Lucy stirred in bed, woken out of a light sleep by the sound of Ricky coming into the apartment. Before the baby was born, he didn't take much care in entering quietly; he usually hoped that his wife would be awake. But since little Ricky had arrived, he was trying to make an effort not to make any noises which would rouse the child at 2:30 in the morning.

She sat up to see him walk into the bedroom and close the door gently behind him. He had already removed his shoes and was walking gingerly to the closet when he stubbed his toe on the edge of the night table. "Carajo!" He spoke loudly, the pain momentarily stunning his efforts to be quiet.

Within a few seconds, the baby began to fuss, a signal that he was headed for a full-blown cry. Lucy switched on the lamp next to her in time to see Ricky walking, albeit with a slight limp, to the crib. She started to get out of bed. "Honey, I'll put him back to sleep, are you alright?"

Ricky leaned over the crib and began to lift the baby into his arms. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll take care of it, turn off the light."

Lucy sat reluctantly. "Are you sure?"

He glanced back at her, rocking the baby gently. "Yeah, I din't see 'im all day."

She smiled and switched off the lamp. Ricky had spent as much time at home as he could in the days after they brought the baby home from the hospital. But now that he had returned to his normal schedule, he was making up for lost rehearsal time and hadn't made it home for dinner that night.

A street lamp filtered a small amount of soft yellow light into the room as Ricky walked carefully with the baby in his arms. Lucy lay in bed, propped up against her pillow, and watched him silently. The baby was still fussy from the interruption to his sleep, but he began to calm with his father's movements.

After a while, Ricky stood still, the light hitting his profile as though it were a spotlight, and he began to sing very softly. She watched him, making a conscious effort to memorize the sight of him by the window, singing to his baby.

Lucille sat in the chair where her mother had told her to stay and she watched all the adults, dressed in black from head to toe, wander around the room. Some of them carried plates of food from the buffet that had been set out in the hallway. It was the second day that her mother and grandparents had been receiving neighbors, family members, friends and even her father's business associates. Her house seemed more like some never-ending, grim party for adults than it did her home anymore.

She knew that in the formal living room, on the other side of the wall, her father was laid out in a large, fancy-looking box. Her mother had taken her to see him in the box yesterday after the men from the funeral home brought him inside. She had become frightened of the sight of him, stiff as a wooden board. And strangely, although his skin was as white as a linen sheet, his cheeks and lips were as pink as one of the circus clowns he had taken her to see on her last birthday. It had been explained to her that her father was dead. He'd been sick with fever for a week before and one night, after being awakened by much commotion in her parents' bedroom down the hall, she stood in the doorway of her bedroom in time to see men in white uniforms carrying him out of their house. The next time Lucille saw him, he was in the box.

Upon seeing him and understanding that he was not to wake up, the 5-year-old girl began to scream and cry that she did not want him to die and leave her. She loved him dearly and he made her laugh and took great joy in her. He was the contrast she needed to the stark discipline and training in refinement that she received from her mother.

Now, Lucille sat in this chair and watched the mourning, having been instructed by her mother not to act in a way that was unbecoming of a young lady. She studied the people around her, comparing the large feathered hats on some of the women to the tails of birds that she had seen at the zoo. Absently, she began to kick her feet, adorned in black patent leather Mary Janes, and her heels clattered against the legs of her chair.

Her mother heard the noise and looked over. She excused herself from the conversation she was having with some other adults and walked over to her daughter. She knelt next to her and looked at her sternly. "You will stop that this instant," she said in a tone that was at once hushed and irate.

The child's legs stilled and she looked timidly at her mother. "Can I go outside?"

Her mother scowled. "You're in a very expensive dress, Lucille. I will not allow you to ruin it by running around like a hooligan. Besides, you should be learning from the fine young women in this room. You're very pretty and you'll need to learn how to act like a well-bred lady so you can marry well." With that, she stood and walked back to her guests.

Lucille watched her. Her mother was a beautiful woman and she had, indeed, married well. Her husband had undoubtedly left her with a great inheritance on which to live and care for their daughter. Even at her young age, Lucille knew that life without him was going to be very different. Her bright blue eyes stung with tears as she looked down at her hands folded in her lap.

When Ricky was certain that the baby was asleep, he lowered him gently into the crib and turned to see Lucy watching him. He approached her and sat on the edge of the bed to face her, giving her a soft kiss. She smiled and rested her hand on top of his. "You're such a good father."

Ricky smiled. "Thank you. I hope you're right!" He tugged on his tie and stood to head for the bathroom. When he returned, in pajama bottoms, he crawled into bed next to his wife and put an arm around her where they lay. He kissed her earlobe sweetly and whispered to her. "You're the most beautiful, wonderful mother in the world and I love you."

Lucy smiled and settled into his embrace. "I've got to get my figure back."

The dining room was decorated in bright gold and red hues as her mother prepared to receive family and guests for Christmas dinner. Lucille smiled when she saw her favorite sweet fruit cake on the buffet, already sliced into bite size chunks. She reached out her dainty, ivory hand to grab one and pop it into her mouth.

Just as she lifted it from the platter, her skin stung from the slap of her mother's hand, causing her to drop it back to the plate. "Lucille, you'll ruin that beautiful figure and I've invited a dinner guest especially for you. He's a year older than you and going to Harvard next year!" She looked at Lucille and nodded in approval of her dress. "You look lovely, dear. You always did look superb in blue. Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful for you to be a fine lawyer's wife in Boston!"

Lucille fidgeted with her fingers nervously. "Mother, there's something I've been meaning to tell you…"

Her mother waved a hand to dismiss her as the doorbell sounded. "Not now, not now, dear. That's him! Now come with me, I want him to see you as soon as Daphne opens the door!"

Lucille followed her mother out to the front vestibule, where Daphne, one of the maids, opened the door to reveal a tall, handsome young man. He had blonde hair and brown eyes. He looked nice enough, but Lucille had no interest in being a lawyer's wife in Boston.

Her mother wasted no time in welcoming him warmly. "Dennis, my dear, come RIGHT in! I want you to meet my daughter, Lucille." She took Dennis by the arm and led him to where Lucy stood. "Dennis, this is Lucille. Lucille, Dennis is the wonderful young man I told you about."

The shook hands politely and Lucille nodded. "It's very nice to meet you, Dennis."

"You too, Lucille."

Daphne began letting more guests into the front door and Lucille's mother provided them with her best finery, but not before seating Lucille and Dennis side by side at the dinner table. She even gave Dennis a mock scolding for brushing Lucille's arm; it had been an accident, but her mother had taken it as all but a marriage proposal.

Lucille leaned over and spoke to him quietly. "I'm sorry about my mother."

Dennis smiled. "Don't be. You're very beautiful."

"Thank you," Lucille replied politely. She had hoped that he would have something interesting or funny to say. Something that made him different from every well-to-do fraternity boy in town. But it didn't happen.

The next hour was full of Lucille's mother courting Dennis during dinner. When would he be leaving for Harvard? What kind of law would he study? Wasn't Lucille the perfect picture of fine breeding? She'd fit right in with the society in Boston!

By the time Daphne brought the coffee and fruitcake to the table, Lucille had had enough. Still, she kept her composure, which surely was a result of the "training" she had received. She was able to keep up the ruse until her mother released what Lucille would deem to be the most vile thing she'd ever said up to that point.

"Dennis, dear, it would be just wonderful if you and Lucille came together. You are a handsome couple! And goodness knows, it has been such a struggle for me to make her into the woman she is…without her father alive, and all."

Lucille raised an eyebrow, while the other guests at the dinner table turned their attention to their cake, clearly uncomfortable for her. She dropped her napkin on the table and stood up. "Mother, after the new year, I'm going to live in the city. I've found a roommate and I'm going to take a job as a secretary." She punctuated her announcement by shoving a piece of cake into her mouth.

The dinner guests did the same, as though their lives had never been touched by something so amazing as this fruitcake. But Lucille's mother sat, mouth agape. She finally laughed nervously. "Lucille, you have such a…funny sense of humor."

Lucille turned to Dennis. "I'm sorry, Dennis, good luck at Harvard."

Ricky turned Lucy to face him. "Stop it. You're beautiful. I never saw another woman look the way you do two weeks after havin' a baby."

Lucy blushed and lay against him, her cheek resting on his bare chest. She touched the medal around his neck with her fingers. She had given it to him on their first wedding anniversary and he never removed it.

She raised her eyes to look at him in the dark. He was so tired, he was beginning to drift to sleep. But even in the dark and in his tired state, he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. They had fallen in love with each other so quickly and so deeply, that the term 'whirlwind romance' seemed like an understatement. The decision to get married seemed to have been made long before it was stated out loud.

Lucy (as Ricky had taken to calling her) couldn't even think straight as Ricky pulled her through the club. She was just wrapping her mind around the fact that they had just decided to get married…the very next day. Before she could complete another thought, she found herself in his dressing room, with him locking the door firmly behind them.

Her heart raced as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He had taken the very breath out of her body. Her arms flew around his neck and she melted into his embrace.

Ricky's hands roamed freely over her body and she almost laughed when she remembered all those tutors and "experts" on lady-like behavior that her mother had employed throughout her childhood. She remembered their lessons on acting hard to get and always sitting with perfectly crossed legs. She didn't care about any of that while this man's tongue explored her mouth and his fingers were flirting with the swell of her breasts. Hell, she was helping him do it!

When her back hit the brick wall behind her, she believed that surely she would bid farewell to her virginity right there and then. When Ricky's hands moved to the underside of her thighs, lifting the hem of her skirt higher, she felt a warm surge of moisture filling the center of her womanhood. Every cell in her body wished for him to possess her and when he parted her legs and began to lift her, she felt the growing evidence of his desire for her against her inner thigh.

But as quickly as it began, Ricky stopped, his breathing raspy and his eyes wide as he looked into hers. "I can't…I want it, I want you…more than anythin'. But you deserve more than this, it should be special."

Lucy's heart slowed and she breathed the scent of his cologne and felt his strong arms still around her. She appreciated how much selfless love it must have taken for him to halt the passionate screams of his own body, even as disappointed as her body might have felt in that moment. But as she looked into his eyes and thought about him slowly discovering every part of her before finally making her his, she agreed with him.

She smiled. "Tomorrow."

As the early morning sun streamed through the window, Lucy rose from bed slowly. She left her husband to sleep, pulling a blanket around him and smiling at the unruly raven hair on his head.

She went to the baby's crib and, although he was still asleep, she picked him up, still wrapped in a blanket, and carried him out of the bedroom. Her husband deserved the rest.