"Bofur? Love, are you in there?"
Shep's voice floated down the hall to the room where I sat. I grinned at the mechanical toy I had just finished. "Yep! I'm in 'ere." I looked up at Shep as she entered the room, holding my work up to display to her. She chuckled a little. "How lovely."
"Well, only the best for our littl' one." I winked at my wife. She smiled back, holding a hand to her swollen stomach. "Any day now, Bofur. Any day now."
I stood up and kissed her. "I love you." She laughed. "I love you too." She tugged at the corner of my hat, pulling it over my eyes. I raised a hand to push it up again, but before I knew it, her lips were against mine, drawing me in. I held Shep tight in my arms feeling her warmth. I breathed in the sweet fragrance of fresh cut wood that hung about her.
As of then, there was no place I would rather have been.
Or any time since.
Over the next week, I set to work making as many toys as I could for the baby. Shep jested that I was a crazy man. No child needed that many toys, she told me.
But she never stopped me.
So I kept going.
I worked with vigor; every moment itching for a child I could call my own. Shep and I hadn't chosen names yet, but it was a work in progress. As I worked, I imagined what it was like to be a father. Occasionally Shep caught me cooing to myself as she went about the house chores. She would poke fun at me, then kiss me and leave to go about her work. I didn't care if anyone caught me.
I wanted a child. I wanted to be a father so badly I could hardly wait for it to come. Shep chided me to have patience. Things like this take time, she said. But at night, as we curled into each other before the fire, she whispered that she couldn't wait either. She said she thought it would look like me. Dark brown eyes and course, curly, brown hair. I thought it would look like her. Deep hazel eyes and straight, soft, ginger hair.
Maybe it would look like both of us, she said.
I had smiled then. Maybe it would. Shep even told me that she felt as if it might be twins. As if she was going to explode. And she looked it too. But, she told me, she didn't think anything could be more perfect.
Then it started.
Shep became sick. She denied it, but I could see it, plain as day on her face. She sweated over her simple sewing projects. He face turned gray when she stood up too fast. She walked with one hand against the wall or against me to steady herself. I started to worry.
She told me it was only the pregnancy. She would be back to normal once she had the baby. It was just…
She would always cut off there. She never told me what "It just was".
And I never knew.