imperfections of our world. She will rebel against injustice and pain. But one day, if I'm lucky, I will be able to thank her as I thanked you. Georgette is our future - both of ours." Tilly cried a little, and Papa lifted the sleeping baby off her breast. "It's my turn," he said as he clutched the swaddled infant to his heart. He rocked with tiny motions and cooed singsong shushing sounds that soothed Georgette. He whispered, "How's my little Valentine?" It sunk into Tilly's foggy mental process that it was February 14th, a good day for a little angel to bring tidings of love. "Papa, what do you do for a living? How do you have so much time to spend with me?" Papa took his time answering, and Tilly held her peace with practiced patience. "I'm the radar whisperer," he said. In response to her blank expression, he continued, "Radars need to be tuned occasionally. The Air Force hires lots of contractors to do it, but they keep coming back to me. I get better results." "Does it pay well?" "I charge ten thousand dollars every time I touch one. I do it a few times a year, so it's a living." Taking Care of Tilly Tilly restrained tears as Edwin pitched back from his kneeling position to sit leaning against the tub. After a long silence while his penis subsided, he said, "This is a bad time." "She wouldn't mind," Tilly remarked with hope and sincere belief. "She'd want you to be happy." "I want you," he confessed with a pained expression on his face. "I had to build the new room to save myself from bursting into flame listening to you masturbate every night." "It wasn't every night, and I didn't think you heard." "I got so sleep deprived; I started hallucinating." "I'm sorry. You should have said something." Edwin didn't raise the subject again for several weeks. He returned from an early spring walk inspecting wild flowers with Georgette. "Tilly," he said. "Can you forgive my lust for you?" Georgette asked, "What's lust?" Tilly lifted the toddler for a hug. "It means Papa loves me." She carried Georgette out of the room, but she looked over her shoulder and said, "Yes." That night, Edwin left Georgette sleeping on his bed and approached Tilly. She pulled back the blanket and patted a place for Edwin to join her. He lay beside her and wrapped his arms completely around her torso squeezing her breasts in his arms. He nibbled her neck as if he somehow knew her secret desire, but he refrained from undressing her. They spooned all night and showered together in the morning. The next evening, Tilly said, "Sleep with me again."