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soundly. Which led to more kisses that made me feel warm and languid, dulling some of the sad, awful memories of recent days. We were alive and together, Dan and I.
    Then for the first time in years, we made love simply for the pleasure of it. And I thought of how much we had missed. Our coupling was as passionately rampant as in our early days of marriage. And in the aftermath, with Dan holding me closely in his arms, bliss stole over me,
contentment unlike any I’d ever known. The warm sensations still trickled through me, now gentle and soothing. It was the last thing I felt as I drifted off to sleep.

    â€œHey, big boy,” I cooed, holding little Jensen, a chocolate-eyed version of Lexie, his mother. “Those eyes are definitely your dad’s.” I blinked back tears and looked at my profoundly proud sister, whose turned-up nose still sported light freckles. Her red hair still spiked becomingly, but recently, she’d experimented with some different color, adding brown to the hair, making it auburn and then highlighting the ends blonde.
    It was actually cute on her.
    Since birthing Jensen, our little athletic smart-aleck of the family flowed gracefully and displayed a splash of maternal mellowness that sat well upon her.
    â€œI’m so happy for you,” I said. And it was true. All my angst of the past was gone.
    â€œWhat a prize you are,” I said to my handsome nephew, grasping his strong little hands and letting him pull his weight into upright standing position on my lap. I laughed at his strength and determination. “My little football jock,” I called him, gurgling with pleasure.
    Having caught a fresh perception of life, I now resigned myself to the fact that I would never naturally birth a child of my own, I’d begun to adapt to the idea of adoption. Actually began to get excited.
    In March, everybody in the family got a virus. Mom, Dad, Dan, even Priss’ family had the stomach monster. I rarely got the bugs and felt pretty smug as I typed my news for the paper column. Then suddenly, it hit me.

    The virus lasted three to four days and left everybody as suddenly as it came.
    Except me. The queasiness lingered. It irritated me that I couldn’t bounce back. So I suggested we go out to dinner on the second week. “It’s all in my head,” I insisted to Dan, who remained dubious, concerned.
    â€œSure you don’t want to see the doc?” he asked.
    â€œNah. I just need a good square meal to turn me around. I’ll call Priss and Earl to join us at the Red Lobster.”
    Although the smell of food still tied my stomach in knots, I ordered my favorite seafood plate.
    The meal turned me around all right. Right to the Ladies’ Room to vomit every last vestige I’d ingested.
    I returned to the table pale and shaking. Priss looked at me strangely, Then she grinned.
    â€œDeede Stowe. You are pregnant.”
    â€œOh, yeah. Right!” I rolled my eyes and swallowed against the knot of queasiness.
    Priss’s grey eyes sparkled with glee. “You. Are. Pregnant.”
    â€œIt’s not possible,” I muttered, dismissing her teasing, feeling a bit irritated with it to tell the truth. Priss knew how much I’d wanted a baby. She knew all the medical facts and that I could not get pregnant. Yet — she was insistent. A little seed of something sprouted inside me and when, on the way home, I asked Dan to stop at the drugstore to buy a pregnancy kit, he chuckled and shook his head.
    â€œI just need to prove Priss wrong,” I insisted. “She won’t shut up till I do.”
    When the test turned out positive, I shook my head in bewilderment. The next morning, I bought another kit and drove over to Priss’ house.

    â€œI just did it wrong, is all,” I told her, determined to prove it to her and yet — a cluster of butterflies flapped in my stomach.
    Again, the test showed positive. Puzzled, both Priss and I