callused hand. I’ve been doing construction work the past year and put in extra hours to make sure I could take time off when our baby is born.
“Me too, Filson. I'm just so excited and so ready for this. It's like everything we've waited for, everything we've ever wanted, is finally here.”
“Almost feels too good to be true, doesn't it?” We turn and look around the nursery, our eyes lingering on the crib I built with my own two hands. The quilt Maple sewed painstakingly piece by piece with patches of my old flannel work shirts.
“I know a lot of people don't like finding out whether or not they're going to have a boy or a girl, but I'm glad we did,” she says her hands running along the dark wood-stained crib. “It makes me less anxious.”
“Good. I don't want you to be anxious, especially when we could be having this baby any week now.”
“Any day now,” she says with a laugh, running her hand back over her belly. “God, aren't you excited?”
“I am,” I tell her, leaning in for another kiss. “What should we name him?”
It's a conversation we've had a hundred times over the last nine months. We got married in the spring and Maple was already pregnant. She was glowing then the same way she glows now.
“There are so many names I like, but it's hard to choose.”
I take her hand and lead her from the bedroom. “Can you believe it's Christmas Eve?” I ask. “What do you think your Christmas gift will be?”
We walk down the hardwood stairs into the living room. The fire is blazing, and stockings are hung, hers and mine, and a little stocking in blue for the baby-to-be.
“I don't want anything other than this… you and me, together,” she says. “I just want to enjoy these last few weeks before we become parents.”
“That’s sweet and all,” I tell her picking up the box from underneath the Christmas tree, which glitters in the corner. The six-foot-tall pine tree is filled with ornaments. Ones that Maple has been saving since she was a child. We've made Granny's house our own home and it feels pretty damn sweet to be here like this. There's no question about whether or not we'll be together forever.
Sammy walks over to us, nuzzling her nose against my knee as if urging me to give the present to my wife. “Here you go,” I say. “Merry Christmas.”
“Filson,” she says. “I thought we weren't doing gifts until tomorrow.”
“I like giving you things on Christmas Eve. Last year I gave you the house. I don't know how I'm going to top it now.”
She laughs. “Filson, you're ridiculous. I don't need anything topped.” She unwraps the box. It's a small one, and as she lets the red ribbon fall to the ground and peels back the green paper, she opens a black velvet box. She peers inside. Resting on the cushions isn’t a piece of jewelry, but instead, there is a key.
“What's this?” she asks. “The key to your heart?”
I chuckle. “You already know you have that.”
“What does it unlock?” she asks.
“It's the key to the soup kitchen. I bought you the building.” Her eyes widen in surprise. “No more renting. No more wondering if you'll be able to keep the doors open.”
“You bought the building?” Her mouth falls open. “I thought the owner refused to sell.”
“I was able to convince him it was the right thing to do.”
“Filson,” she says. “I can't believe you managed to do that.”
“It took some sweet talking, but—”
She wraps her arms around me, cutting me off. “Thank you. I know we've been able to get through the last year because the gala raised so much money and with ongoing help from the people in town. But this takes a burden off of our shoulders. Now the soup kitchen can stay open without any worry.”
“I know,” I tell her, kissing her. “It’s meant to be.”
“Just like us,” she says, lacing her fingers with mine and pulling me down for a kiss.
I bring her closer, running my hands over her body before leading her to the floor. On the plush rug in front of the fireplace, I begin to strip her down to nothing, pulling down her panties and lifting the hem of her dress.
“Oh, Filson,” she says, sighing. “I'm so big and—”
“And so beautiful,” I finished for her. “Maple, I love the way you look when you're pregnant. It makes me want to knock you up every year