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Helen took Kathy's right hand in her own and reached behind the
highchair to hold Bill's. He gave two fingers into Kathy's grip
and asked, "Good thing today, Princess?"

"Played with Cindy," said Kathy.

"Helen?" he asked.

She squeezed his hand. "My temp spiked today."

He squeezed her hand back. "For these blessings, Lord," he said,
forgetting what he was thankful for or maybe appropriating hers,
"for this food and for this family, we give thee thanks."

They all three said "Amen." Bill took over the job of feeding
Kathy. He worked harder at being a father than most biological
dads.

Two months after they'd met, he'd proposed. She'd broken down,
told him all about Alan, all about being pregnant, all about
being abandoned. He had comforted her, made gentle love to her,
driven her back to her dorm. The next day, he'd called and asked
her out for a drive. In the car he'd said, "Last night was very
emotional. I'm truly sorry for what you suffered. I'm truly
grateful for what we shared. It wasn't until I got home that I
realized that you still haven't given me an answer, any answer."

"You still want me?" she'd asked.

He'd needed some time to persuade her of that. They'd announced
their engagement two weeks later and had been married a month
after that.

Kathy'd come along three months after the wedding, and Bill had
never treated her as anything but his own. When his family had
come down for graduation, they'd claimed the new baby's nose and
blue eyes for his. They still claimed the cute nose.

Kathy's eyes were now brown, a clear, chocolate brown, much
deeper than Helen's. They were, in fact, the precise shade of
Alan's eyes; and Alan's eyes had been his best feature.

She and Bill kiss and snuggle in front of Kathy, but anything
serious requires privacy at her present age. So they could do
little more than trade glances until Bill tucked Kathy into her
crib. Helen went in to Kathy's room to kiss her good night.

"Nighty-night, sweet," she said after the kiss.

"Nighty-night, Mommy; nighty-night, Daddy."

"Nighty-night, Princess. Sleep tight."

And, for a wonder, she did.

- = -

If Alan had played her like a violin, Bill sang a duet with her.

Slowly, in the manner of parents who might be called back to
their child's bedside, they kissed. He turned her in his arms so
he could unbutton her blouse and kiss the back of her neck and
her ears. She left his hug to hang up her blouse, returned so
that he could unsnap her bra. He held her breasts when they were
freed, supporting them, toying with the nipples, smoothing their
sides, supporting them again.

She turned in his arms to give him a hug and a real kiss. He
stroked her back while her hug pressed her breasts into his
shirt. His tongue played with hers and then explored all of her
mouth. When he tickled her palate, she disengaged their bodies,
but not their lips. She undid his tie and started unbuttoning
his shirt.

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As her hands got past the second button, his returned to her
breasts. He stroked them lightly with his fingers, starting
always at her ribs, drawing his fingers along her breasts to the
areolae, and then stroking the length of one finger along a
nipple. When she'd dealt with five buttons, they kissed again.
His hands on her bare back were warm and loving, but his back was
still covered with two layers of cloth. They broke apart to
finish the undressing faster.

When they were both naked, they kissed again. Then he kissed
down her torso. His mouth at her breasts stoked her desire, but
he kept going lower. He knelt to kiss her mound, pulling her
firmly into him by her bottom cheeks. Her legs weakened during
this kiss. When he released her, she sat on the bed.

He left her only to walk around the foot of the bed and get in on
his own side. Then they met in the middle for a long kiss.
Before he could get more serious, she reached over to the case on
her nightstand. She removed her diaphragm to hold it poised over
the wastebasket.

"You're sure?" he asked. "This means more years in a crowded
apartment. It might mean five hours of labor, once again."

She was quite sure, even if it meant five days of labor. "I'm
sure," she said. "I want a child which will be *ours*. Are you
sure?"

He waited longer than she had thought he would. "I want
*another* child who will be *ours*," he said. "I'm quite sure."

She dropped the diaphragm, much less ceremoniously than she had
planned. She rolled into his arms. Acting a bit surprised, he
wrapped her and the blankets she'd brought with her in his arms.
A minute later, he extricated one arm to pluck bits of the covers
from between them. She rolled an inch back to give him room.
Then she pressed into his arms again.

Skin met skin. His erection pressed into her stomach; her
nipples pressed into his chest. She snuggled her face into his
shoulder and tried to wrap him around her. "I love you so," she
mumbled into his neck. By now, her sex was weeping nearly as
much as her eyes were.

He pushed her onto her back without really abandoning his hug.
He kissed her and clasped her breasts. While he sucked her
nipple, his hand trailed down her torso. He clasped her whole
sex in that hand. He abandoned her breast to look her in the
face.

"You are so...." he began. Then he started over. "You're
crying!"

"Happiness," she said. "Love."

Looking dubious, he bent down to kiss the tears off her temples.
Still his hand kept moving over her sex, lightly squeezing the
lips together, and then parting them. His finger stroked upwards
and then returned along the edges of her lips.

When he finally brushed her clit, she gasped and grabbed his
shoulders. More strokes along her valley, more brushes over her
clit, more tension wracking her body. "Now," she said when she
could stand the anticipation no longer.

He knelt between her knees, and she guided him inside. "Oh
love!" he said as he filled her. Then he was moving back and
forth as she held him with her arms, with her legs, with her sex.

The exquisite sensations almost distracted her from the love she
felt. As she spiraled upwards she managed to gasp, "Give
me...." Before she could say the "... your baby," the wave
reached her. It swept her up, wracked her to silence, filled her
with its ecstasy. Unable to do more than gasp, she heard his
groans from a great distance.

When she returned, he was lying above her and still in her. When
he first moved, she tried to hold him. "Stay," she said; he
stopped, but didn't lie back down on her. "Please," she said; he
relaxed into her arms again. He was heavy, but the discomfort
was worth the holding.

"Love you," he said. She knew. She would know that forever.
Even after he slipped out of her and the precious seed dripped
down her bottom cheeks, she held him, glorying in his weight, his
warmth, his love.
The End