PRECIOUS THINGS
Her hand rested protectively along her belly. "House, something is wrong." Her voice came out strained. "It's too early," she added, breathlessly.
He took her hand and guided her along the corridor of the hospital. "Don't worry," he assured her. "Babies are born premature everyday." Somehow he managed to hide the concern from his voice. "Everything is going to be fine."
Her fingers danced along the piano keys, playing a sound less inviting then what he had performed. One day, he decided, he would have to teach her how to play.
"Did you love mommy?" She asked as she continued to tap the keys, finding a sort of rhythm of her own.
He almost didn't hear her question over the sound of the piano and repeated her question, "Did I love your mommy?" He thought for a moment.
Her small fingers stopped playing and she turned in his direction, full of curiosity.
How was he supposed to explain to her how he felt about the only woman who ever truly understood him? He sighed, "I loved your mommy very much. She was everything to me. More then she will ever know." His throat felt dry and he had to swallow back the lump that suddenly had formed. He closed the piano. "I think it's time for bed.
The doctor glanced in their direction from where he sat near her feet. "Get ready, Lisa," he advised, "One more push."
He pushed back the dark locks from her face then gripped her hand tightly. She had told him that he didn't have to be present for the birth. She was always putting up a strong front, but he knew her better then she knew herself. She wanted him there, just as badly as he wanted to be there, though he would never admit it. He never saw anything more beautiful, then the woman he loved giving birth to their child. "Push," he told her. "One more push."
He lifted her small frame from the bench, and smiled as her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. Her head fell tiredly along his shoulder and he held her closer.