TERRY

Does she really think she's going to work through this winter? Not if I have anything to say about it. We worked long and hard to get to this point. No pun intended. It's not that we didn't enjoy it all either but finally, our goal is achieved. We're going to be parents. Bloody hell even the thought of it gives me a rise. For a long time I didn't think I'd ever want this but now there's no turning back and I don't want a single thing to derail it. I'm not asking her to sit on her arse all of the time but fucks sake, I don't think she should be out on overnight treks nor should she be skiing. I know her, she'd never stay on the blue trails and her clientele aren't generally the type to do so. No way will she go up on the slopes. Tua can handle it and we can hire another ski instructor for the season. We had applications out the arse last year and I'm sure we'll get them this year.

Look at her watching me from across the room. I bet she's wondering what I'm thinking.

"What are you thinking about, Ter?"

See, I knew it. She had that inquiring look in her eyes. "I was thinking about you."

"Ah, to what capacity?"

I reckoned I'd better move over to sit by her for this convo. I may be safer from direct contact then I would be from hurling objects. I sat down next to her on the sofa and placed my arm over her shoulder.

"B, love, I want to talk about this upcoming season. I'd like you to put Tua in charge of the business for now."

Her response was immediate as if she knew exactly what I was going to say.

"Fuck that. I trust Tua to the ends of the world but this is my ... our business."

"I know, love but we're pregnant now. Maybe it would be better for you to just handle the administrative part and let him handle the bull work."

"I'm not sick, Terry, I'm pregnant. I can still do things."

"It's not you that I'm worried about. I know you are capable but that's not the point. It's the kid that I'm worried about."

"Oh for fucks sake Terry, woman in third world countries work the fields until the day they deliver and then they pick their kids up, put them on their backs and go right on working. I can't sit idle. I have to work."

God damn she's pig headed. "Bridgid, what if you fell?"

"How often do I fall?"

"Being pregnant changes things. You won't be as strong and steady as you are now."

She went quiet. I reckon she's giving what I said some thought. Either that or she's reloading.

BRIDGID

What kind of a fucked up demand is that? He wants me to veg out and get fat during this pregnancy? Oh, hell no. I talked to the doctor. He said I could do whatever I was doing before I got this way. That means I can run, ski, ride, whatever. I trust Tua with the business but he can't carry it alone. We had to turn people away last year. What's wrong with me doing a kids ski school anyway? I've got to choose my words wisely. Let's try this.

"Terry, I understand what you are saying. I guess I can see both sides of this. Can't we come up with a compromise?"

I could tell by the way he pondered that he may be willing to bend but his answer was succinct.

"No. At this point I feel I should put my foot down."

That's the last thing I need to hear at this juncture. I'm friggin' emotional enough without being bossed around.

"Fuck you, Terry!"

He pulled away from me and I could see his complexion redden. Oh shit.

"Where the fuck did that come from?"

He was barking at me for Christ's sake. I guess maybe I deserved it but, geeze, I feel strongly about this. God don't let me start crying. I've never cried so much in my life as I do now. At this point I hate being pregnant. It's worse than being a pubescent teen.

"I married you; I didn't become your charge. This is supposed to be an equal relationship. Not you, making the decisions and me, obeying your every whim. Fucks sake I let you change the plans for the house."

"You never told me you didn't want me to." His words were snappy as hell.

"No, because I thought it would make you happy."

"I'm not a God damned mind reader, Bridgid."

He used my full name. Uh oh, it's like when your mother uses your full name; it means she's really pissed off. This is the last thing I want. I just want to have my say in this matter, that's all. How can I drive that through his thick Aussie skull?

"I know that. If you were you'd know just how I feel right now."

Terry shook his head. He looked at me for a moment then he turned and left the room. Shit, I could have thrown something at him but I stopped myself from doing it. What would it solve? I do love him so much and I know he loves me but he just wants everything his way, all the time. I'm not like that at all, am I? I need to talk to someone. Is it me? Is it really me who's wrong here?

MONICA

It had been such a hard road for Andy. I was actually more concerned about him since we brought him to the hospital. They pushed and prodded, made him a pin cushion and forced him through so many tests I could hardly keep track of them. When Doctor Bruckner decided to send him to the Burlington hospital, it only got worse. But thanks to the advanced facility there, the most important answers came quickly. Andy was cancer free. Now all they needed to do was find out why his body had rebelled against him.

We'd gone over and over his symptoms, explaining when they started and how bad they had become. He seemed surprised that I had so much information to offer the doctors in those conversations. Amazed that I knew that he was suffering. Actually touched that I had been watching so closely. I'm just impressed that he hadn't come to the point yet where he was angry I hadn't done more to help him. How could I tell him my worst fears? Andy already knew them.

"See, love. I told you it wasn't cancer. I'm gonna be fine, just sorry to leave the Inn so bloody strapped is all."

"Don't you worry about anything. I can carry the load, easy as pie, Andy. When you get out of here, you'll get all better and then you can pick up where you left off." Boy, was I wrong about that.

The next day we would sit with three of the physicians working on Andy's case. He looked worried, I was just plain terrified.

JEFF

"Okay, so let's go over your list of the initial necessities: business phone, store name, business license and fictitious business name, check the zoning permits, personal property claim form, business checking account." Kelly snuggled in next to me on the couch and handed me a warm cup of chai tea. It was six AM, we had just gotten back from our vigil at the hospital and were trying to wind down. We'd been running on a cocktail of caffeine and adrenaline and neither our bodies nor our minds were quite ready to relax. Concentrating on her "to do" list at least gave us something to focus upon.

"I know you'd like to do some minor renovating and improvements up here in the living quarters, but it may be best to concentrate on the ground floor for now." I kept glancing over at her as I spoke, not wanting her to feel as if I was taking over what had begun as her project. But she simply nodded her head in agreement as she examined the list with me. "I'll call Kevin to set up a consultation and see if John would be interested in helping with the painting, floor sanding and refinishing. You're going to need shelving and you could probably keep it pretty simple and yet have it be attractive and functional. We can get the lumber through Kevin; he has a lot of suppliers and John and I can also set up work tables and display racks."

Kelly reached over and took hold of my hand. "I can't believe that you're helping me with this; you don't know how much it means to me."

"Oh, you're going to be getting your hands dirty too, make no mistake."

"Well of course I am." She let go of my hand and sat up straight. "Oh God, I hope you haven't been thinking that I was going to rely on you to pull it all together. I want this more than anything and I've been planning for it for months … I'm just a little overwhelmed by it all."

Just then her phone rang, but she made no move to answer it. After four rings it stopped.

"The voicemail will pick it up." She snuggled up next to me again and squeezed my hand. "Hey, I'm going to let you in on a secret …. although the plans are to start out the inventory with basic items like place settings, platters and vases, I'm going to try something that I've always wanted to do … clay sculpture."

I was intrigued. What she had shown me of her work thus far had been pragmatic, functional items - great for holiday tables laden with festive epicurean fare. I was especially fond of her coffee mugs; they were large and contoured to fit one's hand. I never did care for the delicate fine bone china alternative. "I think that's a great idea."

My positive reaction seemed to encourage her. "I want to call my shop Mother Earth Pottery and market my items under the name Earth Angel Designs."

"You know, I like that." I really did. "It's catchy."

"You think so?" She sounded genuinely surprised.

"Yes, I do. I've always envied others who could take something like a slab of clay or a blank sheet of paper or canvas and transform it into something beautiful. But tell me more about the sculpture."

She leaned forward and turned to face me, her hand still holding tightly upon mine. "I've always had this dream of creating a series of feminine figures … archetypes … wait, they're over here …"

Leaning over towards the coffee table she reached for her sketch pad that had been buried underneath a pile of home improvement magazines. Flipping open the cover she laid the pad across our laps and began to show me several of her sketches; soft round female figures, earth maidens, I guess you could call them. Each was a little different but they all shared round full bodies with long flowing tendrils of hair that morphed into long trailing vines of ivy and bracken. Some had stars. Their faces were placid and broad, the expressions calm and peaceful. I found them enchanting. Right away I could see that they would have a broad appeal. They certainly made me smile.

"Honey, I think you should go for it. I can imagine these sitting in a garden. They evoke a positive feeling … almost primitive … like some sort of earth guardian."

Her eyes lit up and her smile was electric. "Oh my God … you so get it! Earth Guardians … love that! But you know, I wanted to take it a little beyond mere kiln firing. I want to produce some in bronze or copper."

"I think that's a fabulous idea."

"You do?" Again, her surprise at my encouragement. "Wow…this is just so … different … and nice … David always told me that they were ugly and that I'd be wasting my time."

I felt myself growing irritated over her ex-husband. He had really worked a number on her self esteem, but I wasn't going to let him win. "Honey, David's not a part of your reality any longer, unless you allow him to be. Don't let those memories keep you from doing what you really want to do."

It infuriated me to think of anyone criticizing her dreams. From my perspective, they weren't overly grand or unrealistic; I applauded her talent and would do all I could to help them turn into reality.

"I know I asked you this earlier, but Jeffrey Wigand, where have you been all my life?" She placed the sketch pad back down upon the coffee table and threw her arms around my neck, twisting her body in such a way that she ended up laying across my lap. "You really are terrific - you are aware of this, aren't you?"

I may have been tired, but having her lovely soft warm body draped across mine reminded me that maybe I wasn't quite as tired as I had thought. Her tee shirt had hitched up along her waist, pulling tight across her breasts and accentuating her hardening nipples. I slipped my hand up underneath the thin material, pushing it up over her breasts to have full view and unhampered access. Kelly smiled and began to shimmy out of her sweat pants when the damned phone rang again.

She glanced over at it and then back at me. "Let it ring … the voice mail will pick it up.'

I wasn't one to argue, especially not when I had a nearly naked woman in my arms. But in the back of my mind I couldn't help but wonder who it was that kept calling and why she wasn't answering.

KELLY

I had purposefully left my cell phone at home when we went off to help at the Inn. The calls had started two days earlier, and I had yet to answer any of the messages that were clogging up my voicemail. In fact, I deleted those messages without even listening. I know, that displays passive/aggressive behavior on my part, but I wasn't ready to deal with anything the bastard had left to tell me, and he was certainly trying to tell me something.

He was my ex-husband, David. I was allowing myself the luxury of imagining that his life had fallen to shit and that he wanted me to come back. I had all sorts of snappy insults ready for him, but in all likelihood, he simply needed to get a hold of me because he figured he hadn't properly tightened the pain screws and needed to remedy that oversight.

All throughout our separation and divorce I kept telling myself to take the high road and not behave like a clingy, heart broken ex-wife. David had all but destroyed my dreams, but I was not about to surrender my dignity … which was hard, considering that he left me for a much younger woman that he also happened to impregnate. If it hadn't been for Jeff, I may have answered David's first call and tried my best to be conciliatory. But after a few weeks of being treated like a princess by an attractive, intelligent, kind and sexy man who valued my opinions, I had been transformed. I had almost ceased believing in my abilities, but Jeff believed me from the beginning.

And his belief fueled my anger at David, which surprised me. To be honest, it felt kind of good. I needed to sort things out before I answered any of David's calls, because I had no intention of letting him get to me. I had a feeling that he wanted to tell me how the baby was doing and how happy he was now that he had a woman who understood him. A much younger woman. Blah, blah, blah.

Well, I'd be ready for him. I had stumbled onto something fine and wonderful myself. There was nothing that David could say that would affect me. I had moved on and was happy. As Jeff's hands worked their magic all thoughts of anger began dissipate … I had better things to think about.

But still I wondered. What the hell did he want?

BRIDGID

The phone only rang once before she picked it up.

"Riles, it's B. I know it's a weird time of night to hear from me but I need to talk," I blurted it right out.

"What's wrong?" she replied. How did she know something was wrong? Ah yeah, time of night and the sound of my voice were two very significant clues.

"How's the baby? How's John? You doing okay?"

"Oh geeze hon, what's wrong? I know you didn't call me to ask me those questions."

She was so right. I knew everyone was okay. I took a deep breath and let it out. "Terry and I had a fight." There, I said it. It was really our first argument since we've been together and I felt like shit about it, but from where I was standing, I was right and he was wrong.

"Calm down, B. Tell me what happened." There's the voice of reason.

"He wants me to take the season off, Riles. I don't want to. What the hell is the problem? I swear he's been talking to John or something. Caught that overprotective bug." I sure hope she didn't take that as some kind of dig at John. I think the way he looks after Riles is sweet but I see now how it could be a royal pain in the ass.

"Bridgid, Terry may have a point you know. I mean with you being preggers and all maybe your line of work …"

"Damn it you're going to side with him, right?"

"I'm not taking a side. I just think you should consider taking the season off. You've never been pregnant before and you don't know how you're going to feel. There is some risk involved too. B, what if you fall or something like that?"

"He talked to you already didn't he? Christ this just happened a little while ago and he's circling the wagons already. I'm sorry to have bothered you, Riley. Have a good night."

After I hung up the phone I could feel that old pressure settling in. I fought with my husband. I fought with my best friend, what the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I crying so much? I'll kill him. He made me this way. Someone has to be able to tell me what's going on here. Am I going insane?

I looked up at the clock then I grabbed the phone again. I knew someone who must be feeling the same way. It rang, rang again, then again.

"Hello?"

Oh God, I've disturbed her too. The tone in her voice tells me she wasn't expecting a phone call at this time. Should I hang up? What if she has caller ID, she'll know it's me. Shit.

"Nat, it's B." That's all I said before I lost it.

RILEY

Circling the wagons? Well Terry hadn't been circling any wagons but I was about to. Poor Bridgid was facing the worst dilemma of pregnancy and she had no clue how to cope! It was the dreaded hormones. Fucks up everything from brain function to physical mobility; from marriages to choosing paint chips for the nursery. All I kept thinking was, here we go again. Hopefully one day when all are kids are grown and off to college we'll laugh about all this. But not today.

And of all people, I certainly understood her need and desire to keep working. To keep her business viable and strong. Hell, two years ago I almost killed myself trying to keep up with things before Jeff and John stepped in to make me rest. It all didn't turn out so good in the end and I didn't want to upset B anymore than she already was. I knew the pain of losing a baby … and I was going to do everything I could to make sure she never had to feel that.

I immediately called Nat and told her the scoop. As we spoke, her phone beeped. "Listen, it's gonna be Bridgid. Just tell her we'll all get together tomorrow. Tell her … I don't know. Anything to get her to come over here. I think she's already pissed at me, so invite her to your apartment for coffee, okay? We'll get her through this, and we'll get you through this, and then we'll all get our husbands through it too. Fucking hormones!" And she laughed.

"Listen, I should answer this call. Tomorrow, two, here. Bye!"

ANDY

Bloody hell, it felt like I was on trial for my life or something. Monica and I sat at a round table while the assistant stabbed x-rays onto the wall mounts and lit the lamps to show it all. Fuck, I was lookin' at my bones, my brain, my guts, practically everything all on display. Damned if I could figure out if it looked right or not. Either way, it was sure unnerving. Scared as I was, I had to consider my poor wife. She looked like a deer in the headlights, like she didn't even realize they'd seen parts of me she never even thought about.

"Lookit that, Monna. I'm as good lookin' inside as I am on the outside," I teased just as the doctors walked in.

Doctor Specter chuckled and sat, flipping opened his file. "Damn straight, Mr. Fallon."

Fuck, I hoped he was right, not just makin' a joke. Hoped everything lit up on the wall was in fact good and healthy.

Doctor Rusmore and that pretty Doctor Corey sat with us and I looked around.

"Guess you're all wonderin' why I asked ya here, mates," I jeered but I know it wasn't on my face to joke around. "Tell me the scoop."

Corey started, running down the list of symptoms. Hearing all that I thought well hell yeah, this man's pretty bloody sick. But when she finished, Dr. Rusmore took over. His job was apparently to run down all the tests they'd done and the results. Monna and I leaned in to listen.

Blood work, blood chemistry, urinalysis, thyroid tests, adrenal tests, and oh yeah, can't forget the endless fuckin' exercise tests that nearly killed me. Those grueling adventures showed decreased levels in things I never heard of before, in cerebral blood flow and tightened air passages.

"Well, I smoke," I said, proud to explain at least one of those results.

"Not anymore," my wife groaned. "So, what does it all mean?"

That's when Dr. Spector took over and I got a chill down my back. Something told me I wasn't gonna be happy with what he was about to tell us.

"Well, Andy. You were dead right. Those x-rays do look good, but no thanks to you're ignoring this for so long. We just got lucky that your body decided to take a nap and your family chose to rush you to the ER. Let's see," he flipped through the paperwork. "Six months of this. Fatigue so severe that you couldn't get out of bed in the morning, the kind where sleep offered no relief. Short-term memory loss and difficulty concentrating. Low blood sugar. Anemia. Weakness. Constant low grade fever, muscle pain, migraines. Have I missed anything?"

My head shook. "So?"

"So, what you seem to be suffering from is called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome."

"Huh?" I blinked. "So I'm tired. That's what I've been telling you."

"No Andy, you're not just tired, you're far more than tired and this condition can be debilitating if not handled correctly. Your body can't get enough rest, toxins build, everything fights with everything else. It isn't rare either. Over 500,000 Americans suffer from this."

"I appreciate you trying to explain it all in simple terms. I really do, mate. But can ya just get to the point? How do you fix it?"

"We don't, Andy. The facts are that we really know very little about it. It messes with your immune system, the central nervous system then moves on from there. There's no drug, no quick fix available."

"Bloody hell," I almost shouted. "I can't fuckin' live like this, ya know. I got a life and work, a wife. Jesus Christ!"

"Calm down," Dr. Corey said softly. "There are ways to cope and even help yourself improve. Many ways. You'll need to carefully control and follow a regular and manageable daily routine."

"But I don't got a regular or manageable daily routine, doc. I got a dining room that seats 300 and turns over three times a night! I got staff and purchasing and - "

"Andy," Monna whispered and I quieted. Did these people have a clue what life was like when ya can't golf or ski three times a week? Real life?

"Mr. Fallon, that's exactly my point. You must change the stress and pressure of your life. We're not saying that this won't simply correct itself with care and time. We're just suggesting that you make the changes and let your body reset its normal clock. That's all."

That's all? She said it like it was that simple.

"There are other methods that have proven to help," she continued. "Acupuncture, chiropractic, message, yoga."

"You're kidding, right?"

Monna stood, glared down at me. "No, we are not kidding, Andy." She turned to the doctors. "When can I take him home?"

"Mrs. Fallon, I understand that you're a chef at the same restaurant, correct?" Dr. Corey asked.

"I am."

"I must inform you that as caregiver in this situation, and carrying the load you already carry at work, you too need to lighten your stress or you will be facing difficulties as well. We don't know what causes CFS, but we do know that many suffer similar symptoms while caring for the patient, symptoms that can easily evolve into health issues of your own."

"So," my wife huffed. "We'll both change our lives a bit. We're young, generally healthy and smart. We'll figure this out."

"I ain't taken' yoga classes, Monna," I kidded but she wasn't in the mood.

"So don't. But tell me something Andy. What is our life about? I mean, I understand we have great careers in a field that we love. I understand that we're talented and important to the Inn. But I also understand that I want a life with you, children, a chance to fix up our own house. Work can't eliminate all those promises we made to each other, can it? You will take the time you need to control and get over this … this … condition. I will lighten my workload to help you … and we'll figure the rest out as it happens."

I reached for her fingers and held tight. "What about John and Riles, Monna?"

"John and Riley will do just fine. They'll manage. This is for us to decide, and it's time to consider you first.