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Day One:

"Okay, Blake, I think you have everything you need," Ross sighs, putting away
the last of the provisions. Juice in the fridge, cereal in the cupboard,
pizzas in the freezer... It comes to my attention that a pint of my favorite
ice cream somehow mysteriously made the trip with us to the Bauer cabin.

Bouncing our bubbly seven-month-old daughter on one hip, I raise my eyebrows
at my ex-husband and gesture toward the carton of Cherry Garcia with a tilt
of my head. "I wonder how that got in there?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it was on the list." He's grinning. He knows darn well
it wasn't on the grocery list.

"Ross!" I risk releasing half of my two-handed grip on a squirming Clarissa
just long enough to give her father a playful swat. "You know I'm trying to
watch my figure."

"Don't worry," he winks, his grin turning comically wolfish, "I'm watching it
plenty for both of us."

My responsive laughter is muffled into his shirt as he gathers the baby and
me into his arms. I lay my head down on his chest and listen to the strong,
steady beat of his heart against my ear. I think of what it will be like to
miss that sound for an entire week. Seven long days and seven even longer
nights. How crazy was I to think I could ever pull this off?

"I can't do it," I announce.

"C'mon, now... Yes, you can. It won't be that bad." He presses a kiss onto
my forehead. That's another thing I'm going to miss--Ross' forehead kisses.
I practically live for them. This is getting worse by the second.

"Yes, it really is going to be that bad. I'm going to be stuck up here all
by myself, trying without success to write my stupid novel, while you and the
kids are going to have the whole week together at home. It's not fair." I'm
aware of how petulant I sound. I just don't care.

"Sweetheart, you'll get through this," he assures me, rubbing my back
soothingly. Or at least that's what he tries to say. It's kind of hard
for him to talk with Clarissa trying to stick her fingers in his mouth like
that. "It's only going to be until next Saturday. You once spent months
alone here, remember?"

"Well, yeah, but at least then I had Munchkin to keep me company."

"No offense--you know I find our little girl endlessly charming and have ever
since the moment she was born." As if to underscore the point, he is
momentarily distracted as he pauses to kiss the chubby little hands trying to
play patty-cake with his lips. "But I doubt Clarissa was much of a
conversationalist back then."

"Oh, we talked all the time, didn't we, sweetie?" I give her a few more
bounces, and she throws back her little head full of familiar red curls in an
ecstatic peal of baby giggles. The tiny ponytail perched atop her crown
flops back and forth a couple of times and comes loose.

"Uh-oh... Someone's losing her thingy," Ross says, reaching for the barrette.

"Here, Daddy, why don't you take her and let me get that?" When it comes to
understanding the intricacies of the feminine hairstyle, my usually-adept
partner is hopelessly lost. I shudder to think of what Clarissa's hair will
look like before the week is up. He obligingly takes the baby while I
attempt to recreate her Pebbles Flintstone look.

"So, just what did the two of you talk about that whole time you were here?"
Ross asks. His tone is light, but something about it sounds a little off, a
little too controlled. I also notice that he's careful to keep his gaze on
the baby, as if he is afraid of what I might see, should it meet mine. The
subject of my rather unique second pregnancy is still a rather difficult one
for us.

"We didn't talk so much as we communicated," I explain, matching his tone
precisely. I don't want what are about to be our last minutes together for
an entire week to end uncomfortably. "You and the boys were popular topics
of conversation."

"We were? Now I'm curious. Tell me more."

"Well, uh..." I busy myself with re-securing the barrette. I could have been
finished with it by now, but it's easier this way. "You know... I'd tell her
what a great daddy she had, even if things weren't exactly perfect, and I'd
know she was listening because she'd give me a little kick in reply."

"Uh-huh...?"

"And I'd tell her all about her two brothers, and how happy they were going
to be to meet her. She'd give me a little kick then, too. And she'd kick
when I told her about Grandma Holly and Grandpa Roger, and her cousins, and
the characters in my book, and our kitty-cat, and our house, and..." I let my
voice trail off, figuring he has the idea.

"Am I starting to see a pattern here?"

"Think she kicked a lot?"

"And maybe you talked a lot," he says, and I can already tell by the sound of
his voice that he is grinning, even before I glance over and sneak a peek.
That's more like it.

I give Clarissa's ponytail one last flip with my fingers to get it to curl
just right, even though I know it will stay like that only until the next
time she remembers it's there and tries to yank it out. "There we go, all
done."

"Perfect... just like her mommy." Ross leans forward, and I catch the hint of
spearmint just before his mouth comes down on mine.

"Okay, that's it!" I cry, pulling out of the kiss. "I cannot do this. I
really, really can't. I know I spent week after week after week holed up in
seclusion here when I was writing my first--wait, take that back--my only
novel, but I felt like I didn't have a choice then. I have a choice now, and
I choose not to be away from you and the kids."

"Blake, honey..."

"No, Ross, I'm serious. You haven't even left yet, and I miss you like mad
already. I mean, there you were just now, kissing me, and all I could think
about was how I won't be tasting TicTacs for another seven whole days. It's
crazy, and it's not worth it. I don't want to put any of us through this,
not even for seven hours."

Glancing around the tidy front room of the cabin, Ross finally settles upon
the space between our feet as the best place to deposit Clarissa before
taking both my hands in his own. "Blake, listen to me. You need to do this.
Not just for yourself, but for all of us."

I shake my head, not wanting to hear anymore. "Ross--"

"Uh-uh-uh," he scolds, bringing an index finger to rest lightly on my lips.
"Just hear me out for a minute, okay?"

Nodding, I steal a look at the baby while I'm at it. She's amusing herself
with untying her father's shoes.

"Okay..." He takes a deep, preparatory breath, and I get a nervous flutter in
my stomach. "Honey, you mean well, and I know you've been trying hard to
come up with something for your publisher--really hard. Especially when you
consider that between me, the kids, our family, friends, and everything else,
it's amazing you've found the opportunity to even write your name. But you
can't do everything all at once, Blake. You're spreading yourself too thin.
Now, I know I'm not a writer myself, but writing best-selling romance novels
doesn't strike me as something you can do just whenever you find a minute or
two outside of family time."

He gives my hands a little squeeze, and I know the bad part must be coming.

"And I'm sorry, but I don't think raising our family is something you can
squeeze in between writing chapters."

Bingo. The tears come almost immediately. I don't mean for them to-I try to
fight them, to hold them back because I don't want him to see me crying. If
he sees me crying, he'll blame himself, which will only make me feel worse
and cry even harder. Together we make quite a pair.

I blink away my tears, then lower my head and do a quick, furtive wipe with
the back of my hand at the one or two that escape out the corners of my eyes.
Still at our feet, our little darling is now sitting on her father's
shoelaces, with the hem of her Winnie the Pooh dress pulled up and shoved in
her mouth. Clarissa is at that stage when, sooner or later, everything ends
up in someone's mouth.

"Sweetie," Ross asks, "are you crying?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." My monosyllabic answers aren't fooling anyone--least of all this man,
whom knows me above all others. My other half, my better half, no matter
what any court of law says...

He dips down in an effort to get a good look at me. "Then why aren't you
saying anything?"

"I'm not sure what there is to say," I shrug. Stepping gingerly around
Clarissa, I go to the window to check on her brothers. They're still playing
happily on their hands and knees in the grass, exploring all the places the
cold kept them from enjoying when we were last here at Christmas.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. Ross has picked up Clarissa again, and the two
of them have joined me at the window. We watch Kevin and Jason play in
silence.

"Only I could do this," I groan, once I trust myself to speak again without
turning on the waterworks. "Only I could take what should be the happiest
time of our lives-time we should be spending just concentrating on being a
family again-and instead make it all about me and some multimillion dollar
lawsuit."

"Blake, that's not going to happen."

"That is exactly what will happen if I can't deliver three chapters and an
outline by next week. They're going to sue me for breach of contract, and
then that will be another whole mess entirely."

"Well, then, I guess it's a good thing I'm an attorney."

I turn to face him, unsure whether he's joking or not--until I see the
mischievous twinkle in those incredible baby blues of his.

"You actually think you're funny, don't you?"

"Occasionally."

Chuckling, I rest my head on his shoulder. "Only you could make me laugh
at a time like this. Were you this amusing when we were married? I can't
recall."

"Oh, yeah. I was always a riot. I'm just better at doing it intentionally
now."

"Stop it!" Elbowing him in the ribs, I try unsuccessfully to suppress my
giggle. "I don't want to feel better. I've made a mess of things, and I
want to wallow in it."

"Blake," Ross asks softly, "do you trust me?"

"With everything. With my life."

"Then trust me when I say to you that everything will be all right. You're
going to stay here, and you're going to write like a woman possessed so that
when I show up on Saturday, we can ride off into the sunset together in our
four-door sedan." His free hand comes up to tenderly cup my chin and raise
my face to his. "But, Blake, everything--all of the things that are really
important, at least--will be just fine, no matter what happens with this
book. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Smiling, I duck beneath his arm and wrap my arms around his waist,
snuggling close. For a few more minutes, anyway, until he has to leave, all
is right in the world.

As if reading my thoughts, he kisses my head and murmurs, "Well, if you're
sure you're going to be all right..."

"I know, I know... It's that time."

"I don't want to go, but we still have a long drive ahead of us."

"Come on and I'll walk you out," I say, taking his hand and tugging him
toward the door. I want to make this as painless as possible. Snagging the
diaper bag off the table, I lead Ross and Clarissa out to the driveway.

"Boys, it's time to go," their father calls across the yard to the twins.
They look up from whatever it is they could possibly be doing with the piles
of soil and rocks they've amassed, and I can see the matching frowns of
disappointment even from where I stand.

"You'll be back before you know it," I assure them as they shuffle dejectedly
through the grass. "And maybe next time we'll arrange for a few hours to
explore the woods before we have to take off again. How would that be?"

"Good," Kevin replies, but without much enthusiasm. Jason can only muster a
nod.

I squat down until I am on eye level with my little guys. Their clothes are
filthy from playing in the yard, and I am struck by the thought that tonight,
when they take them off, I won't be the one with the bottle of pre-treater
trying to keep the stains from setting. It's strange, the things you think
to miss at times like these.

"You two do remember that I'm not coming home with you right now, don't you?"

More nods. Jason's bottom lip is trembling. I think I'm going to start
crying again.

"But Daddy is taking the whole week off from the office just to spend with
the three of you," I sniffle. "You won't even have to share him with me.
Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"I guess," Kevin sighs. Jason just shrugs his narrow little shoulders.

"Sure it does. You two aren't fooling me." Reaching out, I ruffle the hair
of first my toe-head, then my brunette. "First thing tomorrow morning,
you'll be out having fun in the dirty old garden with Daddy, and you'll
forget all about your poor mom."

"No way," Kevin denies with a firm shake of his dark, wavy curls. "We won't
forget you."

"Are you sure?"

His head bobs up and down. "We've got something to remember you by."

"You do? What is it? May I see?"

Digging into the pockets of their shorts, both of my boys produce fistfuls of
rocks. The puzzle of the rock and dirt piles is suddenly complete.

"We got the prettiest ones we could find out of the whole yard," Jason
solemnly explains, throwing his arms wide for emphasis.

"You certainly did," I concur, taking the time to peruse the stones
appreciatively.

"Here, Mommy, hold out your hand," Kevin says, choosing a smooth, round,
pinkish pebble to drop into my palm. "I want you to have this, so you can
remember us, too."

"Thank you so much, sweetheart!" My throat abruptly feels tight. I swallow
thickly before I can continue. "I'm going to put it on the nightstand so I
can look at it and think of you every single night as I go to sleep. It'll
help me have good dreams."

"Okay, boys," Ross states, clapping his hands together, "give Mommy kisses
and then go ahead and get in the car before she starts not-crying again."

Shooting their father a look, I collect my hugs and kisses from Jason and
Kevin without much fuss from either the boys, or from me. But I am still
only halfway through the goodbyes. I turn my attention to Clarissa, whom
Ross has already belted into her safety seat.

"You be good, Baby Bear," I tell her, leaning into the car and kissing her
little button nose. "Don't be too rough on Daddy."

"You might want to repeat that so the other two can hear," Ross suggests.

"Did you hear that, boys? Go easy on your poor old dad."

They just look at one another and giggle. Boy, is Ross in for it! Kissing
all three of my babies one last time, I shut the car door, mindful of tiny
fingers and toes. And then the only one left to say goodbye to is Ross...

"I'm no good at this," I tell him, leaning back against the side of the
sedan.

"What's that?"

"Telling you goodbye. I mean, I've done it enough times, but I must not be
doing it correctly, because it never takes."

Bracing his hands on the car, on either side of me, he bends at the elbows
and leans in to dust the left corner of my mouth with a spearmint-scented
kiss. "Lucky me."

"You just keep coming back for more."

Then he does the same to the right. "Lucky you."

"Mmmm...Lucky me." Standing on tiptoe, I throw my arms around Ross and pull
him into an aching, breathless embrace that I know I will be thinking about
and longing after for days. Breaking our kiss only when forced to do so by
lack of oxygen, breathing greedily, I tell him, "Go. You have to go now.
Before this gets any more difficult than it already is."

"I know." He buries his face in my hair and hugs me tight.

"Then beat it, mister."

"Be that way," he sighs, smiling sadly. For some reason, his eyes look
awfully wet to me.

"Hey, you're not not-crying, are you?"

"No way." Linking arms, Ross and I walk together around the side of the car.
He gets inside and starts the engine. I lean down into the open window.

"Good, because I don't think I could take that."

"I know that, too," he says with a wink, and I'm sure he does. My other half...

"Out of here," I admonish him. "Before we both start."

"I'll see you in seven days." He says it like a promise.

"Seven days." I dart in for one last kiss, then--waving so hard I probably
look as if I'm being attacked by a swarm of bees--I back away from the car so
they can leave.

Ross puts his foot on the brake and eases the sedan into reverse. "Write a
lot."

"I will."

Slowly, the automobile carrying my entire life inside inches away, down the
drive. I'm able to keep pace walking along beside it.

"I mean a lot."

"I will."

"I mean constantly."

"Ross!" Unless he hurries up, I am not going to make it. I am not going to
be able to wait until they are gone to break down. I'm going to lose it in
front of him, the kids, God, and all the little creatures of the woods.

"Whoa, wait a minute..." The car bounces to a stop as Ross reaches inside the
breast pocket of his sports coat. Only he would wear a sports coat on an
eighty-five-degree afternoon in July, but I absolutely adore him, weird
clothing fetish and all. "I almost forgot."

"Oh, really? What is it?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. Call me
skeptical, but he's grinning again and that little mischievous twinkle has
returned to his eyes. Something is up.

"Hold out your hand." Of course, I indulge him. He places a half-empty box
of TicTacs in my hand and winks. "Something to remember me by."

"Oh, you are truly hilarious. You just wait--I am so going to get you, Ross
Marler!"

"Oops, look at the time!" Laughing, he takes his foot off the brake. "Gotta
rush!"

I shake the TicTacs at him tauntingly. "We'll see how much you're laughing a
few hours from now when your addiction starts to get the better of you, and
you start craving these. I'll bet you'll wish you hadn't tried so hard to be
funny then."

"What's that you said, honey?" he asks, cupping his hand to his ear. The car
rolls away a little faster, momentum helping Ross to beat a strategic
retreat. "You're too far away! I can't hear you!"

"I said this isn't over!"

"Still didn't catch that, dear!" They've reached the end of the drive now,
and he has to shout to be heard.

"Not by a long shot!" I call after him, laughing.

"Try not to get cabin fever! We love you! Goodbye!"

"Goodbye! I love you, too!" I yell, just as the sedan angles onto the main
road.

"Goodbye!"

Ross taps the horn twice, blows me a kiss, and then they are on their way. I
walk to the edge of the yard and watch the car's taillights slowly wind down
the path to the lake and grow fainter, until they disappear altogether.
Until I am really and completely alone.

Then I take my rock and my TicTacs and go inside to cry...