“Make Me Swoon” Contest Title: Kisses Author: Lisa Renee Note: This story was actually a scene written for “The Joy of the Children”, but it never actually made it to the final draft. TIME: November, 1921 SETTING: Cutter Gap, Tennessee THE CHARACTERS: DR. NEIL MACNEILL, physician of the Cove CHRISTY, his wife, former schoolteacher of the Cove Their children: Neil Gatlin, aged seven; Sean Huddleston, aged six; Caitlin Joy, aged two ALICE HENDERSON, Quaker mission worker DAVID GRANTLAND, the minister IDA GRANTLAND, David’s spinster sister RACHEL KING, David’s fiancee DANIEL SCOTT, Negro man, Dr. MacNeill’s assistant/apprentice CECILE, his wife, schoolteacher of the Cove “ISN’T YOUR MOMMA PRETTY?” asked Neil, coming into our bedroom. I was sitting at my dressing table, and I turned around and smiled at the sight of my husband. He held our two-year-old daughter Caitlin in his arms, and both our boys, Neil and Sean, were on his back, clinging to his neck, peering over his broad shoulders. “Pitty Momma,” came the babyish voice of Caitlin, squirming in Neil’s arms. “She’s *real* pretty,” Sean drawled, a sweet gleam in his hazel eyes---his father’s eyes. My heart did flip flops. Neil was looking at me *that way*. I rose---slowly, for my swollen belly was quite cumbersome---from my blue-cushioned stool and went over to my husband. “Have you been coaching them to say that?” I asked, arching my brow and taking Caitlin, who had reached out for me. Neil held out his hands and his eyes widened innocently. “I can’t help it if they repeat the things I say!” “You should be careful what you say around the children,” I teased him, kissing my little girl. The boys still on his back, Neil put his arms around me and leaned close, resting his forehead against mine. “Don’t you enjoy hearing your family sing your praises? Aren’t I allowed to be an adoring husband and lavish my bonnie lass with all the compliments she deserves and teach my children to do the same?” Neil’s brogue was low and husky, and I felt tingly as he laughed softly and nuzzled my cheek. “Neil!” I cried, gently pushing him away. My face was flame hot, and I knew I blushed crimson. “Not in front of the children,” I said through gritted teeth. My husband stepped back. “I’m sorry; I forget myself.” Neil’s words were serious, but he kept his eyes fixed on me in that way ... For a moment, our gazes were locked, but then Neil turned his head to address our curly-haired sons. “Hop down, boys,” he told them. Then he took Caitlin from me and tossed her into the air. Her big, blue eyes grew wide and she shrieked with delight. Neil and Sean looked on adoringly, laughing at their little sister’s glee. “More! Daddy, *more*!” Caitlin begged, as Neil held her just above his face. “More, my fair Caity Joy?” Neil planted a kiss on her rosy little lips. “Not now, sweetheart. Run along with your brothers so your mother can finish dressing.” “Come on, Caity.” Neil and Sean each took one of their sister’s pudgy hands, and she happily toddled out of the room with her worshiping brothers. “Now, Mrs. MacNeill,” my husband said, closing the door behind our children. “Now may I shower you with my affections?” I had resumed my place at my dressing table and was pinning up my hair. “I suppose, Doctor,” I answered with an indifferent sigh, but I glanced over my shoulder and smiled at him. “And you wonder why I have difficulty restraining my passion for you,” Neil murmured, coming behind me and kissing the nape of my neck. “Whatever do you mean?” “Everything about you---your eyes, your expressions, your words---begs me to kiss you.” “Well,” I began, but Neil wasn’t listening. He sat next to me on the edge of the little bench, his arms around my waist, moving to caress my arms, my neck, my back ... kissing me over and over. I dropped my hairpins, a shiver of delight coursing through me. “And you’re so kissable,” he whispered with a low laugh. I wrapped my arms around Neil’s neck and twined my fingers through the curls on the back of his neck. “We’re going to be late for dinner at the mission,” I commented, resting my head against his shoulder. “Aye,” Neil replied, pulling me into his lap, cuddling me, his lips brushing my temple. “That’s too bad, isn’t it?” The tender look on Neil’s face caused me to giggle almost giddily, which obviously pleased my husband, for he tightened his arm around my waist. With his other hand, he gently took mine, lovingly caressing it with his large,work-hardened fingers. Purposefully, he raised it to his lips and kissed each finger, my knuckles, then the palm of my hand. “Your hands are so little, so delicate,” Neil said, “yet they possess such strength, and I cannot help but kiss them. These are the hands that have shown children how to write; written letters to get much-needed supplies for the mission; carried food to the sick and poor; nursed an epidemic of typhoid; brought comfort by stroking hair and wiping away tears ... “I love these two hands that have kept my house, washed my clothes, cooked my food, and countless other chores---tasks which are rather degrading for the hands of such a woman! These are my *wife’s* hands, the hands which have embraced and upheld me, brought me only goodness and pleasure; I have seen these wonderful hands holding our babies, touching their little hands and feet, playing with them, nurturing them, loving our children with every gentle touch ...” Looking me full in the face, holding my hand against his chest, he continued, “This is the hand that wears my ring! Each time I see that sapphire I placed there, my heart leaps for joy, little lass!” Completely overcome, I buried my face in Neil’s chest; I loved him so much, and the love which he had shown me for the past eight years left me unable to do anything but weep for joy. Neil kissed my hair, whispering to me. “I love you, Christy MacNeill. I love everything about you, and I have never been more honored by anything than being your husband.” “Oh, Neil!” I sobbed, gazing up at my husband through tear-filled eyes. “Do you realize what you’re doing to me?” “Yes,” he replied. “I’m making you dreadfully sentimental! And you’re going to drown me in a few minutes if I don’t stop, so I suppose I’d better change tactics.” A wicked grin on his face, Neil quickly stood, scooping me up in his arms as he did. “You’d better hold your breath,” he said with a wink. I barely had time to give a little cry of pleasure as he lowered his head and fiercely claimed my lips with his own. NEIL AND I EMERGED from our room, somewhat dizzy, he still holding onto my waist, murmuring “sweet nothings” in my ear, I giggling and blushing. The boys were wrestling in the middle of the living room, with Caitlin watching admiringly, but they stopped, Neil on top of Sean, when they saw us. “Told you, Sean,” the older boy said. “They were kissin’ in there!” “And just how do you know that, lad?” asked my husband, squeezing me against him and resting his chin on my shoulder. “ ’Cause,” Neil replied, with his gap-toothed seven-year-old grin, “y’all told us to leave so Momma could get ready, but she don’t look no different ...” “She *doesn’t* look *any* different,” I corrected. “And y’all got silly smiles!” Sean chimed in, laughing so loud and boisterously that all of us---even Caitlin---collapsed into peals of helpless laughter. “Silly smiles?” Neil cried, tousling Sean’s dark curls. “Yeah!” Sean laughed. “*Real* silly! Kissin’ smiles, kissin’ smiles!” He shoved his brother off of him, jumped to his feet, and pranced about the room. “Kissin’ smiles, kissin’ smiles!” he sang. “Kithin’ thmileth,” Caitlin lisped. “Silly kissin’ smiles!” Sean bellowed. “Come here, you!” Neil cried, releasing me and running to Sean. “No! No!” our son shrieked through laughter as his father held him upside-down by his ankles. “Well, Christy,” Neil said over Sean’s loud, mirthful protests, “what should we do to this lad for teasing us?” “Hmmm...” I placed my finger over my lips, pretending to think. “We should tickle him silly!” “No tickle!” Sean screamed; his face was read as Neil still held him by his feet. “Yes, tickle!” Neil Gatlin cried, and all at once, Sean was laying on the sofa, thrashing, kicking, screaming, laughing until the tears rolled down his cheeks as we all tickled him. “Neil teased us, too, dear!” I declared, when Sean was quite breathless. So, we turned to the other boy and tickled him, as well. “Ticka me, Daddy! Ticka me!” Caitlin begged, wanting to join in the fun. “Then come here, Caity Joy!” Neil stretched out his arms, and the little girl ran to him as fast as her chubby legs would carry her. While Neil tickled Caitlin, and she tried to tickle him with her little, awkward fingers, my sons decided it was my turn, and I found myself writhing on the floor, laughing and crying, peering up into the faces of my entire family as they tickled me. The cabin nearly shook with laughter and squeals and shrieks, but at last, my husband said in his deep, rich voice, “All right, children, it’s time to stop. Go out and get the horses so we can go to the mission.” The boys and Caitlin got up off of me and went to the door. “You comin’ to help, Daddy?” Sean asked. “In a minute,” Neil replied. He was still reclining next to me on the floor. “I’m going to help your mother get up.” “He wants to kiss her some more,” Neil Gatlin said, chucking Sean on the arm. “That’s right; I do! Now run outside and get the horses!” The childish laughter and voices died away as they obeyed their father, and Neil and I were left alone in our cabin. I lay on my back, gazing up at Neil. His hair was tousled, that ruddy curl I loved falling over his forehead. “We weren’t too rough on you, were we lass?” he asked, placing his hand on my belly. “I suppose at eight months, you oughtn’t be tackled to the floor and tickled by a toddler and two rambunctious boys.” “Not to mention my biggest boy,” I added. “I think he’s the most rowdy one of all.” Neil’s sandy brows went up in surprise. “Do you, now, Christy love? Am I indeed rowdy?” Before I could answer, he was kissing me deeply, even more passionately than he had earlier. My heart nearly hammered out of my chest, and I felt like I was going to suffocate, but I didn’t care. *Oh, Neil could kiss!* When at last Neil drew back from me, my breath was coming in gasps, and his hazel eyes, pooled with deep, passionate love, made me even more crazy than the kiss had. “Yes, Neil,” I whispered, when I had caught my breath enough to speak. “You *are* rowdy.” I HAD NOT BEEN OUT of the cabin much during the last few months of my pregnancy. For one thing, I still felt some of that old Victorian prudery (which had been thoroughly ingrained in me by my mother) about being pregnant in public, and also, our home was such a long way from the mission and many of our friends’ cabins, a horseback ride was nearly unbearably uncomfortable. But Neil and I had been invited to dinner at the mission, and I insisted we go. David was back from a month-long visit to his hometown in Pennsylvania, and he had brought with him his new fiancee. He wanted us to meet her, and of course I could risk a little discomfort to meet the fiancee of one of my dearest friends. Neil was a little reluctant to let me ride, but he knew I would not be dissuaded, so he padded my horse’s saddle with some blankets. And for modesty’s sake, I donned my most unpretentious, loose-fitting dress. When we arrived at the mission house, Neil hoisted the children down from Charlie’s (that old, yet still healthy animal carried Neil and all the children quite frequently) back, then he came and lifted me down from Bonnie. “Are you all right, lass?” he asked anxiously, supporting me with a strong arm around my waist. I nodded, a bit weakly. “Yes. I’m just a little stiff.” Miss Alice, David, and Dan and Cecile Scott had come out about that time. “Well, look who decided to join us,” David grinned, extending his hand to Neil. “The time sort of got away from us,” I said. Neil Gatlin marched up to the cluster of adults and said, importantly, “We’re late ’cause Momma and Daddy were kissin’.” Mortified, I pinched my son---hard---on the back of his arm. He turned to me, and I gave him a killing look. But my husband just laughed, as did our friends. “David,” Neil said at last, noting my embarrassment, “Where’s your bride-to-be? She’s the reason we rode all the way over here, you know.” David just grinned, and Neil added, “What, do you think I’d put my very pregnant wife on a horse just to see *you*?” We all laughed again, and David said, “She’s in the kitchen with Ida. But come on---I’m anxious for you to meet her.” As we walked toward porch steps, I was busy scolding Neil Gatlin for his speech. “If you *ever* say anything about---” “About kissin’?” my little boy asked, unrepentantly. “There are things you just don’t talk about, and kissing is one of them.” “Why?” Neil innocently inquired. How did I answer that? Why *wasn’t* kissing talked about? “Because---because it---it just *isn’t*.” I said lamely. My son’s blue eyes were wide with confusion. “Just promise me you won’t say another word about kissing,” I told him. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, then scampered off to join his brother. “I wouldn’t worry too much about your son’s little announcement, Mrs. MacNeill,” Miss Alice said, coming alongside me. “As I recall, all of Cutter Gap has witnessed several kisses between thee and thy husband. And you have three children, Christy...” The look on the Quaker lady’s face was pure amusement, but I still did not think anything was funny. “But, Miss Alice, intimacy between a husband and wife is not a topic for public discussion. And it just seems so inappropriate that my children should know and talk about such things.” Miss Alice laughed. “Such things! A few *kisses*, Christy---” “Not ---not just *little* kisses,” I fumbled. “Neil came in, and he just---we---” My face was hot, but I smiled, recalling the wonderful moments with my husband. “Thou art a mother of three small children and the wife of a Doctor,” said Miss Alice. “You must seize opportunities when you can.” “Yes,” I agreed, pushing a stray hair behind my ear. “But still, the *children*---” “Happy are the children who are fully assured---by both knowing and seeing---that their parents are in love!” Miss Alice declared, turning to me. “Do not think of thy innocent intimacies as improprieties, Christy MacNeill; think of them as reinforcements for the security and well-being of your little brood.” I shook my head, defeated, and gave a small chuckle. “Whatever you say.” With that, I followed her inside the mission house. “NEIL, CHRISTY,” David said, coming out of the kitchen, leading a shy-looking woman by the hand. “This is Miss Rachel King.” “Pleased to meet you,” Neil greeted warmly. The woman touched his fingertips politely. “The pleasure is all mine.” I stood there dumbly, very nearly gawking, and mechanically introduced myself to David’s fiancee. Rachel King was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Tall, slender, with a long, graceful neck, willowy arms, she had the carriage of a Russian Empress. Glossy raven waves cut in an attractive bob highlighted her high cheekbones. Her eyebrows formed gentle arcs above violet-grey eyes, surrounded by long, full lashes. She had a perfect nose, not too long or straight or pointy---just lovely and...perfect. Lips like two rose petals parted in a demure smile to reveal small, even, pearly teeth; they, too were perfect. She was dark-complected, but I had never seen such clear, unblemished skin. Beautifully tailored clothes, pretty and stylish, flattered every curve of her figure. I felt very small and humble and prim next to Miss Rachel, plain and old-fashioned with my long hair rolled back in the style I had worn for years, wearing my full-skirted maternity dress. I was painfully aware of my slight stature and that I was eight months pregnant with my fourth child... While I was lost in my observation of Miss Rachel, Neil must have asked David how he and his fiancee met, because David was saying, “Rache and I were kids together, lived in the same neighborhood, just the same age. We’ve always been good chums, and I always loved being closely connected with the prettiest girl in Pennsylvania.” David gazed lovingly at Rachel, then he turned to me. “Haven’t I ever told you about Rachel, Christy? I could have sworn I have...” “No, I don’t think...” David snapped his fingers. “I have, in a roundabout way. Not long after you came here, you asked me if I new a lot of girls ...” The long ago conversation came back to me. * “Do you know a lot of girls, David?” “A few.” “Have you been in love with any of them?” “I’m not sure. There was one who was rather special for a while. But she would never have been interested in this kind of life.” “What was she like?” “Dark-haired, quite good-looking, rather reserved---and I’m afraid her family had too much money.” * “So this is the girl who was special,” I mused. Obviously, Miss Rachel’s lack of interest in “this kind of life” and superfluous amount of money were no longer on David’s mind. “*Is* special.” David slipped his arm around Miss Rachel’s tiny waist. “Always has been.” “And you’re just now getting around to marrying her?” Neil asked slyly. “Just trying to be like you, Doc,” David returned. Neil laughed. “Yes, I was also thirty-four when I married, but I would have preferred to get started as a family man a bit earlier.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “But now I know I had to wait for my lass---” “To grow up,” I cut in. Everyone laughed, but Neil gazed tenderly at me, raised my hand to his lips and said, “And she was worth the wait.” For a moment, we just stared into one another’s eyes, but my husband abruptly turned back to David. “So I was late in marrying, but there was a reason, whether I knew it or not. What’s *your* excuse, Reverend?” “I wanted to see how many dashing millionaires she’d turn down,” David bantered. Miss Rachel spoke for the first time, her voice very soft. “Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I wanted to marry a handsome preacher. But I never dreamed I’d be an old maid before David proposed.” “I’ve been a stupid fool for wasting so much time,” David said. “But someone so beautiful could hardly be called an old maid,” he added gallantly. *Miss Rachel an old maid!* Technically, she was, but if David had not said they were the same age, I would never have imagined that this regal princess was over thirty! “Dinner is ready,” Miss Ida said, coming out of the kitchen. “Ah, good,” Neil commented, his manner reminding me of a hungry bear as he followed Ida to the dinner table. “I’m starved.” MID-WAY INTO THE MEAL, we were interrupted by a banging on the side door. Before anyone could answer it, Jeb Spencer barged in, panting. “Doc here?” “Aye,” Neil said, setting aside his napkin and scooting back from the table. “Just got word that Jasper Levy ’cross Big Butt Knob’s wife started laborin’ nigh about noon t’day, an’ nothin’s happened yit.” “That’s not so very bad,” Neil said. “Jasper sent word that Clem was bad off---her sister cum t’ holp, but she ain’t sartin what t’ do now.” “I’m on my way,” my husband informed Jeb. “Need any help?” Dan Scott asked as Neil put on his coat. “Not with the delivery, no,” Neil replied. “But I might need Alice as a nurse. You know how some of these women are about men and delivering babies.” “I do,” Miss Alice smiled, joining him. “I’ll ride Christy and the children back to your cabin, though,” Dan said. “Thanks, Dan. I appreciate it.” Neil clapped the man on the shoulder, then he and Miss Alice hurried out the door. AFTER DINNER, I sat on the mission house porch with Miss Ida, Dan, and Cecile. I did not hear a word of the conversation. I was intently watching David and Miss Rachel, who were strolling arm-in-arm in the yard. They were a handsome couple, tall and elegant and refined. It was plain to see that the couple was happy and in love, but as I continued to observe them, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, I knew that Cutter Gap would soon be without its minister. It was inevitable. David had shepherded the Cove well, and he had grown and matured into a fine, godly man. But it was time for him to move on---with Rachel King. Oddly, almost shamefully, I was too much in awe of Miss Rachel to dwell on anything other than her---and comparing myself to her. I could not believe how lovely she was! Again, I contemplated how perfect her hair, her skin, her features were. And then she lifted her face to David’s, her long neck curving like a swan’s. Every movement was like an intricate step in a dance. Little trickles of her sweet, soft laughter were carried on the evening breeze. Certainly, Miss Rachel was the picture of the perfect woman. Quiet and demure at all the right moments, gay and laughing when she was alone with her lover. She was proper and polite and sweet, yet somehow she was unpretentious. With the looks of a Renaissance Madonna to top it all. She was what Mother had strived to make me, but what I never became. I had always felt silly being stiff and silent, masking my thoughts and feelings in the name of propriety. Why associate with people and not show them who I really was? Why have friends and not be myself.? And maybe I wasn’t unattractive, but I knew I was not beautiful. While I stared shamelessly at Miss Rachel, not missing a detail, I threw all truth and logic and conscience to the wind. I forgot that I had a wonderful husband who adored me and made me feel special and beautiful. I did not recall the tender, loving moments we had shared a few hours before. Feminine envy consumed me. Miss Rachel was this, Miss Rachel did that. I did not. I was just an awkward little housewife. Caitlin ran across the yard, arms outstretched, to David. She clung to one of his long legs and cried, “Peacha, Peacha, hi!” “Well, hello, Caity,” David replied, picking her up. Caitlin loved David; all my children did. I smiled as David held Caity and let her explored the contents of his coat pockets. She pulled out his watch, entranced by the shiny gold metal. David took it from her and held it to her ear. Caity’s big blue eyes widened, and her little mouth fell open in delight. She kept the watch pressed against her ear, mesmerized by the ticking. Miss Rachel spoke so softly I couldn’t hear, but she smiled and said something to David, then took Caity from him. Even as she lifted my little girl, she was graceful. She smoothed Caity’s blonde-red curls with her tapered fingers, kissed her cheeks ... I doubted very seriously that I looked and moved like a queen while holding wriggling children. The couple made their way to the porch, and Miss Rachel addressed me, smiling her small, polite smile. “You have such a sweet little daughter, Mrs. MacNeill,” she said very softly. “Thank you,” I replied stiffly, in my attempt to sound polished. I smiled and reached for Caity, turning my wrists like Miss Rachel did. Only I knew the graces looked clownish---not poised and natural like Miss Rachel. “How old is---” Miss Rachel began, but just then I noticed Sean in the chicken pen, jabbing at the helpless, squawking birds with a stick. “SEAN HUDDLESTON MACNEILL!” I shrieked. Miss Rachel was quite taken aback by the interruption. “GET OUT OF THAT PEN THIS SECOND AND LEAVE THOSE POOR CHICKENS ALONE!!!” I thrust Caity into David’s arms, hiked up my skirt and ran, heedless of my pregnant state, and dragged my impish son out of the chicken pen by his earlobe, scolding him all the way. I was breathing hard, hot, and my hair was falling down about my face from my exertion. I was all mother, chastising Sean for his deed. My voice was *not* soft, my manner *not* refined. And that irritated me as much as Sean’s misbehavior. “I’m so sorry,” I apologized to my friends when I returned to the porch, Sean in tow. “Hey, don’t worry about it, Christy,” David waved off the incident. “Nobody’s offended. Anything happens with kids.” “Yes,” I laughed nervously. “But I think it’s about time my little ones were in their beds.” “I’ll saddle up Prince,” Dan said, heading for the barn. “Dinner was wonderful, Ida. Cecile, come see me one day; I don’t think I’ll be getting out very often,” I said, indicating my abdomen. “It’s not long now.” I touched Miss Rachel’s beautiful hand; her soft skin made me aware of my own somewhat rough, callused hands, rough and callused from eight years as a backwoods housewife. “I’m very delighted to know you.” As I went to unhitch Bonnie, David caught up with me in a few strides. “Let me help,” he said, gently lifting me up and placing me on the saddle. Then he grinned, like a schoolboy,” She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” I had to smile at David’s expression and tone of voice. “Yes, David,” I said. “She *is* wonderful.” I meant it. Miss Rachel King *was* wonderful. I SLEPT SOUNDLY all night, and when I awoke early the next morning, I was surprised to find Neil lying next to me. I could not believe I had not heard him when he came in; I always did. A smile crept across my face as I beheld him. His great chest rose and fell in a deep, steady rhythm as he breathed. His face was peaceful, and there was a light-hearted, boyish look about the rugged lines. The boyishness was accentuated by his wild red hair, with only a few hints of grey, against the immaculate white of the pillowcase. I wanted to kiss his handsome face, but there was no telling how late he had been out, and I did not want to risk waking him. So, I quietly slipped out of bed, put on my robe and slippers, and when to the kitchen to start breakfast. It was not until the grits were bubbling and the bacon was crackling and spitting that I remembered Miss Rachel, so content was I to be in my home, preparing breakfast for my still-sleeping family. But I caught a glimpse of my small hands and remembered her smooth, shapely, beautiful ones... “Why didn’t you wake me, love?” Neil asked through a yawn, coming from our bedroom. He tied the belt on his robe, then came behind me and cradled me close to him. “Don’t you know how I love to wake up with a kiss from my bonnie lass, to open my eyes and have you, your hair shining in the morning light, leaning over me?” “I figured you’d be tired,” I said, blushing. “I’m never too tired for you,” Neil whispered. His breath tickled my neck, and with a smile I turned around and faced him, placing my hands against his firm chest. “How did Clem Levy’s delivery go?” “Long,” Neil replied. “No complications, but it was long, nonetheless. Much like when you had Sean.” He leaned against the wall. “Clem gave birth to a healthy baby girl.” “Oh,” I murmured. “Was she pretty?” “Not nearly as pretty as Caity.” I laughed and cracked an egg. “And you’re not biased, are you, dear?” “But Christy,” Neil said seriously, “you’ve got to admit, our Caity Joy was a beautiful baby. And she gets prettier every day.” “Momma! Momma, wake up!” Caity’s voice came from upstairs, and I could hear her shaking her crib rail. “Up now, Momma! Up, Momma, up!” “I’ll get her,” Neil said. I proceeded to set the table, and a few minutes later, Neil came back downstairs, holding Caity. “Just like her momma,” he grinned. “What?” The boys bounded down the stairs and hugged me fiercely. “Good morning, darlings,” I said, kissing their foreheads. “Go sit down. Breakfast’s nearly ready.” I poured glasses of milk for everybody. “So, what’s just like her momma?” I repeated. “I said Caity Joy gets prettier every day,” Neil explained, settling Caity in her high chair. “Just like her momma.” When Neil looked up from Caity and gazed at me, I wanted to melt. My knees felt wobbly, and my heart leaped into my throat. Did my husband know what that look did to me? “How was the rest of last night?” Neil asked, joining me at the stove. “I was sorry I had to leave.” He picked up the spatula and scrambled the eggs. “It was fine,” I answered. I took the bacon over to the table, then looked over my shoulder at Neil and added, “David’s fiancee is certainly something.” “Really?” Neil asked rather absently. “I didn’t think she was all that interesting myself. Too citified and reserved. Not a hint of that spark of personality I love so in my lass.” I was touched and flattered, but I proceeded to talk about Miss Rachel’s perfect manners and everything I had noticed about her. “She is *so* beautiful,” I concluded, turning back to Neil. His gaze was fixed upon me again, his hazel eyes intent, full of love, and I knew he hadn’t heard a word of my prattle about Miss Rachel. “Neil,” I said. “Didn’t you think she was beautiful?” “I suppose---no---I don’t know---didn’t really notice.” “How could you not?” “Well,” he said, coming over to me and standing close---very close. “It’s easy not to notice when my bonnie lass is present. You outshine anyone.” I glanced down at my distended abdomen. “Don’t you believe me?” Neil asked sweetly. “You’re very sweet to say such things, Neil,” I said, touching his cheek. “But there is *no* comparison between a lady like her and me, eight months pregnant.” “You’re right,” he said, embracing me. “Do you know how beautiful you are when you’re pregnant?” At that moment, I completely forgot about Miss Rachel King. Neil was the dearest, most wonderful man in the word! He loved me! *Oh, he loved me!* He had eyes only for me! He loved me, soul, mind, and body (even eight months pregnant)! And the way he was looking at me, speaking to me, holding me, I felt like the most cherished, the richest, most beautiful woman in the world! “Is that why we have all these children, Neil?” I asked coyly. “Because you think I’m beautiful when I’m pregnant?” “Aye,” Neil laughed softly. “You’ve found me out.” He bent over and kissed me lightly on the lips. “But I don’t *think* you’re beautiful when you’re pregnant; I *know* you are.” He kissed me again, and I met his lips eagerly. Then I drew back. “The children...” “Let them see!” Neil cried, holding me closer. “Happy are the children who know their parents are in love!” I laughed, rose up on my toes and kissed Neil’s chin, recalling those same words, which Miss Alice had spoken the day before. Neil glanced over at the very attentive little boys sitting at the table. “Neil, Sean,” he said, reverting his gaze back to me. “This is how you treat your wife: kiss her every time you can!” With that, he kissed me full on the mouth. His fingers laced through my hair, pulling loose my braid. I clung to his neck, returning in full his expression of deep, undying love. My heart was full to the point of overflowing when at last our lips parted. I smiled up at Neil, almost undone by his intense expression. But I turned to my children and said, “And never worry about kissing in front of your children!”