Draw Me A Picture (66 page)

Stepping into the bathroom, William heard the water shut off. Michelle opened the door; she stepped out gingerly, hanging onto the frame. William was by her side, wrapping a large towel around her slender shoulders.

“I can dry myself, Tarzan,” Michelle said, softly; she gave him a little grin. William smiled back, encouraged by her spunk.

“I know, minx,” he said, fondly. “You’re not feeling well, so let me help.” Michelle have a soft sigh.

“Well, if you insist,” she said; she let William carry her out of the bathroom. He sat her on the edge of their bed, drying her legs off with the towel. Looking up into her face, he grinned.

“As much as I like seeing your bare skin, love...” he began, “... let’s get you into some fresh clothes, eh?” Michelle nodded. It had been so long since she felt really ill; her head swam and she just wanted to lie down.

“Please God, don’t let me have the flu,” she prayed, out loud.

William chuckled, helping her pull a clean camisole over her head. “Actually, you may not be sick,” he said, gently. Sitting down next to his wife on the bed, he put an arm around her shoulders. “I think, well... I mean, there’s a chance you might  be... pregnant.” Michelle looked up at William with wide eyes. Her husband looked absolutely exhilarated. She smiled.

“Oh...” she said, covering her mouth with her hand. “I didn’t even think of that. That’s right, you’re supposed to get all sick and dizzy... wow.” She looked over at William, her eyes bright. “We need to get a pregnancy test.” Chuckling, William fetched over a paper bag.

“Way ahead of you, love,” he said. “I got you some Chamomile tea, too, even if you’re not.” Michelle felt moved by the gesture; she touched William’s face.

“You’re wonderful,” she whispered. “I’m so lucky to have you.” William kissed her fingertips, unable to wipe the smile from his face. Not that he tried.

Michelle looked in the bag and laughed.

“Gosh, did you buy out the store?” she teased, feeling a little better. The prospect she may be carrying William’s baby cheered her up immensely.

“One of each,” he man explained, sheepishly. “I didn’t know what kind to get, you know... I’ve never thought I was going to be a father before.” Michelle kissed his cheek.

“Don’t get too excited yet,” she said. “We don’t know if I am. You’re lucky I have to use the restroom right now.” William’s smile brightened instantly.

“Go on,” he said, helping her up. “Do you need any help, or...” Michelle giggled, pushing him gently away.

“You may want to run on your treadmill of something for a few minutes,” she said, smiling. “I’ve heard it  takes a little while to show results.” She blew him a kiss and disappeared into the bathroom again.

William contented himself with pacing around the kitchen, though that activity did not last long. He picked up a cloth and some polish from under the sink and went out to the living room; a small concert piano stood by the windows, glowing in the morning sun. Though it did not look dusty, William spent several minutes vigorously rubbing it down with the cloth, his eyes darting to the hallway every few seconds.

In the bathroom, Michelle waited by the tests, biting her lip in anticipation. She’d decided to do three, just to be sure. The rest would have to wait until she had to use the restroom again. Blushing, she touched her stomach, smiling to herself.

“A baby...”
she thought.
“William’s baby... our baby.”
Tears filled her eyes, but they were not tears of sorrow. Looking over at the tests again, Michelle leaned forward to scrutinize the little plastic windows; her hand flew to her mouth.
 

Hearing his name called--even through four walls and much empty space--William darted down the hall to his wife. Michelle appeared, a radiant smile upon her face.

“Baby?” he asked, feeling his heart may stop from the excitement.

“Baby,” Michelle said; her eyes were soft with emotion; she flew into William’s arms, holding onto him as if she’d never let go. William felt moisture in his own eyes, finding no words came to mind. None at all. They stood a moment so, reveling in the moment.

“Three,” William said at last, drawing back from Michelle a little; he looked at her lovely face, her trusting eyes gazing into his, brimming with happy tears. “There’s three of us, now, love.” Michelle let herself laugh; she let William kiss her several times. Her husband’s eyes held a wonderful look of blissful pride; she thought he’d never looked so handsome.

The phone rang; the sound of it did not move either of them at first. Unwillingly, William walked over and answered it, still mentally atop the high hill of Euphoria.

“Hello!” Margaret’s voice rang out. “You’ll never guess my news… Luca and Laurel eloped!” Shaking his head a little, William grinned.

“What? When?” he asked, beckoning to Michelle; he put the call on speaker-phone.

“Luca and Laurel! They went to Atlantic City and got married!” Margaret said, happily. “Sophie’s besides herself, you know... she’s terribly upset they didn’t go for the big wedding, but she’s positively elated her boy’s finally tied the knot. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“It is,” William said, smiling at Michelle; she hovered next to her man, still looking lovingly into his face. He kissed her fingertips again and grinned. “I’m glad they finally did it. Good show. Michelle’s here with me, and we have some news as well.”

“You’re not going to move out to California like that crazy man Oscar, are you?” Margaret inquired; her voice took on a threatening tone. “You don’t visit me enough as it is...” William laughed; Michelle also giggled, though quietly.

“No, mother... we’re having a baby,” he said, dropping the bomb.

A long pause ensued.

“Sorry, I think I may have heard you wrong,” Margaret said, calmly. “Did you say...”

“We’re pregnant,” William interrupted, smiling. “You didn’t think we’d disappoint you, did you?” There did not exist a library large enough on Earth to fully express Margaret’s joy at hearing she was going to be a grandmother; the lady did tolerably well, however, in relating her profound happiness to William and Michelle. They accepted her congratulations and promised to come visit her soon.

As soon as she got off the phone, Margaret called everyone she knew, including Sophie.

“It is about time,” the Italian woman said, over the phone to her friend. “They have been married nearly five months, yes?”

“Oh I’m so glad! My very own grandbaby!” Margaret returned, feeling giddy. “Now, you watch, I bet Luca and Laurel will be calling you in a month. Luca won’t waste as much time as William.”

“One can only hope,” Sophie returned.

In the relative quiet of their room, Michelle sat for a moment with William on their bed, just soaking in the news; it felt good to be wrapped in his arms. He seemed to be protecting both her and their unborn child; his strong embrace was tempered a little, as if he did not wish to squeeze her too hard.

“I’m very happy, William,” she said, at last. She still felt sick and dizzy, but suddenly that didn’t matter much anymore. She could almost imagine the little spark of life pulsating within her, and the thought was better than any gift on the planet. William kissed her forehead.

“So am I, love,” he said, sighing a little. “We made a baby out of our love for each other. Oh, Michelle... I don’t know if I’ve ever heard anything more delightful in my life.” Michelle let a few tears slip down her face. She brought one of William’s hands to her lips, bestowing several kisses on it.

“Don’t waste those, love,” her man said, lifting her chin with his free hand; he kissed Michelle fondly, as only a man in love can.

Holding her close, William let the young woman carrying his child fall asleep in his arms; he gently caressed her soft hair. He looked skyward, uttering a silent prayer of thanks.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Michelle sighed, rubbing her back. Even vacuuming their  apartment was a major undertaking being so pregnant.

“Just eight more weeks,”
she thought, running her hand gently over her swollen belly. Smiling, she kept working. Sometimes, she felt so ill it was hard to get up and do anything, let alone housework; Michelle forced herself to, however, fearing becoming more overweight than was necessary. Already she’d gained a good twenty-five pounds; her doctor assured her this was completely normal. The friendly obgyn had children herself, which made the advice easier to swallow. The pre-natal pills, however, were not; they proved to be odd-tasting things; it took most of Michelle’s willpower to choke them down each day.
 

The extra weight normal or not, Michelle refused to be idle. She led the vacuum around her bedroom until she was certain the dust armies were abated for the day; winding up the cord, she glanced at the clock. Smiling, she sighed and put away the vacuum in its closet.

“How did Alfred do this every day?” she wondered aloud. Sure, she was pregnant but the elderly man had cleaned and cooked meticulously, all the while a senior citizen.

The phone rang.

Hello?” Michelle asked, picking it up.

“Well, hello there!” came Laurel’s chipper voice. Michelle smiled.

“How on earth can you be so cheerful?” she said, feigning a pout. “You’re only a month behind me; you should still be ill and irritable.” Laurel’s laugh sounded out merrily through the phone line.

“Aw, don’t hate me cause I’m happy,” the young woman returned. “It’s hard to be glum when I am so loving the feel of my big, round tummy. She’s been kicking me like mad all day.” Michelle smiled; she absently rested one hand on her stomach.

“My little one kicks me mostly at night,” she said. “When I’m trying to sleep.”

“Yes, well, he wants attention, like most men do,” Laurel returned. “My little girl’s relentless with the kicking. I still have a so long to go, too. When’s your due date again?”

“Fifty-six days away,” Michelle said, giving a soft laugh. “I promised myself I would not be counting the days but I must confess I want the baby to come right now. I want to be able to sleep normally again.”

“I hear you,” Laurel said. “Also, it will be nice to fit into at some of my old clothes. Though, Luca seems to like my pregnant body a whole lot.”

Michelle blushed, thinking of William’s own whispered endearments and fond touches; she knew he felt similarly but did not say so.

“Maybe it is because our men know they are responsible for our current state and find it self-congratulatory,” she ventured. Laurel giggled.

“You may be onto something there,” her friend said, still chuckling. “I’m going to head out and grocery-shop. I need chocolate. Just checking in.”

“Thank you, Laurel,” Michelle said, smiling. “Have fun.” Saying goodbye, she hung up the phone. She smiled, thinking of her husband and how he looked at her; mostly she’d seen a measure of pride in his eyes. Sometimes, she felt very unattractive  and disproportionate, but the prospects of the new little one in their life chased away most feeling of such a nature. William certainly had no qualms about touching her.

Glancing at the clock once more, the woman of the house walked around the living room. Straightening the couch cushions, Michelle made her way into the kitchen; she checked on the lamb stew as it simmered in the large, copper pot. Turning off the burner, she fit the lid on tightly, to keep it warm. She took out a bakery loaf f bread and folded it into a cloth, setting it into a wicker basket. There was just enough time to shower and get changed before William came home. Heading to her bedroom, Michelle rubbed her aching neck, swaying it slowly from side to side.

The shower felt incredibly good. Michelle washed and rubbed conditioner in her hair quickly, just so she could sit still in the hot water longer. Eventually, though, all good showers must end. Stepping out, Michelle dried off, smiling down at her swollen mid-section. Wrapping her hands possessively around the ‘baby’, she sighed; pregnancy wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. So far the tender thoughts of motherhood outweighed the irrational fears. The only doubts preying her now were whether or not she’d be a good mom.

Once her hair was dry, Michelle dressed in a comfortable, dark-brown maternity skirt and a white tunic; just getting dressed proved laborious. Michelle had abandoned the idea of putting on socks or tights months ago.

The bed looked awfully comfortable.

“William won’t be home for another half hour,”
Michelle thought, smiling. She liked being there for him when he arrived home; her man worked diligently and regarded their flat as his own, personal retreat from the world, especially with her in it. Hanging up her towel, Michelle walked gladly to the bed and lay down; it felt like pure bliss to her sore back and aching hips. Snuggling under the blue throw, she fell immediately into a dreamless sleep.
 

William stepped out of the elevator eagerly. Before Michelle, he often felt relieved to walk through his own door but never elated. Now, the prospect of home buoyed him through the entire afternoon each day. He wanted his soft, welcoming Michelle in his arms more than anything. William pushed open his door and shut it quickly behind him, as if to keep the rest of the world out. Sighing, he left his briefcase by the door; pulling his tie off; he draped it behind his neck, like a boxer holds a towel after a grueling match. Looking around, William saw Michelle had been cleaning; his floors shone and a faint scent of fresh lavender filled the air. As much as he liked seeing a neat home, he hoped Michelle wasn’t over-exerting herself.

“Michelle?” he called; he did not see his lady in the living room, nor the dining room. Walking into the kitchen, William felt his stomach rumble; the, delicious smell of lamb stew hung in the air. Lifting the lid of the copper pot, William smiled down at the steaming contents. “Heavens, that smells good,” he said, aloud. As much as he wanted to get a bowl of stew and ravenously devour it, William hoped to find Michelle so they could eat together. Peering into the bedroom, William smiled; his wife was napping peacefully on their bed.