Tissue alert applies!

Gift of the Father

Joe

The stork, had he got the memo, should have delivered Baby Oliver on the 19th of September, instead he arrived prematurely on the 6th of August. Nevertheless, Leslie and Joe have no complaints. Their bundle of joy was healthy and that was all that mattered. They looked at his beautiful face, counted his fingers and toes, touched him all over and delighted how perfectly he was formed in his mother's womb.

On the day he was supposed to have been born, Joe surprised Leslie with a gift. She had just put Oly to sleep when Joe gave her an envelope tied with a blue ribbon. Her heart skipping with joy, she tried to guess what might be in it, she said, "Gift certificate?"

"Nope."

"Spa and wellness treat?"

"Nope."

"Gym membership?"

"What!" he said aghast. "What do you take me for? If that's a gym membership you should punch the living daylight out of me." Leslie chuckled.

Joe cocked his head just so, crossed his arms on his chest and asked, "So are you opening it or what?"

"Alright, if you insist. I better sit down then, in case I faint," she said in jest. Gingerly, she removed the ribbon, opened the flap, whereupon she found return tickets for two to Italy.

"To see my... our...relatives who are eager to meet the newest member of the family," he said. "On the way home, we will retrace the steps Ma and Pa took to reach Canada...for our baby's ancestral record," he said with pride. "We will stop at every cities Ma and Pa stopped in to get where we are."

She teared up at the thought of their child's rich family history, steeped in European tradition and enhanced with her Canadian heritage.

"We leave in December, three weeks before Christmas."

"Thank you," she said.

He shook his head, "No." He knelt in front of her, placed his hands on her knees and said, "Thank you...for us."

Raf

Baby Rafael was due on the 14th of September, instead he arrived on the 20th of August.

In secret, Raf has recorded lullabies in Jazz in a studio downtown. He presented the CD to Billy one night when little El wouldn't sleep. Exhausted, cranky and in tears, the young mother desperately pleaded with her little lad to "please go to sleep."

Raf took the child from her, "Go to the CD player," he said, "Press play for me."

She did as he asked. First, the smooth tinkling of the keyboard, an instrumental rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." Then came his baritone voice; soft, gentle as the wind. Pressed close to his heart, the baby was lulled to sleep with the sound of his heartbeat.

He gently put El down in his crib, took Billy into his arms, "You're so amazing," he said. "You surpassed every one of my expectation."

"I feel crap but thank you."

They swayed to the sound of the lullabies until she asked, "When did you record the CD?"

"I hired studio time a week after our return to Toronto. The last song in this CD is my own composition because you inspire me." Billy wasn't the type to cry easily, but this time, torrents of tears just came.

"Thank you," was all she could think to say.

Spike

Winnie's due date was 2nd September, but Mika kicked off proceedings on the 1st allegedly, according to people in the know, it was because her parents happened to be in posh surroundings at that time. Nowhere else would have been appropriate. It was so exciting in fact that the hotel management sent her parents a complimentary overnight stay at the time of their choosing. "We'll save that for later," said Spike, "I have something else to give you."

Little Mika had gone to sleep, with Nonna sleeping close by to keep her company. Spike sat Winnie in front of the television, handed her a flute of white wine, a wee amount, her first since she conceived their child. He snuggled next to her and pressed play.

The golden voice of Paul Anka, singing "Times of Your Life" played through the surround-sound system, followed by slides of her pregnancy and delivery – the whole nine yards.

There she was on screen doing the simple things. Writing. Cooking. Chopping, Combing her hair. Simply smiling. Lying in bed.

Close up photos of her face, hands, belly and feet as they went from slender to swollen, documenting every changes.

Moments taken in secret. Stolen moments. Unguarded moments.

He held her hands as she tearfully watched herself metamorphosed from a woman to a nurturer, incubating life to delivering life.

"Thank you," she said.

He kissed her and said, "Thank you for being so awesome."

Bryce

Somewhere in Gregory Downs, in tropical Northern Queensland, as the sun has set over the horizon, Belle was nursing little Tau. She admired his features, a carbon copy of Bryce Mabo Cameron. You are most definitely your father's son, but for the colour of your hair.

She wondered what's taking her husband so long, he's been gone since four in the morning. She glanced at the wall clock, "Normally, your Dad would be home now."

Rajo, her eight year old, came to say "Good night, Ma-belle."

"Good night. Say goodnight to Tau."

"Good night Tau, sleep tight and sweet dreams." She smiled at Rajo's affection for his little brother as he leaned in to kiss the wee bub.

She fell asleep with Tau resting on her chest. Bryce arrived home to find her slouched on the couch, exhausted. He felt a pang of regret that he was overtaken by events. Their baby was not due til the 9th of September but arrived on the 31st of August instead. He wasn't ready. It wasn't complete. But now, finally, it's here.

He touched her lips, waking her up. "Hey," she said. "Did you just get home?"

"U hum. Sorry Pixie, but I had to finish this."

He showed her the hand-made crib he created; designed like a bird's nest, made out of twigs and vines that littered their property and the forest nearby. He put them together without nails, wires or glue. Like the father bird, he intricately assembled them so each meshed with the others tightly. The 'nest' done, he smoothed it out with sand paper.

Belle took his blistered hands in hers and said, "Thank you."

"Thank you for being brave." He smiled, tiredness showing on his face, "Come, let's hang it." They went to their bedroom.

Bryce hanged the crib like a hammock. He placed white, fluffy sheepskin inside to give it cushioning before placing little Tau in it and gently rocking him back to sleep.

Four fathers.

Four gifts.

Each a measure of themselves.

The End -

I sincerely hope I've made you laugh, cry, dream and hope. Or, I can lower my expectation and just wish I've entertained you. Thank you for taking the time to read and some of you, for your kindness, for the reviews and for choosing this as your favourite story. It means a lot to me. Take care and God bless.