"Whist, there, lad, watch yer step!" John cautioned as little George came flying around the corner and ran straight into his father's legs. The baby landed on his bottom with a soft whump and John lifted him into his arms while George was still trying to decide whether he ought to cry or not. Mary rounded the corner with a basket of clothes in her hands, followed by their seven-year-old daughter Julia, who carried a smaller clothes basket.

"This little bugger ran right inta me," said John, shifting his son to his shoulder. George put his little arms around his father's neck and settled his head on his shoulder.

"Looks like he's ready for a nap," said Mary, placing her basket on the couch. "Here, love, give him to me; I'll put him down."

John handed the baby over and gave Mary a kiss.

"How about you?" he asked. "Ye look pretty knackered yerself. Maybe ye oughta take one along with him. I cn' manage."

"You can take a nap if you want, Mummy," added Julia. "I'll take care of Daddy." She put her own basket of clothes on the couch beside the other and began to fold them.

"Ye see there, love, I'll be in th' most capable hands," John told his wife. "Take a little lie down, whydontcher. I'll be just fine with our gurrl here lookin' after me."

Mary hesitated, then nodded her head.

"All right," she said. "But you make sure to wake me in an hour so I can get supper started. Mind you don't get involved in something and forget!"

"I won't forget, Mummy," Julia promised. "I'll set the timer."

"All right, then," her mother said. "I'll see you in an hour. Thank you, baby," she added, kissing John as their daughter went to set the timer.

"Any time. I only wish I was joinin' ye," he replied.

"If you did, I wouldn't get a moment's rest," she answered over her shoulder as she went down the hall.

John sat down on the couch and watched as his daughter more or less efficiently folded his jeans and t-shirts.

"Yer gettin' pretty good at that," he told her. "Ye'll make some lucky man a good wife someday, just like yer mummy."

Julia smiled radiantly at him. "Mummy says that next year she'll teach me to iron," she said, "And I can already cook some stuff."

John nodded and watched as the girl carried the pile of jeans and t-shirts to the bedroom to put them away in the drawers. Julia was turning out to be a lot like Mary, and nothing like the woman who had actually conceived her. He wondered how she would have turned out if she had been raised by the ostentatious redhead who had given birth to her. Probably not too well, he thought. As it was, Julia was turning into a lovely girl, sweet, open, and motherly, very solicitous of her baby brothers' needs. Now John and Mary were expecting another child, and he was really looking forward to it. I'm getting the hang of this Daddy business, he thought. Who ever would've thought that would happen?

Julia came back and began to fold the towels.

"Towels are the easiest," she commented. "Mummy is already asleep. Why is she so tired? She never sleeps during the daytime."

"It's because she's havin' a baby," John replied, lighting a cigarette. "When a lady has a baby, it takes a lot of strength out of her. Makes her tire out easier, like."

"Oh. Well, when the baby comes, she'll probably still be pretty tired, though. She was when she had George. Was she like that when I was born, too?"

John considered his reply. He and Mary had decided to wait until Julia was older to let her know that she had been adopted.

"She was tired all the time back then, too," he finally replied. The relationship between himself and Mary had been brand new back then, and they really didn't get a lot of sleep, so it was certainly true. Julia nodded.

"That's what I thought," she said. "Well," she added, "Mummy will be having the baby in five more months, she said today. That's not too long."

"That baby will be here before we know it," her father agreed, "And yer mum will be back t' her old self."

***

Later that evening, the phone rang.  Since he was expecting a call from Paul, John answered it. Mary was sitting on the couch with Julia, who was just getting ready to go to bed.

"What about her?" demanded John.

When she heard the cold, dangerous edge creep into her husband's voice, Mary looked up sharply.  She got up and steered Julia down the hall to her bedroom despite the child's protest that it was not quite time.

When Mary returned to the living room, John was sitting on the hearth in front of the fireplace, staring at the phone in his hand as though it was something he had never seen before. She walked over and stood in front of him, and he looked up at her. He was white and shaking, and his eyes were brimming with tears of frustration and impotent rage.

"John," said Mary quietly, "Who was that? What did they say to you?"

His eyes were dilated, and he was breathing heavily. He did not answer at once; he seemed incapable of speech, and absolutely livid. Mary was worried -- she had never seen him quite like this before -- and she sat beside him and put her hand gently upon his shoulder.

"Please, baby," she said, "Talk to me, you're scaring me."

He was staring straight ahead, and he turned his head slowly to face her. "It was Julia's father," he said, his voice uncharacteristically small. "He says he wants her. He says he has the right to her. He says that if we don't give him what he wants he'll take her away from us."

Mary was dumbstruck. She never thought of Julia as not being hers and John's. To the child, John was her father, and she was her mother. It was a shock to her to even think about anyone else trying to lay claim to the precious child they both loved so much and had raised from a newborn. She was glad she was sitting down, because she doubted if her legs would support her now.

She sat there, trying to absorb what she had been told, when John suddenly jumped to his feet, yanked the phone cord from the baseboard, and threw the telephone across the room. It bounced off the couch and landed on the rug in front of the coffee table. He kicked it and it hit the front door with a terrible crash. He came back to where Mary sat in front of the fireplace and smashed his fist into the wall beside the chimney. He hit the wall several more times, and when he stopped there was a large hole in the wall and his knuckles were torn and bloody. He sank back down beside his wife and opened! his arms to her, and she fell into them, trembling.

She did not ask him what the man had wanted; she already knew. He wanted money, and he knew that John had it. Instead she asked, "How much?" Her voice was muffled by his shoulder, against which her face was pressed.

"He wants a million pounds," John replied, "And ye know I'd give him that much and every penny I had to keep her safe; it's not the money. I just can't let someone do that to me. Can ye understand that, Mary? I just can't. If I give in, it'll never end. He'll just keep comin' back again an' again."

"Maybe he's not really...her father," Mary offered. "Maybe he's not."

"Mary, ye don't believe that," he said quietly. "He knew th' natural mother's name and th' name of her solicitor. In fact, that's how he found out what had happened to th' baby. He'd got hold of th' solicitor's letter; it was in a book amongst her effects, and has been for the past eight years. He was movin' some stuff, th' letter fell out of the book, he rang th' office, an' th' fuckin' solicitor spilled th' whole story. I guess he smelled money an' he told th' bastard he'd represent him against us for custody for a fee." John took a deep breath and tightened his arms around his wife. He rested his chin on top of her head and regarded the phone lying on the floor.

"He told me that he'd sent her packin' when she turned up preggers, cos he knew she'd seen someone behind his back," he went on. "He dint know it was me...then when Sarah died, he went round to her flat an' cleaned out all their stuff, an' that book's been in a box all these years, til th' other day. Anyroad, he says if I don't come across, he's takin' it t' court, an' accordin' t' his solicitor he's got a good chance o' winnin'."

"Can't we just give him the money?" she asked desperately. "We can afford it. Please, John, don't let him take our baby. Just pay him!"

"Mary, dontcher think I'd like for it t' be that simple? If I could pay the bastard an' have that be th' end of it, I'd be on me way there t' write him a check already! Ye know how much I love --" His voice hitched, and he struggled for control. "Ye know how much I love her," he said quietly, "But it's not th' money. If we don't fight it, he's gonna have control of us for life, or at least till Julia's of age. Besides, she'd find out that bastard was her dad -- I don't want her thinkin'--"

"Listen to me, John," Mary said, drawing her head back to look into his face, "You are Julia's father. You, and no one else. No matter who it might have been whose sperm made her, you will always be her father. Don't you know that? Always. And I will always be her mother." She hugged him fiercely. "That man is nothing to her. He doesn't even know her. She loves you, John. You know that."

She pulled him close, and as soon as his head touched her shoulder, he began to tremble again. His throat felt tight, his heart seemed to be trying to escape his body, it was pounding so. He struggled for control and lost, finally breaking down. He sobbed brokenly, and Mary cried with him, the two of them huddled together on the hearth in front of the cold, empty fireplace, until neither of them had any tears left to give.

At last they drew apart and John stood up slowly, pulling Mary to her feet. He picked up the phone and put it back in its place on the table beside the fireplace. He looked at the hole he'd made in the wall; there was no way he could see to cover that. He looked down at his hand; it was caked with dried blood and his knuckles were battered. He flexed his fingers, just becoming aware of the injury.

"That's gonna really hurt tomorra," he said calmly. "Go on t' bed, love. I'm gonna lock up an' wash me hands; I'll be there in a mo’."

She went slowly down the hall; John watched her go. She paused at Julia's door and looked inside. Her hand fluttered to her throat, and then she let it drop. As though sensing his eyes upon her, she looked back down the hall at him, smiled bravely, and turned again, continuing down the hall and disappearing into their bedroom.

***

John locked every door and went into the bathroom across the hall from the nursery. He washed his hands and winced at the sting of the soap foaming over his battered knuckles. He rinsed them and blotted them gently with the towel...he recognized it as one of the towels Julia had been folding as they talked earlier that day, before he had even thought of anyone else being her father. He looked into the mirror and met his own eyes. He gazed at himself for several seconds, then turned and left the room, leaving the door open so that the light poured out into the darkened hallway.

He paused and looked in at Julia; her hair spilled over the pillow and obscured part of her face. He went into the room and brushed it back, and she stirred slightly at the touch. John bent and kissed her gently, feeling his heart expand almost painfully. He would call Thomas in the morning. He would fight this thing, and he would win. With all that was within him, he prayed that he would win.

He went back out into the hall and looked into the nursery at his son. At least no one can lay claim to him, thought John, and they won't get his sister, either, not as long as I'm alive.

He sighed and continued on down the hall to where Mary was waiting for him.

Mary watched quietly as John shed his clothing and climbed into bed beside her. He lay on his back with his arms folded behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.

"Mary," he said at last, "Are ye still awake?"

"Of course I am," she replied in a soft, small voice.

"He's not gettin' her," said John firmly. "He cn' try anything he wants t' try, but he's not gonna take her. Don't be afraid. We're gonna win this thing. She's meant t' be ours; I know she is."

"I know that, too," she told him, moving close to him. He turned onto his side and gathered her into his arms.

"We're gonna protect her," said John into Mary's hair. "No matter what we hafta do, Julia is stayin' right here with us."

"I know. You'll take care of it. You always take care of all of us. I'm not afraid anymore. Let's try to get to sleep, baby. My eyes hurt from all that crying."

John kissed her and closed his eyes; his hurt, too. After a while, Mary's deep, regular breathing told him she was asleep. He disentangled himself from her arms and got out of bed; he got dressed and went into Julia's room and sat in the rocking chair beside her bed. It was getting light outside by the time his head dropped forward and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

"John," whispered Mary, shaking his shoulder gently. "John, honey, have you been here all night?"

He stretched and nodded sleepily. "Yeah," he replied, "Guess so. What time is it?"

"It's past seven," she answered, "Time to get Julia up for school. Max will be here to pick her up in less than an hour."

"Okay, go on an' see t' th' baby," John told her. George could be heard gearing up to complain about his wet diaper and empty stomach. "I'll start gettin' our gurrl ready."

***

John and Mary stood together on the front porch and watched Julia climb into the car. The driver closed the door behind her and started to get back into the front seat.

"Max!" shouted John. The driver paused and looked expectantly at him.

"Yes, sir?" he asked.

"Take care of her," he called. "Don't let her outta yer sight till she's inside th' school."

"Yes, sir. I always do that, of course," he replied.

"Good man," called John, and Max waved to him and got into the car, then pulled back into the street and was gone. John sighed and the two of them went back into the house.

"I'm gonna go call Thomas an' tell him t' get over here," John said. "Make some coffee, love, all right?"

***

John, Mary, and Thomas were sitting on the sun porch outside the kitchen door.

"Well," said Thomas, once he had heard the whole story, "I'll admit it doesn't look perfect, but I think you have a good chance of winning. You're well known and respected, and you have money. You've had the child since birth, and she's never known any other parents. I don't know anything about this Mr....Christopher, is it?" He checked his notes and continued. "Yes, Mr. Christopher, but judging by his address, I'll wager that he's not exactly a pillar of the community. This is a pretty rough neighborhood, full of unsavory types." Noting Mary's frightened look, he hastened to add, "I'm sure you haven't got much to worry about. No judge is going to want to take a child out of all this and send her to live in that area."

Thomas finished his coffee and began to gather his papers together. "I'll go and see his solicitor," he told them, closing his briefcase, "And as soon as I know anything more, I'll be in touch. In the meantime, please try not to worry. As I said, you have a lot on your side, and I really believe that we're going to win this case. You two have a good afternoon, and I'll call as soon as I know any more."

As soon as Thomas had gone, John took Mary into his arms and kissed her. "It's funny," he told her, "but things never seem as bad in the daytime as they did the night before. Thomas is right, y'know? No one else is gonna be able t' give her all of the things we can, an' besides all that, we've always had her...that's gotta count for somethin', doesn't it?"

"You're probably right," Mary agreed, "We'll be all right. Let's try to think about something else." She looked up into his face and smiled gently. "George is probably ready for a nap by now," she said, nodding towards the kitchen, where their son was quietly sitting in his playpen.  “Why don't I feed and change him and see if I can get him to sleep, then you and I can take a little nap? You didn't get much sleep last night; you must be tired."

"Yeah, it was a rough night," he replied, "That might be a good idea."

"You go on ahead," she told him. "I'll be along in a few minutes."

***

"Baby sleepin'?" asked John when Mary came into the room half an hour later. He was reclining in the middle of the bed wearing only his jeans. Mary sank down onto the mattress beside him and put her arms around his neck.

"Almost," she replied. "He will be within the next five minutes."

"How long d'ye think he'll sleep?"

"Three hours, more or less," she said, pulling him closer. "We have time for a nap." She kissed him lightly, then he looked down into her face.

"I really want ye right now," he told her. "Does that make me a bastard? Thinkin' of somethin' like that at a time like this?"

"No, I don't think so," she replied. "I certainly hope not. I want you, too."

"C'mere, then," he whispered, and he claimed her mouth again. Mary moaned softly and pressed closer to him. She released his neck and fumbled with the buttons on the front of her dress, her hands shaking. Her desire for him never lessened. He still excited her as much as he always had, and her effect upon him was the same. He pulled his jeans off and tossed them aside, wanting her desperately, needing to lose himself in her love for at least a little while.

Mary shivered at the feeling of his hardness against her body, and she moved to catch and enfold him. He let out a deep sigh as he entered her, and he lay still, holding her and exploring her mouth hungrily, until he could no longer keep from moving within her. Mary met him thrust for thrust, catching his rhythm almost instantly, softly calling his name as he brought her closer and closer to the physical and emotional release they both needed so badly.

He was moving faster now, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. He slowed and looked down at Mary. Her eyes were dark and luminous, and she was breathing as heavily as he was. She saw the question in his eyes; she knew he was nearly there and wanting to know if she was ready for him.

"Yes," she breathed, "Yes, now, I'm ready, baby..."

"Right," he said in a tight voice. "Go for it, then --" and she cried out and arched against him, the feeling becoming too large for her to contain any longer. He slammed into her a few more times, losing control completely, her name bursting from his throat wrapped in a satisfied groan. Mary clung to him and he sank down and took her into his arms, kissing her tenderly. He rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, not wanting to rest his full weight upon the swell of her belly. He pulled the blanket up to cover them and she lay her head upon his chest. Both of them were asleep almost at once.

***

Mary awoke when the baby announced that his nap was over, and she was shocked to see that it was nearly time for Julia to be coming home from school. She got up carefully, covered John again, and slipped back into her dress. Looking back before she left the room, she smiled at the sight of her husband sleeping so peacefully. She sighed gently and went to get the baby up, then took him into the living room to wait for Julia to come home.

***

"What's the trouble, John?  That's the third time you missed your cue," said Paul, setting his guitar aside. "Your mind doesn't seem to be on your work today. Is there somethin' wrong?"

John hesitated; he had not voiced his concerns to his friends; somehow not mentioning the situation seemed to make it less real to him. He sighed and shrugged out of his guitar strap. "Ye might say that," he replied. He laid his guitar down and got himself a cigarette. "I've got a real problem on me hands, Paulie," he added, lighting it and taking a deep drag.

"What is it?" George wanted to know. "Tell us; maybe we can help."

"I got a phone call th' other night," explained John, "From th' bloke who was goin' with that chippie Sarah Morgan."

"What, ya mean that bird who tried t' get ya to marry 'er?" asked Ringo.

"Yeah, that's her."

"What'd he want?" asked George. He lit a cigarette and shook out his match, tossing it into the ashtray.

"He wanted a million pounds," replied John. "He says if I don't fuckin' pay him, he'll take Julia from us. How d'ye like that for pure cheek?"

"Bastard," spat Paul. "What are ya gonna do?"

"Thomas is workin' on it," John replied. "He says we've got a good case."

"Yeah?" Ringo asked, sitting beside John. "So why are ya missin' your cue? That's not like you, John. What else is botherin' ya? Don't bother with sayin' 'nothin''. There's gotta be more to it than that. Spill it, John, we know ya better than that."

"Yeah," he said with a sigh, "I guess ye do. I'm wonderin' if I should take Mary an' th' kids an' leave th' country rather than t' take th' chance o' losin' her. I mean, he is her natural father. What if he wins? I can't let him fuckin' take her away from us, I just can't. Besides, I don't want her findin' out that I'm not really her dad, not yet anyway."

"But John, you are her father," Paul said firmly. "Just like I'm Heather's. You're the only dad she knows; you held her when she cried because she fell down, you taught her to ride a bike, you took care of her and provided for her and loved her from the time she was born. What's he done? Nothin', that's what. He doesn't want her at all, I'll bet. If he doesn't get his money, he'll probably leave ya alone. Don't go doin' anything rash, mate, it's a bad idea."

"Yeah, yer probably right, Paulie," John said quietly. "At least I hope so."

"Look at what you've given her," added George. "She has everythin' a kid could ever want, and she loves you an' Mary."

"Besides," Ringo told him, slinging an arm across John's shoulders, "You've had her since she was born, an' she has all of us besides. We're her family. No judge is gonna wanna take her away from all that."

"That's what Thomas said, too," John said.

"Well, Thomas is right," said Paul, shouldering into his guitar strap. "Now come on, let's try that number again."

***

A few days later, John was sitting at the piano trying to figure out a melody, while Mary sat across the room working on a piece of needlework. Suddenly she put her project aside and sat very still.

"John," she said, "Come over here, quick!"

He looked up, alarmed at her sharp tone. "What is it?" he asked, jumping up and crossing the room to sit beside her. "Are you all right?"

Mary laughed at his look of concern. "Yes," she replied, "I'm just fine, love, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." She took his hand and laid it on her belly, pressing it slightly. A broad smile broke across his face at the answering kick.

"Is that th' first time?" he asked. Mary smiled happily at him.

"Yes," she replied. "It's right on schedule. There'll be a lot more of that every day from here on out."

John sat back and Mary snuggled against him.

"Have you heard from Thomas again?" she asked, placing her hand on his and pressing it into her belly again.

"I'm going to his office tomorra," he told her. "He's supposed t' tell me what that bastard Christopher's solicitor had t' say. He finally got in t' see him this afternoon." He grinned. "Oops, there he goes again," he said.

"He?" asked Mary. "Do you know something I don't know?"

"I was right last time," he reminded her, "Wasn't I?"

"Yes," she replied, laying her head against his chest. "Yes, you were."

***

"I told Mr. King that I wanted his client to take a blood test," said Thomas, placing his elbows on his desk and steepling his fingers. "I've been talking to a lot of people, and it seems that you weren't the only other man Miss Morgan was...intimate with during the period of time in which she became pregnant."

"That's a surprise," John said wryly. "How many others were there, d'ye know?"

"Well, I have four other names besides yours," Thomas replied. "I'm going to start questioning them tomorrow."

"But it could still be Christopher," said John, "Right?"

"Well, yes, but the chances are a little slimmer as it stands now. Don't be worried about it, John. Go home, enjoy your family. I'll call you in a day or two."

***

"So, John," said Paul a few days later as they sat in John and Mary's basement preparing to work on their latest co-composition, "How goes the war? Have you heard anything from Thomas in the last couple of days?"

"No," replied John, "But that's good news. He's havin' a lot o' tests done, an' he said he'd call if there were any problems. He hasn't so far, so I guess everythin's okay. That Sarah really got around," he added. " Six of us, so far. I already got tested, so they know it wasn't me. Paulie, if ye ever told me back when this all started all those years ago that I would be wishin' that I was th' one to get that chippie preggers, I never would've believed ye, but I sure wish it'd've been me now." He lit a cigarette and regarded his friend.

"Funny thing," he went on. "When they told me I wasn't her father, I had an odd feelin' about it. I wasn't disappointed, quite, but I kinda felt like I'd lost somethin'. When Mary wanted t' adopt her, I dint hafta really think about it. It seemed like th' natural thing t' do. I was just ready, I s'pose, t' have a family, an' when we brought her home, I just connected with her right away. It felt right; she always seemed t' belong wit! h us, y'know? She's ours, Paulie, an' no one else's. They just can't take her away. I won't let it happen, no matter what I hafta do."

***

While John and Paul were sitting in the basement, there was a knock at the front door. Mary went to answer it, and found two men standing there.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I hope so," the taller man said. "I am Geoffrey King, and this gentleman is my client, Mr. James Christopher." The man so designated inclined his head slightly. Mary's blood seemed to freeze in her veins; she recognized the names.

"Mr. Christopher is here hoping that you will be so kind as to let him see his daughter," Mr. King went on. "You are under no obligation to allow him to do so, of course, as there is as yet no court order, but this is a mere formality, and I trust that you will cooperate."

Mary was trembling, and her face had gone very pale. At that moment, Julia came into the living room and stood looking curiously at the two strangers.

"Ah, here she is," said Mr. King, looking past Mary. "Julia, isn't it? A lovely name for a lovely child."

"She looks just like me own mother did at that age," offered Mr. Christopher in an oily voice. "Come closer, child, let us have a look at you."

Julia stepped back uncertainly, and Mary said tightly, "Julia, honey, go down and get your father."

As soon as the child had gone, Mary said, "Please leave. As you pointed out, I don't have to allow you to see my daughter. I strongly suggest that you leave before my husband comes up here."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Lennon. I'd love to meet him," said the solicitor. "I've been a fan for some time."

"I really don't think he'll be pleased to see you," Mary told him airily. "If I were you, I would leave immediately."

Julia’s voice floated into the room as she came in with John.  "Here they are, Daddy. Do you know them? That little man said that I looked like his mummy. That's funny, isn't it?"

As soon as he saw the strangers, John knew who they must be.

"Julia," he said quietly, "Go back downstairs and tell Uncle Paul that I said yer to wait there with him until I come back. Go now."

"Okay, Daddy," she replied, and he watched her go until she was in the kitchen. Once he was satisfied that she'd been gone long enough to be down in the basement with Paul, John turned his attention to the men, who were still standing on the front steps.

"You bastards gerroff me property," he growled, and they stepped back involuntarily, cowed by the tone of his voice and the murderous look in his eyes.

"I--I was rather hoping that you'd be more reasonable, Mr. Lennon," said the solicitor.

John regarded them both as though they were something nasty he'd stepped in. "Really," he said in a flat voice. "And why would I wanna do that?"

"Why, because when Julia comes to--"

"Don't ye even say her name," warned John in the same dangerous growl he'd first addressed them in. "She's goin' nowhere; she's stayin' right here with her Mum an' me, where she's always been, an' where she belongs. Now get goin', before I help ye down th' steps."

The two men retreated to a safe distance and the solicitor called out that they would "come back at a more convenient time."

John stepped out the door and they scurried to the safety of their car and drove away quickly.

John watched the car disappear down the lane, and he slammed the front door.

"We're gettin' one o' them gates with an intercom," he said, and he put his arms around Mary. "I'll call someone t' see to it tomorra. Should be able t' get th' thing installed before th' weekend." He looked down into her face and lifted her chin with his fingertips. "Don't worry, love," he said gently. "She's not goin' anywhere. No matter what I hafta do, I'll see t' that."

Mary smiled up at him, trusting him with all her heart. John would take care of them, she knew. He always did. "I know you will," she replied. "I'm not really afraid. I just hate that they would even come here. That James Christopher gives me the chills. I can't even imagine my baby being with --"

"Whist, Mary, don't say another word," John told her. "That's never gonna happen. Now, go see t' supper, an' I'll send Julia back up. Paulie will be stayin' t' eat."

He released her and Mary followed him into the kitchen. He turned at the basement door and gave her a nod and a wink. "No more worryin', mind," he said. "Things'll work out."

Mary smiled at him and nodded. "I trust you," she said.

***

Two days later, the new gate was in place. Now no one could come onto the grounds without being buzzed in from the house. There was a camera in place, and from inside John and Mary could see on a small black and white television by the door who was there and speak to them over the intercom. John also had the phone number changed, since James Christopher had managed to get hold of it. With this done, John decided to put the whole thing out of his mind until Thomas contacted him with something definite.

Walking into the bedroom where Mary was sitting in her rocking chair looking at a seed catalogue, John kissed her lightly and dropped onto the bed, watching her.

"Gonna plant some new flowers this spring?" he asked.

"I was thinking I might start a small vegetable patch," she replied, "Just a few things that we use a lot of. It's fun; when I was growing up in Ireland we always had one, and I kind of miss it...also, I want Julia to learn about it. I think she'd really enjoy it."

He nodded. "Save me money on the grocery bill, too," he observed with a playful grin.

"That was my chief concern," she said saucily, tossing the catalogue at him. He caught it deftly and looked at the cover.

"Ooh, look here, it's the farmer's buxom daughter!" he cried in a delighted voice. "Is there a centerfold in here?"

"Yes, of potatoes," replied Mary.

"Is that what they're callin' 'em now?" he asked innocently.

Mary pushed herself up and went to lie beside him. The baby was down for his afternoon nap and Julia was not due home for a couple of hours yet.

"Would you like to see my potatoes?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I would," he told her. "Show 'em t' me before your dad gets home, an' I'll show ye summat of mine."

"Hmmm," she said, climbing up to sit on his stomach, "That sounds fair; all right." She slowly opened the front of her shift and unfastened the front closing of her bra.

"Nice," he said, running his hands up along her sides and cupping her breasts. "Yer a naughty wench, wouldn't yer dad be shocked."

Mary smiled down at him. She could clearly feel the effect she was having on him; he was rising quickly to his full size. She shifted so that she was sitting directly on his erection, grinding against him teasingly. He pushed the dress from her shoulders and pulled her forward for a kiss.

She kissed him hungrily, needing him desperately as always. She could feel him throbbing beneath her, and he seemed to be trying to devour her. She felt her heart swell with love for him and seem to turn over inside of her; his kisses always made her feel this way. A small moan escaped her, and he rolled over, straddling her. He was breathing heavily, his eyes dark with desire, his hands running insistently over her body.

He let her go for long enough to unfasten his jeans and skin them down over his hips. He did not bother to remove them all the way, nor did he remove her dress; he simply pulled it up and pushed her underwear down. She kicked them away and opened to him eagerly, arching up to press against his throbbing hardness, her eyes on his face. He was gazing down at her in a way that had once made her turn her face away, with an intense look of utter passion, and she put her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

"Please baby, hurry," she whispered. "I need you now, so much!"

He wanted to tease her, but his own need was too great. He entered her in one smooth movement and she clutched him convulsively, gasping at the pleasure of his filling her. Just feeling him inside of her was nearly enough to push her over the edge; when he began to move, it was all she could do not to cry out. He moved swiftly, settling almost immediately into his usual rhythm, slowing after a few moments to gain control of himself. He looked down at Mary, his eyes smoldering. "I hope yer close," he told her in a rough voice, "’cos I am."

"Yes," she replied breathlessly, "I'm ready." She was clinging to him, moving with him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He uttered a low, wordless growl and stepped up his pace, sending Mary over the delicate edge she'd been teetering on. She cried his name out and let the feeling take her out of her mind. John emitted a deep groan and allowed himself to finish, the feeling rocketing up his spine and exploding in his brain.

Once they became aware of their surroundings once more, John gave her a final kiss and rolled to the side to get himself a cigarette. He glanced at the clock and placed the cigarette between his lips, lifting his hips and pulling his jeans back up over them. He lit his smoke and lay their quietly for a couple of moments, one arm around Mary, who was settled beside him with her head on his chest, her eyes closed, listening to his heart settling back into its regular rhythm.

"That was amazing," she told him quietly. "It's always so wonderful with you."

Just then, little George announced that he was awake.

"I'll get him for ye," John told her. "Just relax. I'll change him an' bring him here for ye."
"Thank you, baby," she said. "You're so good to me." She lay back and smiled, remembering what they had just shared. She could hear John's voice as he spoke to the baby a few rooms away; she could not quite understand what he was saying, but little George was laughing with delight. Everything felt so peaceful and normal, so right and good. Mary hoped with all her heart that it would stay that way.

***

Mary awoke with a start -- in her dream, James Christopher had been punching her in the stomach while his solicitor held her immobile for him and John was tied to a chair a few feet away. It took a few moments for her to realize that it had been a dream; she turned to see John sleeping beside her, lying on his side facing her, snoring softly. She moved closer to him and his arms encircled her automatically in his sleep. She sighed and closed her eyes, gradually relaxing in the comfort of his arms and the warm, familiar smell of his skin. She was almost asleep again when a stabbing pain in her belly made her catch her breath and moan loudly. John stirred slightly, and she shook his shoulder gently.

"John," she whispered. "Honey, wake up, something's wrong!"

He mumbled something unintelligible and opened his eyes. As soon as her words registered, he was instantly awake.

"What is it? Is it one o' th' kids?" he asked, starting to get up.

"No," she replied, "Yes -- it's --" The pain struck her again, and she doubled over with a soft cry.

"Christ, Mary, what is it, is it th' baby?"

She nodded, unable to speak.

"Don't move," he instructed her. "I'm gonna call an ambulance." He grabbed the phone and dialed with shaking fingers, swearing softly when no one answered right away. He glanced at the clock; it was almost four in the morning.

"What th' fuckin' hell do these people have t' do at this hour besides answerin' th' phone?" he muttered. "Yeah, hello -- I need an ambulance. It's John Lennon here...yes, that John Lennon. Christ, who the fuck cares whether ye love me records? I need help, me wife is havin' a baby, but it's not supposed t' happen for another four months! Get someone out here!"

He listened for a moment. "Yeah," he said, "It's 412 Grove Lane, just get 'em here now! I'll have th' gate an' th' front door open. For Chrissake, hurry!"

He slammed the phone down and leaned over, smoothing Mary's hair back from her forehead. He was beside himself with terror; he couldn't lose Mary, he just couldn't!

She was white and shaking, breathing shallowly. Her eyes were dark and wild with fear and pain, and there were tears running down her face.

"Hold on, love," he said, his voice unsteady. "I gotta go open th' gate an' unlock th' door. They'll be here in a few minutes. I'll be right back."

Mary nodded, managing a trembling smile. "It's not so bad now," she whispered. "Go ahead... give me the phone; I'll call Maureen and Ritchie and get one of them to come see to the children."

"Relax," he replied. "Lie down. I'll call 'em as soon as I come back. Mary, please, don't try to move or talk."

He hurried down the hall and was back in less than a minute. He dialed Ringo's number and waited for someone to answer. He could hear the siren in the distance.

After the third ring, Ringo's sleepy voice came over the phone. "Yeah, who is it," he mumbled.

"Ritch, it's John," he said, his voice shaking, "I need yer help; it's Mary. There's trouble with th' baby an' there's an ambulance comin'. Yeah, that's them. I need ye t' come see t' me kids; how quick can ye get here?"

He glanced at Mary. Her eyes were closed, and she looked decidedly gray. Her mouth was a thin, tight line and she was barely breathing, as though just taking a breath was painful to her. "Okay, just hurry, please -- I don't wanna hafta stay here when they take her in th' ambulance, she needs me--an' I need her. I hafta know she's okay. Hurry!" John hung the phone up and looked again at Mary. She was trying to smile at him.

"Baby," she whispered, "Put your pants on."

John looked down and found that he was naked; he had completely forgotten. He grabbed his jeans from the floor beside the bed and pulled them on, then he lay down beside his wife and gathered her close to him, kissing her hair fervently. The ambulance was getting closer; the siren was a lot louder. "Ritch was leavin' right away," he said. "He should be here in five minutes. God, I'm so fuckin' glad we bought this place so close t' his."

Mary nodded, her eyes closing again as another wave of pain washed over her.

"Ritchie is a good friend," she whispered.

"Shhh, don't try to talk, s'alright," John told her.

"I'm sorry," Mary told him, her voice tight with pain.

"Ye've got nothin' t' be sorry for, gurrl," he replied, his arms tightening around her. "It's not yer fault. Besides, everything's gonna be okay. Just hang on. Can ye hear th' ambulance? They're nearly here."

"I'm scared, John," she said softly. "I think I'm losing the baby. I'm bleeding; I can feel it."

John pulled the quilt back from Mary's body and was horrified to see that there was, in fact, a large blood stain spreading from under her.

"How bad does it look?" she asked in a small voice.

"Aw, it's nothin' t' worry about," he lied. "I cn' hardly see anythin'. It must feel like there's more than there really is." He covered her again, his heart hammering with mad panic. Mary looked up at his face. It was ashen and his eyes were wide and dark. He looked terrified.

"Liar," she whispered. "I can see it in your face. I love you for trying to protect me, but…”

The siren was very loud now, and John heard a car door slam as the ambulance pulled in, tires screeching. He was dismayed to see Julia standing in the bedroom doorway. She was clutching her favorite doll, and she looked frightened and confused.

"Daddy, something's happenin' outside," she said. "I think someone is trying to break into our house."

"Ah no, love," replied John, trying to make his voice behave. "It's Uncle Ritchie, is all, and some doctors from the hospital. Mummy has to get an examination, an' Uncle Ritchie is gonna take yer brother and ye to his house. As soon as we get through at th' hospital we'll come by his house t' bring ye both home."

"Hey, Chipmunk, what're ya doin' up?" asked Ringo, appearing in the doorway. He knelt down and reached out to Julia. She put her arms around his neck and he kissed her cheek. "Go get some clothes on," the drummer told her. "As soon as yer mum an' dad leave, we'll wake your brother an' we'll all go to see th' boys... how's that?"

"Okay," Julia replied uncertainly "But is Mummy okay?"

"Puss, Mummy will be fine," John told her. "C'mere an' gimmee a kiss, then go do as Uncle Ritchie says."

No sooner had Julia gone than the medics could be heard coming down the hall with a gurney.

"Ritch, go make sure she's okay," John said, "An' thanks."

Mary was lifted onto the gurney, and she looked over and saw the amount of blood on the sheets.

"I knew you were lying," she whispered. "I love you."

John slipped a sweater over his head, put his sneakers on and followed them.

"We're leavin', Ritch, thanks again," he called as he passed Julia's room.

"No problem," he called back. "Good luck."

As soon as Mary was in the ambulance, John began to climb in.

"You can't ride with us," said the attendant.

"Don't you dare fuckin' tell me that," John snarled. "Get outta me way. I'm comin' an' that's that." He shrugged the man's hand off and climbed into the ambulance. The attendant swore and got in behind him. "I hope I don't get sacked for this," he muttered.

Furious, John rounded on him. "Listen t' me, ye fuckin' medical college dropout," he yelled, grabbing the terrified attendant by the collar and shoving him roughly against the ambulance wall. "I couldn't care less about th' security o' yer goddamned job! I hope me fuckin' wife don't die, so I'm not too concerned about yer relatively minor problem, as ye might well imagine." He released the man, and knelt beside Mary. " Now," he said sharply, "see to her, an' tell th' driver t' step on it."

"John, be nice. I'm all right," Mary chided him gently in a weak, trembling voice. "Leave that poor man alone, it's not his fault it's against the rules."

"Sorry, love," he said, but he shot a dark look at the attendant, who avoided his eyes and busied himself taking Mary's blood pressure. "I'll behave, for yer sake." He knelt beside her and took her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The ambulance rolled backwards down the drive and pulled out into the street. The siren began to wail as they headed towards the hospital at top speed.

The ambulance attendant lifted the sheet and rolled Mary onto her side carefully. She winced in pain and John growled warningly at the poor man. A fresh, folded towel was placed beneath her and the old, sodden one removed. The attendant then deftly placed a needle in the back of Mary's hand and started some sort of clear fluid going into her.

"What's that?" asked John in a tight voice, indicating the IV bottle.

"Ringer's lactate; it's standard," said the man. "Nothing to worry about, Mr. Lennon. We'll do all we can for your wife. I'm going to add some Demerol to the IV to help ease her pain. Try to relax; we're nearly there, as soon as we get her into hospital, we'll be able to get a better idea of where we stand."

John nodded, slightly mollified that at least Mary's pain would be lessened. He looked out the window at the dark streets flying by and then back at Mary.

"An' ye think I drive too fast," he said, managing a weak, trembling smile. "Hang on, love. We're nearly there; we just passed Julia's school."

"That was fast," Mary replied. "I feel a little better now. That pain medicine is working; I feel as if I've had too much to drink."

"I love ye, Mary," was all he said in answer.

***

"We seem to have stopped the bleeding," the doctor was telling John an hour later. They were standing by the foot of Mary's bed and she was peacefully sleeping. Her color was better and her face was relaxed.

"What about th' baby?" John wanted to know. "That's th' first thing she's gonna wanna know about."

"The baby is all right for now," the doctor replied, "But if she overexerts herself or gets very upset that could change. She's going to have to be kept calm, relaxed, and off her feet."

"I cn' take care o' that," John assured him. "How long will she have t' stay here?"

"She's stable now. If her vital signs are still good by this afternoon, I'll release her, but I'll want a nurse in your home and your promise to keep her off her feet."

"I'll see to it," he promised.

The doctor shook John's hand, told him he'd be back in an hour and left the room. John sighed and went to sit in the chair at Mary's bedside. He picked up the phone and dialed Ringo's number.

***

When the doctor returned, Mary was awake, but John had nodded off in his chair.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. Lennon?" he asked quietly.

"Much better," she replied. "Is my baby going to be all right?"

"As long as you're careful not to get overtired and stay off your feet, I'd say that you can expect to have a healthy baby," replied the doctor.

Mary glanced at John and asked, "What about when my husband wants to...." She blushed, and the doctor chuckled softly.

"You'll be safe enough," he replied. "Just give it a couple of weeks, all right?"

"That won't be easy with my husband," Mary said, and they laughed, waking John from his nap.

"Yer awake; how d'ye feel, love?" he asked sleepily. He sat up and stretched.

"I'll be good as new in a couple of weeks," Mary told him with a smile, "And the baby is all right; feel -- he's moving now." John placed his hand on her belly and grinned.

"He?" replied John. "D'ye know somethin' I don't know?"

"Well," she told him, "You were right last time, weren't you?"

"I was," he agreed, "But it's not important. As long as it's healthy, that's all I care about."

"Well, you seem fine, and I think you can go home, Mrs. Lennon," the doctor interjected. He addressed John again. "If you'll come into the hall with me, I want to give you a few last minute instructions," he said.

***

A few days later, Mary was sitting up in bed, looking at her gardening catalogues again. John wandered in and sat on the bed beside her. He pulled her close and kissed her deeply.

"God, I want ye, gurrl," he said softly. "This is gonna be a long two weeks, innit."

"Well, remember when I had George?" she asked. "That was six weeks, and when this baby is born, it will be six more...but that doesn't mean there's nothing I can do for you," she added. "I can still do...other things, you know."

John gave her a wicked grin. "Ye know, I was hopin' ye'd say summat like that," he told her. "That doctor told me ye were askin' him about how long it'd be before it was safe for us t' make love. I'm that surprised at ye, Mary, askin' such a question."

"Well," she replied primly, "You're not the only one with needs, you know. I wanted to know how long it was going to be before it was safe for me. I already knew I could take care of you in...other ways."

"Ye certainly can," he said. "Now, whattayer say I send that nosy nurse off t' get me some ciggies an' ye cn' show me one o' them 'other ways' ye were talkin' about?"

"You've got her wrapped around your finger and you know it," Mary replied. "She'd do anything for you; lucky for you they sent a younger nurse and not one of those tough old no nonsense types."

"Yeah, well, just sit right there an' don't go anywhere...I'm gonna send her off, an have her take th' kids with her for the walk. I'll be right back!"

Mary settled back into her pillows and smiled; she could hear John down the hall earnestly telling the nurse that he really needed her to do him a big favor. "…I dint know who I was gonna ask," he was saying, "Then I thought, 'I wonder if that pretty young nurse'd mind doin' summat for me'"...

***

At the end of the week, John received a call from Thomas just after lunch.

"What did he say?" Mary asked, sitting up in bed. "Does he know who the -- which man it is?"

"He wouldn't tell me anythin'," replied John, pulling his boots on. "I've gotta go down t' th' office an' find out."

"Can't he come here as he usually does?"

"Not a good idea, love," he told her. "Christopher an' his solicitor are gonna be there, too."

"Darn it," Mary said. "I wish I could go with you. Promise you'll come right back, okay?"

"I promise," he replied, kissing her. "Ye'll hardly know I've gone, I'll be that quick."

***

John sat as far from James Christopher as he possibly could, glaring darkly at him. The little man avoided looking at John, preferring instead to study the carpet pattern. Thomas was speaking to someone on the phone. As soon as he hung up, John demanded, "Let's get this over with, Thomas. What's this about?"

"I've had the blood test results come back," said Thomas, leafing through a sheaf of papers in front of him. "I wanted to make sure that both of you heard this."

"What? C'mon, Thomas, spill it," said John impatiently. "I promised Mary I'd be right back."

"Ah yes, how is your charming wife, Mr. Lennon?" asked Geoffrey King in his most ingratiating tone.

John shot him a withering glance. "She's alright," he snarled, "Although she almost lost our baby because of all this stress she's under thanks t' yer fuckin' little friend there."

King shrank back into his chair, watching John warily.

"Calm down, John," Thomas said quietly. "You can leave in a couple of moments."

John snorted and lit a cigarette. He shifted in his chair and tipped his head back, looking at Thomas expectantly. "Well?" he asked.

"All right. Now, as I said, I've gotten the test results back. John, you already know that you were excluded as a possibility back when your daughter was born."

"Ya mean my daughter, don'tcha?" asked James Christopher. John started out of his seat, but at a warning glance from Thomas, he sat back reluctantly and crushed his cigarette out viciously. He wanted nothing more than to pound the piss out of the oily little twerp, but he could not afford to do anything like that at this juncture.

"No, I don't mean that at all," Thomas replied. "You, Mr. Christopher, have also been excluded. Julia Lennon is not your child."

The smile faded from James Christopher's face and he stared at Thomas in stunned silence.

"How's that?" he stammered. "Whose is she, then, if not mine and not his?" He indicated John, who was now grinning widely, leaning forward in his chair, suddenly very entertained by the proceedings.

"Ye thought there was only th' two of us, dint ye," he cried with a delighted cackle. "He dint know -- oh, shit, Thomas, thanks for callin' me here for this -- ye dint know about all th' other blokes, didja?"

John vaulted from his chair and went to stand near James Christopher's chair. "Awww, ye poor auld sod," he taunted, "I guess ye won't be gettin' anythin' outta this after all! I guess yer not much of a man; yer woman was spreadin' it all over town -- ye'd better learn t' satisfy th' next one, that is assumin' that ye cn' find one, with such an ugly face as ye got there!"

"What the bloody hell are ya on about?" sputtered Christopher at Thomas, his face now brick red.

"Just as I said," Thomas replied. "You are not her father. There were several other, er, candidates, and one of them is the father."

"Well, who is he?" Christopher wanted to know.

"That," said Thomas with a smile, "Is none of your business. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some papers for Mr. Lennon to sign."

"I guess ye cn' leave, then, Jimmie," John said jovially, clapping him on the shoulder so hard it made him choke. "No reason for ye t' stay, son. Get stuffed, an' have a fuckin' great life!"

Geoffrey King was already on his way to the door; there was no reason for him to remain. James Christopher would not be getting any money in the near future.

"Good day, Mr. King," Thomas called. He looked at the little man seated in front of his desk and smiled gently. "Good day, Mr. Christopher," he said. "Have a wonderful afternoon."

James Christopher muttered something unintelligible and slunk away, powered in part by John's gales of derisive laughter.

Once he had gone, John struggled to regain control of himself. "So, Thomas," he said happily, thank ye for that, I wouldn't've missed it for th' world...now, do ye know who it is? Do I need t' worry?"

Thomas smiled warmly at John and put an arm around him companionably. "John, my friend," he said, "You don't have a bloody thing to worry about. The natural father is a family man, and he wants no part of her; he was terrified that his wife will find out, and he signed his rights as father over to you without question. All he wants is to be left out of it. Sign these papers here, and here, then you can go home and tell Mary that Julia is all yours."

"That's grand, Thomas," John said happily, scrawling his name in each designated space. "Ye cn' expect a little somethin' extra in yer pay packet next month; ye just made me a very happy man. I promised Mary I'd be back directly, so I hafta go, but I'll expect ye t' come t' supper sometime soon...I'll be in touch."

***

John walked quietly into the bedroom when he got home; Mary was lying on her side facing away from the door, apparently sleeping. He crossed to the bed and lay down beside her, running a gentle hand over the gentle rise and slope of her hip and waist. She woke immediately out of her half-asleep state and turned to face him.

"What happened, baby?" she asked, snuggling close to him. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is perfect," John replied, taking her into his arms and pulling her closer still. "James Christopher is not th' one, an' he's outta our lives for good. Turns out it was another bloke, some guy with a wife an' kids who wanted nothin' but t' keep his wife from findin' out he'd strayed. He signed th' papers with no trouble, an' so did I. Mary, she's all ours, this time for real."

"Thank goodness," she said softly. "I am so glad that Sarah Morgan was such a floozy!"

John drew back and looked into her sweet, earnest face.

"Why, Miss Mary," he said in mock horror, "What a thing t' say!"

"Well, I am," she replied.

"Yeah, so am I," he agreed. "Anyroad, it's all right now. That's one nightmare that's finally over."

***

"This is gettin' just a bit awkward, innit, love?" asked John, helping his very pregnant wife out of her dress.

"I know, I'm hideous," she told him, going to the dresser for her nightgown. "I'll bet you can't wait for me to have this baby next week so I can get back to my normal weight. I miss my regular clothes, too."

"Whist, Mary, gurrl, yer that beautiful, ye could never look hideous t' me," he told her. "C'mere, darlin', lemme show ye how much I love ye." He plucked the nightgown from her hands and tossed it onto her rocking chair, then seized her in his arms and kissed her passionately. She melted against him, and he lifted her and carried her to the bed.

"Yer a bit more t' manage," he admitted, "But that's alright, yer worth it." Laying her down gently, he stretched himself out beside her and kicked his boots off. He gathered her close and she raised her head to kiss him. She loved the taste of his mouth and the lazy, sensual way he used his tongue when he kissed her.

After several minutes of lingering, smoldering kisses, Mary was ready for much more.

"Baby," she sighed, "More, please -- I need you." She pressed against him, loving the feel of his erection throbbing against her naked belly. She reached down and unfastened his jeans, freeing him from the restraining denim. John pulled them off and dropped them onto the floor beside the bed and wrapped himself around Mary with a low, sensuous growl. He turned her so that he was pressing against her back, reaching around to caress her breasts, his lips in her hair, his breath hot in her ear, making her skin prickle. She pushed insistently back against him and he let out a deep moan, unable to resist any longer. He slipped into her and both of them gasped at the sharp, bright pleasure as he entered her.

"God, gurrl, that's so good," he said softly, holding himself very still, struggling to keep control.

"You don't have to go slowly," she whispered fervently. "I need you so badly, please, baby, take me now, don't make me wait."

He gave it up then, withdrawing from her almost all the way before slamming himself deeply back inside. He emitted a silky growl and held her at her waist for leverage, ramming himself home hard, fast, and repeatedly. Mary was amazed as always by the hot, intense pleasure he always gave. She allowed herself to match his rhythm, impaling herself again and again on his full, throbbing length as the feeling grew steadily larger, threatening always to spill over at any moment. He drove her onward, never pausing, never slowing, and she answered him stroke for stroke, riding him madly and joyfully. At last she was nearly there, and he was beginning to hesitate, not wanting to finish before she was satisfied.

"Don't stop, John," she said in a fierce whisper, "I'm ready!"

"Right, here ye go, then," he growled, increasing his speed and holding her even more tightly. She cried out his name, sweet oblivion closing over her head like water as she let herself go, feeling as if she were literally drowning in pure pleasure. John let out a deep groan and spilled over into her at last; she was arching against him to take him still deeper, her body alternately squeezing and releasing him until he was spent and breathing heavily, collapsing against her with his face in her hair against her shoulder.

Once he had slipped from her, she turned in his arms and John pulled the quilt up over them. They wrapped themselves around one another and settled down to sleep, both of them completely sated.

***

Mary woke a few hours later feeling a little crampy; she slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom; perhaps a warm bath would make her feel better. The baby was due in about a week, and Mary had been bothered several times over the past few days by this same dull, crampy ache. She sat on the edge of the bathtub waitng for it to fill, adding a small amount of lavender oil. She looked out through the open bathroom door into the bedroom; John was still asleep. She turned off the water and climbed in, lowering herself into the fragrant warmth with a sigh.

She lay back and closed her eyes, waiting for the cramping to ease. It began to get stronger, seeming to twist inside of her like a live thing. She turned on her side in the water; her back ached dully. The bath began to cool, and she turned the hot water on to warm it up. She wondered how long she had been soaking in the warmth; it seemed like a long time, but the cramps had not lessened at all this time. If anything, they had become even stronger. Suddenly, Mary felt uneasy. Something wasn't right. The pain was getting very strong. She tried to rise out of the water but could not; another contraction gripped her and she gasped at the sudden force of the pain.

"John!" she cried, "Wake up, I need help!" He did not stir but went on snoring gently. The pain rose again, pushing her back as she tried once more to rise. "JOHN !" she called. He did not move.

Mary was beginning to be really frightened. She pulled the bathtub plug out to let the water; maybe that would make it easier for her to get out. Again she attempted to lift herself from the tub, but she could not. She looked back into the bedroom; he had not moved at all. The pain grabbed her again and held her fast. "JOHN !" she screamed. She reached down between her legs and was shocked to feel the baby's head already there. Julia trudged into the bathroom, sleepily rubbing her eyes.

"Mummy, why are you taking a bath in the middle of the night?" she asked sleepily.

"Baby," Mary said, "Go wake Daddy; tell him I need him."

Julia nodded and went back into the bedroom. Mary panted and tried not to panic as she watched their daughter climb onto the bed and shake her father's shoulder vigorously. "Daddy," she was saying, "Wake up! Mommy needs you!"

John came to consciousness feeling that something was very wrong. It was still dark, Julia was shaking him, and he could not see Mary on her side of the bed. He rose up on one elbow and fished across the table beside him for his glasses. Finding them at last, he slipped them on and peered owlishly at Julia.

"What's wrong, Puss? Are ye feelin' sick?"

"No, but Mummy is," she replied. "I think she's stuck inna bathtub."

John was certain he must have heard wrong. He was about to ask Julia to repeat herself, but before he could say a word, Mary was crying out for him again, held fast in the grip of another pain.

John sprang out of bed and rushed into the bathroom, heedless of the fact that he was completely naked.

"Mary! What is it? Are ye sick?"

"No, just help me get out of here, and get the quilt from the bed, love. We're having a baby. It's coming now; the head is starting to come out already!" she replied between clenched teeth.

"Julia, bring th' quilt from th' bed!" he called, and the little girl, who had been watching from the doorway, ran back to do as she had been told. She brought it and John folded it roughly and laid it on the floor, then lifted Mary from the tub and placed her on the blanket. She was shivering and moaning softly.

"Get another quilt, love, Mummy's cold," John told her, turning his attention again to Mary. Up until now, he hadn't had time to think, but if truth be told, he was beginning to feel panic nibbling at the edges of his mind. He was starting to realize that this just might be up to him, and the thought horrified him. As if reading his mind, Mary grabbed his wrist and held on. Both of them were trembling with fear.

"I'll call the hospital," he said.

"There's no time," she replied. "The baby is coming now. You're going to have to do it. Tell Julia to get my sewing basket. There's string and scissors in there. " Her face contorted, and she cried out in pain.

"Here's another quilt, Daddy," Julia said. "Daddy, I'm scared. What's wrong with Mummy?"

"Nothin', angel, she's just -- well, th' baby's comin' a little early, is all. Now, I need your help. Go get me Mummy's sewing basket, d'ye know where she keeps it?"  The child nodded and disappeared again.

"Okay, if I hafta do this, I hafta do this," John said. "Tell me how. What do I do? I'm dead scared, Mary, an' I don't mind tellin' ye."

"Help me get on my hands and knees," Mary whispered. Her face was drawn and white, and she was shaking terribly. He did, supporting her as best he could. It seemed as though an hour had passed although it had been only a few moments.

"Get behind me and catch the baby," Mary told him. "It's happening now, and this feels like the right position to me this time. Hurry, love, now! I can stay in this position, you can let go. Go back there and get the baby!"

John sank to the floor behind her; she was pushing and crying out, and the baby's head was now out. Once he saw that, John remembered what the doctor had done when their son had been born. He gently held the baby's head with one hand and worked his fingers down to where a shoulder was trying to emerge. He called out to Mary, "Push, love, yer doin' it! One shoulder's here, another push an' ye'll be done!"

Mary tensed and screamed, and with a final push, their new daughter was John's hands. He panicked briefly, then turned her over his arm as the doctor had and gave her bottom a smack. The baby inhaled sharply and began a thin, high wailing. Mary lowered herself and lay on her side, breathing heavily, trembling with cold and exhaustion. John took the sewing basket from Julia, who was watching in stunned silence, extracted a skein of white woolen yarn, tied off the umbilical cord, took a deep breath, swallowed, and cut it with the scissors. He then wrapped the new baby in a clean towel and helped Mary turn onto her back. He handed their new daughter to her and pulled the second quilt over her.

"Congratulations, Mummy," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "We have a new daughter."

Getting wearily to his feet, he gathered Mary up, blankets, baby and all, and carried her into the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. He turned to Julia and told her, "Congratulations, Puss. You have a sister."

"The baby's a girl?"

"She is, and a real beauty, just like you were when you were little," replied John. He opened his arms to his older daughter, and she leaned forward and hugged him gingerly.

"What's wrong, baby, that wasn't one o' yer best hugs," said John.

"Well, but…Daddy…" Julia explained, "you're naked!"

Mary was choking back laughter, and John reddened and grabbed his jeans off the floor, skinning them up quickly and fastening them. Mary was laughing helplessly.

"I don't believe it," Mary choked. "She's your daughter, all right.  Only a child of yours could ever make you blush."

John started to protest, but he knew it was no use; she had him dead to rights. He joined Mary in her laughter and Julia climbed into his lap.

"Now I'll hug you good," she said. John kissed her and gave her a hearty squeeze that made her squirm and giggle. Still smiling, with his heart feeling much too big to fit inside his chest, he grabbed the phone and began to dial the hospital's number; he was sure she and the baby were fine, but he thought he'd better get the doctor to come check them out all the same.

***

"Well, Mr. Lennon, you did a brilliant job," said the doctor as soon as he had finished checking Mary and the new baby over. Everything looks perfect. Maybe you should consider going into obstetrics."

"Thanks, but I think I'll leave th' next one t' th' professionals," replied John. "I was never so scared an' nervous in all me life. They're both okay, then?"

"Like I said, just perfect. I'll check back on them tomorrow, but everything seems fine. "

The doctor went out, and John noticed that somewhere along the line, it had become daylight. He walked back to the bedroom; Julia had fallen asleep beside Mary; John climbed into bed on the other side of her and pulled her into his arms.

"Don't you want to hold your new daughter?" asked Mary. She shifted the baby to John's free arm, and he looked down at her, his eyes shining.

"She's marvelous," he told her. "Ye did a great job, love."

"So did you," she answered. "I've been thinking, maybe this one can be Emily. She was born on the first of May, so I thought May would be nice for a middle name. What do you think?"

"Emily May Lennon," he said quietly. "That sounds nice. She's perfect, Mary. Are ye as happy as I am right now?"

"I've never been happier," she replied.

"Da-ddy! Mum-my!" called little George; he had slept through all the excitement, but he was awake now and ready to be fed and changed.

"I guess that's for me," John said, handing the sleeping baby back to Mary. "I'll go get him changed and fed, then I'll bring him back t' meet his new sister. Be back soon," he added, kissing Mary tenderly.

Tell Angel Godiva what you thought of her story!