Saturday, December 31, 1988

"So, do you feel like a fire tonight?" Lee asked as he placed the wooden tray carefully on the chest of drawers. "It's pretty cold outside."

Popping the cork on the sparkling cider, he deftly filled the antique crystal champagne flutes, a recent gift from Dotty. 'Since we have so many blessings to celebrate this year,' she'd told them with an indulgent smile when they'd opened the package on Christmas morning.

"What do you think, Aman. . ." He stopped suddenly, a smile forming as he took in the scene. The slightly lopsided Christmas tree in the corner blinked a greeting in red, green and white, the bed's lone occupant resting blissfully unaware. Replacing the glasses on the tray, he re-capped the bottle, switching out the light as he eased noiselessly from the room.

"Where are you skulking off to, Stetson?" a low voice called. "I thought we had a date for New Year's Eve."

He turned, his eyes blinking as he adjusted to the darkness. "I thought you were the one who'd stood me up, Mrs. Stetson."

"Just resting my eyes," she returned with a quiet laugh.

"Uh-huh."

She stifled a yawn, reaching over to turn on the small lamp by the bed. "Just a tiny little cat nap, honest."

He inspected her closely in the soft lamplight. Despite the enforced rest, exhaustion still hovered around the edges of her eyes. He strode quickly over to her, leaning down to kiss it away. "It's okay," he told her, his voice deep and low, "If you're tired, we don't have to watch the ball drop tonight."

"Yes, we do," she said in a determined voice. "You know what New Year's means."

"I do," he told her, gently tracing the curve of her cheek with his finger. "Thirty weeks. . . another milestone. A few more and we can breathe a little easier."

"Yeah, well, I'll wait until they let me out of this darn bed before I do that," she sighed. "I already feel like I'm going crazy."

"Amanda." He reached out, cupping her face with his hands, his thumbs rubbing lightly across her cheeks. "Everything is gonna be all right. You do believe that, don't you?"

She shrugged, pulling away slightly as she dropped her eyes to the bed. Slowly, thoughtfully, she traced an imaginary line on the quilt with her fingernail. "You don't know that, Lee," she whispered. "No one does. I know I shouldn't complain about having to lie here. If something happened to Matthew now, I don't know what. . ."

"We'd deal with it," he stated firmly.

"How?"

"The same way we always do, Amanda, as a team." He reached out, stilling her restless hand with his larger one. "Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, letting out a long breath.

"Besides," he added with a laugh, "there's nothing to worry about. I had a little talk with our son, told him to stay put for a while." His hand stroked caressingly over her belly. The baby kicked lightly in return, and he smiled. "See, Matthew agrees with me. He listens better than his mother."

She made a face, swatting his arm playfully. "Go make your fire, Stetson, before I forget how thankful I'm feeling that you came home in one piece."

He laughed, ducking out of her reach as he sprinted for the fireplace. Squatting, he struck a match, lighting the gas log they'd installed last fall. The flames responded instantly with a mighty 'whoosh', and he adroitly adjusted the valve down to produce a warming glow. Satisfied, he rose, groaning slightly as he stretched out the kinks in his back.

"Still having those muscle spasms?"

"Um, yeah, off and on. I guess I'd forgotten that wonderful 'morning after' feeling that goes along with field work." He laughed ruefully. "That desk of mine is starting to look a whole lot more attractive."

"Oh-oh, Scarecrow, you'd better watch it. You're starting to make noises like a contented administrator. Your reputation will be shot."

"Better it than me," he grinned, retrieving the glasses of sparkling cider on his way to bed.

"I'll drink to that."

Smiling, he handed her the fluted glass, shedding his robe as he slid in beside her. Leaning back against the pillow, he thought how wonderful it felt to stretch out on soft sheets after those nights spent on the run in Santarilla. Even though it had been weeks since his return, the memory of the cold, unyielding ground was still far too fresh. He closed his eyes, pushing it back to the corner of his mind, concentrating instead on his wife. The scent of her shampoo wafted pleasantly over him as she rested beside him, wonderfully, comfortingly close.

"Lee."

Her voice was halting, tentative, and he started at the sound, apprehension growing as he saw her lightly fingering her glass.

"What is it?" he asked gently. "Are you all right? It's not the baby. . . I mean, Matt. . ."

"No," she said quickly, "I'm fine. He's fine. I was just. . .oh, never mind. I'm okay."

He frowned at the sound of her frustrated sigh, and placing his glass on the nightstand beside the bed, he held out his arms. With a grateful glance, she set her own glass down and crawled carefully inside their protective circle. He pulled her close in a gentle embrace, exhaling loudly as she settled in against him.

"Something's been bothering you, Amanda," he told her softly, his lips against her ear. "I've known it ever since the day you came home from the hospital. You're always telling me to share my feelings," he added quickly, silencing her as she started to cut him off. He rubbed her arm lightly, reaching up to finger a wayward strand of dark hair. "The same goes for you. I can't help you if I don't know what you're thinking. I can't read your mind."

He heard her light laugh, a wonderful tinkling sound like the high notes on a harp. "I'm not so sure about that. Sometimes I think you can and do with startling regularity."

"Not tonight." He gave her a gentle squeeze. "Come on, Amanda, talk to me."

He felt her silent sigh and he pulled her closer, his lips brushing encouragingly through her hair. "Talk to me," he urged once more.

"It's hard. . ." She leaned into his chest, planting a tender kiss on the soft material of his favorite t-shirt. "I was so scared in the hospital," she began in a small voice. "Lying there, not knowing if the medication was going to work, not knowing if you. . ."

"I know," he said regretfully. "I'm sorry I worried you, it just couldn't be helped."

She nodded, drawing a deep breath as she plunged in again. "It wasn't that you were missing that frightened me so much. I mean I was worried when you missed your check-ins, but I knew you were perfectly capable of getting yourself out of a tight spot or two; I'd watched you do it myself so many times. But the thing is, usually I was there, too," she sighed, the words tumbling out faster and faster as she finally opened up. "I wanted to be there this time. . . wanted to be your back-up. Like you said, we're a team. And if it wasn't for the baby. . . well, I would have been with you. So when I almost lost him, I thought. . . I thought maybe it was some kind of retribution."

"Retribution?" He looked down into a pair of brown eyes tinged with sadness. "For what?"

"For, well, you know," she mumbled, quickly averting her gaze as she finished in a breathless jumble, "for all the mixed up feelings I've had. For wanting to be back in the field with you, instead of at home, pregnant."

"Amanda. . ."

"It's just that I'd been struggling with that awful morning sickness," she added in a rush, "and sometimes I couldn't help thinking. . .wishing. . . but I didn't really mean. . . I want this baby more than anything. It's just that I've had all these jumbled emotions and. . . I feel so guilty about them."

He leaned in, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. "Amanda, if anyone should feel guilty here, it's me. I've known all along that you only agreed to this pregnancy in part because you knew I wanted it so badly."

"Maybe at first that was true," she said, her eyes on the bedspread. "At least on some level. Not anymore. Matthew is part of me now, part of us. But wanting something doesn't make the doubts go away. It's hard to change your life so drastically, Lee, you have no idea."

He smiled softy. "Don't I? Amanda King, why do you think I dragged my feet about us for so long?" He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers. "All those endless months of denying my feelings, keeping them in check, when all I really wanted to do was hold you." His arms closed around her, pulling her against his broad chest, safe and warm. "Kiss you," he whispered, his lips a light caress as they trailed across her cheek. "Make love to you," he finished, increasing the pressure as his mouth discovered hers.

Her lips parted sweetly, and he slipped his tongue inside, gently exploring her. He felt her return the intimacy with equal ardor, her mouth almost devouring his as their lips met again and again. For a few moments, he forgot everything else, losing himself in the feel and taste of her, the soft, pliant flesh of her breasts, the faintest hint of apples on her lips. He couldn't seem to get close enough. He felt her hands on his back, moving softly, tantalizingly, in ever widening circles. . .

Her longing sigh brought him up short and he broke off, drawing a ragged breath as he gently cupped her face. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I shouldn't have started that. I know we can't. . ."

"Well, I can't," she said with a tender smile. "But if you need. . ."

"Uh-uh." He rubbed his hand softly over her abdomen. "This is a team effort, remember?"

She nodded, and he kissed her again, lightly this time, winking as he pulled away. "Not that the offer isn't appreciated."

She chuckled lightly. "A little different from last New Year's, huh?"

He gave a short laugh, the memory of their celebration filling his mind. The party at the British embassy, one stellar bottle of Dom Perignon, and their own personal fireworks afterwards as they ushered in 1988 in the luxury of their brand new king-sized bed. "I guess by comparison this year is, ah, how did Phillip put it when he left?"

"Dullsville, I think he said."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," he grinned. "At least I get to ring the New Year in with my best girl."

"Phillip should be thankful he even made it out of the house this year," she said in exasperation. "Even if it is only to spend the weekend with his brother at Joe and Carrie's."

"Yeah," he laughed. "Tough break. Having to settle for your little brother when a few short weeks ago he had big such dreams of 'what's-her-name'."

"Christy." He saw her shudder slightly. "At least that crisis seems to have been averted."

"For the time being, anyway." He leaned back, taking her with him as he settled down against the pillows. "He's growing up, Amanda. You can't stop it."

"Yeah, well, I can try to stunt it," she teased, pulling the covers up closer around them. "At least for a little while longer."

"Good luck," he laughed, nibbling on her ear. "When you figure out how to do that, let me know."

She grinned, nestling her head in the crook of his shoulder. "It was good to see Joe and Carrie earlier."

"Yeah," he nodded. "I thought he looked a lot better."

"Physically, maybe, but. . ."

He clasped her hand, his thumb absently stroking her palm. "But you're still worried about how he's handling it emotionally."

She nodded, shifting her gaze to the window. "It's not an easy experience to get over. You know how I feel about Joe, but I can't be his emotional support system anymore."

"I know." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she smiled, turning her eyes back to meet his. "He'll be okay," he assured her. "He's got Carrie now. Plus, he's going to keep on seeing Pfaff for a while. For some odd reason, they seem to have hit it off."

She smiled. "Joe always did have a fondness for ice cream. I hope Pfaff can help. . . wait a minute, Stetson," she asked suddenly, turning to catch his eye. "How did you know about that? I didn't have a chance to tell you. Carrie only told me tonight, when they picked up the boys."

"I, uh. . ." he stammered, breaking away from the intensity of her curious gaze. "I might have stopped by Joe's place on my way home the other night. Just to see how he was doing. You know, for Phillip and Jamie."

"And I suppose you wouldn't know anything about why a civilian rates an Agency therapist?"

Lee shrugged. "Maybe Pfaff needs the extra income. An ice cream fetish like his can be expensive."

"Yeah, that's what I hear." Leaning in, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I love you, Stetson, you know that?"

He grinned in embarrassment. "Yeah, well, the feeling's kind of mutual."

She turned, pulling his arms around her once again. "What about you?" she asked in a low voice.

"What about me?"

"Well, Joe seems to be working on coming to terms with his past. I was just wondering if this trip exorcised the ghosts for you, too."

"In a way. The look on Phillip and Jamie's face when they saw their father back safe and sound helped. But sometimes it's still hard." He bent over, burying his face in her hair. "Didn't think it would be after all these years, but I still miss them. I wish my parents could have known you." He ran her hand lovingly over her stomach. "Known him."

"I know. But they'll always be a part of Matthew's life. We'll see to that."

"And I'll always be there for him, Amanda; for both of you. I promise you that."

Lee felt her silent sigh as she snuggled deeper into his arms. He pulled her close, watching the tiny twinkling lights on the tree his stepsons had helped him set up in the corner. Amanda had teased them about their scrawny choice, but what the tree lacked in size they'd made up for in decoration. Besides, he'd confided later, Jamie couldn't bear to leave it on the lot. Like his mother, he had a soft spot for things that fell short of perfection.

He felt Amanda's lips graze his chest in the lightest of kisses and he smiled, his fingers tangling in her soft hair. Only a few short weeks ago, he'd risked losing moments like these forever. Never again, he thought with a silent shudder; for better or for worse, he was through with the field for good.

Still, he was grateful for the new relationship he'd forged with Joe. He really was a good guy; it had just taken a troop of gun-toting rebel soldiers to make him realize it. He marveled at those pangs of jealousy he'd suffered once upon a time. In the light of the last few weeks, they seemed so utterly out of place.

He could see now that he and Joe King were two very different people, the road they'd both chosen taking them on divergent paths. While it had led Joe to a life and career a continent away, he had journeyed in the opposite direction, to this acre and a half of land tucked away in a small corner of Maryland. Where that road would go in the future, only time would tell. But no matter the circumstances, he knew he and Amanda would travel it together.

"Hey, Mrs. Stetson," he exclaimed, shaking her gently as he reached for his glass of cider. "It's almost midnight. What shall we drink to?"

"To 1989," she replied with a bright smile as she reclaimed her own glass. "And our family."

"To Phillip and Jamie," he toasted, raising his glass. "And Matthew."

"And Matthew," she echoed softly as she rubbed her hand lovingly over her stomach. In the radiance of her smile, he could tell the last of her doubts had finally melted away. Whatever changes and challenges little Matthew would bring to their lives, they would face them as they had every other - as partners.

"Happy New Year, Lee," he heard her whisper as she touched her glass lightly to his once more.

"Yeah," he smiled, "I think maybe it's gonna be. . . for all of us."

The End