I'd sail the skies,
Off to the farthest little star, I'd go;
Sail the skies and watch the people disappear below.
I would gladly give up ev'ry earthly thing I know,
To be alone with you,
To be alone with you.

I'd roam the earth and ev'ry corner of the Seven Seas,
Roam the earth, and search the spray of ev'ry salty breeze;
I would let the raging oceans take me where they please,
To be alone with you.

~Robert Preston, Ben Franklin in Paris

XXX

June 1913

After his hard work learning the piano came to fruition on that warm night in early May when Marian revealed she was expecting, Harold Hill found himself left without a birthday gift for his beloved. So over the next few weeks, he set about mulling over several potential schemes – all of which he ultimately rejected as being inappropriately grandiose, or not grandiose enough. Normally, Harold wasn't a man to panic, but as the deadline approached, he started to grow anxious. He had to come up with something, and soon; he couldn't let such an important anniversary pass without marking the occasion with his usual flair.

Usually, Harold was a whiz at coming up with a workable plan on short notice, but this time, he was strangely stymied. Marian's poignant reaction to seeing him play the piano, after she had given up any hope of him ever learning the instrument, had surpassed the expectations of even his joyful anticipation of her satisfaction. But even if he had more time – an extremely precious and rare commodity what with the Flag Day and Fourth of July concerts fast approaching – how could he possibly top Für Elise?

It wasn't until the eve of Marian's birthday, when Harold arrived home from the emporium around nine o'clock – a habit that was starting to become far too common during the past several weeks – that he finally hit upon the perfect gift.

Even though the sun had barely set, the house was quiet and still; Marian had long since retired for the evening. Though his wife's nausea had finally abated, her proneness to exhaustion remained. Of course, her strong sense of duty prevented her from neglecting the housekeeping; Harold always came home to a clean house and a good meal. But as the music professor ate his dinner in lonely silence, he reflected he would gladly have sacrificed a little neatness and nourishment for seeing a little less fatigue in his dear librarian's eyes and smile – or simply seeing her at all. Most nights, Marian was in bed by eight; Harold could count on one hand the evenings he had spent with his wife during the past month. He supposed he could have woken her up – whenever he had done so in the past, she had happily welcomed the additional quality time with him – but now her health was of paramount importance, worth much more than a few fleeting kisses or caresses. But boy, did he miss those caresses.

Letting out an uncharacteristically weary sigh, Harold placed his dinner dishes in the sink and started to head upstairs to bed. He still hadn't thought of just the right birthday gift for Marian, and his back-up plan – a bouquet of yellow roses and a basket of butterscotch candies – lacked originality or charm. If only he had a little more time…

Harold froze mid-step. Time. That was it!

A triumphant grin lighting up his haggard expression, the music professor turned and bolted back downstairs. Entering the music room, he rifled through his spare instrument cases until he found one for a tuba. After hastily putting everything back in order, Harold gleefully went around the kitchen and parlor, collecting various supplies he would need to carry out his plan. Once he had accomplished his task, he stowed the tuba case deep in the front hall closet. By now, an hour had passed and he was even more exhausted than before, but Harold still wore a grin as he went upstairs to bed. Time, which had been his enemy of late, would soon become his ally.

XXX

The morning of June seventh dawned warm and sunny, and Harold rose an hour before his usual waking time. By the time Marian's alarm went off, Harold was fully dressed and standing next to their bed, waiting to present his dear little librarian with the roses and butterscotch.

As Harold reached over to switch off the alarm, Marian stirred and awoke. The moment her sleep-befuddled gaze cleared and settled upon him, he gave her a kiss on the forehead and handed her the trinkets. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."

Marian gazed at him with a weary but fond expression. "Oh, Harold," she said tenderly, burying her nose in the flowers. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble… "

Harold chuckled as she breathed in the scent of her roses. "It was no trouble at all, darling," he replied earnestly. "Are you planning to open the library today?"

Marian nodded, still luxuriating in her flowers. "Just for the morning, though. Then I'm supposed to help you at the emporium this afternoon, remember?"

"Perfect," Harold said with breezy cheer. "And you'll be home for lunch, as usual?"

"Of course." She lowered the roses and raised an eyebrow at him. "Just what are you up to now, Mister Hill?"

He chuckled again. "That's for me to know and you to find out – Missus Hill."

Marian laughed and gazed at him with affectionate exasperation. "Harold, you don't need to go overboard for my birthday. I'm quite happy with the roses and butterscotch."

Harold regarded his wife with an enigmatic smile. "I think you're going to enjoy your present, darling." He bent over and gave her a quick kiss, patting her stomach as he did so. "Goodbye, little one," he cooed. "I'll be home at noon – be good for your mother."

Marian's cheerful expression faded into one of disappointment. "You're not going to eat breakfast with me?"

"As much as I'd like to, I can't," he said ruefully. "I've got an early rehearsal for the Flag Day concert."

Her eyes widened. "But you always eat breakfast with me." She paused, and then quietly added, "Lately, that's the only meal we ever have together."

Harold felt a twinge of conscience – he had been working extremely long hours – but he brushed it aside. "I know, darling," he acknowledged. Then his voice brightened. "But today, we'll have the whole afternoon to ourselves!"

"Yes – working together," Marian replied in a gloomy voice as she placed the roses and butterscotch on her end table.

At that, Harold paused and looked closely at his wife; it was very unlike her to make such disparaging remarks. Normally, he would never have considered revealing even a small part of his plans, but concern urged him to be a little more forthright than usual; even after a full night's sleep, Marian looked a little too pale and listless for his liking. "Darling, I'm not planning on us doing any work at all this afternoon," he said gently, sitting on the bed and taking her hands in his. "I thought you could use a break – you've been exhausted lately."

The librarian gave him a sly smile, and he was gratified to see a little color return to her cheeks. "Harold," she said meaningfully, gazing at him with blatant invitation, "I'm not exhausted right now… "

Harold suddenly had the strong urge to crawl back into bed with Marian. Rehearsal wasn't for an hour – surely, he could linger with his wife just a little while longer. But he knew if he surrendered to that temptation, he wouldn't be leaving the house for quite awhile. And Harold couldn't afford to skip that morning's rehearsal – the emporium had recently seen an influx of new students who really needed the practice, and the Flag Day concert was next week.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Marian's face darkened with disappointment. Giving his wife a mischievous grin, Harold raised her hands to his lips and replied in his low, velvety voice, "Well, conserve your energy, darling, because you'll need it this afternoon."

Just as he hoped, Marian's crestfallen expression perked up into one of intrigue. "Very well then," she said with a resigned smile. "See you at lunchtime, Harold."

XXX

When Harold returned home that afternoon, he was delighted to see Marian awaiting his arrival in their front hall – and he was especially pleased to note the extra care she had taken with her ensemble. As her stomach was steadily expanding to accommodate her condition, the librarian had recently purchased a few new gowns, in the interests of ensuring her continued comfort and modesty. Today she was wearing Harold's favorite of her new dresses: a pale-green lingerie frock trimmed with Valenciennes lace. Atop her head was a matching green hat, also trimmed with lace, as well as pink ribbon and a spray of pink-and-white roses. She had even set her hair in those charming banana curls he loved.

However, although his wife greeted him pleasantly enough and returned his kiss hello, Harold noticed a certain coolness in her demeanor that hadn't been present earlier that morning. "Is anything the matter, darling?" he asked, concerned.

"Not at all," Marian promptly replied.

Though he heard a slight edge to her voice as she spoke these words, Harold felt it would behoove him to proceed carefully, and decided not to pursue the matter further at this time. So he grinned as if nothing was amiss and asked, "Are you feeling up to a walk with me?"

Marian looked confused. "Do you mean a stroll to the footbridge?"

Harold shook his head. "No darling – a walk," he said meaningfully. "A long walk."

For the first time since he had arrived home, Marian's smile reached her eyes. "Oh, Harold," she said dreamily, "that would be wonderful."

"Then wait here, while I change," Harold said with a wink. "I'll be about fifteen minutes."

XXX

When Harold came downstairs, all smiles, he was surprised to observe that Marian's demeanor had once again turned cool – though he did see a small glimmer of desire flit across her gaze as she eyed his green suit-coat and smoothly-shaven face. But instead of beaming at her husband, as she normally would have in such circumstances, the librarian gave him a brief, polite nod, as if she were greeting a distant acquaintance. His cheer dampened by this rather frosty reception, Harold frowned and asked, "Are you sure you're feeling well, Marian? We can save the long walk for another time – "

Marian's eyes narrowed. "I'm fine, Harold," she snapped. "As I've told you time and again, I'm pregnant – not an invalid."

Though Harold felt his own temper flare at this remark – lately, Marian had become awfully prone to peevishness, and this newfound tendency of hers was beginning to grate on his nerves – he quelled this feeling. Once they reached their destination and enjoyed a leisurely lunch together, he was certain Marian's mood would improve. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with her; there was no sense spoiling what promised to be a lovely afternoon. Giving his wife a sunny smile, he retrieved the tuba case from the front-hall closet and motioned for Marian to exit the house before him.

"What are you carrying that for?" she asked curiously as they rounded the corner of East Pine.

"Not so easy to slip off together these days, is it?" Harold said nonchalantly, waving at several passerby. "This tuba case will make people think we're on our way to the emporium. A picnic basket would be a dead giveaway – I don't want a single soul to know where we're going to be this afternoon."

Marian turned her gaze to the sidewalk in front of them. "Good thinking," she replied, her tone approving but terse.

Harold chuckled. The more time passed, the more entrenched he had become in the town's affairs; there were few River City-ziens whom he had never met. As such, courtesy dictated he acknowledge his many acquaintances with at least a nod when he was out and about, and they often detained him to ask questions or make small talk. Since Marian had blossomed socially, she was also sought after quite often; Harold could recall more than a few occasions when a promising afternoon alone with his wife was curtailed by an unexpected caller. He smiled ruefully. "I suppose the constant interruptions are good for one thing – they're preparing us for what things will be like with a child."

"Indeed," Marian muttered in a morose voice. Harold immediately glanced at her, but she still stared determinedly ahead.

Thinking it best to leave her be, Harold didn't say anything in response. Fervently hoping Marian would brighten once she'd had a little rest and refreshment, he did not break the silence or even attempt any affectionate gestures – not even after they had reached the outskirts of River City and began walking along the lonely, unpaved road leading to their destination. This primitive thoroughfare soon dwindled into mere plow furrows across farmland, and it wasn't until they left the trail to traverse the field where it sloped upward that Harold tentatively put his arm around Marian's waist. They had been walking for about a half hour under a hot sun, and the ascent, though gradual, could prove rather tiring. Indeed, as they made their way upward, Harold felt beads of sweat forming beneath his collar and where his hand feverishly grasped the tuba case, and Marian's face was growing flushed with exertion – and they still had a good five minutes before they reached the top of the hill.

But to his dismay, Marian initially rebuffed Harold's attempts to support her, and pressed on at a quickened pace. However, by the time they neared the summit, she was leaning on him out of sheer exhaustion. Despite his alarm at her fatigue and distress at her refusal to touch him any more than was necessary, Harold didn't waste time feeling miffed – Marian's health was paramount at the moment, and it was imperative that he get her to their destination before the heat made her faint.

When they finally reached the trio of oak trees at the top of the hill, Marian removed her hat and, sighing with relief as a breeze ruffled her curls, patted her forehead with a handkerchief. Meanwhile, Harold lost no time opening the tuba case and taking out its contents. Spreading a blanket in the cool shade, he propped a few pillows against the base of one of the trees and helped his wife into her makeshift seat. He was relieved to see real gratitude in Marian's eyes and smile when she thanked him for his assistance.

"I'd wondered where those parlor pillows had gone," she said, sounding amused.

Harold was further cheered by Marian's playful remark, and he once again dared to hope that her sour mood was simply due to exhaustion. Though neither of them spoke as they ate lunch, their silence was much more companionable. Once they had both finished with their sandwiches, Harold decided to test the waters. After taking off his suit-coat and draping it carefully next to Marian's hat, he scooted closer to his wife.

"I've been looking forward to being alone with you like this all morning," he said in his low, velvety voice. "Have I told you how lovely you look today, my dear little librarian?"

Marian let out a low laugh as he began to drop light kisses on her neck. "If you simply wanted to canoodle, you could have just taken me upstairs when you got home," she pointed out.

Harold smiled against her bare skin. "I wanted to make sure we could canoodle with absolutely no possibility of interruption." He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her closer. "Here, there's no one around for miles… "

"That's true," she said softly, closing her eyes and letting out a small gasp as Harold's mouth located a particularly sensitive spot on her neck.

As Marian tilted her head back and relaxed in his embrace, Harold dipped his head until it was resting against the telltale curve of her condition. His hands soon joined his lips in stroking her swollen stomach, and it wasn't long before he began whispering tender endearments to their unborn child.

Normally when he did this, Marian sighed in rapt delight and held him even more tightly against her, but this time she stiffened and her hands, which had been raking through his hair in a gentle caress, fell back to her sides.

Harold immediately sat up straight. "What's the matter, now?" he asked in a tone much harsher than he intended.

"Pardon me," Marian said, sounding just as annoyed, "but did you wish to be alone with me, or my stomach?"

Even at this unpromising juncture, Harold was determined to make the most of their time together. Swallowing his hurt feelings, he regarded his wife with an apologetic smile and focused his attentions elsewhere. Although he could feel Marian making a concerted effort to respond to his caresses with enthusiasm, he knew she was simply enduring his embrace.

Once again, Harold ended things. "Marian, you've been nothing but aloof since I've seen you this afternoon," he said crossly, giving full rein to the resentment that had been steadily building within him for the past few hours. "I've repeatedly asked you what's the matter, but you won't tell me." He stood up. "Well, I'm sick and tired of tiptoeing on eggshells around you. Either you tell me what's wrong – or come look for me at the music emporium when you're ready to talk!"

Marian gazed at him with icy imperiousness. "Perhaps I'm simply not in the mood to canoodle today."

Harold let out a disbelieving guffaw. "That didn't seem to be the case a few minutes ago," he chortled. "And this morning, you all but dragged me back to bed!"

Marian scowled. "I suppose a woman can't change her mind?" she asked acidly, finally revealing the full measure of her anger. "Well, she certainly can, and does – especially when she comes downstairs to a pile of dishes in the sink, a mess in the parlor and instrument cases scattered all over the music room. For a man who professes to 'tiptoe on eggshells,' you certainly left quite a trail behind you!" Harold opened his mouth to protest, but he was unable to get a word in edgewise as she continued her blistering tirade. "Did you honestly think that after declining to spend the morning with me – after you've spent hardly any time with me in weeks – and then leaving me all that extra work, I'd simply forget my hurt and disappointment and fall into your arms? But you always expect me to fall into your arms, don't you – when you deem it convenient."

Harold's mouth fell open. "What?" he sputtered, his usual eloquence and composure utterly shattered. "Of course not – that's not – how could you think – " No longer able to contain the fury welling up inside of him, he exclaimed, "Well, if that's the way you feel, then I won't touch you at all!"

It wasn't often that Harold regretted what he said, but when Marian gaped at him with stricken eyes, as if he had confirmed her worst fear, he wished he could take back his words. When her shoulders slumped and she buried her face in her hands, he felt as low as he had that day in the emporium when he had inadvertently bruised her neck with a love-bite. For a few awful moments, he guiltily watched as his wife's body was wracked with muffled, gasping sobs.

Unable to bear it any longer, Harold knelt down next to her and gently put his hands on her trembling shoulders. "Marian – darling – sweetheart," he entreated in a low, pained voice. "I should never have said that – please forgive me."

After a few moments, Marian raised her head to look at him. "Harold, do you find me repulsive?" she asked plaintively, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

Harold was so shocked his hands fell from her shoulders. "Repulsive?" he repeated, his mind reeling at the ridiculousness of such a concept. "Now where in the world would you get that idea?"

Marian pulled out a handkerchief and brushed the tears from her cheeks. "Since the onset of my condition, you've seen me at my worst – both physically and emotionally," she said softly. "And it's been weeks since you've given me a deep kiss or caressed me more than a few moments – let alone made love to me." Her gaze dropped to her hands, which nervously twisted the fabric of her handkerchief. "I couldn't help wondering if I was starting to become less attractive to you – "

Harold's eyes narrowed. "Marian," he said sternly, "you can't think of any other reason why I might refrain from making love to you as often? For one, I've been busy with work and trying to provide for my growing family, as is a man's duty – "

"Yes, work has been a very convenient excuse for you, hasn't it?" she observed, regarding him with a skeptical expression. "Are you so swamped that you couldn't have moved rehearsal to this afternoon and spent the morning with me, for once?"

"Well, there's also the matter of you never being around," he retorted. "Are you so swamped that you have to tire yourself with endless housecleaning? Every single night I come home, you're already asleep! Even on the few days I've come home at my regular time, you retire to bed as soon as you're able. Couldn't you save up enough energy to be awake for me, for once?"

Marian bristled. "Would you have me shirk my duties? It would be indecent to let my husband go about in rumpled clothes or do without three square meals a day!"

Harold gritted his teeth in frustration. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. And to be perfectly honest, I've been getting the impression that most of the time you'd rather I kept my distance. Not to mention I'm never entirely sure what your moods will be – you blow hot one minute, and cold the next!"

There was bright flash of emotion in Marian's eyes, but before Harold could determine just what it was, the usual bleak exhaustion clouded her gaze and she gave a listless shrug. "What difference would it make if I stayed awake for you?" she asked unhappily. "You'd probably just spend the time making sure I didn't move a muscle without your assistance."

"Well, excuse me for trying to look out for the well-being of the mother of my child," Harold said, his voice bitter.

"That's exactly my point – you only ever see me as a vessel for motherhood anymore," she sighed, looking away. "Sometimes, I think you've forgotten I'm a woman!"

Harold grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "Marian, I have never forgotten that," he said in a heated voice. "The reason I don't kiss you too deeply or hold you too tightly is because your health is more important to me than anything. My restraint has been entirely for your sake, Marian. How do you think I would feel if anything happened to you or the baby because I couldn't control myself?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of Marian's lips. "I'm not that fragile, Harold," she said, rolling her eyes.

Her amused exasperation only inflamed Harold further. "Marian, do you know how hard it's been for me during these past few weeks?" he burst. "Do you want to know why I've been working all those long hours? You might not be able to see it, but pregnancy has made you more desirable, not less. My wanting you hasn't gone away at all. If anything, it's only been exacerbated; our recent trysts have been some of the most intensely passionate lovemaking I've ever experienced with you. In fact, if it wasn't for your condition – why, I'd make love to you right here in this field!"

Once again, Harold wished he could eat his words – Marian blushed furiously crimson and dropped her gaze to her hands once more.

"I'm sorry – I didn't mean to be inappropriate," he said hastily. When she didn't reply, he sighed and let go of her shoulders. Putting even more distance between them, Harold said in a chastened voice, "Even if it wasn't for your condition, I respect you far too much to engage in that kind of behavior in public… "

Marian's head snapped up, and he saw that strong emotion in her eyes again: passion, laced with a heavy dose of shame. "Harold – do you know that even despite my condition, I would be hard pressed to say no to you out here?" Her cheeks crimsoned again, and she looked away. "I've always had that difficulty... "

Harold goggled at her. "Marian," he said wonderingly as memories of the first time they visited here together came rushing back, "do you mean to tell me – "