Dinner And A Moving

Stephen arrived home and quietly opened the front door. He carried a bottle of apple juice in a paper bag under his arm. Betty sat in the lounge with her

back to Stephen. Silently he removed his shoes and padded to the settee. Betty slept soundly, her hands folded across her swollen belly. She was now at 6

months pregnant and took a nap in the afternoon.

Stephen tiptoed upstairs to the bedroom, removed the quilt from the bed, and returned to the lounge. Betty had not stirred. He fluffed the quilt and spread it

out on the floor then strode into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Working quickly, he made tuna and mayonnaise sarnies, sliced strawberries, cut up cheese

and arranged the slices on a plate with crackers. He drained the tuna into a saucer and went to the back door to set it out for the cats. Tiddles ran up and

swiped at his hand, scratching him.

"Ow! You hateful thing!" he scowled, dropping the saucer; some of the tuna juice splashed out. He returned to the kitchen, washed his hands, and resumed

his task. He took two wine glasses out of the cupboard and filled them with apple juice. He put all the food on a tray and returned to the lounge, and gently

set the tray on the coffee table. He turned on some soft music.

Betty's eyes fluttered open, "You're home! I'm sorry, I must have kipped off. You want tea?"

"No. You're not allowed to have it, so I won't have any. I bought some apple juice for you."

She smiled broadly. Stephen stared in wonder at her. She was glowing. Since she stopped coloring it, Betty's hair had turned a soft brown. He was amazed

at how young and beautiful she looked.

She eyed the food on the table and the blanket on the floor. She leaned forward. "What's all this?" she asked, pointing and waving her finger.

"I made us a picnic dinner," he smiled.

"Oh, you are so sweet!" She slid to the floor and sat with her back resting against the settee, legs folded, feet touching sole to sole.

"Tiddles scratched me when I set the bowl of 'cat champagne' out for the cats," he explained and put two tapered candles in holders and set them on the

coffee table.

"She knows you put me in the club!" Betty joked.

"What a hypocrite! She's been in the club twice!"

"Then maybe you should take that up with Neville!"

Stephen chuckled and lit the candles. Sitting on the floor, he gazed at her from beneath his brows; his eyes were dark and intense. He leaned in and

walked on his hands toward her. He closed his eyes and kissed her mouth. She reached up, touched his face, and pressed her lips to his. He nuzzled her,

kissing her neck. She gently ran her fingertips along the edges of his ears. He leaned against her belly and felt the baby kick his forearm. He smiled, looked

down, and watched Betty's stomach move slightly.

"Hey in there!" he called and the baby moved again. Stephen chuckled.

"He knows your voice!" Betty's eyes danced in the dim candlelight.

Stephen took a sandwich off the tray and offered it to Betty.

"Thank you, Dear," she murmured.

They clinked glasses and sipped their juice. She dug into a kiwi with a spoon and nibbled her sandwich. Stephen stood up and offered his hand to Betty,

"May I have this dance?"

She giggled and he helped her to her feet, "I'd be delighted! We are silly!"

They moved around the room with the music. Betty rested her head on Stephen's chest, listening to his heart beat. He propped his chin on the top of her

head. She turned her face to his. He pressed his lips gently to hers. His moustache prickled her lips and she wrinkled her nose.

"Are you scared, Stephen?" she whispered

"Yes. I'm scared to death," he admitted.

"Me too."

He hugged her tight and kissed her forehead. Moving back a step, he leaned over and kissed her belly.