Pippa Frazzled

Moffitt was so confused. He was quite worried about his wife. She wasn't acting like herself. She was preoccupied and seemed totally absorbed by her work. So much so, he felt neglected. She was so on edge and at night he could hear her grinding her teeth.

He knew she was under incredible stress from all points of her career. She was in the final stages of writing an academic essay on Tudor England and was busy with research and getting her thoughts down on paper. She had agreed months ago to be part of a panel presentation on intrigue in the court of King Henry VIII, and if that wasn't enough, she was knee-deep in her latest novel on Henry's fourth wife, Anne of Cleves. Her editor kept calling and pressuring her for the first chapters.

The stress had made her short-tempered and irritable. Moffitt felt she became annoyed at everything he said, suggested or tried to do to ease the tension. She wasn't herself and he was nervous she would become ill or have a breakdown under the load she was carrying. He had given up trying to get her to drop at least one project while completing the other two but that had brought on a harangue about him not thinking she was competent. He was definitely not going down that road again.

He knew she was working late at the university, so he decided to make a simple dinner as a surprise. He thought it might help her relax for a bit. He had a recording of string concertos playing softly, candles burned softly on the dining room table where a salad was waiting on the plates and a bottle of wine was open. Spaghetti with a rich meat sauce was kept warm in the chafing dish and he was just taking garlic bread from the oven when she entered the kitchen through the back door.

"What's this?" she asked, her overly full briefcase making a thud as she dropped it to the floor before removing her coat and hat.

"Surprise, darling," he said, coming forward and kissing her. "I made dinner so you wouldn't have to." He fully expected to hear some gratitude for his thoughtfulness and perhaps a kiss or two in return.

"Why?" she seemed confused. "I said I would make dinner tonight when I got home. Did you think I would forget?"

"No, I just wanted to show you how much I love you," he said nervously, putting the bread in a basket and covering it with a cloth. "You're so busy right now, I wanted to help lighten your burden."

"By showing me, you think I can't handle both a career and taking care of you?" she seemed to be growing upset.

"Of course not," he protested, guiding her into the dining room. "I was only trying to help." He set the basket on the table and held out her chair. She looked at him with growing disbelief.

"I don't need help with any burden. I am completely capable of handing my workload AND preparing dinner," she emphasized.

"Well, it's all done, why not sit down and let me pour you a glass of wine," he was somewhat hurt by her tone and lack of appreciation.

Reluctantly, she sat down and sipped the wine he served. They began their salads, and he tried to initiate some small talk, but she kept bringing the conversation back to his thinking she was incompetent. He protested and tried to calm her, but she threw her napkin on the table and in a huff said she was going to her study to work. He listened to her stomp up the stairs and cringed when he heard the door slam. For several hours the sound of flying typewriter keys filled the air. He finished his solitary dinner and cleaned up before retiring to the parlor to read by the fire. He was quite worried for her. She was in bed when he went upstairs.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she apologized. "I know you meant well, and it was a lovely gesture. I'm just so wrapped up in my work right now."

"All is forgiven," he climbed into bed with her, expecting to fully make up.

"It will be over soon," she assured him, giving him a quick kiss before turning over and going to sleep. He was rather disappointed but still, she had apologized and thanked him for his efforts.

He kept waiting for the stress to end or at least lighten, but it didn't. She snapped at her colleagues, her students, her editor and her husband. She wasn't eating regularly and was having headaches that lasted for hours. Her sleeping habits were disrupted, and she experienced some light-headedness in the middle of a lecture. That caught the attention of the department chair who sent her home with instructions, she wasn't to return until she had seen a doctor. The chair also notified Moffitt who was glad for the reinforcements.

"I've made an appointment for you to see Dr. Macklin tomorrow morning at 10:00," he told her, tucking her into bed. "I've hidden all your papers, until after you see him."

Pippa's head felt like it would explode so she acquiesced. "I'll go," she promised.

"I will take you myself," he insisted.

"You have a lecture at that time. I am perfectly able to go alone. I promise I will do as he says. I just hope he can cure these headaches."

"Promise to call me after he examines you?" he asked, and she nodded.

The next day, Moffitt nervously awaited to hear from her. He had a busy day of appointments, and he missed her call. The secretary gave him a message saying she was fine, she was going to run some errands while in the village and would see him at home.

Moffitt's anxiety grew throughout the day as the meetings dragged on and on. Finally, he arrived home. He entered through the kitchen where the air smelled of delicious things baking. He walked into the dining room where he was greeted by a smiling Pippa, who kissed him warmly and handed him a glass of wine. The candles and soft music helped him relax as he caught the smell of Toad in the Hole and Bubble and Squeak.

"I made your favorites," she said as they sipped the wine. "There's Spotted Dick with whiskey sauce for dessert. "I want to apologize for how beastly I've treated you the past few weeks. I haven't been myself."

"Totally forgiven," he said, holding her chair for her. "What did the doctor say?" He began filling their plates.

"Pretty much what you and everyone else has been saying," she answered, smiling at him. "I've been working much too hard and need to let some things go," she took a bite.

"And you're okay with that?" Moffitt was concerned and she nodded. "This is delicious, by the way," he said, eagerly eating the dishes she had prepared.

"I am," she said with a small sigh. "I need to take better care of myself."

"Good," he replied. "You don't know how happy that is to hear. Did he give you something for the headaches?"

"He gave me these," she pulled a small prescription box from her pocket and handed them to her husband who glanced at the label before filling his mouth with more food. As he was chewing he picked up the box again and re-read the label.

"Wait, aren't these prenatal vitamins?" he was confused.

"Yes, they are," she smiled back at him.

"Why would he prescribe these?" Moffitt's brain wasn't quite working.

"Why, indeed," Pippa replied, waiting for her husband's mind to catch up to the message she was sending.

"You're pregnant?" he finally comprehended.

"Yes," she said quietly, her face beaming. "How do you feel?"

"Oh, my darling," he slid from his chair and knelt next to her, wrapping his arms about her and kissing her passionately. "I am overjoyed. They kissed again. Several times. He finally retook his seat.

"So, all the headaches and being short-fused weren't necessarily from overwork, it was due to your being pregnant?" he asked nervously.

"It added a lot to it," she responded.

"Thank God," Moffitt said emphatically.

"What do you mean?" Pippa questioned.

"That means your grumpiness has an end date. I can handle anything for a few months. I was afraid it was a permanent personality change," he grinned and took a sip of wine.