He had barely drifted awake when Lily slipped from the bed; she did that every few hours now. But when her absence lengthened, Andrew's long-honed sense of time snapped him awake. He lay perfectly still, listening. There was a faint, rhythmic creak from the next room. He felt a familiar clutch in the center of his chest: The thrill of action about to begin.

Perhaps.

Silently, he slid from the bed, grabbed his robe, and walked barefoot to the next room. Light from the full moon glowed through the lace curtains. He could see Lily's outline in the rocking chair, near the window, looking out towards the dark ocean. As he paused in the doorway, she said softly, "I'm fine."

"Hmmm." Andrew crossed the room and perched on the ottoman at her feet. "Sure?"

"My back hurts."

That, too, was common enough these days. "Want me to rub it for you?"

Lily shook her head. "It's okay. It comes and goes. It was just keeping me awake."

He reached over and placed his hand flat on her rounded belly. It was hard as far as his fingers could spread. "Comes and goes like contractions?"

"No. It's not really painful, just achy." While she spoke, her abdomen grew soft again. "I'm fine. You should go back to bed."

Andrew kept his hand where it was. "Ah, yes, because I have to get up early for work tomorrow." He shook his head, smiling, and glanced casually at the giraffe-shaped clock on the nursery wall. "I like being with you in the moonlight."

There was light-footed scampering in the hallway, three cats on the move. Then there was a startled squeak, a soft thud, and silence. After a moment, the three cats padded softly down the stairs.

"They're really good," Lily commented softly.

Andrew nodded. Two of the cats were half-grown and they were permanent household members. Their mother was on loan from Estella Potts, a stout and sensible woman who owned a farm five miles past the lighthouse. "You bring the mama cat for a time," she'd said, "and she'll get her girls all squared away, teach them all the hidey-holes. I never knew a cat as good a mouser as my Molly cat. I'll come get her in a few weeks." In ten days, Molly and her daughters had caught 23 mice – that they knew of – and two rats.

The cats graciously ate the mice they caught, leaving only the heads tidily beside their food dish in the kitchen.

Lily shifted a little, and her belly grew hard again. Andrew flicked his eyes towards the clock. Four minutes and four seconds had elapsed. The get-ready flutter in his chest flared again. "Sure they're not contractions?" he asked lightly.

She sighed. "They might be. I'd expect them to hurt more if they were real, though."

"You are due the day after tomorrow, you know."

Lily shrugged. "I don't think this is labor," she insisted.

After a moment, the hardness passed. They waited, this time in silence. The giraffe clock ticked, very softly. Through the open door, they could hear the big grandfather clock in the atrium ticking in its steady bass whisper.

Four minutes, to the second, and the curve over their child grew rock-hard again. "Okay," Lily admitted, "they might be contractions."

"Uh-huh." Andrew stood up, still keeping his hand in place. "I'll help you get dressed."

"Go shower first," Lily advised. "I'll make you some breakfast."

"I don't want any breakfast."

"Even if it's false labor – and it probably is – they're going to keep us a while. You might as well eat something."

He frowned at her, perplexed. "Why are you not willing to admit that you're in labor?"

Lily shrugged again. "I just don't think I am. Go shower, let's wait a while and see what happens. I'll try walking a little. It'll probably stop."

"Stubborn woman," Andrew said, mostly to himself. "Stubborn, stubborn woman."

"Yeah, yeah. You knew that when you married me."

He helped her up; getting out of a chair, at this last stage of her pregnancy, had become a major production. They walked out to the balcony, back to their bedroom. "Shower, right," Andrew said. "God forbid I should stink while you're in labor." He went to the dresser and gathered clean clothes.

"I'm not in labor," Lily insisted.

He went into the bathroom, started to take his robe off. Then he paused and went back to the bedroom. Lily was pacing slowly, thoughtfully, between the couch and the fireplace. "Lily. Do me a favor, huh? Don't go downstairs until I'm with you."

She looked at him quizzically. "Why?"

"Just … don't. It's a big house. I don't want you that far away."

"Andrew, I'm …"

"I had a Scarlett O'Hara flash, okay? I'm not up to finding you at the bottom of the steps in a heap right now. I haven't even had any coffee."

"I could go make coffee …"

"Lily."

"I'm fine."

"Lily. Please."

She nodded, clearly exasperated. "All right. I'll stay right here until you get back."

"Promise?"

"Yes, dear."

"Thank you." He stepped back into the bathroom.

"This is silly," Lily called after him. "I'm not in labor."

Andrew was capable getting thoroughly clean in under two minutes. He fully intended to do so. Then he made himself slow down. In two minutes Lily would not yet be having her next contraction – if that was even what they were. More to the point, she seemed to be on the verge of being prickly about his concern. He was wildly worried, but the only thing he could do, at this moment, was not aggravate her any more.

He took a five-minute shower, and he took his time about getting dressed.

When he returned to the bedroom, trying to look calm and casual, Lily was still pacing. But her suitcase, which had been half-packed and open on one of the dressers, was closed and sitting by the door, next to her big duffle bag, zipped shut. She was dressed in maternity jeans and her favorite big top.

"Are we going, then?" Andrew inquired gently.

Lily nodded. "I called Zivitz. Talked to Laura, actually. She said to go get checked."

"Good."

"I'm still not convinced."

He glanced towards the bags again, then went to the closet to get shoes. "Yes, dear."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, dear."

"Are you making fun of me?" Lily demanded.

"Of course not, dear."

"Because I outweigh you now, you know. I can probably take you."

Andrew nodded, keeping his head down and his smile hidden. "Can I help you with your shoes?"

"Are you implying that I can't reach my feet?"

He glanced up at her. She was trying to be stern, but a familiar quirky smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, too. "You can't reach your feet, dear."

Lily sighed heavily and sat down. "You'll have to help me back up, you know."

"I know." He knelt at her feet put on her sneakers one at a time, tied them firmly but not too tight.

Lily threaded her fingers through his hair gently. He looked up at her. "Well," Lily said.

"On to the next adventure," Andrew answered.

"I guess so."

"I want you to know, Lily – I would not put shoes on anyone but you."

"You say that now," she answered. "But in a few months, you'll be putting her shoes on fifteen times a day."

Andrew chuckled. "I hadn't thought of that." He rolled to his feet, helped her to hers. "Shall we go?"

Lily paused, looked around the room. "It'll be different when we come back."

"Yes."

"We'll be different." She sighed. "And there will be more of us."

"Yes." Andrew studied her face. She wasn't frightened, but she seemed a little sad. Wistful. He knew how she felt. "It's been good here, just the two of us."

"Yes."

"It'll be good with three of us, too."

"I know." Lily moved into his arms, put her head on his shoulder. "Or six of us, or ten."

"Hmm. Well, let's take it one at a time, shall we?"

She nodded, but they stayed where they were for a moment. "I love you," Lily whispered.

"I love you."

Another moment passed. Then she straightened as her abdomen went hard again. "We should go."

"I'll get the bags."

Broken Harbor has a surprisingly large hospital for a small town. The original Rowan had built it, of course, in his wealthy days, the only hospital in the county. The town also had the county seat, the main library, and every other convenience that generous contributions could attract.

Laura Zivitz had evidently called ahead; there was a nurse, a woman with a clipboard, and a young man with a wheelchair waiting for them at the main door of the hospital. "I don't need that," Lily protested. "I'm not really in labor."

"Hospital regulations," the nurse insisted. "And Dale is a very good driver, I promise."

Lily growled at them.

"You can park your car there," the lady with the clipboard said to Andrew, pointing to the far side of the driveway. "And then stop at the desk to get checked in."

"We're pre-registered," Lily said.

"Okay."

"I'll be up in a minute," Andrew promised.

The door was already closing behind Dale and his passenger.

There was a little autumn display at the end of the registration counter, plastic corn stalks with gourds and pumpkins. Andrew eyed them impatiently.

"I can't see to find your registration," the lady with the clipboard said. She was safely behind her desk now, digging through manila file folders.

"I have a copy," Andrew answered smoothly. He unzipped the outer pocket of Lily's labor bag and retrieved a set of the papers. There was another set in the glove compartment of the car; his wife was nothing if not over-prepared.

"Oh." The woman looked surprised. "Oh. Well. I'll just make you a copy of this, then."

"I have another copy. You can keep that one."

"Oh. Ahh … right. Let me just check this over then …"

Andrew leaned one elbow on the counter and watched her for a moment. Her shoulders were taut, her hands flustering over the papers. He twisted his head a little to read her name badge. "Miss Centa," he said quietly, "are you stalling me here?"

Her shoulders hitched even higher. "Oh, no, sir, Mr. Rowan. I just …" She glanced up, and his steel blue eyes caught hers and held them. She sighed deeply. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, it's hospital policy." She gestured towards the phone at the corner of the desk. "Labor and delivery will call as soon as they have your wife settled and you can go up. It will only be a few minutes, I promise. It's nothing personal, it's just … policy."

He did not let her look away. "It's a peculiar policy."

The clerk shrugged helplessly. "A few years ago there was an incident."

"An incident?"

"A woman came in with her husband, but she didn't want him in the labor room with her. She … um … wanted her boyfriend there instead."

"Because he was the baby's father."

"Yes."

"Ah." Andrew looked towards the front door, at nothing in particular.

"The husband had a gun," Miss Centa continued. "And the boyfriend had a gun. No one ended up getting shot, but it was a bit … anxious. For a while. So now we take mothers upstairs and give them a chance to make any special requests they might have. Just in case."

Andrew nodded. "Probably a wise precaution. Keeps all the guns here in the lobby with you."

There was a little pause. He glanced sideways at the clerk and smiled. "Just kidding."

"I know." She looked flustered anyhow.

"I trust there was a divorce shortly after the birth in question," he said, mostly to ease her fear.

Miss Centa shook her head. "Oh, no. After we got all the guns rounded up, we kicked them both out – the boyfriend and the husband. They went across the street and got falling-down drunk. The husband sobered up first. Or at least staggered back here first to see the baby. So she stayed with him."

"Interesting." Andrew eyed the silent phone. He was reasonably sure that Lily had no boyfriend, drunken, armed, or otherwise, that she was waiting for. But he was not so sure she wouldn't leave him cooling his heels in the waiting room while she delivered this child. She made things easy for Andrew; she always had. And she might, in her devious little mind, have decided that what was easiest for him was to sit down here, comfortably shielded from watching her suffer. It would be just like her.

He turned and looked towards the elevator bank. Beyond them was a steel door with a panic bar; it was undoubtedly the emergency stairs. He could either wait for one of the elevator cars to open – which could take a while, at this beastly hour – or he could bolt for the stairs. Either way, there was only Miss Centa to stop him. His eyes narrowed. Three more minutes, and he would move.

He turned his gaze casually back towards the front of the hospital and let his internal clock run.

At two minutes and ten seconds, the phone rang. He did not wait for the clerk to answer it. "Top floor, right?"

She smiled, relieved. "Yes. Good luck."

"Thanks." He retrieved the bags and headed for the elevators.

Andrew left the elevator on the fifth floor. They'd toured the maternity ward as part of their childbirth class; he knew that through the doors to the left of the elevators were the nursery and the rooms where new mothers stayed; to the right were the labor and delivery rooms. He shrugged the duffle bag strap higher on his shoulder; the damn thing weighed about fifty pounds. Then he shouldered through the double doors.

The wing was dim and quiet. The nurses' station was manned only by pumpkins, real ones with friendly faces painted on them. Two of the three L & D rooms were dark. The third was brightly lit. He heard voices, Lily's and another woman's. They were casual, calm. Andrew took a deep breath and went in.

Lily was sitting straight up in the hospital bed, in a gown, with a fat elastic band holding a monitor against the roundest part of her belly. At her side, a small dark-haired nurse watched the read-out.

"Hey," Lily said, "what took you?"

"They made me use the freight elevator. This bag was overweight." He shrugged the luggage into the far corner of the room.

The nurse grinned. "I had a birthing bag that big for my first," she said. "By the time I got to my third, I was down to a pair of socks and a ham sandwich for Dad."

"Laura gave us a list."

She nodded. "I know. I'm Gina," she said, and shook his hand.

Andrew nodded back. "I know. You were at the unwrapping. Your daughter plays soccer and your son plays …" he frowned, trying to remember, "…trombone?"

"Yes." She beamed. "You have a good memory."

"I took notes." He noticed with alarm that Lily had gone tense; for the first time she seemed to be in actual pain. "Are we staying?" he asked them both.

"Oh, you're staying," Gina answered. "She's at three, maybe four. Moving right along." She studied the screen again. "And the baby is tolerating labor just fine." She ran her hand with familiar ease over Lily's taut belly. "You seem pretty uncomfortable."

Lily shrugged as the contraction passed. "It was easier when I was moving around."

"I'll go call Dr. Zivitz, and then we'll either get you out of bed or get an anesthesiologist up here." She glanced at Andrew. "The call light's right here, but you can just stick your head out and yell if you need me."

"Okay."

She left the room. Andrew moved closer, rubbed Lily's back with one hand. "Rough?"

"Eh."

He gestured towards the massive bag. "I have tennis balls for counter-pressure. Pictures for a focus point. Relaxing music on a tape deck …"

"Shut up."

He perched on the edge of the bed. "They have a charming policy here of detaining fathers at the front desk. Seems there was a bit of a dust up between a husband and a boyfriend once."

Lily smirked. "Lovely. That would be why she made a point of asking me if I was sure I wanted you to come up."

"Small town life. Gotta love it."

"You don't have to stay, you know. For the delivery."

Andrew frowned at her. "Why? Is your boyfriend coming?"

"Not if he's smart. You know what I mean."

"That you know I would far rather suffer myself than see you in pain?"

"Yes."

"We've been all through this, Lily. If you can go through this, I can certainly stay and … cheer you on or whatever." He sighed. "What I really hate is feeling both helpless and useless."

"I know."

"I'm not leaving. Put it out of your head."

Lily nodded solemnly. "I'm still not convinced I'm in labor."

"You've got Gina fooled, then."

She sat up straighter, took a sharp breath. "Ow," she said.

Andrew glanced at the monitor. He watched the bottom line on the screen climbed steadily as the contraction built. The fluttering upper line, on the other hand, did not react.

"Breathe," he said. The word tasted astonishingly stupid on his tongue.

Gina came back. "Laura will be in in a while," she announced. "And she says to get you on your feet."

"'kay," Lily answered, a little breathless.

"After this contraction." The nurse watched the monitor for a moment, then pulled the Velcro on the elastic strap loose. "Believe me, you'll feel a lot better if you walk. Do you have some slippers? I can get you booties."

"We've got them" Andrew answered. He went to the duffle bag and dug around until he found Lily's slippers. Of the fifty-plus pounds of labor aids they had brought with them, the slippers were the only thing they would use.

They walked a few laps around the nurses' station, and then, at Gina's suggestion, crossed the elevator lobby and looked through the windows of the nursery. There were two babies in bassinettes there, a tiny baby in a blue blanket and a pink-wrapped girl who looked to be about twice his size. The lights were dim here, too; in the corner, an older woman in purple scrubs rocked in a chair under a goose-neck lamp that shone over her shoulder on her knitting.

There were vinyl stickers on the outside of the nursery window, celebrating the season.

Lily paused and grabbed the solid rail that ran along every wall in the ward. Concerned, Andrew took her other arm. "Breathe," he said again. It still felt stupid and useless. But Lily did breathe, slowly, deliberately, and in a moment she straightened.

"That's better," she said. "Being out of bed is much better." She took his arm and they walked on.

Like the delivery end of the floor, the mothers' rooms were arranged in a circle around the nurses' station. The doors to eight of the rooms were open and dark; the other two were nearly closed. A very tall blond nurse was stocking a cart. "Hello there," she said quietly. "I'm Emma."

"I'm Andrew Rowan, and this is Lily."

"I know. I'm glad to meet you finally. My kids are out at the house all the time playing football. I hear you make great cookies."

"No," Lily answered. "I buy great cookies."

"Oh. I wondered how you kept up with demand. How are you liking Broken Harbor?"

"I love it. I've always wanted to live by the o-" Lily stopped and grabbed the edge of the counter.

Andrew rubbed her lower back calmly. "Ocean," he supplied.

The nurse watched Lily closely, but chatted with no concern in her voice. "I'd be a little worried, I guess, that close to the water with little ones."

"We're going to repair the wall," Andrew answered, "before this one can walk. That will help for a little while. And then we're thinking of getting some kind of herding dogs to help us keep track of them."

"That's a great idea," Emma agreed. "They'll have to be pretty big, though, to keep a toddler out of the water."

"They don't have to … keep them out," Lily said between deliberate breaths. "They just have to … let us know."

"Good point. You know, I have a cousin out West who has those cattle dogs. They might be good. They have short hair, you know."

"That would definitely be a plus," Andrew offered. "How are they with cats?"

"They try to herd them, of course."

"Hmm."

Lily straightened and released her grip on the counter. "You're not very busy tonight," she said, indicating the empty rooms.

"No, thankfully. Two weeks ago we were full to the rafters. Early spring and early fall are the big baby times. Would you like to pick out a room?"

"You have anything with an ocean view?"

Emma smiled. "No, we're too far inland for that, I'm afraid. Best I can offer is a nice view of Main Street."

"We'll take it," Andrew answered.

"I'll get it set up. And I'll have them send you a breakfast tray. I bet you deliver by then."

"How soon is breakfast?"

"Three hours."

Lily nodded gamely. "I think you're right." She took Andrew's arm. "We should keep moving."

"As you wish." He nodded to the nurse. "We'll be back."

They walked the circuit almost casually, across the elevator and around the L & D desk, then back to the maternity end and around that desk. Andrew was aware that both Gina and Emma were keeping an eye on them, but it was a calm habitual attention that reassured him. They were there if anything went wrong, but they saw nothing that prompted them to get involved at the moment.

Lily was doing just fine.

The contractions grew longer, closer together and apparently sharper, but she seemed uncomfortable, nothing more.

They were quiet for a time. The hospital was quiet around them. "I love this time of night," Lily said finally. "I love being awake when almost everyone else is sleeping. The secret hours."

Andrew nodded. "You've seen your share of them, haven't you?"

"I used to walk the streets this late – this early, and look at the windows that had lights in them and wonder why. Who was awake there? I'd try to guess if they getting ready for work, or they had a sick child, or they were just getting home. Or if they waiting for someone."

"Or if they'd had a nightmare and there was no one to comfort them," Andrew supplied.

She paused and turned, rested her face against his shoulder, rubbed her forehead against his beard. "Yes."

"But not any more," he promised softly.

"No. Not any more." Her grip tightened as the next contraction hit; when it ended, they walked on.

The baby boy in the nursery was screaming, his face red with outrage as the nurse changed his diaper. She wrapped him quickly, then wheeled his bassinette past them and into his mother's room. There were lights then, a sleepy voice under the baby's howls.

"But we will have others reasons to be awake," Andrew commented dryly.

Lily chuckled and they continued their slow trek.