Heart of Gold
by
Owlcroft
As soon as Itchy arrived to take over the shop for the afternoon, Lydia went upstairs to the flat. Her husband was watching their daughter during nap time and she was looking forward to watching them both. She didn't find them in the nursery, but when she peeked around the parlor door looking for them, it was better than she'd anticipated.
Beetlejuice was stretched out on the couch in the parlor with Beatie lying face-down on his chest, right over his heart, both sound asleep. One of his hands was resting just next to his six-week-old daughter, long, red-tipped fingers just barely touching her so he'd know if she stirred at all. He was smiling even in his sleep.
Which made Lydia smile, tenderly. She eased silently into the wing chair next to the couch and thought about their life together and how it had recently changed with the new addition. It certainly made sense for her husband to take a nap with their little girl. He was the one who got up in the night to take care of her. He adamantly refused to do baths or clip her tiny nails and thought handling all the diaper changes and night feedings were a more than fair exchange.
When they'd brought Beatie home, Lydia had realized that everyone in the Neitherworld, simply everyone, was intrigued and enchanted by their child. There had been a few ghost-human relationships before, but only three had resulted in offspring before Beatie had been born. Children there were fairly rare in any case and she was only the sixth human infant who 'belonged' to the Neitherworld and she was cherished by just about the entire population. Everyone who visited and met her said the same thing – she takes after her mother. Everyone was also careful not to add – thank goodness. A few close friends had been allowed to hold her, briefly. Beetlejuice got nervous when she was in anyone's arms but his and her mother's. He sometimes still got a little uneasy when he held her, not entirely sure he should be trusted with something infinitely precious and fragile.
Lydia's smile became softer as she thought about her husband holding their baby and the look he got on his face. She'd seen expressions similar to his when his parents had come to meet Beatie, bringing gifts and cooing constantly. Even Donny had come over, bringing a plush gryphon for his new niece. He'd managed to be fairly cheerful and upbeat since he'd recently convinced the mother of his three-year to marry him. That was a sad situation, with his new wife making an anguished choice between Donny and another; Lydia wasn't very sanguine about their chance of a happy marriage, but she and Beetlejuice would see that Midge and her new little cousin Beatie were close.
She rested her elbow on the arm of the chair and put her chin in her hand. Her husband was adorable, and so sweet. She grinned to herself, remembering his reaction to that word whenever she applied it to him. And he was still so anxious about being a father – wanting to be the best father ever. Still so worried that he would somehow mess it up. Once he'd realized that he could love – that he did love – he was the best at loving, in all its forms. He took to it like a duck to water. Lydia frowned at that totally inappropriate analogy – maybe like a . . . a . . . a dung beetle to . . . never mind. She shook her head impatiently, then stilled again as Beetlejuice sighed contentedly in his sleep.
He was the most considerate, most eager-to-please husband anyone could imagine. After nine years of marriage, he still left a note or poem or drawing on her desk every couple of weeks – something romantic or funny or affectionate. The most recent one had been, 'So gracefully you drift . . . and leave white-hot footprints across my heart.' He still made her favorite meals when she'd had a bad day, helped out wherever he could with her design business, still took care of her and made sure she was safe and happy, had whatever she needed or even wanted, and always – always – loved her with all his heart and made certain she knew it.
Lydia sighed then, softly. She knew how he felt; she hoped he knew how she felt. Her little family, lying right there in front of her. Her beloved husband and their infant daughter. How was it even possible that having his child could make her love him even more? Or maybe it wasn't more but . . . different? Another dimension of love added to what they'd already had? She mused on that for a moment, then Beatie stirred, close to waking.
Beetlejuice immediately woke and checked on her. Seeing that she was still mostly asleep, he smiled at her tenderly and murmured, "Shh, Trix. Papa's right here, chick." He kissed the top of her head gently and whispered, "Miracle child, precious child." Then he noticed Lydia sitting beside him, smiling at her husband and baby, and extended one hand to her. "My very dearest, she's second only to you."
Lydia took his hand and brought it to her mouth to kiss, then placed it back on his chest next to their daughter, her hand resting atop it. Then they both silently watched their child, loving and loved.