 Caught in the throes of a dream that is much too delicious to wake from, I roll to my stomach and bury my face in the pillow, my fingers instinctively finding their way underneath my panties to the moist heat emanating from between my legs. My breathing becomes labored as I rock against my own hand, kneading away the dull ache that my fantasy of Danny has created. A loud thumping at the end of the hallway rips me from my sensual reverie, and my eyes fly open, squinting to read the numbers on my clock... 6:42 AM.
Sitting up as the noise draws closer, I swing my legs over the side of the mattress and throw a robe over my sheer camisole as I rush to the door and fling it open, the hinges creaking as it bounces off of the doorstop and back into my shoulder.
Blinking past the film of sleep in my eyes, I notice that the first hazy, morning rays have just begun to peek through the slightly parted drapes at the end of the hallway, illuminating Danny's back as he turns his attention away from whatever it is that he's struggling with to look at me over his shoulder. Chuckling to himself when he takes in my disheveled appearance, he pushes the object in his hands against the wall across from our bedroom door and walks towards me, whispering, "I'm sorry that I woke you."
Still slightly breathless from my dream, I gather the satin sash that hangs limply at my sides and cinch the waist of my robe, asking in a raspy voice, "What are you doing up so early, Danny? It's Saturday."
Closing the distance between us, he reaches out to stroke my flushed cheek, slipping his hand behind my neck as he draws my lips to his, pausing to whisper against them, "What's got you so hot and bothered, hmm? Another dream about me?" He pulls me against him, lavishing me with warm, wet kisses that make my lips tingle long after his have left mine. Letting my legs fall open, I shamelessly rub myself up and down his thigh, his hot breath scorching my neck as he buries his face into the crook, finishing, "Want to tell me what this one was about?"
With as much coquettishness as I can muster at the crack of dawn, I guide his hands underneath the robe to my breasts, and whisper seductively, "I'd rather show you."
Sighing heavily, he presses one final, chaste kiss to my mouth before his lips and fingers abandon my skin, and he steps back slightly, saying, "Michelle... we don't have time."
Stroking the side of his face, I counter, "Sweetie... Guillermo and Josefina won't be here until nine thirty." Dropping my hands to his hips, I thread my fingers through his belt loops and pull him back against me, whispering in his ear, "We've got plenty of time."
He shakes his head 'no' beside my face, and he turns his shoulder away from me as he points to the object that he left against the opposite wall earlier, explaining, "I need to get that set up before the baby gets here."
My eyes follow the direction of his finger, but in the dimly lit hallway, I can only make out the four small wheels that rest against the floor. "What is it?" I ask, leaning back inside our room to turn on the light switch. With the hallway bathed in the soft, fluorescent glow of light from our room, my lips curve into a small smile as my eyes drift up over the finely carved legs and rails of the most beautiful wooden crib that I've ever seen. Grabbing his hand in mine, I lead us over to it, tracing the intricate flowers and leaves etched in the rich, dark wood as my fingers slip over the rails. The detailing is exquisite, and even though there are only a few scuffed areas, I can tell that it's very old.
Sensing my unspoken question, he delicately lifts the mobile from the mattress and hands it to me, and I finger the plush moons and stars that dangle from it as he explains, "Abuela bought this as a gift for Mama and Papa in 1966... a month before Mickey was born. Mama used it with all of us." I can't resist the smile that plasters itself to my face as I think of my Danny as a baby in this crib. "It's been sitting in the storage closet downstairs ever since Pilar outgrew it," he continues, and I gently trace a finger over the clear plastic wrapping that covers a brand new set of floral sheets and a matching quilt laying atop one corner of the mattress. "You don't mind if the baby stays in our room, do you?" he asks sheepishly, looking at me to gauge my reaction.
His enthusiasm about Isabella's visit warms my heart, and I stroke his face lovingly as I answer, "Of course I don't mind, Danny." He smiles at me warmly for what feels like an eternity before I turn my attention back to the crib, and I fidget nervously with the gathers on the pale yellow bumper, both frightened and excited all at once by the images which push their way into my mind. I've always wanted children but I've never been able to picture them in my mind's eye until this very instant, standing here with Danny, watching his long fingers curl around the side railing of the crib. I close my eyes, reminding myself that we haven't even discussed marriage yet... let alone, starting a family. Clearing my throat, I will my voice to come out flat and unaffected as I point to the sheets and quilt and ask, "You bought this?"
He's lost in his own thoughts too, I notice, watching him shake his head to clear his own mind. Nodding, he hunches forward and looks up at me, answering, "Uh huh. Earlier this week." I smile broadly and cover his hand with mine as I think of him shopping in the baby department of a store, selecting these very tiny, very feminine things.
The tension slightly eased, I grab the bedding, clutching it to my chest as I say, "I'd better go wash these before we make the bed." When I see the look of confusion cross his face, I explain, "Babies have very sensitive skin. Everything that touches them has to first be washed with a mild detergent." He nods his head in understanding, and I turn and pad across the carpeting towards the staircase.
Once inside the laundry room, I tear into the plastic wrapping and shake the sheets loose, standing on the tips of my toes to reach for the box of Ivory Snowflakes on an overhead shelf. As the basin begins to swirl with warm, soapy water, I close my eyes and draw the cool cotton sheets up to my face, delicately caressing the tiny daisies with the skin of my cheek. On the backs of my lids, I see a clear image of a cherubic-faced, rosy-cheeked, curly-headed baby with Danny's olive skin and my light hair, and I smile as I throw the bedding inside the washer, reveling in the sensation as my maternal feelings tug at my soul.
Passing by the kitchen, I peek my head inside and ask Olga if she'd mind tending to the wash that I just started while I head back upstairs for a shower, and she agrees. Turning her back on the bacon and eggs on the stovetop, she says curiously, "I heard Daniel up banging around in the closet this morning. What are the two of you doing up so early?"
Walking over to her, I lean against the island, pressing my palms against the smooth countertop behind me as I say, "Getting ready for Isabella's stay. He drug the crib up there this morning."
Smiling broadly, she averts her eyes as she wipes her hands on a dish towel, saying, "My goodness... Daniel has been so excited about this weekend... you'd think that he was an expectant father himself, no?" Not really fishing for an answer, she bites her lip, trying desperately to contain her amusement before turning back to the breakfast that she's preparing. "There's a changing table in that closet too, Michelle. It might come in handy for the two of you this weekend," she offers through what I can only assume are clenched teeth. Even though her teasing is good-natured, I can already tell that this is shaping up to be one of the longest weekends of my life.
I leave her to her work, popping a piece of bacon into my mouth as I push through the door. As it swings closed behind me, I hear her muffled laughter, and I roll my eyes as I drag myself slowly up the stairs. I can't suppress the giggle that escapes my own lips when I step into our room and see Danny hovering over the crib in the corner near the window, a dust rag in his right hand and a can of furniture polish in the left. "It hasn't been used in almost twenty years, Michelle. There's about a foot of dust on it," he exaggerates, spraying the rag with a generous amount of polish before squatting to wipe between the grooves of each individual rail. "What are you laughing at?" he asks, and I am thrown into a new fit of hysterics.
Catching my breath, I walk over to him and run my fingers through his hair, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "I'm admiring your domestic skills, Danny. They're a major turn on." Hearing the sultry inflection in my voice, he drops the rag and slips his hand underneath my robe, caressing the inside of my bare thigh. I close my eyes and bite my lip, somehow managing to summon a great deal of willpower as I push his hand away and repeat his words from earlier this morning, "Danny... we don't have time." Sighing in frustration, he picks the rag back up, concentrating on the task before him. Hooking a finger under his chin, I tilt his head up and look down into his pouting eyes, finishing with a grin, "I'm going to grab a shower and throw something on before Guillermo and Josefina get here with the baby."
Grabbing a knit top and the first pair of shorts that I can find in my bureau, I head to the bathroom, turning in the doorway when I remember my conversation with Olga. "Olga said that there's a changing table in the closet downstairs, Danny. Would you mind bringing that up here, too?" I ask his back, waiting for a response.
He looks at me over his shoulder, and I can hear the laughter in his voice as he answers, "If it'll make your job of changing Isabella's diapers easier... sure."
Playing along, I feign indignation, placing my hand on my hip as I ask, "What do you mean... my job?" When a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, I continue my psuedo-tirade, shaking my head slowly as if realization has just set in, saying, "Oh... I get how this weekend's going to go. You're going to do all of the fun things like feed her a bottle and play with her, and you're going to give me all of the unglamorous jobs like cleaning up baby puke and changing shitty diapers. Am I close?"
Shrugging his shoulders and nodding his head, he answers, "Pretty much," before we both can no longer restrain ourselves from doubling over with the laughter that racks our bodies.
"Turd," I mumble, closing the bathroom door behind me, and as I walk to turn the faucets on, I can still hear him laughing in the next room. I smile at my reflection in the mirror as I pull the bedclothes from my body, and I step under the warm, steady stream of water, excited and a little anxious about Isabella's arrival. I can't wait to share her with her godfather this weekend.
Twenty minutes later, I am dressed and ready to start the day, my face made presentable with a light covering of makeup. Stepping out of the bathroom, I close the door behind me, my breath catching in my throat when my eyes drift to the far corner of our bedroom which has been transformed into a mini-nursery. The crib has been pushed against the wall, a small lamp on a nearby table casting a soft glow of light over the intricately hand-carved wood. Adjacent to that is the changing table that Olga mentioned, and facing the window is a rocking chair.
I watch as Danny carefully folds one of the lap blankets that I recognize from the living room cedar chest and hangs it over the back of the chair. From his profile, I see a beautiful smile light his face as he surveys his work, and I silently walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and placing several kisses against his back. His hands reach out, and I watch his fingers curl around the back of the chair as he whispers, "I brought this up from the courtyard. I know that babies like to be rocked to sleep."
Curious, I remove his hands from the chair and turn him towards me, asking, "What else do you know about babies, Danny?" When I see his brow furrow in confusion, I push him to sit down in the rocker, and I snuggle up in his lap as I clarify, "I mean... when's the last time that you've been around a baby?"
"You mean... one as tiny as little Bella?" he asks, and I nod against his blue Polo shirt, breathing in the scent of his cologne clinging to the collar. "Not since I was about... uh... nine."
Pushing at his shoulders, I lift my head from his chest and stare down into his eyes. "Not since Pilar?" I ask, quickly doing their age difference in my head.
Lifting his eyebrows as he nods, he pulls my head back to his chest, and his thighs underneath me flex as he pushes his feet against the floor, rocking us slightly. "Pilar was the baby, Michelle, and since Josefina is the first of us to start a family... yeah... this will be the first time that I've been around a baby in twenty-one years." He cups my kneecaps with one hand and my bottom with the other, leaning back as he pulls me closer to him, and he whispers playfully, "You think that my skills will all come back to me?"
Blazing a trail of kisses up his throat, I lightly trace the tip of my tongue across his earlobe as I purr, "You've certainly got rocking down pat." I feel him shudder slightly when my tongue dips inside his ear, and I smile against his skin as I continue, "Lucky for you... you've got me to show you the ropes with everything else."
"Is that a fact?" he breathes, his hand finding its way to tangle in my hair.
Nodding, I murmur, "Mmm hmm," burying my nose in his hair as he lowers his head to kiss the exposed skin at the upper swell of my breasts. "I happen to have been one of Springfield's most popular baby-sitters in my younger days, Mr. Santos. So... if you need any refresher courses... I'm your girl."
I clutch his face to my chest and throw my head back, his tongue like liquid fire as it scorches a path over my skin. "You are that," he says, lifting his head to seize my lips with his. "Lucky... me," he manages to utter between kisses, his hand finding its way underneath my shirt to cup my breast and to tease the straining nipple between two agile fingers.
A soft knocking interrupts us, followed shortly by Olga's insistent voice calling our names, and my eyes fly open. Laying his face against my chest, his hot breath tickles the skin of my breasts as he clutches me tightly to him, whispering, "Damn!" I stretch my eyes wide with shock when her voice persists, licking my aching lips as I disentangle his arms from around my body and stand to straighten my clothes. When I head for the door, he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me down to him, whispering in my ear, "It's a good thing that she showed up when she did." I shoot him a questioning glance, and he explains, "There's no time... remember?" Guiding my hand down the front of his chest, he settles it on the crotch of his jeans, finishing, "And I'm already as hard as a rock." Returning his wicked grin, I squeeze him in my palm, watching him close his eyes and draw in a deep breath before I walk to the door... a promise of things to come on another day... another time.
Plastering a ridiculously innocent smile across my face, I swing the door open cheerfully and ask Olga what I can do for her. "The linens for la nina," she explains, poorly disguising the mirth in her voice as she extends the fluffy, soft bedding towards me, and I thank her for her trouble. As she turns to leave, she strains to get a glimpse of Danny over my shoulder, sending me a knowing wink just before the door shuts behind her. I have to applaud her tenacity.
"What's with her?" he asks, walking up behind me and placing his hands on my shoulders.
Turning to face him, I show him the neatly folded sheets as I walk to the crib. "Who knows with Olga," I explain over my shoulder, deciding that honesty isn't always the best policy. What can I say? She and abuela think that this is great practice for our future children? Hardly. "Wanna help me?" I ask instead, standing over the crib while secretly telling my mind's voice to shut up.
Shaking his head 'no', he reclaims his spot in the hunter green rocker, answering, "I want to watch you do it." When I stick my tongue out at him, he adds, "So that I can admire your domestic skills."
Tugging the fitted sheet over the corners of the thin, firm mattress, I unfold the flat sheet and shake it loose, letting the warm sun bathe my face as I tilt my head up to the window to stare out at the beautiful July sky. As a gentle breeze rustles the leaves of a nearby tree, an overwhelming sense of contentment pervades my soul, and I turn to look at the cause of my happiness... my Danny. In the depths of his eyes, I see complete adoration and devotion. "What are you thinking about?" I ask with a smile, turning back to tuck the edges of the sheet underneath the mattress.
I hear the creaking of the wooden chair as he stands to walk towards me, and I draw the quilt from the foot of the crib up to the head as he stands beside me and encircles my waist with his arm, pulling me against him. Covering my hand with his as I smooth the wrinkles in the bedding with my palm, he interlaces our fingers and whispers, "I was thinking about how much I love you."
Reaching for the mobile on the nearby table, I attach it to the railing at the head of the crib and turn it on, watching the fuzzy moons and stars slowly make their orbit in time to some calming tune. Placing my hand over his on my hip, I lift the other to stroke his cheek lovingly, turning his face towards me. I lay a delicate kiss upon his lips before resting my head on his shoulder and answering, "I love you too, Danny."
The booming chime of the doorbell reverberates throughout the entire house, and I look up into his eyes expectantly, the tender smile on my lips reflecting his own. Walking hand in hand from the room, we bound down the stairs excitedly, and he whispers in my ear, "It's show time."
The smiles on our lips evaporate when he swings the door open and we encounter two sour faces staring back at us. The measured distance between Guillermo and Josefina lets me know immediately that they've had a fight, and she makes a pitiful attempt at a smile as she wraps her arms around my neck and greets me. "Thank you both so much for doing this for us," she says sincerely, her voice cracking as she looks down at her baby, who is sound asleep in the car seat in Guillermo's hand. Dressed in a pink sleeper, Isabella is clutching the edges of her blanket in her tiny fists, and the plastic pacifier in her mouth bobs up and down as her two rosy lips suckle even in sleep.
"No need to thank us," Danny and I say in unison, and we share a stolen glance at one another when Josefina grabs the car seat from Guillermo's hands. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lead her into the living room while Danny hangs back to help Guillermo unload the baby's things.
Abuela and Olga soon join us in the living room, and Josefina speaks in hushed whispers as she points in the direction of the front door and explains, "He's in a hurry... he wants to make it to Chicago in time for a late lunch with his family. He's been rushing me all morning, but I just can't seem to get myself moving. I'm not even sure that I want to go." Reaching down, she strokes Isabella's downy, soft hair, her voice breaking again as she confesses, "This will be the first time that we've spent the night away from her, you know?"
I can hear Danny's and Guillermo's voices as they make trip after trip between the foyer and the car, and I can't help but wonder whether or not Danny's getting the same version of the story that I am. "And he seems happy about it," she spits, and the anger in her voice makes Isabella whimper slightly. Hooking the toe of her shoe underneath the foot of the car seat, Josefina rocks her back to sleep gently as she explains, "He says that we need a break from the baby."
Trying to assuage the situation, I defend Guillermo, offering, "Josefina... I think that he just misses having his wife all to himself." Abuela and Olga nod in agreement, and I continue, saying, "Take advantage of this time together to rejuvenate your marriage." Understanding her unspoken fears, I shake my head 'no' when she opens her mouth to offer words of protest, saying, "Isabella will be fine. She's with her family, and we all love her..."
"She's right, cousin," Danny cuts me off as he walks into the room, followed closely by a rather sheepish looking Guillermo. "Besides," he continues, shrugging his shoulders as he folds his arms across his chest. "Michelle's an expert when it comes to the art of caring for tiny babies," he finishes, shooting a sexy wink my way before I turn smiling eyes to Josefina to gauge her reaction.
Her nerves not completely calmed, she takes a deep breath and reaches a trembling hand into her purse, pulling out a small slip of paper. Rubbing calming circles across her back, I lean in closer to her to read along as she points to the first line of writing on the page. "This is the number of the hotel where we'll be staying... suite 1402," she explains, waiting for me to nod in understanding, and I comply. "This is Guillermo's brother's number. Estefan is the father of the bride, so there should always be somebody there who can get in touch with us if there's an emergency." She exhales sharply and bites her lip as she looks back at the paper, the thought of something happening to her baby making her cringe. "And this is the number of Isabella's pediatrician," she finishes, pointing to the last line before folding the slip of paper and pressing it into my palm.
She looks down at Isabella and then back up at me, a pained expression on her face. Drawing her hands into my lap, I pat them lightly for reassurance, and she seems comforted as she says, "I expressed nine bottles of milk last night and six this morning. They'll need to be refrigerated as soon as possible. There should be more than enough since we'll be back early tomorrow afternoon." Lifting her eyes to her husband's, there's a softness in her voice now as she asks, "Right honey?" He nods his head as relief washes over him, grateful that she's no longer mad at him. Smiling, she turns back to me, adding, "She usually eats every three or four hours. Believe me... she'll let you know when she's hungry. You'll recognize that plaintive wail early on."
Lowering her hand to caress Isabella's rosy cheek, Josefina says, "As you can see, she spends the majority of her time sleeping. Whenever she rubs her ears, she's letting you know that she's tired." Searching her husband's face, she asks, "Am I forgetting anything?" He shakes his head 'no', stealing a sideways glance at his watch.
Josefina fidgets nervously with the edge of her skirt and with the handles of her purse, and after a long silence, abuela clears her throat and soothes, "Don't worry, mi hija." Grabbing my hand in one of hers and Danny's in the other, she says confidently, "Isabella is in good hands. Daniel and Michelle will be good substitutes while you're gone." Embarrassed, I chew my bottom lip nervously and look up at Danny, who has a ridiculously huge grin plastered to his face.
Together, Danny and I escort them to their car, stepping over the cases of diapers and bags of clothes and toys which line the foyer and spill out into the hall. After several more words of comfort pass from Danny to Josefina, we wave good-bye to their car as they wind their way down the driveway, our arms wrapped around each other.
Closing the door behind us, we both sag against it, but our attempt to catch our breath is futile when Isabella's crying pierces through the stillness of the house. "Well, daddy... who's up first on diaper detail?" I ask, mocking abuela's characterization of us as substitute parents.
"I don't know, mommy," he answers, playing along. "Flip a coin?"
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