Light filtered in through the bedroom windows. Patrick stirred, waking slowly. Used to erratic sleep patterns, he started to plan when he would be able to squeeze in a nap later that day. It was Sunday, so no clinics or calls today. The whole day free to-

His eyes opened suddenly. Right there, inches away, were his wife and their new daughter. Shelagh smiled down at him. "Good morning, dearest," she whispered. Tiny Angela was curled up in her mother's arms, asleep.

Grinning widely, Patrick answered with a light kiss. He sat up and looked at the infant closely. "Did you get any sleep?" he asked his wife.

"No. I couldn't stop looking at her. She's so perfect! Patrick, dearest, I can't believe how very lucky we are. I didn't want to waste a moment sleeping."

Patrick chuckled. "You'll feel differently, soon enough. Before you know it, you'll be begging for her to sleep so you can nap, or straighten the kitchen, or even take a bath." The baby stirred, making that sweet mewl only a newborn baby can.

"I know. But right now, I'm going to enjoy this while the adrenaline keeps me going. This was our first night together, after all."

"Yes. The first of many firsts, sweetheart." Something flickered in Patrick's memory."Oh!" he whispered excitedly. "I can't believe I forgot!"

He carefully got out of the bed and crossed to his chest of drawers. Opening his sock drawer, he removed a small gaily wrapped box.

"This is for you," he whispered. "But it's just from me, this time."

"Patrick? Whatever for?"

"I meant to give this to you yesterday, after the choir competition." He had a wide smile on his face. "Can you guess why?"

Shelagh puzzled. "No. I have no idea." She turned the package over in her hand, her other still cradling the baby.

"What was yesterday? Aside from Angela's birthday?" he nudged.

"Saturday?"

"More."

"The 31st?"

"More," he chuckled.

"Patrick, I have no idea."

"What happened a year ago yesterday?" he was enjoying this. Usually Shelagh was the one to remember the details.

Her brow furrowed in concentration. A smile broke out on her face, lighting the room more than the sunshine filtering in. "Oh, Patrick." Tears were forming in her eyes.

"Tell me what happened a year ago yesterday," he asked again.

"You were on the right road," her voice a hushed whisper.

"Yes," he kissed her again. "And we made a start." Pressing his forehead to hers, "Open it."

Shelagh nodded. "You'll have to help me."

Deftly, Patrick took his daughter in his arms, careful not to wake her.

Slowly unwrapping the gift, Shelagh smiled shyly at her husband. "I'm sorry I don't have anything for you, though."

"You've given me more than you could know, Shelagh darling."

The paper drifted to the bed, and Shelagh opened the small box within. Inside nestled a brooch, a compass dangling from a golden bow. "I was on the right road, because you will always be my True North," he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, Patrick. You're making me cry." Reaching up, she kissed him gently, then deepened the touch. The baby stirred again, showing signs of waking. Pulling away, Shelagh said huskily, "The first of our firsts…"