♡
Sara's POV
My husband lent me a hand as I changed from my pajamas into a soft rose dress, even if he would have preferred me to stay in bed, as was clear from his looks. I sneaked my arms around his, following his steady steps down the stairs, through the foyer, through the "living room" to one of the many doors that would lead to the gardens. "It's one of many ways to get there", Michael explained to me, swinging the glass door with the white flower frame open. "There is a room designated for entering the garden, but it always puts you right in the middle. From the living room or the kitchen you start at the very outside, so you can see everything."
"And it's probably worth that."
"Oh, hundred fold", Michael agreed, offering me his hand. "Careful, steps."
Michael never let go of my hand as we strolled through the garden. I awed at the flowers, at the well-kept grass and the beauty of the mansion.
Normandy had a charm that was similar to Marthe's quaint house, the so typical French country style that had grown so dear to me, and the more time we spent in France, the more I seemed to love it.
"There's a bench over there."
"I can still walk honey."
"Are you sure?", his eyes quickly darted over me, over and over again trying to catch a sign of weakness.
"Yes", I wrapped my arm around his. "I'm fine. Tell me, did the garden look like this too when you were here as a kid?"
"It was bigger and had much more flowers, the past owners always made sure to have fields of flowers here", Michael retorted after a thoughtful while. He kicked a stone in front of us, slowing our steps. "It was ... hey, you are trying to distract me."
"I'm trying to distract us", I added. "Especially because of the toast", I mumbled in a quieter tone, giving him guilty eyes.
"For you to gag at bread ...", he shook his head worried.
"Tell me a story. Tell me anything, so we can both forget for a little while, until I have to lie down again."
"Fine. But we will sit down the moment you sway, understood?"
"Loud and clear, honey."
"Good." Michael laid his head back and looked at the bright sky. "I always have one summer vividly in mind. The smell of oranges and the hot summer nights are something I will never forget."
♡
Marguerite's POV
Summer of 1992
August
Normandy, France
Scanning the halls, I approached the doors that would be opened upon arrival of my daughter and grandson, quickly deeming them presentable before I signed to Ida to let my youngest daughter in.
Marguerite Marie-Élise Vallier patted her dress into place and smiled at the blonde woman that stepped forward. Blonde after her father, unlike her. None of her children had inherited her once dark brown hair, sadly. The dark-blond haired boy held onto her hand, looking around bored. Her grandson was the only hope Marguerite had; hoping the dark blond would one day turn into a brown head like her. It always seemed like it would.
But ultimately, unbeknownst to her, it never would.
Then he spotted me.
His whole face lit up with the intensity of a thousand suns.
"Nana!"
"It's grandmere!", my daughter hissed immediately before I could even respond, yanking him back. "And that's not how you greet a duchess!"
The boy rolled his eyes and curtsied jokingly. I stifled a laughter. I loved this mischievous little sunshine with all my heart and his name fit right to him. Named after his grandfather, he too was a boy that explored on his own and ruled the world with a charm you couldn't deny. And he was witty like his grandpa! At just the age of three, he knew the chateau by heart and could sneak more around than I ever could.
Which was also troubling when he disappeared suddenly.
I bent down and opened my arms. "Come here mon petit chou. Let Nana see you. It has been far, far too long!"
"Mother!"
"A nana won't do me any harm child", I assured her, hugging the little copy of his father and grandfather tightly. On some days, he looked more like my husband, on others, just like his father. I wondered who he would ultimately resemble, as children always change so much until their adulthood. "Where is your husband?"
"Busy with appointments, as much as he wanted to avoid them", she sighed, stroking over her growing belly. "As is our baby boy here. He has been kicking me non-stop."
Another boy, just as the family always was lucky with. Maybe the next generation would be more lucky to have girls. Even my older daughter had only given birth to boys.
"Then it's time for the three of us to sit down. How was your flight?"
♡
I spent the evening conversing with my daughter, all while I had duties to tend to. The garden party was approaching and summer nights were mostly spent at our chateau late into the night. Life was buzzing in Normandie whenever summer approached. Spring was the beginning of something new, shy promises of the future that laid ahead of us, the smell of rain and fresh flowers accompanying it. Summer was the time of heat, sun and memories, the time laughter echoed through nights, watching beautiful coloured sunsets. Autumn, the loud laughter turned into giggles, leaves were falling and children were eager to go outside, while the adults retreated with their books and watched them with a smile. Winter, the month of cuddles, stories in front of the fire place, of warm chocolate. The month of the family.
I shook my head. I was reminiscing again. But I couldn't help myself, with my daughter so grown up sitting before me, awaiting her second child. I remembered how she was a child herself, how she raced around the chateau whenever the weather was bad, how you could never get her inside when the weather was nice out. Her son was no different, struggling to be inside when the garden was so charmingly calling to him.
Patting my daughter's knee, I inquired about her days in America and her pregnancy, as well as my grandson's development. Maids interrupted our chatter when they asked for my opinions, servants asked for help or reported hourly on their duties, calls came in often from guests or acquaintances that just wanted to chat. Thankfully my daughter had grown up with this and was quite used to waiting on her parents. She gave her attention to her son, watching him talk to the staff with an amused expression.
Interrupter; which reminded me- I waved at my favourite girl to come close, baring a smile. "Célia dear, put the letters of Madame Esmée into my office. I urgently need to reply to them."
The young, red-haired girl with the many freckles looked at me unsure, shifting on her feet. "Are you sure, Madame Vallier? Shouldn't you ..."
My daughter shot her a look. The 19 year old village girl straightened. "On it, Madame. I apologize."
She swiftly moved out of our sight.
"For a servant to doubt your words?"
"It's normal", I assured her.
"It wasn't back in the day", my daughter denied, shaking her head. "If father would have caught wind of this, he would have scolded her immediately."
"She is young, dear."
"You've grown too soft, mother", my daughter softly denied. "She has to know her place."
I didn't say anything. My daughter was just like her father; once they argued, they would never stop.
"Are the rooms ready?", she asked instead, not wanting to argue on our first day. Or quarrel, as she called it.
"Since yesterday", I answered, turning to my daughter who looked more than tired. "Oh dear, go and lay down."
"Are you sure? I could help you", she finished with a yawn.
"Go", I assured her with a smile, patting her knee. "I won't miss you", I joked, motioning at the buzzing of employees around me.
She nodded almost uninterested at that. "Take care of your grandson in the meantime, will you?"
"Gladly. And you sleep. I'll need you tonight."
"What a joy", my daughter sighed playfully and made her way to the staircase after running her hand through her son's hair.
I kept up my smile for as long as I could - and then broke out into a deep, deep cough. One that wouldn't stop, one that has been lasting for weeks now.
Célia was by my side immediately, offering me a handkerchief. I reached out, my hand shaking and I ignored the blood on it. "Thank -" I coughed harshly again, my whole chest burning in pain.
"Oh Madame-! Should I get your-"
"No", I quickly stopped her, reaching for her hand. "My daughter doesn't need to know that I'm sick." I immediately looked around for my little boy, but he was out of sight.
Of course he had slipped away in the split second when nobody's attention was on him. Smart little troublemaker.
"But-"
"No. As I told you, I want you all to act as if I'm fine. She has enough to worry about as is. I'll manage somehow, I always have." It hasn't been easy, especially not since my love has passed away, but that has not stopped me either.
"I'll get the doctor", Célia assured me, making me lean back and rushing towards the room that had turned into his office. Sadly, at the age of mere 62, I was a constant patient of his.
I laid my hand over my face and sighed. "Oh. I wish this would just stop already."
"Stop what?", a childish voice chirped and shocked, I sat upright.
"What are you doing here chou? I thought you were in the gardens!" Or more importantly, when had you sneaked back in again?!
"I heard you cough", he answered and stretched his arms up. I picked him up and put him on my lap. I kissed his dark blond hair and pressed him against me, cuddling him. Was it my imagination or did I feel just a tad bit better?
"You must be mistaken." I ran my nose through his soft, thick hair. He still smelled of chocolate, just like when he had been born.
"I saw you clutch your chest", he disagreed. What a smart three year old. And too smart for my own good. How on earth would he keep this from my daughter now?
"Isn't the garden interesting anymore?"
"It is, but not when I'm alone. I want to play with you."
"Maybe later, grandmother is quite tired love."
"Is it because of the cough?"
"I haven't coughed, chou."
"You have!"
"Madame Vallier", the doctor rushed to my side and I noticed his red cheeks. As well as Célia's red cheeks. You two couldn't be more obvious if you tried, but I let it slide. The young doctor and the young girl would make a cute couple, if it ever would come to that. But if I were to talk about that, he would scold me for having my priorities wrong.
This young man still hasn't learned that I was as stubborn as a mule and still wanted to lead discussions with me.
"I'm fine again", I waved, but coughed into my fist. My grandson pointed at that. "There!"
"And who is this little fellow?"
"My grandson from America", I brushed the curls out of his face. "Usually he stays with me over the summer. Or with his aunt, my older daughter."
"Or with oncle Jacques", he chirped, bouncing up and down my lap.
"Or with my son", I agreed, leaning back. "My throat is dry."
Célia rushed over to the adjoined kitchen, like a headless chicken. Poor girl, still couldn't keep a cool head in situations like this. Not even when my husband had assured everything would be fine.
Contrary to what my daughter believed, her father would have been grateful she worried about me, even if she hesitated with my wishes. She only wanted the best for me; her soul was just like that, nurturing and good.
The doctor fumbled around in his bag, while my grandson peered into it interested. "What's all that?"
"Medicine", the doctor truthfully answered. "I'm a doctor."
"A doctor? A toubib? You don't look like a doctor", my grandson replied with a judging look. I had to laugh. That thoughtful, disapproving pout came right from his mother.
"You are right, I'm not wearing my coat", the doctor reached up and ruffled his hair. Warm, knowing eyes scanned the boy with a sincere smile. "Mon fils, aren't you a smart one?"
"What's that?", my grandson was more interested in the stethoscope than the doctor's words.
My right hand maid returned with a glass of water, pale as the doctor checked my heartbeat and back.
"Célia."
"Y-Yes Madame?"
"Take my grandson to the garden with you", I asked of her after I drank the whole glass of water. "Play with him, won't you?"
"I-"
"Are you alright with that, chou? You know Célia don't you?"
"Yup. She's really bad at hide and seek though", my grandson got off my lap nonetheless and extended his hand to her.
Célia looked like she wanted to stay. I waved her away with a weak smile.
We needed to be alone, I wanted to say, but bit back due to my little sunshine.
Once out of sight and earshot, the doctor's face finally twisted into the sad facade I expected.
"Is it that bad?"
"I'll be blatantly honest Madame. It is much, much worse than we suspected", he took off the stethoscope and scanned me. "Your skin is greyer again and sinking in."
I just sighed. Laid a hand over my mouth and turned my head towards the gardens.
My grandson's bright laughter lifted my mood slightly. I wish this would just disappear as quickly as his laughter made me forget ...
"Madame, it has been three weeks", the doctor's stressed, stern voice however drew me back into the cruel, cold reality. I immediately yearned for my husband to be by my side, feeling so terribly lonely and scared all of a sudden. "You have promised."
"Antonin- toubib, not tonight. Not this week. As soon as my daughter departs."
"Madame!", he pressed vehemently, his voice begging. "My medicine doesn't help you anymore. The prescriptions are failing on you. Your coughs are getting worse and no matter how much you may ignore the blood, I will not! You must go to the hospital."
"I know", I bit through my teeth, not having the strength to get up no matter how hard I tried. "I despise that place. It's hell on earth!"
"And dying at home isn't any better!"
I scoffed. "At least you know how to get to me."
"It took me nearly a year", the doctor sighed and ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. "Sieur Michael went willingly."
"Yet he died there, still."
"The doctors did as much as they possibly could, but the tumor had spread too far ..."
"I know. I was there." I had held my husband's hand as he died, I wanted to say, but the memory stung to much. I quickly wiped my tears away. The thought of his death still stung worse than anything. My heart ached for him. "My poor Michael ..."
"And this isn't bronchitis anymore", the doctor stressed further.
"Hemoptysis", I whispered. "I'm aware it's that. Coughing up blood from your lungs."
"You know what it could point to then?"
I kept quiet. How I wish I could just stand up and play with my grandson, sweeping all my health problems under the rug and bear a smile just for him. I wanted to walk away from this all.
"Infections. Problems in your blood vessels. Cancer. Do you understand why I'm stressing you so much to go? Why I'm asking you to finally drop these parties and look after yourself? Why you need to stop entertaining people and finally get a proper diagnosis? A village doctor can only help you so far!"
"You helped marvelously. Michael swooned about you until he took his last breath and I think highly of you as well", I patted his hand. "After my daughter and grandson leave, I will go."
The doctor's face soured. "That will be when? In a week?"
"My daughter leaves in a week, yes", I coughed, bending over. "My grandson however ..."
"Grandma! I caught a butterfly!", he yelled, as if he knew we spoke about him.
"Help me up", I asked Antonin in a whisper. "I want to be with him. I've long accepted I won't live too long without my Michael."
"Madame ..."
"No, I'm not ready to discuss this. I've long accepted it. My mother had cancer. My grandfather had it. And I might as well. The hospital warned me of it, and I'm more afraid if my grandchildren and children might develop it. I don't care if I will suffer, as long as they don't suffer."
The doctor was tight-lipped.
"Grandma! Hurry!"
"I'm coming Michael!", I slightly raised my voice, not able to muster more energy. "Grandmother is coming!"
"Should we finally tell your daughter?"
"No", I shook my head. "Veronique is about to give birth, a business woman and has marital problems with her husband. She doesn't need more stress."
"Then Marthe at least. Or Jacques."
"No. Not until I have it in black and white."
"Madame-"
"Anto-Toubib, no matter how much you beg, that has never worked with me. Why else didn't Michael ask me to leave his side as he suffered?"
The doctor's shoulders sunk in defeat.
"I have one plea to make", I sighed. "I hope I will see my grandson's birth, but if not, then god had other plans for me. Listen closely: When Michael returns one day here, to claim his title, make sure he is alright. Test him for cancer. Test all of Veronique's children and their children in my name."
I smiled as the dark blond boy came rushing to me with his dimpled, wide smile. Laughter lines were shy of showing themselves, but hinted at their presence. Already his childish face was growing more and more just like him, and I could only far too well imagine him as a grown up adult. I teared up as his blue eyes shone just like my husband's had. A copy of his father, and intriguingly, of my deceased husband. Down to the hair and its curls. A true de Beaumont.
"Nana, look! Isn't it pretty?"
At the sight of my grandson, I only missed my husband's presence more and more. I missed waking up to him, missed how the day and sun called for us to get started, missed his laughter and brilliance as he entertained, missed his touches as he made time for us. My soul yearned for him ever since his death three years ago.
"It's beautiful, Michael."
I opened my arms to my grandson, kissing his thick hair. I could only pray you will always be healthy and happy like this, Michael Philippe de Beaumont.
Nana loves you with all her heart.
♡
Sara's POV
I wiped my tears away. "I thought you would tell me a happy story."
"Sorry. The gardens always remind me of my grandmother", he grew silent, squeezing my hand surprisingly firm considering he wouldn't touch me in fear this morning. "She kept up such a strong facade, I suspected nothing. She played with me all day long, held that garden party and took care of me the whole month of August, just like every year without a fail. I didn't understand at the time, but when I was told at the age of 10 that she was sick, I knew it had to do something with her coughs."
"Did she ...?"
"When I was 13", Michael silently said. "The year we were sent away."
"Oh Michael ..."
"She lived longer than any doctor had foretold. The illness was stubborn, my grandmother was way more stubborn. Grandmother had a mind on her own, strong and stubborn unlike anybody in the Beaumont and Vallier family. An ox when it came to health, no matter how many operations she had. I always admired that about her." A small smile graced his lips. "When the doc said that no war could stop Marguerite from hosting, I could only silently agree. Nana was like that. He had looked after her back then and now he looks after you."
I didn't want to ask. But Michael answered on his own. "Cancer, as they thought. It spread slowly from her lungs. She denied chemotherapy in the end, proclaiming she was ready to finally follow grandfather Michael."
"Have you met him?"
"Yes, but I was too young to remember him. He passed when I was just a baby." Michael smiled sadly. "Supposedly I take a lot after him, that's why I was gifted his name."
"Wasn't Michael your father's middle name?"
"Yes, that too", Michael agreed. "And Philippe was my great-grandfather's name."
"And Leon's? And Sebastien's middle names and names?", I softly tried to avoid the death topic any further.
"Leon Clement and Sebastien Adrien. My mother's family has this tradition of naming the male children after family members. Leon is her uncle, Sebastien was my grandmother's father. Their middle names were my father's pick, so you have to ask him that", Michael checked if I was alright, then continued. "But from what I remember, dad had chosen everybody's middle names after family members also. Both are quite family-bound, as dumb as it sounds."
"Everybody yearns for their family at the end of the day", I whispered, leaning my head against his arm. "Would you name our children after your family?"
"I want to name one daughter of mine Elise", Michael mused after a while. "Middle name or first name, I don't care, as long as one of them bears the name Elise. After my grandmother."
"And we owe Rebecca for naming Sara after me."
"Rebecca has always been on my list", Michael admitted. "I've always liked certain names."
"Those are?"
"Mainly American, funny enough. Rivera, Diana, Thea, Elaina, Melissa, Leila", Michael grew silent. "For boys I always loved Matthew."
I had to smile. "Well I can certainly tell which gender you hope you will get."
"I don't care if it's a son or a daughter. I want a healthy baby, that's what matters", Michael stressed. "Besides, girl names are so much easier to choose than boy names. The names I like are all taken by the rest of the family, so I have to rethink my choices."
Michael intertwined our fingers. His eyes held emotions that catapulted me right back to our wedding day. His smile was full of love. "Remember when what we said during our honeymoon?"
"We talked a lot", I laughed. "Which conversation specifically?"
"Babies."
I leaned my head against his arm. "Let's sit down", I softly whispered.
Michael held me close as we did so. "We had so much on our plate we had no time to discuss it."
"You are right", I brushed over my face. "Especially because of me."
"By the way, you are still priority in this situation", he reminded me. "Until we know what's wrong."
"In the next few days we'll find out", I gnawed on my lips. "Please let it just be some stomach bug. I have eaten so many new dishes it could really be that."
"I pray it's just that", Michael, who always lost his cool when his family was sick, whispered that part.
I put my hand on his. "Everything will be alright. You'll see."
We went silent. Listened to the chirping birds and enjoyed each other's company.
I breathed in deeply. The smell of the French countryside was indescribable, but home was pretty damn close to it.
"So ...", I picked up our conversation again. "Babies?"
"When do you want to try? Or do you want to even try-"
"Are you seriously asking me if I want to have children with you?", I laughed, nudging him. "It was all we talked about the past few months."
"I know but I just wanted to make sure", Michael assured me, brushing my cheek. "I'm asking also because I've ... wanted children strongly for the past few years. I'm more than ready to become a father."
My heart beat out of loop. I also wanted to become a mother. I wanted our children to run around, wanted their laughter to fill our house, wanted to bear children that resembled us. Wanted to raise them with him. Wanted to take this a step further.
"When is it too soon?", I whispered.
"Is there a too soon with us?", Michael cupped my face. "We move pretty fast."
Engaged within 6 months of dating. Married on our one year anniversary. Married for three months.
"Might as well ...", Michael's eyes glistened, his voice lowering with wanton.
My lips trembled happily. "Might as well try for one now?"
"Not now. When you are healthy again", Michael brushed his lips over mine. "But I would love to make a baby with you. I want to make a baby with you. I want to make you a mother. Want to become a father."
His hand brushed over my stomach. Feather-light, scared he would still somehow be able to hurt me. Never him. He could never hurt me physically.
"I want a little mini-us. I want that."
"B-but", I stopped us before we both would say yes immediately. "A baby changes everything. Marriage. Bodies. Social lives. We will have less time for each other. I'll have to take care of the baby for a few months before I can work again. I will dedicate more time to the baby. I read mother's lose their old self and yearn for it daily."
"I know that", Michael turned serious, taking my hands. "But you are not on your own. We are raising our children together. I will give you breaks when you need them. I will give you everything you need. I'm well read when it comes to this topic", he admitted with a shy smile. "It started when Rebecca got pregnant with Adrien, Leon and I would read day and night about pregnancies and how women and men were affected by it once the child was born. I'll make sure you have time for yourself, I will make sure you don't lose your own self, we'll make sure to raise the baby with love and patience."
"What about our financial situation? Which schools will we send the kids to? Is our neighborhood good enough for a baby? Is it safe?"
"Money is a worry you never need to have", he assured me. "Our home in New Canaan is perfect for families. The schools there have marvelous reviews. We have a lot of land, young neighbors and a good security system now, one that won't fail like the last one. Our community is tightly knit and welcoming."
"Will you be ok when I take care of the baby that much? When you have less of my attention?"
"Honestly, it will be much different than know", he brushed my hands "but lord it will be our baby you are doting on, that will make it much more bearable."
"If I just have baby boys?"
"I told you", he raised a finger. "Healthy is the most important thing to me."
"You painted a room baby pink", I called out.
"Sure I hope for one girl, but it won't be the end of the world if we only have boys we can repaint that room", he assured me. "And also; I want to be frank with their upbringing. I want no old gendered house chores. I want both genders to be raised the same. Do housework. Learn how to build. Both have to study."
"I want them to at least finish high school", I added.
"I want them to go to college", Michael stressed sternly. "In this land you have to or else you will have a hard time."
"But the college fees ..."
"Who says we won't save our money for our children?", Michael raised a brow. "We are saving continuously, so it shouldn't be much of a problem."
"You really have an answer for everything", I laughed, leaning my head against his shoulder in relief. "How about dating?"
Michael stiffened. "You know ..."
"You can't lock our daughter or daughters away from that", I chided him. "Oh I can already tell you are going to be overprotective of our children!"
He built himself up. "What else did you think? I will protect all of you, that's my job!"
"How will we handle our responsibilities once the baby arrives?", I questioned further.
"For now, I would say it depends on how much the baby needs us, or how we can handle the baby. I would say since you are at home, your main focus should be on the baby. I can cook no problem, we can do the chores together to help you-"
"You can't possibly take over the whole household!", I stressed, knowing where this was leading. "You work from morning till evening!"
"Then we do them on the weekends and you do what you can manage! If you need me to do something when I get home, tell me and I immediately will!"
I had to smile. He did too. "It's hard to say: I will do bath time, or, I will wake up in the night, when we don't know what it will be like. But I'll gladly do bath time to have some bonding time with them. I'll gladly wake up with you to calm our baby. Parenthood is done together, so whatever you need me for, I will support you and vice versa."
I brushed over his arms. My smile fell and I bit my lip. "I'm scared how it will affect us as a couple. We'll have less time together. The children will become my priority as a mother and I also have to be a wife ..."
"Evening time is couple time", Michael simply decided. "And once we feel ready to hand our baby over for a few hours, we'll have some dates."
"Why do you answer everything so easily? Aren't you afraid I'll change into a completely different person? That I won't want to have sex with you anymore? That I won't want to shower you in affection when I have a baby in my arms?"
"Of course I'm scared", Michael admitted with a deep breath. "But I hope you won't sweep me under the rug and just get me out to make a new baby. I want to be actively involved with you, and then I want to relax with you. I don't want you to be all over me when you don't feel like it, but admit it, we always are touchy feely with each other."
"That's because it's been a year and a half", I pointed out.
"I doubt that will ever change", he admitted with a stone face. "I didn't care one bit about my other girlfriends. With you I find myself wanting to hug you constantly, to tease you, to have fun with you. Now I want to do it with the mother of my children, want to tease her and my baby, want to kiss my baby and my baby mama. Easy as that."
"What does it mean to you to be a father?"
"The same it means for you to be a mother: raise a child as good as we can, make that child happy, to not forget about our spouses, to make sure we have some alone time to never lose ourselves, to tend to every need the child has, to be there when the child needs us, to one day let the child discover the earth on its own. I want to raise a baby that will go to school, go to college, and then find a family just like us. I want you by my side as the child takes its first steps, as we bring the children to school, I want to be with you when we have sleepless nights due to worry, I want to argue with you about our children, about us. I want to live through the hardships with you. I want to be the cool dad that never leaves the children's side no matter how much they need me."
"How do you want to raise them?"
"Go to school. Don't do drugs. No hitting them. No screaming. Talking to them, like we do. Communication is important. I want to be their best friend, but also parent. I want them to be able to talk to be about everything. I want to have a deep trust with them, I want to help them for as long as they let me help them. Then I want them to grow into their own self, want them to learn on their own but I also want them to ask me or you for help when they need it. And most importantly; I don't want to scream before them with you, nor do I ever want to leave them."
"Good", I sighed shakily. "For me ... I also want them to trust me whole-heartedly. I don't want to scream at them, I want them to talk to me when I upset them or they upset me. I don't want to stress them that they have to have good grades, I just want them to be happy and pass, you know?"
"Oh, completely", he nodded deeply. "Nobody gives a shit about your grades at the end of the day."
"I want them to be happy and loved. I want to be a good mother and give them everything they need to become ...", I looked at him. "As successful and happy as you are."
Michael squeezed my arm. "Or like you. We both are lucky in life." Michael drummed his fingers on my thigh. "I would like to ask you to take care of them when they are sick. You can leave work much easier than I can. But that doesn't mean I won't help you when I get home. I would also reduce both our hours when we start working so we can take care of them. It was always my father who took me to after-school-programs and I want to do that for them as well. If you need me to, I can also leave work for them."
"For me it was my mother who worked less the first few years to take care of us, dad worked normally. I would understand it if you would want that, I also think it's my duty as a mother, you know?"
"And what about me, the father?", he beamed. "I can also take days off for our babies, no worries. I want us to bring them to school every morning. And I will bring them to after-school-programs while you pick them up, deal?"
"Sounds fair", I smiled. "Were your parents overcautious?"
"Victor was", Michael nodded. "I don't want to forbid too much for my kids, that only creates liars and sneaky devils. I often sneaked out and did stuff I shouldn't have. So, I want to be stern, don't get me wrong, but I don't want to be too stern you know? I want curfews, house chores, expect them to go to school and to concentrate on school majorly, but I won't forbid them to go out with their friends nor will I forbid parties once they are at that age."
"Good, my parents were like that as well", I shot him a smile. "Come to think of it, they never forbade me too much. Sleepovers they weren't a fan of, people they didn't know they wanted to at first meet, I was allowed at parties but only until 12 until a certain age, it was expected of me to go to school and to graduate as well. It helped me be much more open with them, even if I hid some worries from them. My mum is almost as bad as me, dad is worse than I once they are worried, so I spared them that."
"I agree with all of that", Michael nodded deeply. "I would prefer it if they had sleepovers at our house, to keep an eye on them. But I want them to know their papa isn't a worryhead like their mama", he kissed my nose.
"So, no hitting, spanking, screaming, school must be finished and you must graduate, stern but not too stern, want them to learn how to become independent, ... what else did we forget?"
"Religion, diet, hygiene", Michael counted out loud. "It was always my dad that reminded us to shower. Mum didn't."
"Well, we'll raise them to shower every day. Good hygiene is a must. Diet wise ... we always had a lot of home cooked meals. Never processed food. Rarely take out."
"We as well. Good, settled. But religion ..."
"Whatever religion the children choose, I will support them. I want to raise them with both", I told him. "So they can see what they like more. I don't want to forbid one religion and force another onto them."
"Good. I don't care much for religion to be honest, but I like that idea. If you want you can register your religion, feel free to choose." He shrugged. "What I'm adamant on however, is that they finish school. I will not budge on that. And I want to have our meals together. And as hard as it is to say, I don't want you to go back to work immediately once the baby is born."
"Elaborate", I cautiously said.
"At least six months."
"I wanted to stay the first year at home", I openly admitted.
"Take your time", Michael ultimately decided. "You are their mama. But I would prefer it if you didn't turn into a stay at home mum."
"As if I could ever", I laughed relieved.
"Also, once we have a baby", he held me tightly, his eyes stern. "Divorce is not an option. It never will be. I don't them to live through the same thing as I did."
"I wouldn't have married you after such a dumb divorce if I knew I would divorce you again. However, if you cheat on me, I will not hesitate in the slightest", I hissed.
"I understand that ... but no backing out once the baby is here, understood?"
I nodded, somewhat understanding him. It was awful for him and caused many psychological problems for Michael, so I understood that he didn't want the same for our children.
"What a heavy talk!", Michael sighed to my surprise.
I agreed.
We both looked at each other - and broke out in a smile.
"I still want a baby", Michael shyly smiled, cheeks flushing. My heart pitter-pattered at his soft tone and shy demeanor.
"Are we ready for one?"
We let that question sit between us.
Nodded at the same time.
I giggled. I couldn't believe it.
Michael broke out in a big smile, revealing his dimples and laughter lines. Then he broke out into a hearty laugh. He drew me into his arms. Kissed my hair.
I clung to him with a beating heart and teary eyes, smiling wide.
There really was no 'too soon' with us.
"Let's have a baby", I whispered.
"When are you ovulating?", Michael asked, as if he didn't know. "I can't think straight right now."
"I should get my period in a few days."
"Then we try next month or when you are healthy again", Michael decided. "I'll get checked up at the docs in the mean time. See if everything's alright with me."
I nodded. "I'll do so too."
We looked at each other - and giggled excitedly.
For a few hours, our worries were completely forgotten.