"Here you are, love."

Green eyes flickered up from the book in her lap, which she'd been ensconced in since earlier in the morning while tucked away in the small corner of the bookstore he'd shown her to upon their arrival. For the greater part of the day, she'd been curled up in the soft leather chair, her feet drawn under her and her nose buried in a novel.

"Oh," she whispered, setting her book over the arm of the chair and lifting her hands to accept the warm mug. "What is it?"

He propped himself on the opposite arm rest. "Hot chocolate."

The steam rising from the liquid seemed to give her pause, but she carefully tilted the mug, taking a sip and allowing it to sit on her tongue for a moment before she swallowed. When she pulled away, she had a small marshmallow mustache to accompany her wide eyes.

"This is wonderful!" She glanced up at him, her eyes bright with the happiness he so enjoyed bringing to her. "Ichabod, if you don't stop feeding me so many tasty treats, I'll never recover my natural weight."

Chuckling, he dug an elbow into the back of the chair and leaned over to brush a kiss to her forehead. "You're beautiful."

"I feel like a cow." She wiggled around a bit. "I'm not sure I'll make it another month."

"I have the utmost faith in you, my love."

Her green eyes narrowed at him, leaving him with a sweet thrill from seeing the playfulness in her gaze.

"I'll have you know, Mr. Crane, that we agreed to have no more lies between us. That includes the kind that are meant to spare feelings."

Hand held over his heart, he returned, "I swear on my honor that I speak the solemn truth."

She raised an eyebrow as she swirled the hot liquid in the cup. "If you say so."

"I do," he answered while running his fingers along the back of her neck. "Are you doing well over here on your own?"

"Oh, I am." She tapped her book. "I've been enjoying the quiet atmosphere."

"It has been rather slow today due to the weather." He cast a look toward the front window, of which he could just see the top. "There's a light rain that's been rather consistent throughout the day."

"Mhm."

Eyes back on her, he found her taking another sip of the hot chocolate.

"I'm glad you accompanied me today."

A smile came to her face as she leaned her head back against his arm and stared up at him. "As am I. I enjoy listening to you talk to the various people who visit. You seem to take such joy from speaking with them."

Unable to help himself, he descended toward her and pressed his lips to hers, enjoying the sweet taste that rested there.

He honestly could spend the entirety of the day doing just this and nothing else. It wasn't in his nature to say he'd become lazy, but in comparison to how little time he'd had to lounge around during the century in which he was born, he found it was something with which he now struggled. When not facing the impending apocalypse, he either spent his time here at the bookstore, or at the cabin with Katrina. Here, he experienced a rather slow atmosphere what with people popping in and out throughout the day, mostly with a quiet presence about them. On the other hand, when he was at the cabin, he and Katrina tended to read or take long walks together throughout the surrounding woods, enjoying the beautiful scenery with which they were encompassed. All in all, he remained content in his new life for the most part. The only problem was that he worried it was promoting laziness on his end.

When her fingers began weaving through his hair, he felt himself begin to get carried away as his hands, too, began wandering over her body, perhaps a little too close to certain areas for public display.

"How much longer before we can return home?" The fingers of her free hand tangled in the front of his shirt. "I find myself desperate for your touch."

Grinning against her lips, he took to trailing down her neck; kissing every inch of skin he could reach. "There's no one here."

"Ichabod!" Eyes wide, she pulled back to stare at him, her mouth agape. "Did you knock your head against the edge of the counter?"

"That's what I was wondering."

Startled by the intruding presence, he jerked around to find Jenny Mills standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and her face bearing a smirk.

"Miss Jenny!" he exclaimed, reclaiming his footing in a frenzied manner while doing his best to straighten his clothing. "I didn't hear the door."

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "I like sneaking up on people. You learn things."

Straightening his shoulders, and doing his best to return to his natural coloring, he asked, "Have you finally decided to return your overdue book?"

She rolled her eyes and began digging in her bag before producing the book she'd borrowed from the store three weeks prior.

"Don't have a cow over it," she muttered as she tossed it to him. "It's not like there's a horde of people interested in the origins of the Four Horseman clamoring to buy this book."

As he prepared an appropriate retort, Katrina said, "It's wonderful to see you, Jennifer."

His retort was lost as Katrina attempted to rock forward and stand. However, she seemed to be struggling, prompting him to quickly set aside the book and hold out a hand as an offer of assistance.

"Thank you, my love." She took a deep breath as she reached to hug Jenny, who appeared a bit taken aback by the gesture. "It's been ages since we've spoken."

Jenny cast him a curious glance to which he could only shrug.

For the past few weeks, Katrina had taken to extending her affection much more frequently than he was accustomed to witnessing; be it to Abbie, Mrs. O'Conner, or even Dr. Stevens. He wasn't sure if this was a new leaf being turned on her part, or if this was somehow pregnancy related. Either way, he wasn't itching to douse the newfound trait being exhibited by his wife.

"Yeah," Jenny responded as she took a step back. "I've been out of town on some jobs I took to earn a little extra cash."

"Nothing too dangerous, I hope." He raised an eyebrow. "Or illegal."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "None of your beeswax."

Katrina, having adjusted her blouse around her belly, asked, "I hope you won't venture too far away again anytime soon. We have a rather important event fast approaching."

"When is the little gremlin due?" Jenny eyed Katrina's belly. "You must be ready to be rid of the Crane lodged inside you."

While Katrina chuckled, he took great offence. "Our daughter is a witch, not a goblin, and I'll have you know that we will be regarding her with the awe that comes with being such a unique and beautiful creature. She deserves no less than our utmost respect and attention."

Jenny's gaze turned to him as though he had two heads.

"Ichabod." Katrina laid a gentle hand to his arm. "Perhaps, you might need to take a deep breath."

Doing so, he turned to her with an apologetic regard. "I might have exaggerated a few words."

"You think?" Jenny smirked. "It would seem Katrina's not the only one who's hormones are out of whack."

About to tear into her again, he felt Katrina's fingers tighten as she spoke, "It would be wonderful if you and Abigail would allow us to prepare the two of you dinner one evening this week. You've both done so much for Ichabod and I. It would be an honor and privilege of ours to treat you to a home cooked meal in return for your unending kindness."

Flabbergasted, he turned to Katrina with a horrified plea for her to cease such invitations. "I'm sure Miss Jenny is busy what with all of her delinquent behavior."

"Actually," Jenny cut in with a raised hand. "I'm completely free. Just name the day."

Unable to help floundering around a bit, he watched as a brilliant smile spread over his wife's face.

"Would tomorrow evening be alright?" She nodded to the door. "Hopefully, evil will give us a reprieve and not interrupt."

This was unacceptable. Abbie, yes; she deserved home cooked meals every night of the week for her unending willingness to extend her kindness. Her sister, on the other hand, did little other than shoot at random demons, while heckling him over any little thing she could think of. It was as though she took some sort of perverse pleasure out of teasing him without end.

But what could he say? Since meeting the younger Mills sister, his wife had decided she needed to become a mother of sorts toward her; disregarding the fact that only five years rested between them in natural age. He wasn't sure what it was that prompted such a response from Katrina, but he was not a fan of playing this role as it meant he would be forced to either endure the relationship, or spend the time away from his beloved; something he was quite unwilling to do.

"Perfect." Jenny began backing toward the door. "But I have to get back to work. See you guys tomorrow."

As Katrina bid her farewell, he turned to her, gathering as much of his disapproval as possible and allowing it to seep from his body.

When she finally met his eyes, a smile spread over her face and she waved a hand at him. "Not a word."

Hardly able to contain flailing about like a child mid-tantrum, he plopped into the seat and rested his head in his hands. "But, my love, I don't understand the interest in seeking out Jenny Mills as a guest. The two of you have little in common."

"She needs this friendship as desperately as I do." She laid her hand to his shoulder. "You and Abigail have each other to confide in."

Lifting his head, he took her hand in his own and brought it to his mouth. "You can confide in me. There's nothing you need fear discussing with me."

Katrina smiled at him as though she were speaking to a small child. "I can't only have you to confide in, my love. Sometimes, I need to vent my feelings to someone who won't coddle me."

"I don't coddle you," he tersely replied, only to watch her raise an eyebrow which caused him to deflate quite a bit and add a muttered, "All the time."

She pushed him back so she could maneuver between his legs and take a seat in his lap, which he happily accepted as it allowed him the luxury of inhaling her scent as he pleased.

"Ichabod," she began, her voice taking on that tone that told him he was about to be lectured. "I haven't had a friend in over two centuries."

Well, that made him feel horrible, but she just didn't understand.

"And you deserve a friend, but Miss Jenny is hardly the appropriate choice."

"You underestimate her." As she ran her fingers through his hair, she shook her head. "She's a much more intuitive and caring person than you give her credit as being. When I look at her, I see a young woman, brave and strong, but in desperate need of love and acceptance."

With a weary sigh, he kissed her knuckles again. "Be that as it may, the two of you are as opposite as two people can be. You're a wife and mother and all around responsible adult who was willing to risk everything for love. She's-"

"A woman who risked her own life and happiness to protect her sister." She threaded their fingers together. "I'd say the two of us have more in common than the surface might present."

Having no response and honestly wondering why he even tried, he dropped his head against the back of the chair as an exasperated sigh slipped heavily through his lips.

The stubbornness of this woman astounded him. Just when he thought he might have the opportunity to exhibit his superiority over her, she pulled the rug from beneath his feet. It was a truly aggravating way of being defeated, but what else could he do except admit the obvious?

"I surrender."

"I knew I married an intelligent man."

Cracking an eye open to find her grinning like a mad woman, he rolled his eyes and tugged her close, giving him the opportunity to press a kiss to her lips; one that he intended to enjoy as compensation for his loss. However, before he could truly absorb the sweetness of her lips, the door jingled, alerting him to his newest customer.

With a groan of regret at having to part from her, he helped her to her feet before aiding her in reclaiming her earlier seat.

"I'll return as soon as I'm able."

"Take your time," she answered as she reached for her book. "I'll be here."

Content that she was content, he hurried up the aisle to the front counter. To his surprise, however, it wasn't a customer, but Miss Caroline, weighed down with a package in her arms.

"Oh, Miss Caroline," he exclaimed as he hurried to relieve her. "This is an unexpected surprise."

A giddy laugh escaped her as she straightened her blouse. "It's been a few months since you visited the camp. So, I thought I might seek you out with the gifts I prepared you."

"Gifts?" He frowned as he looked over the package. "You've brought me a gift?"

"Well, yes." She hurried forward and opened the box, which, to his delightful surprise, held a few items of clothing that were too familiar to ignore. "I felt so horrible we didn't have your size the last time you visited. So, I sewed you a few things myself."

"Oh, well, that's..."

He was at a loss for words over such a kindness. For her to have labored over such a thing for him was truly a thoughtfulness he hadn't expected.

"Miss Caroline, you're generosity knows no bounds." He ran his fingers over the materials. "I shall treasure these gifts."

A bright smile overtook her as she shrugged her shoulders. "I was also sort of hoping you might allow me to cook you some of my recipes I've learned. They're genuine eighteenth century meals."

Meeting her hopeful eyes, he asked, "You wish to prepare me a meal?"

"Yes." She stepped forward and laid a hand over his. "I've never met anyone like you before, Ichabod. You're dedication to colonial reenactment is so impressive. You never break character."

"Well, one might say it's a way of life," he answered, unsure of how to approach this particular subject.

He couldn't just say he wasn't reenacting a thing; that he was simply being himself and reacting in the familiar way in which he was raised.

"It's inspiring and to be honest..." Caroline took a step closer, enough that he could smell the flowery perfume she adorned. "Attractive."

Startled by such a description being handed out in regards to him, his eyes widened and he began floundering for a response. "Oh, uhm, no. Miss Caroline, words cannot express how flattered I am."

"Then, don't use words," she answered as she began moving even closer; too close to ignore the implications of what she intended.

At his wit's end, he stuttered out the thing with which he should have began this conversation. "I'm a married man."

"That he is."

Both his and Caroline's eyes widened as far as they could as they turned to find Katrina, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed, as she stood a dozen feet away.

"Katrina!" he exclaimed, only to realize he was still in the grasp of Caroline's hand, prompting him to quickly disengage from her and step toward his obviously suspicious wife. "I thought you were in the back."

Her eyes flickered from him to Caroline, daggers shooting at both of them. "I've moved to the front."

Becoming entirely too fidgety to have done nothing inappropriate, he wrung out his hands and nodded to Caroline. "This is Miss Caroline, a dear friend, who I made the acquaintance of some months ago."

"Mhm."

Oh dear. She wasn't being polite, which meant he wasn't just in hot water, but boiling. He could practically feel the flames licking up his collar.

"This is my wife, Miss Caroline," he said as he gestured toward Katrina. "Katrina Crane."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Caroline began as she, too, became fidgety. "You were living alone and you never mentioned having a wife and... and there were no photographs and I just assumed you were single, or separated, or widowed."

That truly only made the water more scalding.

"Katrina was out of town." He glanced at Katrina, who's hands were resting on her belly, as she stared at him with raised eyebrows. "But she's thankfully returned to be with me for which I am most grateful."

"Oh my God." Caroline held up a hand. "You're pregnant." She, then, turned to him with wide, surprised eyes. "You're having a baby."

"Yes," he quickly responded with the brightest smile he could muster. "A little girl."

"Holy Franklin." Caroline spun on her heel and waved at Katrina. "Congratulation, Mrs. Crane. I'm-" She sighed as though having just run a mile. "So sorry for the misunderstanding."

Katrina forced a smile. "From what I can tell, it's hardly your fault, Miss Caroline. After all, my husband never mentioned me."

With that, her eyes cut at him with a blazing heat that should surely have liquefied him on the spot. So much for her desire for his touch when they returned home.

"Yeah, well, I uh, guess I should be going then." Caroline gestured toward the clothes. "I hope you, uh... Is that alright?"

With a glance at Katrina, he figured he was already a dead man. He might as well have new funeral attire to bid him farewell in this life.

"Yes, thank you for your thoughtfulness, Miss Caroline."

"Sure, anytime." She nodded to Katrina. "It was... nice to meet you, Mrs. Crane. You're uh, very lucky."

Chancing a look at Katrina, he found her still forcing that same smile as she responded with a terse, "One would think."

Unable to help clearing his throat in an attempt to dislodge the knot currently stuck there, he waved after Caroline as she hurried out the front door, leaving it to jingle and close in her wake.

Would it be too much to drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness? Of course, he'd done nothing wrong as he'd been completely unaware of Miss Caroline's affections, but that didn't stop the wild beating of his heart as he felt impeding doom weighing down on him.

"Well?"

Nearly jumping out of his skin, he said, "I can hardly be blamed for the unwanted advances of the young woman."

When he turned to face his wife, he bristled. She was red and she was angry. There was no way he was slipping out of this one with flattering words.

"I'm well aware of the fairer sexes interests and advances upon you, Ichabod Crane. I've been observing it since before we married." She took a step toward him. "However, you could have prevented this entirely."

Sputtering for words, he lifted a finger only to have it slapped down.

"Don't you dare attempt to begin a lecture of me," she scolded, her eyes blazing. "You are the one who failed to mention me."

Frustrated by her accusation, he answered, "What was I to say, Katrina? How was I to explain your whereabouts?"

She rolled her eyes and started for the door.

"Katrina! It's nearly dark out!"

She spun on her heel, her narrowed eyes causing his breath to hitch. "I am a witch, Ichabod, who can take care of herself. I don't always have to have you coddling me."

With that, she stormed out the door, leaving him to stand in the wake of her departure, completely floored by the past few minutes' occurrences.

For the next half hour, he did little other than stare at that very same door.

The battle between whether to chase after her and apologize, or wait for her to return and apologize waged within him. It simply wasn't fair. He'd done nothing wrong! This whole situation was entirely over exaggerated. He was a victim if anything. There he'd been, content with kissing his wife, and in had walked a woman who'd made unwanted advances upon him. How was he to blame? What had he done to deserve such heat from his beloved?

Night had fully set in a few minutes earlier and he was beginning to fidget with his sleeves. It was too late for her to be out on her own. Regardless of the situation, he couldn't leave her out there while knowing the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

Quickly rounding the counter, he made for the door and went about checking the diner and the archives as well as the baby shop they both loved exploring. After having not found her in the obvious places, his worry began to deepen. What if something had happened to her? What if she'd become scared and lost? There was still so much of the town she'd not encountered. What if someone had steered her wrong? Or even brought her to harm?

Now, after venturing inside the church in the hopes that she was seeking out forgiveness for her horrible temper, he found himself at a loss. Where could she be?

As he stood out on the front church steps, he contemplated that perhaps she'd returned to the bookstore and he'd simply missed her on the street. Just as he was about to descend the steps, he heard the neigh of a horse around the corner.

The graveyard.

Heart leaping into his throat, he hurried down the steps only to see a flash of light shoot across the sidewalk, originating from the side of the church.

As he rounded the corner, he came up short at the sight of Katrina, hands extended with light seeping from them, standing before Death, himself, who was writhing on the ground, his horse a few feet away, hooves stomping against the earth.

"Katrina!"

Taking the longest strides he could manage, he dashed toward her, his breathing labored as he feared the worst.

"You leave us be, Abraham," she shouted as she clenched her fist, the light brightening and causing Death to lurch into the fetal position. "I am not your, or anyone's, property to bargain and exchange."

Finally reaching her side, he stood, hands within inches of her, but not touching as he was afraid of breaking her spell.

"We must leave now, my love." He stared at Death, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "Before..."

He didn't want to finish the thought aloud, but he feared her energy would begin to seep and waver, leaving them vulnerable to attack. With no means or weapon to defend her, he knew they would both become victim's of Death's wrath.

"If you interfere with my family again," she growled fiercely. "You will regret it for the remainder of your miserable existence."

With that, she began moving with him toward the sidewalk, her eyes remaining on the prone form of the Horseman as her light began seeping away, leaving him to finally take a breath, or, at least, that's what he assumed as the creatures chest began moving as though panting.

By the time, they'd rounded the corner, the Horseman had began to move again, prompting him to take Katrina's hand as he quickened his steps in the direction of the busier sidewalk across the street. The whole way, while casting nervous glances over his shoulder, his grip remained tight, fearing she might slip from his fingers any second. The moment their feet touched the sidewalk and they became immersed among other people, he finally looked at her.

She was pale, her skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, and she looked to be on the verge of collapse. It was enough to spike further fear in his heart.

"Let us return to the bookstore," he said, with another cautious glance over his shoulder. "You need to sit down."

As he unlocked and pushed the door open, he quickly led her to the nearest seat, which happened to be a sofa close to the register.

"Here," he whispered as he took her by her shoulders and helped her ease into the cushions while being mindful of the place their daughter rested.

Taking a knee in front of her, he began running his hands down her arms and over her legs, checking for any physical signs of injury. "Did he harm you?"

She shook her head, her body sagging forward. "I'm fine, Ichabod. It simply winded me to use so much of my power in one go."

Not having her down play this, he maneuvered onto the sofa next to her and brushed her hair over her ear. "What happened?"

"I'm not even sure where he came from." She rested back into the cushions. "I entered the graveyard as a means to find somewhere familiar and quiet to think. I must have sat there for quite some time because I became too content in my surroundings and I suppose I dropped my guard. Then, the next thing I registered was his horse appearing out of nowhere and him stalking toward me."

Every muscle in his body was poised to attack. If only he could put hands on Abraham van Brunt, himself. He'd tear him to shreds and feed him to the dogs.

"I reacted as quickly as possible," she explained as she ran her hands down her arms. "I just knew he was going to attempt stealing me away."

A small quiver appearing over her body drew his attention, prompting him to move closer and wrap his arm around her shoulders to pull her against his chest.

"It would have been the last action he ever took." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm so sorry."

"You're hardly the one to blame," she whispered as her fingers tangled in the front of his shirt. "I never should have stormed away as I did. It was childish and uncalled for."

Well, if that didn't make him feel guilty, nothing could.

"You're not the only one in the wrong." Adjusting them so he could catch her eyes while still holding her, he ran his fingers over her cheek. "This entire ordeal could have been prevented if only I'd had more tact. From this moment forward, every one I meet will know of the blessing I have in you."

She smiled and leaned into his neck. "I'm simply glad I'd been practicing with my endurance. It kept both the baby and I safe."

Dropping his eyes to her belly, he ran his fingers over her shirt. "Is she well?"

Her hand covered his, threading their fingers together over their most precious of creations. "Yes. We're both happy to be in your arms."

"As you always will be."

Next up: Baby names and choosing a color for the nursery.