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He was tall and thin, spry. Mrs. P. was short and heavy, downright fat, though I hate to
say it. I was there once when the phone rang. He nearly ran her over getting to it, being agile.
Mrs. Puffin moved slow, and breathed hard if she tried to speed up any. He always beat her to
the phone, no matter where he was.

Their name fit her. I always wondered what she was like when they got married,
whether she had grown to fit the name or it was accidental. She was a good soul. When he told
me about the baby she was as thrilled as I. The next time I came in she gave me a pink bonnet
she'd made, trimmed with lace and embroidered with tiny roses, to give to Amy for Lillian.

Puffin liked to make his customers guess if there had been a call. "Well, hello," he'd
always say when you came in. If there had been a message his voice would have an important
I-have-a-secret tone that attracted your attention. It made you look at him curiously, which was
what he wanted.

It irritated me that this self-important man would play with me so. If you got mad and
said, "Okay, Puffin, out with it. Did somebody call?" he found something that needed doing in
the back room. Make you wait.

"Mrs. P.," he'd call, "There's a customer out here for you." Since she knew less than you
did about what message might have been left, the two of you would stumble around the subject,
filling your order and awkwardly discussing the weather until he came back in, acting as if he'd
suddenly remembered. "Oh, by the way, would you believe it?"

No.

I found it difficult this time to play his game.

"Mr. Puffin, have you heard from David?"

He narrowed his eyes at me and Mrs. Puffin tilted her head.

"You know," he said slowly, "that's interesting, you calling Smithers by his first name
right out like that. I always thought... 'Course I never knew anybody before 'at had a
housekeeper." His eyebrows and shoulders rose a bit to show his disapproval. "I always thought
they was Mr. and Mrs. to their help, huh?"

I didn't react to his suggestion that I might be more than a housekeeper, just sat quietly
and looked at him calmly. I'm sure my eyes were flashing though, because Mrs. Puffin started
clearing her throat and he stopped playing the cat and mouse game with me.

"Well, how'd you guess I'd heard from Smithers? Guess you figgered they'd be back
soon, huh?"

I nodded.

"Well, well. You're right. Tomorrow in fact."

I started, my mouth opening with surprise.

"Surprised ya, huh? Me too. I'd thought he'd want me to come pick them up but he got
some fella there with a big ol'-fashioned horse and buggy outfit who was coming over this way
to visit his folks." He was obviously disappointed that he wouldn't get to show off his machine
again.

"'Course I couldn't go now anyway. My busy time you know, people thinking about
spring plantin' and all, and getting ready for summer visitors." He always called them visitors,
never tourists.

Tomorrow! I bought sugar, flour and chocolate. Puffin had just got a ham in from one of
the farms and I bought that, too. I walked home in a mind fog. Sampson seemed light, even with
the groceries in my other arm.

I laughed about nothing and he laughed with me. I started humming when we were on a
flat space on the path, and he started humming with me, singing with me. My heart just about
burst right there, excited about wanting to share this latest trick of his with David. And
Amy.

Sampson's little mouth moved around trying to make the same sounds I was, it was so
cute. Oh, he was adorable. I couldn't wait for Amy and David to be back to share him with. I was
so full of excitement, the waiting of the last weeks was about to be over. We could get back to
normal living. I'd clean the house.

Sampson saw flowers beside the path and he pointed to them. "Pret-ty."

I about dropped him in the excitement of hearing his word. They were the first spring
flowers we'd seen and it was the first word he said without prompting.

We stopped right there and picked them. Sampson clutched them in his little fists all the
way home. He bent the stems but I knew David and Amy wouldn't care. I put them into a vase
and told Sampson, "Don't touch. For Daddy and Amy." And he didn't, other than to just go up
and touch the vase, and then look at me and say, "Pret-ty? Da Da?"

I'd smile yes and he'd touch again with just the tip of his finger.

He was probably as happy to see me happy and not yelling at him as he was at the idea
of Daddy and Amy. I don't think he knew what was happening. Tomorrow didn't have much
meaning to him, but he responded to my joy with his own smiles. When he went down for his
afternoon nap he hummed himself to sleep.

I did love that boy.

When they pulled up late the next afternoon I had the ham baked. Cornbread was
keeping warm in the side oven. I was ready to heat some canned tomatoes from last summer's
garden, and I had baked a three-layer chocolate cake. Everything was waiting, as were Sam and
I.

I grabbed my little boy and stuffed him into his coat. He wrapped his arms and legs
around me and we ran down the steps to meet them.

That's the day everything changed.

I can't blame Lily. She was only a baby, but she stole my David away from me.

I'd thought David was silly and daddy-proud when Sampson was born, but it was
nothing compared to the way he made over that little girl.

When I saw him stepping from the buggy I thought my heart would bust. I hollered,
"Hello! Welcome back."

He turned to see me running towards him. He only had to take a couple of steps before
he threw his arms around both of us. He smelled and felt so good. With the buggy driver right
there he couldn't kiss me, but after a long hug he took Sampson and kissed him hard, laughing all
the time.

"It's so good to be back. And look at my little Sampson. So big. Look Amy, how big he
is." And hugging him again he said, "Boy did we miss you both."

Not "I," but "We." I didn't notice the difference until later.

Amy called from within the coach, laughter in her voice, "Sophie! David! Help us
out."

I went to the door and Amy handed me a bundle of warm baby. Lily was so wrapped up
against the cold that I only saw a bit of her pink face through the opening in the blanket. David
helped Amy out, one arm tight around Sampson, who, frightened by all the noise, was squirming
to get back to me.

Amy kissed me on the cheek and squeezed me, "Oh, Soph, I'm so glad to be here. We
thought that ride would never end. I can't wait to get into the house. I'm so tired."

She looked wonderful to me, though her face was pale. Her hair was cut in a new style,
curling softly around the edges of a new cap that fit close to her head. Her eyes sparkled as she
smoothed the bundle I held. "We've got to get her inside so I can show you our treasure."
Looking at Sampson, she said, "I've got some huggin' and squeezin' to do."

Within a short time we had babies, adults, boxes and trunks moved down into the house.
As soon as the door shut and we were all alone Amy took the baby and, laying her gently on the
table, unwrapped the blankets, untied her knit cap, and lifted her gently to me.

"Lillian May, meet your Auntie Sophie."

I looked down into a face that was baby beautiful. Like Sampson, she had hair. but it
was blond. Curly hair, like Amy's. Little curls brushed her tiny face that was the color of rich
cream. She had bright rosy cheeks, but it was her eyes that were amazing.

"Look, Sophie," crowed David. "Amy's grandmother had violet eyes and I think Lily
will too." He sounded like this was some special talent that he could take credit for.

"Here." He took the baby from me. "Watch this." He rocked her slowly up and down
and tickled her under her chin. "Daddy's little dumpling going to smile for Aunt Sophie?"

Her mouth twitched. She had David's mouth, and it spread out into David's big grin but
with tiny dimples at the corners. Daddy's smile. He was too satisfied with himself. "Ain't she a
corker?"

But now the smile faded into a frown and she started crying.

"Oh oh, Momma. I think our girl's hungry."

I settled Amy into her chair with her feet on the cushioned stool. David handed Lillian
over. Amy unbuttoned the top of her dress and David watched with intense interest until the baby
found the nipple, stopped crying and started sucking.

"There," he said, as if he'd done it himself, "Lily May sure knows where dinner is."

After dinner for everyone was over--David didn't comment on the special cake, but Amy
did--we sat around the table. They, David mostly, told me all about Lillian's birth.

There'd been no special problem, just a very long labor, over twenty hours, which David
threatened to repeat in length and detail.

Amy interrupted him. "But it was worth it. I'd gladly go through it again, twice so,
except..."

There was a short silence during which I looked from one to the other, wondering.

David closed it. "Right after she was born, as soon as it was decent, according to the
nurse, I went in and... Well, it's just a shame you weren't there. Amy was holding Lily and
looking more beautiful than ever, if that's possible." He looked at her, she beamed at him.

I felt like an intruder.

He continued on with detail after detail of Lillian's first weeks, her first feeding, her first
bath, how she slept so quietly that it frightened him, on and on. At last Amy, sounding
exhausted, said "David, I simply must go to bed."

We helped Amy and the baby upstairs. David put Lily in the cradle he'd made for
Sampson and that I'd prepared before they came home. While he settled them I put Sampson to
sleep in the small bed David had bought from a neighboring farmer, through Puffin.

Tired from the trip both Amy and the baby went to sleep quickly. David hovered around
Lily a while to make sure she was okay, 'til I laughed and said, "Come on, she'll be just fine. Let
the poor babe sleep in peace. You're worse than a brand-new mother hen."

He grinned that proud grin. "Yeah, I guess so, but ain't she fine?" he whispered as we
went downstairs.

Frankly, I could hardly wait to get downstairs. I wanted to be alone with him. Wanted
very much to be alone with him.

He still hadn't kissed me. I was tired of waiting, so, before he could start unpacking or
doing something else, I grabbed him and kissed him. He seemed surprised. I was seldom
aggressive.

But he didn't resist. He moaned until he made me stop.

That was a switch. I was confused and my feelings were hurt.

"I think we'd better take a walk," he said. He wasn't acting like my David. Was there
something wrong with me? Or him?

I put on my heavy, hooded jacket as he got the gas lantern from the hook by the door.
He put his sou'wester on and lit the lamp. His hands were unsteady, he had difficulty holding the
match still.

I followed him out. We picked our way carefully down the path. At the steep, tricky part
at the end, he handed me the lantern, felt his way carefully. When he got to the bottom, he took
the lamp to set on the sand and held out his arms.

I nearly knocked him over wrapping my arms around him. He wasn't a big man but he
stood strong, caught me and held me so tight I had to loosen his grip to breathe.

We left the lantern wedged between rocks near the path and walked. He took my right
hand in his left and put them both deep in his coat pocket. We walked like that for a long time,
along the water line with only pale moonlight to show the way.

The roar of the surf and a harsh wind swept away the questions I cried aloud. "What's
the matter, David? Don't you care anymore?"

I didn't dare say "love." What if he said, "No?" Besides, his kisses were more loving
than ever, so that couldn't be it. It couldn't.

My questions went unanswered, as if he didn't hear.

Finally he turned and ran his fingers across my lips, gently, to silence me. We walked
for a long ways before he veered off the low tide to a sheltered place along the bank. We sat
down on the damp sand and held each other without speaking.

I began to get angry. He was acting so strange, yet not at all like a man who had quit
loving.

"Okay, David, what is it? What the hell's the matter with you?" I always could swear
easier in the dark.

"Nothing's the matter. You don't have to be mean about it." Now he was offended.

I ignored his complaint. "I just would like an explanation, that's all. One minute you're
hot, the next cold. What's going on?"

"Well, Sophie. To be truthful..."

I wanted all of that.

"I don't mean to have more children."

"What?" I wasn't sure I'd heard right.

"Sophie," he pleaded. "Listen, please. For twelve years I had one wife and no children
and now all at once I have two wiv-- Well, I have both you and Amy, and now Sampson and
Lillian." He threw his hands up from my shoulder. "It's enough," he said, so quietly I had to lean
closer to hear his words.

That was all. He didn't want any more kids, so we couldn't-- But surely there was a
way-- "Sampson is almost a year old and we've... I'm not pregnant, so--"

"Don't be stupid. Can't you see how foolish we've been? There's only one sure
way...when people don't want any more children...well, they don't. That's all. They stop."

I knew better than that. I couldn't believe he was so ignorant, "David, there are ways." I
didn't know what they were but I expected he could find out. It wasn't my place. After all, he was
older, certainly more experienced. And I was a woman. An unmarried woman. Where was I to
go to find out?

"Sure, there are ways, but I'm not taking any chances right now. The doctor told me
Amy shouldn't have any more children. When I asked how, he just said to leave her alone for a
few months, then come see him late this summer and he'd tell me what we could do.