For once, Marian wished she hadn't done the sensible thing. If she hadn't been so insistent on completing her usual morning chores, she would never have cleaned out the icebox. If she had avoided doing such, she would never have opened the container of Irish stew Penny and Elly had brought home the night before. And she would never have gotten sick to her stomach.

When the familiar, pungent aroma of mutton assailed her senses, Marian could no longer repress the queasiness she had been fighting so hard to deny for the past few days. Without even pausing to place the cover back on the container, she hurriedly retreated to the washroom, her hand clamped over her mouth in a desperate attempt to delay the natural inclinations of her body for just a few moments longer.

Even after the churning of her stomach was relieved, Marian felt too weak and out of sorts to do anything but crawl back into bed. But she couldn't just close the library without explanation. Letting out a sigh that quickly turned into an agonized groan as another pang of queasiness unsettled her stomach, she shambled into the parlor and placed a call to Zaneeta. Unfortunately, no one picked up the phone at the Djilas residence. So Marian placed a call to Ethel. But the phone at the Washburns' house also rang without cease. Even in her malaise, Marian couldn't help but let out a bleak, despondent laugh at this turn of events – truly, Providence had a wicked sense of humor! With a sigh, she tried her brother next.

Amaryllis answered the phone. Marian was so grateful to have finally reached someone that she greeted her sister-in-law with genuine relief, even though she knew precisely what sending Amaryllis to post a note on the library meant: By nightfall, every River City-zien would be buzzing with concern and speculation over the librarian's sudden, mysterious illness.

But Marian couldn't worry about that at present. Since she hadn't covered the Irish stew, she could smell the aroma of mutton wafting into the parlor from the kitchen. Her nausea threatening to overwhelm her again, Marian hastily ended her conversation with Amaryllis and fled back to the washroom.

XXX

Once Marian managed to dispose of the Irish stew, she made herself a cup of tea and went upstairs to bed. A nap would restore her energy, which was vital if she was to visit Dr. Pyne this afternoon. Marian refused to consider requesting a house call – such a course of action would only further inflame the town's gossips. And besides, it wasn't urgent that she see Dr. Pyne today – his diagnosis would be a mere formality, confirming what she had suspected for quite some time now.

But Marian couldn't sleep. All she could do was nervously ponder what the future would bring. As her stomach finally began to settle, the pangs of nausea were replaced by quivers of excitement. She and Harold were going to have another child! (Or children, she thought wryly.) For the first time in several months, Marian allowed herself to indulge in lovely daydreams. The earliest years of her marriage were some of the happiest times of her life; as she and Harold adjusted to their new roles as parents, Marian had fallen in love with him all over again. Becoming a father had brought out even more of Harold's tender side – no man could have been more devoted to the care and well being of his daughters. When it came to Penny and Elly, there wasn't anything he wouldn't have done to ensure their happiness and comfort. And Harold's already-strong feelings for his wife had deepened even further; before, he had loved Marian as a woman and a dear friend, now, he also revered her as the mother of his children.

As Marian gazed wistfully at Harold's side of the bed, her sense of glee disappeared. Given the terseness of his early-morning note, it wasn't likely her husband would be coming home tonight – and perhaps he wouldn't return tomorrow, either. At this thought, Marian felt white-hot anger coursing through her veins once more. Her first pregnancy occurred during the early days of their marriage, when Harold still watched her with the enthralled fascination of a newly besotted man. Suspecting her condition long before she did, he had treated her with the utmost care and devotion. He would never have stormed out of the house over something as foolish as wine.

And you would never have scolded him so harshly over such lapses, either, said that nagging voice.

Once again, Marian pushed these disquieting thoughts from her mind. The fact remained that even if they hadn't fought, Harold was utterly unaware of this new development – and had always been. With a mixture of sadness and resentment, Marian reflected that this was what happened after so many years of marriage; husbands no longer cared to observe the precious, minute details about the women they claimed to love.

Yet the voice wouldn't quit. Come now, Marian, do you really expect a man in his mid-fifties – a man who's been married for over a decade – to be on the sharp lookout for such possibilities? And even if Harold did suspect your condition, do you think he would be overjoyed by it? When this child turns ten, he'll be in his sixties! Perhaps you should have been more careful in Paris…

Suddenly, Marian felt the terrible urge to weep again. But this was one inclination she could still successfully suppress, which she immediately did. There was no use lying in bed all day and crying; now that she had recovered from her nausea, it was time for her to rise and embark on the next course of action. First, she would visit Dr. Pyne. Then, as she considered how best to reveal the news to Harold, Marian would drop by her mother's house.

XXX

When Mrs. Paroo opened the door and saw Marian standing on the front porch, her face brightened. "Well, darling, this is an unexpected surprise!" she said warmly. "Come in – I was just about to take the jelly off the stove."

As Marian followed her mother into the kitchen, she observed her surroundings with a fond smile. Even after so many years, her mother remained stubbornly Victorian in her decorating sensibilities – it had been over a decade since Marian left her girlhood home, but Mrs. Paroo hadn't changed so much as a knickknack. Normally, Marian would have laughed and perhaps rolled her eyes – even she had outgrown such old-fashioned modes of décor – but today, the librarian found the familiarity of her mother's house comforting. As she took up her normal spot at the counter, Marian wistfully recalled the long afternoons she had spent helping her mother in the kitchen.

Yet even when she was in the throes of nostalgia, Marian's sense of duty remained strong as ever. Instead of indulging in idle ruminations of the past, the first words out of her mouth were, "Thank you for watching the girls last night, Mama."

"Oh, it was no trouble at all," Mrs. Paroo assured her as she picked up a pair of potholders and went over to the pan of jelly.

"I'm sorry I missed their call," Marian said ruefully. "I hope you weren't too worried."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Paroo replied. After placing the jelly on the counter, she turned and regarded her daughter with a knowing gleam in her eyes. "Besides, I had an idea you might not pick up the phone. So I thought it best to keep the girls here for a little while longer than I normally would have."

Marian's cheeks crimsoned, and she averted her eyes from her mother's keen expression. "It was awfully neglectful of me," she apologized.

Mrs. Paroo chuckled and shook her head. "Oh, don't be silly, darling! There's nothing to be ashamed of – every husband and wife is entitled to a little uninterrupted time together."

"Well, letting the phone go unanswered when my daughters aren't safely at home is not a habit I intend to adopt," Marian said stiffly.

Her mother sighed. "You know, I think things were a lot better before there were phones," she opined. "I can't tell you how many times a soufflé has fallen or a cake has burnt because I was interrupted by a phone call. And nothing anyone ever had to tell me over the phone couldn't have waited until I met them in person!"

Before Marian could ask if she included in the category of news that could wait the phone call from Winthrop informing her Amaryllis had given her a granddaughter, Mrs. Paroo swiftly changed the subject. "How did you like the stew I sent the girls home with?"

Caught by surprise at this abrupt topic shift, Marian was too startled to lie. "I couldn't eat it," she admitted.

"Why not?" Mrs. Paroo asked, alarmed.

"It made me sick to my stomach," Marian said, feeling herself well up with tears. This time, she could not repress them; they streamed down her cheeks, even when she pulled out her handkerchief and attempted to contain them.

Mrs. Paroo gaped at her daughter with shining eyes. "Oh, darling," she said gently, and enfolded Marian in a warm hug. "You know, I had always hoped for more grandchildren. But I thought perhaps after the twins, you lost your nerve!"

Marian couldn't help laughing a little through her tears. "Of course not, Mama. But we did have our reasons for having only two children."

"Mmm," Mrs. Paroo said wistfully. Her expression turned shrewd. "And what did Harold have to say about your news?"

"I haven't told him yet," Marian confessed. "I wanted to wait until Dr. Pyne confirmed my condition, and that didn't happen until this afternoon."

"Marian!" Mrs. Paroo admonished. "You don't mean to tell me that you have another foolish, romantic plan in mind? How long are you going to wait to tell your husband, this time?"

Marian could no longer hold back her emotions; at her mother's words, she began to sob in earnest. "Oh, Mama," she said brokenly, "the real reason I haven't told Harold is because we've been fighting. He left the house last night, and I haven't seen him since!"

Mrs. Paroo hugged her daughter again. "Well, what are you fighting about?" she asked with the blunt but tender inquisitiveness of a concerned mother.

"Paris," Marian said sadly.

Mrs. Paroo looked flabbergasted. "But I thought you two had a wonderful time!"

"A little too wonderful, perhaps," the librarian replied as her tears began to ebb. "For the first time ever, we were in a place where no one knew who we were, where no one would be harmed by our actions if we didn't set the proper example. It was all too easy to get carried away, knowing no one was watching."

With her uncanny shrewdness, Mrs. Paroo quickly deciphered what Marian had left unsaid. Raising an eyebrow at her daughter, she spoke, "You always did let River City's gossips bother you more than they should. And as for the girls, you can't protect them from everything, darling. They have to learn the facts of life at some point!"

"Mama!" Marian exclaimed, the crimson in her cheeks deepening. "Surely you don't expect me and Harold to completely abandon propriety – "

"Marian," Mrs. Paroo said with a look of tender exasperation, "I only meant that you should ease up on this high-and-mighty 'setting the proper example.' Is it really so terrible if every now and then the girls see a little hint of how much their mother and father love each other? It might even do them some good – especially as they're seeing you two fight!" Marian squirmed unpleasantly at this, but her mother continued, "Did it 'harm' you to see me and your father kiss occasionally?"

Marian couldn't help smiling. "I actually found it quite touching," she admitted.

"Well, there you go!" Mrs. Paroo said triumphantly. "So make a little room for romance in your life again."

The librarian let out a resigned sigh as she wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks. "I'm afraid the time for foolish, romantic plans is long past."

Mrs. Paroo gazed thoughtfully at her daughter. "You know, darling, it's odd how similar our situations turned out. We both married men who were several years older than us – men who tried not to fall in love, but did anyway. And now you're about to have a child later in life."

Marian met her mother's gaze with a level expression. "What are you saying, Mama?"

Her mother's eyes grew sad. "I only had your father for eight more years after Winthrop was born. Who knows how long you'll have Harold?"

At that, Marian burst into tears again.

Mrs. Paroo wrapped her daughter in yet another hug. "Darling, I'm not saying these things to be cruel," she averred, her voice heavy with emotion. "All I'm saying is that you've got to cherish your husband for as long as you have him. Stop worrying so much about picking up the phone – or 'setting the proper example'!"

"I know," Marian acknowledged, sniffling. "I've been awful to Harold since we returned from Paris – but I don't know what to do to fix things."

"I'll tell you," Mrs. Paroo said firmly. "You're going to go home, change into a nice dress, and then pay a visit to the music emporium."

Marian gave her mother a wan smile. "And then what?"

Mrs. Paroo planted a motherly kiss on her daughter's forehead, and ended their embrace. "Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out," she said sagely.

XXX

A/N – Well, I finally managed to complete this chapter! And now that things are starting to quiet down at work, updates to this fic should come a lot more quickly.