Neil woke imagining the smell of coffee and groaned. It was tempting but painful to picture her in his home. He couldn't bring himself to move her things, though putting them away would undoubtedly give some relief. So he avoided spending any length of time in his cabin. He slept and ate and left whenever he could.

Rolling over, he tried to go back to sleep. Then he heard a pot bang against a table. He sat up like a shot, wondered if he was still dreaming, or being burgled, then he heard cutlery scrape.

He got up, threw the door open, and two steps down the stairs saw her. "What are you doing?" He continued down the stairs, pretty certain now that he wasn't imagining things. Christy was making breakfast.

"Making breakfast." She turned with a smile that stopped him in his tracks. She put down the cloth in her hands and leaned back against the bench. "It's an apology, an edible one."

"An apology? Whatever for?"

"For staying away so long."

"You don't need to apologise. You have your reasons."

"I think I was wrong." She busied herself serving breakfast.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," she poured the coffee, "that I should be here, with you." She held out a chair but he didn't sit down. She looked up at him.
"You're coming home? You're home. To stay." He didn't sound like he really believed it.

"If that's alright."

It took a few seconds to register, but when it did he laughed, "If it's alright?" He pulled her into his arms. "I thought I was dreaming when I heard you from upstairs. I thought I'd progressed to full-on hallucinations of you." He shook his head, "If it's alright."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why it took me so long to figure it out." She clung to him.

"Figure what out?"

"I was so concerned that being with you might be wrong, but it never occurred to me that not being here might be the greater sin – hurting you and... me." She swallowed. "This baby needs you, and so do I. And you need us, so... what's a piece of paper?"

"Do you mean it?"

She smiled up at him, stroked his cheek. "I don't know how I ever managed to stay away so long.'

He exhaled, smile brightening his features, and leaned into her touch

She hadn't seen him glow like that in months. Standing on tip-toes she kissed him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and sunk into his embrace.

He hugged her tight, holding on for dear life, waiting for his mind to register that she was back for good. "I know you were barely here a week but it's been like no home at all these past months. With your pictures on the walls and your things... I couldn't bare to put them away but, being here," he sighed and shook his head. "I was constantly reminded of your absence, as if I didn't have it in the back of my mind every moment."

She loosened her grip on him, leaned away, holding his shoulders. "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, cupped her face between his hands. "Others are at fault. Not you." He kissed her softly, lingering, savouring every detail of the feel and taste of her.

She leaned into him, relishing the feel of his warm, firm body against hers. It felt so safe and solid.

He could feel her firm, round belly against his, and saw over her shoulder the breakfast spread. He loosened his grip on her. "You should eat."

She nodded, "We don't want it to go cold." She still held onto his arms.

"You might have to let me go, ever so briefly." He smiled at her.

She nodded, laughing at herself, then slid her arms around him again, hugging him tight.

"Or not. This is fine." He held her there. "Are you alright?"

"I just don't want to take it for granted."

"I know what you mean."

She let him go, sat down to breakfast.

"I kept thinking about that week, before Margaret came back. I was barely here but it didn't seem to matter because we thought we had forever, so what was a few days?"

"I missed you horribly – or I thought I did. Then I found out what it really meant to miss you horribly."

"Exactly." He took her hand and kissed her fingers. "Never again. I couldn't bare it."

"I think you'll still probably have to make night calls, be away a few days at a time, a few times a year."

He nodded. "But never more than that."

"Never." She agreed.

"So, you still have a healthy apetite?"

"Yes, but indigestion if I'm not careful, so lots of small meals."

"Alice's advice?"

Christy nodded.

"She has a knack for making me feel superfluous around pregnancy and childbirth. May it continue, I suppose. If they don't need a doctor then all is well."

"Still, I'd rather have you around."

He grinned, ate a few mouthfuls, planning his phrasing, then spoke. "I know the timing was unexpected and it's been difficult, for you especially, but I'm overjoyed."

She smiled. "Do you know how big it would be now?"

"Not off the top of my head but," he got up and went to his laboratory. A minute later he emerged with a large book, open to the index. He put it down on the table in front of her and knelt down at her side, flicking to a page.

She finished off her biscuit, watching him.

He turned to her, found her gaze on him, "What?"

"I missed you." She put her hand against his cheek and pushed her fingers into the hair behind his ear.

He grinned, reached up and kissed her.

They turned back to the book. He found the page and ran his finger down to the last paragraph. "About ten inches from head to toe."

She held her hands about that far apart and stared at the space between in wonder.

"He or she is proportioned like a new born, but thin, due to the lack of fat, which also causes the skin to be wrinkled and translucent. Lips are distinct, and the eyes are formed, but the iris has no colour as yet."

She shook her head and whispered, "Wow."

He smiled up at her, raised his eyebrows.

She sat up straight and looked down at her belly. "It's hard to imagine."

"May I?" He held out his hand to touch her.

"Of course." She leaned back against the chair and watched him, relishing his enjoyment. It should have been like this all along. She thought of her parents again, how much they too were missing out on, and how she really needed to find a way to tell them. They would insist she move home, for the baby's sake and her own. Her resolve to stay with Neil so fresh, she felt unequal to the task of an argument with her mother about it.

"I'm sorry." Neil caught her worried expression. "It's so easy to forget that this is anything other than wonderful."

"No, I love that you're so happy about it. I just haven't found a way to tell my parents. I'm dreading it, is all."

"I didn't realise they didn't know." He ran his fingers through his hair and moved back to his seat.

"I was going to wait till we'd got everything sorted out."

"Til we could marry, make it all official."

"Til I didn't have to argue with my mother about staying here – in Cutter Gap – rather than going back to Ashville."

"It's not going to stay a secret much longer."

Christy nodded.

"How much longer were you planning to teach?"

She shrugged, sighed.

"Before or after it became public knowledge."

"About the same time, I imagine."

He watched her, realising she was worried about the cove people's response. "You know what I've been getting for my services the past few months, other than beans and flour? Advice. Everyone on this mountain seems to think you and I should be together. It's none of their business of course, but you know how people can be and I don't think you've got a thing to worry about."

"They boycotted the school over less."

"Yes, but you were an outsider then. You're underestimating their loyalty to me."

She drank her coffee, trying to believe him, to be reassured.

"We can go to Ashville, if you'd prefer. Or anywhere you like."

"No. I want to stay here." She smiled, "It'd be a shame break tradition – how many generations of MacNeils have been born here now?"

He considered a moment, "Four."

The fire crackled and, seeing it needed another log, Neil got up and went to the hearth.

Christy cleared their plates and then joined him.

New log in place, he stood up and drew her close. "Before I met you," he spoke into her hair, his voice low and full of feeling, "I had given up on having a family. I thought I'd missed my chance."

"You and Margaret never..?"

"She had a miscarriage, just after we moved here. I thought that was why she was so unhappy. I should have listened. I was devastated and so I assumed she felt the same way. I worked more and more after that. I suppose I disappeared before she did."

"Did you see her?" Christy asked, "After that day she came back?"

"I found her in El Pano the next day. I told her I wanted a divorce. She wasn't surprised, but I've no doubt she's the reason it's taking so long."

"What if she refuses?"

"I'm assured there's no legal argument on her side, but she can disappear."

"Then what?"

He sighed, "It just takes longer. I'm so glad you came back."

She reached up and kissed him. He gathered her into his arms, relishing her soft skin, the smell of fresh baking and rose water, the firm touch of her hands against his neck and arms. It never ceased to amaze him, how she wanted him. She kissed his neck and tightened her arms around his shouders. "So am I." She felt the baby move, as if he were somersaulting. "Oh my word." She stepped back, put her hands to her stomach, silent and waiting.

He watched. After a minute of nothing, he asked, "Anything?"

"Sometimes I feel more if I lie down."

He led her to the couch and knelt beside her. She took his hand and lay it beside hers on her stomach. They waited and felt nothing.

She sighed, smiled. "Guess not."

He leaned over her and kissed her, running his hand up from her belly.

"Oh! You missed it." She laughed as the baby kicked again.

He returned his hand to her belly. "That should teach me."

"But it won't?" She kissed him again, tentative and distracted, waiting for the kick, focussed on her belly rather than Neil. After a minute or two her focus shifted. His mouth was warm and familiar, kissing her with increasing passion.

The baby did kick again, just as she completely forgot about waiting for it.

Neil paused, touched his nose to hers, grinned. Then went right back to kissing her.

She rolled toward him, a minute later slid off the couch, closing the space between them. Finally, she was home.