Although Harold's method of persuasion was blatantly unfair, it had the desired effect: The next day, Marian was feeling so tranquil and at peace with the world that she spent most of her time at the front desk fiddling absentmindedly with paperwork and gazing dreamily at her surroundings. While the usual disruptions punctured the silence of the library – Cissy Gale and her friends giggling when they located a particularly heated passage in a novel, Tommy and Zaneeta planning their next footbridge rendezvous in furtive whispers, Miss Ida crinkling pages while she scoured the educational journals, gentleman farmer Asa Sheldon giving pointed harrumphs as he perused the latest agricultural tracts – these had all ceased to irritate the librarian.

But even so, Marian was delighted to discover that Miss Peabody was indeed capable of rising valiantly to the occasion even when she hadn't received explicit instructions to act: Proving just as intolerant of too much noise, the young woman flitted from one disturbance to the next, quashing commotion with such a stern air of authority that Madison Library's patrons added another person to the list of River City-ziens whose tempers should never be provoked.

In her serene mood, Marian would have been content to simply observe Miss Peabody maintain order for the rest of the day. But when the librarian's lower back began to make its usual complaints around midmorning, she stood up from her stool and gathered an armful of books. Perhaps a bit of walking around would ease the pain that was now her constant companion.

In a flash, Miss Peabody returned to her side. "Would you like me to start reshelving those?" she inquired. "My apologies for being remiss in keeping up with the volume of returns, but we've been unusually busy this morning." She paused and gazed at the overflowing cart. "My goodness, how the books pile up when one's back is turned!"

"You're doing a wonderful job," Marian assured her. "And I'll handle the returns – at least, as many of them as I can reach."

Instead of being relieved at this easing of her burdens, Miss Peabody looked distinctly uncomfortable. But before the librarian could ask what the matter was, her assistant nodded respectfully at this decree and gave her such a sunny smile that she wondered if she had just been imagining things.

Her present state of mind leaving her more disposed to amusement than irritation, Marian laughed to herself as she went about her task. What a lot of fuss everyone was making over her condition – one would almost think she was the first female librarian to fall pregnant in the history of mankind! Her husband, mother, friends and acquaintances all fussed over her – and now her own assistant had joined the ranks of the fretful, although she was too polite to say anything. But at Marian's most recent consultation with Dr. Pyne, he had assured her that her health was as fine as to be expected for a woman approaching her eighth month – ironically, he seemed the least worried of anyone! And the librarian felt fine – despite the fact that all this movement after several hours of stillness was making her sore muscles twinge a bit more than she expected – in fact, she felt better than she had in quite some time. Still, ever mindful of her promise to her husband, Marian made sure not to overtax herself – she carried only a few books at a time and didn't attempt to reshelve anything that required too much stretching or stooping. Instead, she dutifully left these tomes on the cart for Miss Peabody to handle. Harold would have been proud of her.

Or perhaps not. As Marian worked her way through fiction from H through P – taking care to avoid any ladders or step-stools she came across – she was jolted out of her pleasant reverie by a stern, masculine voice:

"Marian, what are you doing?"

The librarian turned to face her husband with a genuinely innocent smile – which she maintained even when she saw him frowning at her. "Why, I'm shelving books, of course!"

Harold flashed her a smile in return, but the displeasure didn't entirely fade from his expression. "Why isn't Miss Peabody doing this?" he inquired with a definite edge to his voice. "I thought we agreed you were going to relax more and let her do the heavy lifting."

"Oh, I have been relaxing, darling," Marian assured him. "This is the first time I've left the desk all morning."

The music professor didn't look comforted by her response – perhaps because he had come across her on the second floor, which meant she had once again taken the chance of climbing the narrow spiral staircase. But Marian didn't mention this and, to her relief, Harold refrained from pointing it out as well. "Apparently, you and I have different ideas about what constitutes 'relaxing,'" he muttered.

"What's wrong with shelving books?" she asked, bewildered by his disapproval. "Especially as I'm sticking with lighter volumes on shelves I can easily reach! Dr. Pyne said it wasn't good for me to be completely sedentary."

"Dr. Pyne gave you that advice over three months ago," Harold countered. "As I recall, his most recent advice was that you should be gradually decreasing your activity as your confinement gets closer." He leaned closer and wagged his finger at her. "That includes reshelving books, Madam Librarian – or anything else that requires being off your stool for too long!"

"It doesn't matter whether I sit or stand anymore," Marian snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Either way, my feet swell up and my back aches before noon!"

As soon as the librarian said this, she regretted it – she had been so focused on defending her actions in this single instance that she lost track of the greater good. As Marian chided herself for this tactical blunder, the anger in Harold's eyes was replaced with pensive consideration, and he regarded her in thoughtful silence for a few moments before finally saying the words she'd been dreading since Miss Peabody became her assistant:

"Marian… maybe it would be best if you stopped working at the library every day."

Knowing she was fast losing this argument, Marian reached out for her husband's hands. "Oh please, not yet," she entreated. "Please, Harold, not yet."

Harold exhaled sharply and pressed his lips together. Although the silence between them was tense, Marian felt a renewal of hope for her cause when she saw a slight but definite softening of the stiff resolve in her husband's eyes. "How much longer?" he finally asked.

If she could, Marian would have worked right up to the day her labor began. "I was thinking perhaps until the end of September," she ventured, taking as big an estimate as she dared. "Only one more month."

Once again, she had taken things a little too far. The music professor yanked his hands out of hers and exclaimed, "A month?"

Now it was Marian's turn to scold. "Hush!" she admonished – as did several other patrons who'd jumped at the commotion.

Harold still looked apoplectic, but he lowered his voice. "Marian, are you mad?" he hissed, pulling her into a more private corner of the library so there was less chance of their quarrel being overheard. "You're dead on your feet now – there's no way you're going to be able to handle a ten-hour day, six days a week for another month!"

"Well, how long were you thinking?" the librarian asked in as conciliatory a tone as she could muster, hoping to assuage his agitation before they made too much more of a scene.

Harold's answer was instantaneous. "A week, maybe – if that."

"A week?" Marian exclaimed. "I couldn't possibly!"

"Sssssh!" the patrons commanded again.

Now it was the librarian's turn to steer the two of them toward a more secluded area. "I couldn't possibly wrap up my affairs in only a week," she said in a quieter voice. "I need a little more time – how about two weeks?"

Harold tugged on her arm until she was facing him. "Marian, you can't go on like this," he said firmly. He paused, and his shoulders slumped. "And… neither can I."

Marian had been prepared for her husband to protest, but she never thought he'd say something so dire; any further attempts to negotiate were lost in sheer dismay. "And what, precisely, do you mean by that?" she asked in a level voice that belied the terrible churning in the pit of her stomach which, for once, was not caused by the incessant wriggling of their little one.

Regret stealing into the music professor's expression, he sighed and took her hands in his. "Marian," he said in an anguished voice, "every evening when I come to walk you home, you're paler and more exhausted than you were the day before. There no longer seems to be a time when you aren't weathering pain of some kind, and it takes longer and longer to soothe your aches each night." He lifted her hands to his lips and bestowed such sweet, soft kisses on the tips of her fingers that Marian felt tears welling up in her eyes as he continued, "If you don't start making some real changes, there might come a day when your body decides a course of action for you – and it might be a devastating one."

At this loving but frank assessment of her circumstances, Marian repressed a sob. Even if she could have spoken, there was nothing she could say. Harold was right – she couldn't keep going like this. Of everything she stood to lose should she continue on this path – her family, her livelihood, her health and possibly even her life – the library was the only thing she could truly afford to relinquish. Why then, was she having such difficulty letting it go?

For a moment, Harold simply gazed at her with tender sympathy, before cupping her cheek in his hand and leaning in to whisper, "Marian… I see how much of a toll your condition takes on you, and it kills me that you have to go through so much difficulty." He paused and tensed up a little, like he wanted to say more, but wasn't entirely certain how to proceed.

And he never got the chance to continue. The baby began to squirm, startling both of them. But Marian shouldn't have been surprised; the baby always moved whenever Harold was near, as if it already knew and yearned for its father. Close enough to feel the commotion for himself, the music professor pulled back a little and placed his other hand on his wife's stomach. As their unborn child continued to fidget, Harold's eyes met the librarian's.

"I love you, Marian," he said solemnly. "You mean everything to me."

In the course of their maneuvering, husband and wife ended up in the ancient languages aisle, which held material that was too incomprehensible and arcane for all but a handful of River City's most avid scholars. And Marian was quite certain that Miss Peabody wasn't likely to pop up here, either – even if she could read Latin – because just that morning, the librarian had given her a lengthy organizational assignment to work on in her spare time.

So it was Marian who wrapped her arms around Harold, and Marian who leaned in to cover her beloved's mouth with an ardent kiss. When they finally parted, Harold looked as utterly undone as he had the night on the footbridge when she first confessed her feelings for him.

The librarian gave her befuddled husband a sly smile. She couldn't blame him for being so dazed – she had never before initiated one of their library embraces. "Let's meet in the middle, darling," she suggested. "Two-and-a-half more weeks, and then I'll trim my schedule at the library."

Harold chuckled indulgently. "Say now, Madam Librarian," he admonished as his hands found their way to her waist, "now who's playing dirty?"

Marian pressed against him for another deep kiss. "Two-and-a-half more weeks," she insisted in the throaty tone she knew he could never resist.

"Oh, Marian… " the music professor murmured in reluctant but willing compliance as she lightly traced her lips along the line of his jaw. "Two-and-a-half more weeks," he finally agreed, his mouth nuzzling the curve of her neck in return. "But not a day longer… "

Her victory complete, the librarian pulled back to regard her husband with a triumphant grin. However, she didn't get to savor her success, as it was that precise moment when Tommy and Zaneeta happened to round the corner of the ancient languages aisle.

"Ye gods!" Zaneeta burst, letting out a giggle and clapping her hands over her mouth. Even Tommy, who by virtue of his hardscrabble background was much less of a stranger to the facts of life than the sheltered daughter of River City's mayor, goggled at the two of them.

Marian and Harold smoothly but quickly ended their embrace. While the music professor manifested a keen passion for ancient languages and stuck his nose in the nearest book he could lay his hands on, the librarian marshaled her famous composure and calmly inquired, "Good afternoon, Tommy and Zaneeta. Is there something I can help you find?"

At first, the teens simply gawked at her, uncomprehending – the situation had only ever been the other way around and it was the librarian who came upon the two of them canoodling amidst the stacks – but then Zaneeta recovered enough to elbow her beau.

"Oh, yes – we were looking for a book in a foreign language," Tommy stammered, pretending just as valiantly that nothing improper had occurred.

Disregarding the blush that was steadily creeping across her cheeks, Marian said in the same polite, unconcerned tone, "Was there a particular book you were seeking?"

To her surprise, Tommy exchanged a brief but uneasy glance with Zaneeta, before replying in a rather unconvincing voice, "Miss Peabody told us where it was, but we can't remember the title, exactly… "

Harold immediately looked up from his book and gave the boy a wink and a grin. "Do you happen to remember the topic?" he said encouragingly. "This aisle is chock-full of anything you'd want to know about Egyptian hieroglyphics, Sumerian cuneiform, Biblical Aramaic, Hindu Sanskrit and" – he eyed the tome he was holding – "Celtic runes."

"I believe you mean Norse runes," Marian gently corrected, repressing a smile. Apparently, she and her husband weren't the only couple who had realized the romantic possibilities of this seldom-perused aisle!

"Yes, of course," Harold concurred in a voice of serene nonchalance.

"Come to think of it, it was something in French," Tommy replied, regarding his mentor with grateful eyes.

"Yes – something in French," Zaneeta echoed with a blushing smile that was a striking departure from her cheerily guileless disposition.

"You'll want the modern languages section, then," Marian said pleasantly, ignoring the fact that Zaneeta was unlikely to forget where Madison Library housed books of a language in which she had become extremely fluent. "That's downstairs next to the drama section. Miss Peabody can assist you."

"Yes, she's been very helpful," Tommy agreed. Bidding the music professor and librarian farewell, he took Zaneeta by the arm and steered her out of the ancient languages aisle in a gesture that was downright Harold-ish in its swiftness and aplomb.

Marian's embarrassment, which had ebbed upon her discovering that she and her husband weren't the only ones whose plans to canoodle were foiled by unexpected company, returned as soon as she and Harold were alone again. And the librarian's sense of abashment was compounded by the unavoidable fact that in this instance, she had been the instigator of their heated embrace. What did she have to go and do that for? Her seduction could just as well have waited until that evening!

Harold chuckled as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "You can't blame me for this one, Madam Librarian. Not one bit."

Although Marian scowled at her husband, she bit back all the potential retorts hovering on the tip of her tongue. Any remark she could use as a defense would reopen the argument she had just barely won. The important thing was that she was still on her full schedule at the library for the time being – even if it had cost her a bit of her pride.

But as it turned out, even silence couldn't preserve her victory. Angrily whirling around, the librarian intended to signify her disdain for future conversation by exiting with her usual graceful stride – something she had done so many times before. However, she had never attempted to perform this maneuver while eight months pregnant; while Marian executed the turn of the heel beautifully, she was unable to come to a halt at the proper point, as she forgot to account for the extra momentum that her increased girth lent to her twirl. Instead of marching determinedly back to the front desk, she staggered to and fro in a desperate bid to recover her balance – an effort that ultimately proved futile as dizziness descended and sent her swooning to the floor.

Thank heavens Harold was there to catch her. But even after Marian was safely ensconced in his arms, the world continued to turn at an alarming rate, making her feel as though she were trapped on a carousel that wouldn't stop spinning. Squeezing her eyes shut and clinging to her husband, Marian waited for her nausea and disorientation to pass. She was dimly aware of approaching footsteps and alarmed voices, but they didn't completely register in her mind until, after finally recovering her equilibrium, she opened her eyes and saw that Harold wasn't the only one looming over her. Tommy and Zaneeta were also regarding the librarian with concern – which made her nervously wonder how long she'd been unconscious and how much of a commotion her clumsiness had caused.

But Marian never managed to ask any of these questions. As soon as her gaze settled on her husband, his expression transformed from guilty alarm to elated relief, and he leaned in to plant several grateful kisses on her cheeks and forehead.

"Thank God," he said fervently. "Darling, I'm so sorry… "

The music professor might have forgotten they had an audience, but Marian hadn't. Not that Tommy and Zaneeta were the type to be scandalized by such displays – in fact, the teens looked just as relieved at her recovery – but the librarian thought it best for someone in this comedy of errors to maintain decorum.

Standing up straight, Marian smiled at her husband – who kept a steady hand on her waist even after he wasn't supporting her any longer. "I only have myself to blame for nearly fainting," she said fairly. "I should have taken more care in exiting the aisle!"

Although Harold gave her a conciliatory smile in return, he did not take his hand off her waist or retreat to a more respectable distance. The librarian didn't move away from her husband, either – even she was too shaken by recent events to demand perfect adherence to the strictures of propriety. And it was Harold's unabashedly distraught demeanor that especially unnerved her – except for the night in the high school when he faced the real possibility of being tarred and feathered, the music professor had never displayed distress to anyone but her. When they were in public together, he carried himself in the same elegant, devil-may-care manner as he ever did, regardless of anything the other River City-ziens happened to witness (or think they witnessed) between the two of them. No matter what happened, the charming former charlatan always acted as though being found in compromising situations was a matter of course – and until quite recently in his life, it probably was. But now, Harold possessed none of his usual poise. When he grinned, it was a shadow of his merry rictus, and when he spoke, there was a slight stammer in his voice that further betrayed just how rattled he was:

"Why don't we take an early, long lunch? And then perhaps we can treat ourselves to a strawberry phosphate for dessert?"

"I'd like that," Marian replied, her own voice a little shaky. "I'll inform Miss Peabody of our plans, and then we'll go straightaway."

As Tommy and Zaneeta continued to regard the adults with hushed, solemn expressions, Harold gave the librarian an approving nod and finally let go of her. But as the four of them exited the ancient languages aisle and approached the spiral staircase, Marian recovered enough of her composure to engage in a brief, whispered debate with her husband about how best to assure her uneventful descent to the first floor. In the end, they compromised: Harold did not hold on to her waist or hand as he would have liked to, but she did allow him to go down in front her so he could catch her if she swooned again. Eager to provide what assistance they could, Tommy and Zaneeta hovered over the librarian from behind. While this odd escort did attract the attention of the library's patrons – chivalrous to a fault, the music professor had never walked before his wife or any other woman in River City – it wasn't inappropriate or interesting enough to merit much more than a curious glance and, before the librarian and her train stepped off the last stair, everyone had returned to their reading.

Fortunately, Marian didn't have to look far for her assistant – Miss Peabody was standing at the front desk, happily engrossed in the project the librarian had assigned earlier that morning. However, to Marian's consternation, when Miss Peabody looked up and saw them approaching, her look of oblivious cheerfulness was replaced with concern, and she immediately sprang into action. As she hastened around the desk, her elbow caught the edge of the still-overflowing book-return cart. The heaping stacks of volumes weren't the only things that went toppling to the floor – Miss Peabody managed to strike the cart with enough force to make the entire structure itself pitch forward. The woman's frantic efforts to catch it only made things worse; she ended up knocking into a display, which tipped over as well.

If the library's patrons hadn't been looking at them before, they certainly were now. Just as stunned as everyone else, Marian could only gape at the sheer chaos and disorder surrounding the main desk.

Ever the gentleman, Harold immediately went over to Miss Peabody and placed his steadying hands on her trembling shoulders. "Are you all right?" he asked kindly.

"Yes, I think so," she replied – though she was still wincing in pain and clutching at her elbow. "Thank you, Professor Hill."

Patting Miss Peabody on the arm, Harold returned to his wife's side. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

Marian was still too stunned to speak. All she could do was goggle at the flustered and disheveled young woman she had hired to be her assistant. Unraveling the right thread had indeed revealed the mess beneath: her dress was as rumpled as if she'd been caught in a windstorm, there was a long, jagged tear on the sleeve of her blouse, her spectacles teetered precariously on the end of her nose, and her frizzled mass of curls had burst free from their chignon to stick out wildly in all directions. Jane Edna Peabody was a sorry sight, indeed!

The last shreds of her composure disintegrating beneath the librarian's inexorable gaze, Miss Peabody's cheeks crimsoned and she bowed her head in shame. "I'm sorry," she said miserably.

Even now, Marian's heart constricted to witness the wretched plight of this pitiable young woman. But after everything that had happened, the librarian was dangerously close to exceeding the limits of her own self-possession; she just didn't have it in her to offer a word of comfort or reassurance. Indeed, Marian couldn't trust herself to speak at all. She knew that if she opened her mouth, one of two things would happen: she would either go into a blistering tirade that was not only unnecessary but downright cruel under the circumstances, or she would simply end up bursting into tears.

Once again, Harold took charge. "Think nothing of it," he said magnanimously. "Accidents do happen, after all. I'm sure you'll handle the cleanup just fine. In the meantime, my wife and I will be taking an early lunch, followed by our usual strawberry phosphate and a long afternoon constitutional."

Although the music professor's voice and expression were cheerful, there was a definite air of authority in his demeanor that nobody dared protest. As Zaneeta and Tommy moved forward to help Miss Peabody restore order, Marian despondently resigned herself to the inescapable reality that she was no longer the sole mistress of her precious domain; turning away from the destruction, she allowed her husband to escort her out of Madison Public Library.