Stolen Lullaby
By Lorry

This is my second attempt at fanfic, something for you all to enjoy as the cold winter winds blow. Adult content warning applies.

Part 1

Rita Lance Lorenzo rolled over and stifled a yawn. Saturday afternoons lazing on the couch were great, she mused silently. A smile lit her features as she encountered the slumbering body next to her. She regarded her husband's relaxed features. Her husband…Even a month later, she marveled that they were actually married. A light tapping in the vicinity of her belly called her attention to another fact-in four months, the two of them would be three. She struggled to a sitting position, trying not to wake Chris. He mumbled and stirred, but then settled down again.

She wandered into the kitchen and peered into the refrigerator. What's for dinner? She silently asked the little person inside her, absently stroking her belly. With the passage of the first trimester came the end of unrelenting fatigue and nausea. The books were right, the second trimester was much better. She wasn't even too concerned about her weight gain, yet. She reached for a bowl of strawberries and nibbled on one. Ah, there it was-the marinara sauce. Now for some pasta and vegetables and sausage…and bread, they needed some bread. She regarded the bread machine on the counter, a wedding present from Harry and Fran. Well, it had only been used once. She consulted the cookbook that came with the appliance. "Ooh, garlic breadsticks," she murmured softly. She carefully measured the ingredients into the machine and with some trepidation pressed the "start" button. Well, we'll see how this turns out, she thought wryly.

She made out a grocery list and looked across the loft at the still-sleeping Chris. Rita scrawled a note "Went to the market, be back soon. Love, Rita," and reached for her purse. She went out into the humid afternoon.

The newlywed police officer took her time making her purchases, knowing that her husband needed a little extra sleep. He had been working overtime in the weeks since they'd returned from their honeymoon, and suffering through rotating partners. Rita was still on active duty, in spite of her husband's and Cap's pleas for her to give it up. That was the single bone of contention between the newlyweds. Her only concession to her pregnancy was that she turned down overtime. At the moment, Rita was partnered with Tom Ryan, and Chris was paired with Holly Rawlins, a newcomer to Homicide. Tom's former partner and ex-wife, Cassy St. John, was teamed with Michael Price, a hotshot from Narco who had recently transferred from Chicago. The entire Homicide division was feeling the pains of change. Captain Harry Lipschitz was feeling the most stress of all, Rita chuckled to herself as she drove to the loft. She pulled into her parking space next to Chris' Mustang and struggled to carry the groceries upstairs.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you wait for me? You shouldn't be doing that," Chris chided as he bounded halfway down to meet her and take the bags from her arms. Rita rolled her eyes as she followed him into the loft, "I'm pregnant, not an invalid, Christopher."

She encountered the smell of bread dough at the doorway, and opened the bread machine, "Mmm."

Chris set the groceries down and unloaded them, "I see you're experimenting with the bread machine," he teased.

"Hey, was it my fault we made a large loaf of bread on a small cycle the first time we used it?" she grinned back, sliding into his arms.

He ran his lips over hers, savoring her presence, "So what are you trying today, my love?"

"Garlic breadsticks," she said proudly, giving him one last kiss and freeing herself from his embrace. "And pasta with sausage and peppers." Rita consulted the cookbook, reached for a canister, and sprinkled flour on the counter. Next, she dumped the dough out of the machine and tried to form the breadsticks. Try as she might, the dough would just spring back into its original shape. "Damn," she muttered.

Chris couldn't help it-he burst out laughing, "Don't give up so easily, Suzy Homemaker." He put his hands firmly on her hips from behind.

"But the recipe says 'Shape dough and let rise,'" she fumed. "Like it's so easy."

Chris turned her around to face him and kissed her floury hands, "What you do is let the dough rest a little while, then you shape it."

She gave him a look, "And you know this how?"

"Grandma Rose taught me," he said proudly.

"Really?" she pondered. "So how long do we let the dough rest?" Rita got in the spirit and started nibbling his fingertips.

Chris was getting carried away, as he fumbled at the sweatshirt she wore, "Don't remember that part." His hands were searching for the clasp on her bra.

"Chris, I'm sure it's probably not that long," she giggled, but her breath was getting ragged.

"I'll hurry, I promise," he gave her his puppy-dog look.

I want a baby with eyes just like that, she thought irrelevantly as he succeeded in removing her shirt and bra. Their discarded clothes made a makeshift bed on the kitchen floor. Even after five months of togetherness, the heat of their passion seemed to still be evolving. Chris and Rita couldn't get enough of each other.

Chris gave voice to that very thought when they were showering together an hour later, "How did I ever survive without you?" He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder.

Rita reached over and shut off the water, "Amazing, isn't it? How we denied it for so long."

Chris took the towel from her hands with a wicked grin, "So we are making up for lost time." He rubbed the cloth gently over her body, lingering over her swollen breasts, and the round bulge of her belly. The baby fluttered in response. "Hey, isn't that something?" Chris said, wonder in his voice.

In spite of the ardent feelings rising in her, Rita laughed, and took the towel back. "Oh, no you don't," she laughed. "We'll never have dinner if you keep that up, and I'm starving."

"You're always starving," he teased.

"One thing's for sure, the baby has your appetite," Rita commented as she dressed. "I've never craved so much junk food in all my life."

Chris patted her stomach, "That's my girl."

"You think it's a girl?" Rita stroked his cheek.

"Yes, I do," he nuzzled his wife's throat. "And she'll look just like her beautiful mother…but she'll love chili dogs and pizza."

Rita giggled as they held each other, dreaming about who their baby would be…boy or girl, this was going to be one welcomed child.

Back downstairs, Rita wandered towards the kitchen. She shrieked in dismay at the mass of dough on the counter. Over an hour, the dough had risen into a large blob. "Chris! It's ruined!"

"Let me see," Chris grinned. He poked a finger into the dough and it deflated. "See, Sammy? All fixed."

She shot him a withering look, "And now what do we do with it?"

Chris opened the recipe book, "It says, if the dough rises too much, punch it down and then make the breadsticks. Your husband is a genius."

Rita couldn't help laughing, "Read me what it really says."

He kissed her and took a seat at the counter, "Grease a baking sheet and sprinkle it lightly with cornmeal." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Think you can handle that?"

She pretended to throw said cornmeal at him. "Yes, sweetheart!" Her tone was saccharine sweet. She proceeded to follow his direction.

"Then you're supposed to make the dough into pencil-sized strips. Cover with a clean towel and let rise in a warm place for another hour, until double in size," Chris read aloud.

"Well, that sounds easy enough," Rita said wryly.

But with her husband's help, she managed to shape the dough into breadsticks. They then tackled the pasta dish. Soon the sauce was simmering on the stove, while Rita carefully browned the sausage, onions, mushrooms, and peppers.

Chris watched indulgently, "Honey, why all the effort to make a meal? If it doesn't turn out, we can always go out."

Rita looked at him seriously, "No, Chris!" She paused. "This may sound silly, but we're married now. I want to learn to cook for us, and have meals at home. My dad, and then Tom and Sue, taught me that families eat at least one meal a day together. Now, we're a family. Soon we're going to have a child. I want him or her to grow up in a home where we eat together and talk about how the day went. It's important to me." Earnest tears filled her eyes.

Chris was overwhelmed. He swept Rita into his arms, and tears roughened his voice, "Do you know how very much I love you?" "

I love you too," she snuggled contentedly into his chest.

"This is a lot of food," she observed, wiping her eyes.

"Yeah, but we're hungry, aren't we?" Chris smiled.

"I was just thinking, maybe we could ask Cap and Fran to come for dinner?" Rita brushed her lips to his.

"Aw, Rita, no! Cap will just gripe that he can't eat that kind of food, and Frannie-you know how she is," Chris whined.

"Oh, but we have plenty, and Cap can eat plain pasta and a salad. C'mon, Sam, please," she could get her way just as effectively as her husband.

"Oh, all right," he sighed.

"I promise I'll make it up to you when they leave," Rita smiled seductively into his throat.

"Really?" Chris brightened considerably.

"Yeah, haven't you heard about the raging hormones of a pregnant woman?" she teased.

"Nope, but I really like living with one," he pushed her back against the refrigerator and lifted her shirt.

"No, no! You have to call them first and we have to have dinner," Rita wriggled from his grasp, laughing.

"Then they can eat really fast and leave. Then we'll have dessert!" Chris insisted, sneaking another kiss.

"You're pitiful!" she shook her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In another part of town, someone else was preparing for the arrival of a new family member. Jane McAttee was humming as she folded freshly washed baby clothes and put them into a white dresser. She held one of the sleepers to her face and took a deep breath. The sweet scent served to calm a wave of nervousness. "What if this doesn't work?" she worried. But of course it would, the woman shook her long blonde hair. It had to.

She consulted her list, and made a few calls. She was unable to reach her husband, Randy, but that wasn't unusual. He was so involved in his "mission of mercy" to Russia that he sometimes forgot that he had a wife waiting at home.

Jane's expression was wistful. Life was so much better when they lived in New York. Randy was a respected Broadway producer, and Jane was the lead actress in one of his plays. Their first meeting was-spontaneous combustion. The fact that Randy was old money certainly contributed to his allure. Jane Nelson may have had a plain name, but she had the face of an angel and the body of a beauty queen. Hidden in that perfect exterior was a lover with the hunger of a nymphomaniac, and the deepest insecurities. She bedded and married him in short order, thrilled to have landed the man of her dreams. Randy was deeply in love with his wife, and even in five years of marriage, never saw her true personality. Randy, for all his good looks and wealth, was a noble man. He was generous to a number of charities, and not just of his money. Randy was a true humanitarian, and traveled all over the world to help the less fortunate. When he gave up his Broadway career three years ago, Jane traveled with him on his "mercy misssions." But she soon wearied of the poor living conditions and longed to return to the life of luxury they'd had.

As an anniversary gift, he had a stylish mansion built near his family in Palm Beach. Jane loved Palm Beach. The people and the money and the weather pleased her tremendously, and a happy wife meant that Randy could continue to pursue his philanthropic projects.

But Jane always wanted more. She wanted her husband at home with her all the time. He was so busy tending to the needy children around the world, that he and Jane hadn't had time to make one of their own. For their entire marriage, Jane had never used birth control. But she and Randy were still childless. A visit to three of the country's top gynecologists crushed Jane's hope of pregnancy forever. She had a diagnosis of massive pelvic inflammatory disease, and endometriosis. Her chances of conceiving were a million to one. All the years of promiscuity before her marriage came back to haunt her. In fact, the physicians all recommended a hysterectomy.

Jane was disconsolate. "All I ever wanted was to have a baby," she wept in Randy's arms.

Randy ran his fingers through her tangled blonde hair, "Janie, there are other ways of having a baby. We can adopt. Think of all the babies that need a loving home."

"But I wanted our baby," she wailed.

"But it would be ours," he soothed. "Honey, I won't love you any less because you can't get pregnant. That's not why I married you," he continued.

So they consulted an attorney specializing in private adoptions. There were ads posted in major magazines and newspapers: "Loving couple wants to give your baby a home." Two years later, no luck. Oh, they had met with three birth mothers, but each of them decided to place their babies with other couples. The young mothers saw something in Jane they didn't trust, something behind the beautiful caring façade.

Jane was desperate to become a mother. At Randy's urging, she found something to occupy her while they waited to adopt. Randy's father was Chairman of the Board of Bayshore General Hospital. Nearly six months ago, Jane went to her father- in-law and asked his advice.

John McAttee, a shrewd man, found something he thought would pacify his mercurial daughter-in-law. He created a volunteer position for her in the newborn nursery. Jane could come in three days a week and rock infants of ill mothers or those babies who needed extended care, and their mothers couldn't be with them. He hoped with all his heart that maybe Randy and Jane would find an infant to adopt through his connections within the hospital.

The nursing staff was reluctant to have Jane take the position. After all, the only reason she even got it was through her husband's family connections. But, nevertheless, they showed Jane the ropes, and soon grew accustomed to the rich young woman's presence in their nursery.

Jane loved the work, and turned on her notorious charm. She gained most of the nurses' trust, and proved to be a very competent caregiver. She looked forward to the time spent caring for the newborns, and was privy to some of the saddest situations. The mother whose baby was born addicted to crack, and in detox. Baby Santos was hospitalized for a month then sent to foster care. Paul Daniels, who was driving drunk, and was killed while rushing his pregnant wife to the hospital. The mother and baby survived, but Sarah Daniels was in critical condition and little Paul, Junior was boarding in the nursery until a grandmother could come from England. Then there were twins, born to a family with eight other children. The parents loved their babies, but they lived 100 miles away. They could only visit on weekends.

Jane would have given anything to offer these families money for their children, but Randy was vehemently opposed.

"No! We wait and do this the legal way, Jane! These families have their problems, but you can't solve them by buying their babies," he admonished.

"Their babies would be better off with us," she insisted.

"That may very well be, but it's not our place," Randy replied. His tone softened as he looked at her crestfallen face. "Honey, if it bothers you so much, don't work there."

"But I love it there," she sighed. "And I like feeling needed."

He came over and slipped the silk spaghetti straps of her gown off her shoulders, "I need you, Janie," he murmured hoarsely. "Always have, always will…"

Jane closed her eyes and let his touch sweep her away, "I need you, too, baby.." And they forgot all about arguing…

But not for long. Jane's desire to become a mother was never far from her thoughts. Jane and Randy flew to Nebraska to attend her sister's wedding. Rachel Nelson was a near-lookalike; same blonde hair and blue eyes, same height and build. But Rachel kept her hair short, and her blue eyes shone with warmth her sister would never have. Jane endlessly tormented her sister, insisting she could do better. Rachel shook her head and laughed. She let Jane's dour predictions about her future roll off her back. So she was greatly surprised when Jane offered her and her husband, Jordan, a paid honeymoon in Canada.

"Jane, that's very generous of you, but we couldn't accept," Rachel exclaimed, as she looked at the tickets.

Randy and I planned to go, but he needs to go to Russia so, we can't use them," Jane smiled. "Really, you're doing us a favor!"

Jordan grinned at his new sister-in-law, "You're sure this isn't just charity for your 'poor relations'?"

"No, it isn't," Randy slapped him on the back. "Just an extra wedding present." The McAttees flew back to Palm Beach early Thursday. After a mere two nights at home, Randy was off to Russia Saturday afternoon. Jane was in good spirits, boisterous even. There was none of the usual tears and pouting treatment she usually gave Randy prior to his leaving. Her husband was relieved, and kissed her goodbye tenderly, whispering, "I'll see you in two months."

She watched him walk down the concourse and whispered, "No, you'll see us in two months."

And now she was planning something nearly unthinkable. Carefully she packed everything she needed in a large gym bag. With any luck she would be able to get what she wanted without anyone getting hurt. But if someone, anyone, got in her way. Her jaw tightened. After one last check of everything, she went to soak in the Jacuzzi. She crawled into bed early, willing herself to get a good night's sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To Rita's delight (and Chris' dismay), Cap and Frannie were coming to dinner. Rita flitted nervously around the loft, straightening the cushions on the sofa, and making sure everything was neat. Chris resisted the urge to tease her, and set the table with a tablecloth and nice dishes. Some candlelight and soft jazz music and they were ready for their guests. The breadsticks were slid carefully into the oven, and Chris dumped the pasta into a pot of boiling water.

"Parfait," Chris proclaimed at the sound of a knock at the door. "Cap, Frannie, come in!"

Rita was just taking the breadsticks out of the oven. Frannie rushed over to help, "Oh, doll, you made these yourself? They smell wonderful!"

Rita brushed melted butter over the steaming breadsticks, and then turned them into a basket. She looked at the older woman with a wry smile, and commented, "Well, you'd better reserve judgement until you taste them."

"I'm sure they'll be delicious," Cap praised, startling the newlyweds.

Chris even put his hand on their boss' forehead, "You feelin' okay, Cap?"

"Lorenzo, cut that out!" Harry shoved his hand away. "

Heschie, you promised you'd be on your best behavior," Fran scolded her husband. But they all were laughing as they sat down to dinner. The Lipschitzs praised everything. Harry even ate some of the sausage and peppers, declaring he had plenty of antacids for later.

Rita beamed with pride because the food turned out perfectly. This was the life she always dreamed of. Cap and Fran were the closest thing to parents she and Chris had. Oh, Benny and Anna dropped in on Chris' life at their convenience, but the Lipschitzs-they were a constant presence.

Frannie of course quizzed Rita at length about her pregnancy. Rita was not offended, though. She was glad to have a nurse as a friend.

"Chris and I are having a prenatal interview at Bayshore General tomorrow afternoon. I was wondering if you could give us any hints as to what questions the nurse will ask us, or stuff we should ask her," Rita wondered as the two couples finished eating.

Frannie replied, "Well, the interview is relatively new. You spend about an hour talking to the nurse, and she'll give you a tour of the birthing center. It's all a part of their "Precious Beginnings" program. She'll ask you about any health problems you have, and discuss pregnancy symptoms, signs of labor and what to expect when you get to the hospital. I believe they set you up with some of the prenatal classes as well, like Lamaze, and they discuss whether you want to breast-feed your baby. Another big thing they address is whether your work environment puts your pregnancy at risk."

Chris and Harry both made noises in their throats.

Rita rolled her eyes, "Oh, here it comes. The whole speech about how a pregnant woman shouldn't be on active duty."

Fran patted her arm, "I realize you're getting some flack about that, Doll."

Rita blinked back-unexpected tears, "I keep telling you all that I won't do anything to risk the baby. I just want to be on active duty a little while longer."

Harry was surprised at his detective's tears, "Aw, Rita, we just want what's best for you. Didn't mean to make you cry."

Chris got up and put his arms around his wife from behind, "Hormones again, huh?"

Rita brushed at her eyes impatiently with the backs of her hands, "Yeah," she quavered.

Frannie cleared her throat, touched by the connection between the newlyweds, "I tell you what, let's all go for a walk. It's so lovely outside."

Rita mustered a smile, "That's a great idea."

It was a lovely evening. There was a warm breeze and a nearly full moon. There were many couples taking advantage of the nice weather to stroll through Oceanfront Park. The waves rolled in, a little tumultuous, maybe presaging a storm. But right now, the night was perfect. The two couples strolled leisurely onto the sand, stopping for ice cream. Chris and Rita, holding hands, drifted ahead of the older couple.

Frannie took Harry's arm, whispering, "Oh, Harry, aren't they cute together?"

Harry, usually so cynical, smiled and nodded, "Yes, Frannie, they make a pretty picture." He looked down at his diminutive wife. "Kinda reminds you of us at that age, huh?" he leaned over to kiss her.

The Lorenzos were locked in each other's arms, dreamily looking at the moon. Yes, there was romance in the air, hiding the calm before an impending storm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sweet feeling continued as Chris and Rita got ready for bed after midnight. Chris decided he wouldn't hold Rita to her promise of a "reward" for putting up with Cap and Fran for dinner. Truth to be told, he'd enjoyed the evening as much as she had. It made him feel so married, entertaining guests. And this was only the beginning. They were going to be looking for a larger loft soon, or maybe even a house. And then…their baby. Excepting their marriage, Chris couldn't remember any event in his life he was looking forward to so much. Lost in his reverie, he scarcely noticed when Rita got into bed beside him and turned out the light.

"Hey, mister," she purred, nibbling at his ear. "Where are you?"

He laughed and pulled her close, "I'm right here with my sexy wife."

Rita smiled in the dark, and ran her hand under his T-shirt. Her touch was tender but persistent as she stroked his broad chest, and wandered down to his stomach. She found his navel and teased at it for a bit, then ventured lower.

Chris sucked in a breath, "Rita, I was just kidding you earlier. I enjoyed Cap and Fran coming for dinner tonight. We don't have to…you know…if you're too tired."

Rita shifted in bed, and started pressing feathery kisses on his face and neck, "This is in the way," she whispered, tugging at his shirt.

"Well, okay, then," Chris chuckled, yanking the garment off. "Happy now?" he asked as she started kissing over his chest and belly, occasionally letting him feel the edges of her teeth.

"Mmm…getting there," her laughter made erotic vibrations on his belly.

"Aw, Sammy," he murmured hoarsely, his hand stroking her silky hair. "I hope it's always like this for us."

"So-do-I," she punctuated her words with kisses.

"This goes, too," she snapped the waistband of his sweatpants. Chris put his hands behind his head, and grinned smugly, "You do it."

He tried to act cool about it, but Rita knew better. She ran her hand over his arousal, "Very bossy aren't you?"

His control was crumbling fast, "Hey, if you keep that up…"

"Oh, I'm not worried," she smiled seductively. "You have amazing self control."

"Riiita!" he whined.

"Oh, all right," Rita reached for the tie at his waist and slowly untied it, absolutely enjoying the power she held over her husband. The sweatpants discarded, she continued her leisurely exploration of his body.

"And you call me a sex maniac," Chris groaned.

"I had a great teacher," she commented, tickling his feet.

Her husband bolted upright and dragged Rita's body to his. He kissed her hungrily, getting impatient with her little game. "You're overdressed," he said roughly, searching out the hem of her silk nightshirt, and lifting it over her head.

They fell in a heap to their sides, and Chris took over the seduction. He moved over his wife, caught up in their lovemaking. He kissed every inch of her body, marveling again at the growing curves of her hips, belly and breasts. She was even more beautiful to him now, and he told her so.

Their passion was at a fever pitch, and they joined their bodies instinctually. Chris whispered in her ear, his breath ragged, "No, wait!"

"Chris!" Now it was Rita's turn to protest.

He maneuvered her on top of him, "I want to see all of you," he pleaded, his hands cupping her breasts, stroking her stomach.

Rita looked down at him, a sublime smile on her face, "I love you."

"I love you!" he echoed as the tempo increased, and they sought the pinnacle of ecstasy…

She lay on his chest afterward, content. "This is the best part of being married," she sighed.

Chris was half-asleep, but he couldn't resist, "You mean the sex?"

Rita elbowed him in the ribs. "Falling asleep in each others arms, safe and warm…" her voice was dreamy.

"I know, I feel the same way," He yawned. "I love you Sweetheart."

Rita snuggled closer, "Love you, too. 'Night."

"Good night," he whispered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, they slept in. Chris woke about ten and left Rita to rest undisturbed. He opened the Sunday paper to the real estate section and circled some of the promising ads. As the hour crept towards noon, he decided to make waffles for them, knowing those were Rita's favorite breakfast.

The smell of fresh coffee and waffles drifted through the loft, waking Rita. She stretched and yawned. She was amazed at the time, and bounded out of bed. She quickly showered and dressed. By the time she got downstairs, Chris was putting a steaming waffle on each of their plates.

"Yummy!" Rita exclaimed, kissing him.

"Just wait Sammy," he returned her kiss and opened a cloth napkin on her lap with a flourish. He spooned strawberries over the waffles, and squirted whipped cream on top. "Gee, I don't think I can handle this," Rita laughed, taking a bite. "This is great!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jane woke early that morning, and carefully reviewed her plan one last time. She double-checked her supply of formula, diapers and baby clothes, and packed them into the trunk of her Lexus. Then there was her suitcase. She ran back into the house and forwarded the phones. The cook was on vacation, and the maid and gardener wouldn't be around until Wednesday. As far as her housekeeping staff knew, she had gone with Randy on the planned trip to Canada. She had a story for the staff at the hospital as well: she and Randy were going to Canada to adopt a baby.

She had rented a condo in Miami, and would stay there until just before Randy was due to come home from Russia. By the time the baby was a few months old, he would have changed in looks enough that hopefully no one would suspect his true identity. She had tried to plan for every eventuality, even to the addition of a surgeon's scalpel in the gym bag. She didn't want to have to use it, but she wanted it just in case. She smiled cynically. The scalpel was easy to access-plucked right from the exam table in the nursery, where the circumcisions were done.

Jane found the dark wig and put it on. Next, the hospital-issue scrubs. There was heightened security in the hospital, but she thought she could get around it. She searched for the ID badge-her entrée into the back stairwell. Ah, there it was. She looked at the clock. Two-thirty. Time to go.

She placed the gym bag she placed on the front seat besides her. With a deep cleansing breath, she put the car in "drive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sky was darkening with rain clouds as they drove to the hospital for their prenatal interview. "Gonna rain soon," Chris observed, pulling into a parking space.

"Yes, looks like it," Rita was quiet.

"You okay?" Chris put his arm around her waist as they walked in the hospital's main entrance.

"A little nervous," she admitted as they got on the elevator.

"We'll be fine," he brushed his lips to her temple.

The nurse doing the interview was occupied for a few moments, so the unit secretary invited the expectant couple to look at the babies in the nursery window.

"Oh, look, Rita!" Chris pointed. "Look at all the hair on that baby!'

"Isn't she beautiful?" Rita smiled. "But look how tiny."

Chris craned his head to look at the crib card, "Sammy, that baby weighs nine pounds."

"No way!" Rita clutched at her stomach and addressed her next comment to the baby inside. "You'd better not be that big."

"Why not?" Chris asked innocently.

"Christopher, I know precious little about labor, but I do know I don't want to push out a nine-pound baby," Rita grimaced.

"Oh," her husband was at a loss for words.