Oakdale-an ordinary town where extraordinary things happen every day.~~Dr. Robert Hughes 9/17/2010

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1. Day Thirty One

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Slowly streaks of morning light appeared through the bedroom window. Filtering through the crisp night air, they chased away the velvety darkness and urged Oakdale to greet a new day.

Jack reluctantly stirred, averse to leaving either his warm bed or the sleeping figure spooned against his chest. Every morning for the last eight weeks had started the same way; since that night at Avalon Castle when the last bridge had been crossed, the last mountain climbed, the last burden laid down.

The night their child had been concieved.

He couldn't help but smile as his hand stole down her body, gently flattening over her hip to rest on her lower abdomen. "Good morning," he mouthed, tenderly pressing a kiss to the back of Carly's shoulder at the same time. Each morning their honeymoon had begun the same way, taking a moment to connect with the tiny being who had already brought them both such joy.

"Talkin' to Junior again?" Carly mumbled, yawning as she covered his hand with hers.

"That predictable?"

"Uh huh." Carly interlaced their fingers, pulling his arm tighter around her. "But it's sweet."

Jack squeezed lightly, savoring the feel of her in his arms. "All I want is to play hooky, in bed, with you," he whispered into her ear.

"We've done that, Detective. Exhibit A," Carly chuckled, patting her stomach with both their hands. "Hate to disappoint-but I have to finish Sage's recital costume today."

"There's a closet full of costumes-"

Carly rolled over and stopped his complaints with a mischevious look. "There is. And I'd much rather be wrapped around you."

"You're torturing me," he protested as her soft, full lips left a trail of kisses down his neck.. "Can I get a raincheck for tonight?" he appealed, before closing his eyes and basking in her attentions.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Snyder," she laughed, sealing her promise with a soft kiss of his lips.

"Only when I have to, Mrs. Snyder." Jack smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear. She glowed. Pregnancy agreed with her. So much so, he'd been surprised no one had guessed their secret on their own. "Speaking of bargains...now that you told Janet and Dusty..."

It came as no surprise to Carly that at the sound of that name, her stomach soured and the first churning wave of naseau struck. As much as she had let go of her issues with that woman-for her children, for the sake of her marriage and even for her sanity-there would always be a knee-jerk reaction where she was concerned.

"Already?" Jack grimaced, watching Carly face turn chalk white as she shut her eyes, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "Do you want some water?" he asked, twisting around to find see if there was a bottle on her nightstand.

"God, no!" Carly dug her fingernails into his bicep and took a deep breath, counting to ten. Her morning sickness seemed sharper and more tempermental this time around. With Parker, it had never lasted past 10 a.m.; while with Sage avoiding eggs had done the trick. Right now, she was living on Cheerios and saltines until late afternoon, and any swift movement was likely to send her stomach into full launch mode. "You gotta stop treating the bed like a trampoline, G-man," she said weakly.

"Are you sure we shouldn't call Dr. Schiller? This can't be normal. It wasn't this way with Sage. Was it?" he amended quickly, soft-pedaling the fact they hadn't lived together through Sage's pregnancy. "If symptoms need to be monitored, like your blood pressure, she-"

Carly smiled, cupping her hand against his cheek. "Overprotective much?" Red spots flared on his cheekbones, like a child scolded for having their hand in the cookie jar. A surge of emotion ran through her at the concern in his voice. Just a few months ago, jealousy had trickled through her veins at his preoccupation with Janet. Deep in her heart, she hadn't doubted Jack's feelings for her. What boiled her bunny was how unquestioning his support of that witch had been. It was something she had rarely experienced in her life, even with Jack.

And while there were reasons for that, it had still hurt.

"Pre eclampsia is serious, Carly," he insisted. "We-"

"Dr. Schiller is completely aware of my medical history, Jack. I trust her. I know you do too," she asserted with a shaky smile. "In spite of the fact you'll grill her like one of America's Most Wanted at all of my appointments."

"I will not!"

"Oh, sweetheart...you know you will. I found that list of questions-"

"Those were just notes-"

"Jack! It was three pages long."

"It's less than two!" Carly raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Okay...it's more than two," he conceded. "But each and every one of them is pertinent and on point."

"Every one?" Doubt implied with a wide-eyed expression, it took all her concentration not to smile. She enjoyed seeing him so flustered. Whether he was exaggerating to get her mind off the morning sickness or not, it worked. He had a way of knowing just what to do to reassure her. Or in this case, distract her. And she loved him for it.

"Now you're just making fun of me."

Nodding vigourously, Carly smothered a giggle before kissing away any bruises to his ego. "It's damn sexy seeing you as nervous as a first time father." Sliding closer, Carly angled herself underneath his hard muscular body. "Very, very sexy," she added huskily. With a heated glance, the mood changed.

The rest of the morning's plans were put on hold.

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In her Lakeview suite, Barbara lifted the cloche from the room service cart to inhale the delightful aroma of french toast. Adding a generous ribbon of syrup to the stack, the first fluffy forkful melted in her mouth. Liberation came in many forms, but this one was particularly delectable.

A few months ago, she would have ordered an egg white omelette, oatmeal or something "whole grain" or "bran". Definitely sensible. Not exactly inspiring. Finding Henry had revitalized her life in so many ways. Like indulging in a sinfully caloric breakfast. Or letting go of BRO. In truth, she hadn't been fulfilled by designing in years. Once her dream had been to run the business with her children. As if she could make up for personal failings with professional success. But Jennifer had died. Will had struck out on his own. She'd held on so long because it was a way to keep Paul in her life. Their relationship being what it was. Contentious. Smothering. Damaged.

"Aren't we particularly gorgeous this morning?" Henry asked, straightening his tie before kissing her cheek and taking his seat. The smell of eggs benedict wafted up as he uncovered his breakfast and immediately began dividing the sides of bacon and potatoes onto Barbara's plate.

She waited, pouring them both cups of coffee as he enjoyed the first few bites. "I know you've got to run off to the diner," Barbara started, "but I want to know what you'd think about revamping Metro. I could sketch some things out, but I'd like to get a consultant and really do this right."

"What's wrong with Metro?" he asked, surprised.

"What's right with it?" she chided. "Don't get me wrong, it's a very nice little club. It has a special place in my heart," she added, reaching over to take his hand. "But conceptually, it's a mess. I don't expect to make a mint, but we want to be profitable, don't we?"

"Of course. I'm sure Dusty has it in good shape. Carly and I managed to make a go of it."

Snorting at the mention of his former business partner's name, she deliberately placed her fork beside her plate before continuing. "I'm talking about maximumizing potential, not scraping by," she sniffed.

Henry sat back, cradling his coffee cup in his hands. Truthfully, while he and Carly had hoped for more, neither of them had had the experience or money to make the club into what they'd envisioned. "I suppose there's no harm in getting some advice," he agreed.

Barbara smiled as he returned to his breakfast. Reaching over, she stopped his fork before it reached his mouth. "Now...I have another question for you. Are you happy here?"

"Here, in this suite? " he asked, snatching a piece of toast with his other hand and biting off a corner. "Or here in the hotel?" he shrugged, waving his toast around the room. "I thought you liked the Lakeview."

"I do too. It's just that-" her voice trailed off as she surveyed the room critically. "It seems so small. When I first moved in. I was alone. No children, no grandchildren. It was supposed to be temporary, until I found something that suited me. But now-I want to entertain again. I want family dinners. When my grandchildren visit, I want make macaroni and cheese. Maybe even bake some cookies."

"Well, hello, Emma Snyder," Henry replied, a bit dumbfounded. "I've never seen you that-"

"Grandmotherly?"

"Domestic," Henry interjected. "I've never pictured you slaving over a hot stove."

"I wouldn't say I slaved. I had a housekeeper, Violet Myers. And Hal probably cooked more than I did. His fried chicken was delicious." A warm array of memories came to mind; for a lot of better and some worse, she had loved Hal for a lot of years. He'd been her hero when she desperately needed one. "And he loved making the kids chocolate chip pancakes on the weekends."

"He should have shared some recipes with the prison cafeteria. What they serve isn't fit for man or beast," Henry joked.

"It borders on cruel and unusual," she agreed with a hint of smile.

The mention of Hal made Henry a bit uncomfortable. He and the former Police Chief had never even been friendly, with him being on the left side of many laws back in his misspent youth. It didn't take much to imagine that steady glare boring down on him from The Great Beyond, wondering what his ex-wife was thinking marrying a martini-swilling gambler.

They were all about fresh starts, weren't they? Maybe this was another one. He had to admit, it felt odd to live in the same place he had with Vienna. Sometimes he felt like she was still there, about to pop out from around a corner at any time.

"We're not talking about anything Fairwinds Creepy, are we? No wine cellars, hidden passageways or bodies in rose gardens?

"Definitely not."

"I don't shovel snow."

"I don't either," Barbara observed dryly. "Anything else?"

"I need closet space. And I don't mean sharing a corner of yours. My ties-they need room to breathe."

Barbara nodded with a mock seriousness. "Naturally."

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"Just a moment!" Rosanna hastily ducked into the bathroom to smooth her hair. Pausing at the door, she took a deep breath before opening it and calmly saying, "Good morning, Craig."

He flashed an amused smirk, noting her flushed cheeks and fluttering eyelashes. "Scusi, miss...mi figlio and I...we have started a door to door...how do you say...muffin shop."

The Italian accent was thick and grossly exaggerated; and utterly ridiculous. And still it brought a smile to her face. Or at least the sight of Johnny did, standing in front of his father, in an odd mish mash of a French beret, loud checkered napkin tied around his neck with a huge basket of muffins in his hands. "Aren't I lucky? I was craving muffins, and here you are. What kind of muffins do we have today?" she asked the young man.

"Um...lots?" Johnny answered, looking at the muffins and drawing a blank on anything he'd been told about them.

"Just what I wanted," Rosanna reassured him. "Won't you come in?"

"Yes!" Johnny yelped. Craig clamped down on his shoulder to keep him from running into the room. "Thank you," he added sweetly, looking up for Craig's approval.

"This is quite a scam you've got going, Montgomery."

"It's all about getting in the door," he stated brashly, walking in and seating himself on the couch beside Johnny, who was already helping himself to a muffin. "After that, the quality of the merchandise sells itself."

His lack of subtley was classically Craig. "Are you comparing yourself to mass-produced baked goods? Like Girl Scout Cookies or Flavored Popcorn?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a handmade Italian silk suit. Superior craftsmanship. A unique luxury item."

"You're an egoistical-"

Craig covered Johnny's ears and mocked, "The refined Ms. Cabot using such language in front of a minor? I'm shocked!"

"I wasn't about to curse. Or say a thing that wasn't true!" Rosanna shot back.

"Let's not quibble about technicalities." He rose, and pulled her back into the corner of the room to speak out of earshot of his young son. His eyes bored into hers. "Games. Pretense. It doesn't suit you. Or us. Admit it. You felt-and still feel- the heat between us. You came back to Oakdale because you still love me. You came back to pick up where we left off."