As it had once before, their life fell into a routine. Lainey started plotting her next book, then spent a week going over the galleys of her last story.
Micah insisted on taking care of her, refusing to let her do too much at one time, insisting she needed to rest more and work less. He did the cooking. He learned how to run the washer and dryer. He even ventured out to do the marketing. One afternoon, when he had sent her off to take a nap, Lainey had informed him that it was a good thing she had her writing to occupy her, since he spent so much time looking after the baby. Another time, she had laughingly accused him of being jealous that she was breastfeeding, because that was one thing he couldn't do for her.
And yet, it was heartwarming to watch him with their son. She remembered what he had said about life on Xanthia, about how children were raised away from their parents, and she wondered how this man, this gentle, loving man, would have been able to endure being parted from his son forever when he could barely stand being away from Mike for more than an hour or so.
Her parents came over often, always with a present for Mike, until the nursery began to look like a toy store.
After six weeks of being treated like an invalid, Lainey rebelled. Insisting that she felt fine, she arranged to have her mother babysit, made reservations at an expensive restaurant down by the beach, bought a new dress, and dragged Micah out of the house, intent on a romantic evening.
"Are you sure you feel up to this?" Micah asked as Lainey backed the car out of the driveway.
"I'm sure I'll go crazy if I don't get out of the house. Honestly, Micah," Lainey said, seeing the doubt on his face, "I feel fine." She reached over and patted his arm. "And Mom will take good care of the baby, don't worry."
"How could I be concerned?" he asked. "She raised you, didn't she?"
"And did a heck of a job!" Lainey declared with a decided lack of modesty. "Isn't it a beautiful night?"
Micah glanced up. The sky was clear, the stars shining brightly. "Beautiful," he agreed, and wondered, not for the first time, how Earth and Xanthia could be so different and yet so similar.
They arrived at the restaurant a short time later. Lainey gazed out the window, her chin resting on her hand as she watched the waves lap at the shore.
"Do they have oceans on Xanthia?" she asked, turning her gaze to Micah.
"Yes, though not as big as this one."
"And fish? And sharks? And whales?"
Micah nodded. "We have a multitude of sea life, different in some ways from yours."
"Different how?"
"We have a fish that has legs and buries its eggs on land."
"Really? I'd like to see that."
"And we have a large fish, what you would call a whale, that is almost a hundred feet long."
"Sounds like a sea serpent to me."
"You could call it that."
"And do you have dogs and cats and horses? And birds and bees?" Lainey grinned at him. "I can't help it, I want to know everything about your world."
"Xanthia is much like Earth. We have animals similar to yours, just as our people are similar to yours."
"But different."
"In some ways."
"Do you believe in God?"
Micah nodded, his expression somber. "Of course. All intelligent life forms acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being."
"I've never been afraid of being invaded by creatures from outer space," Lainey remarked. "I've always believed that if there were people on other worlds, they would be just like us. I mean, if God created man in His own image here, then He'd probably do the same on other worlds." Lainey grinned at Micah. "I guess I was right, at least where Xanthia is concerned."
"You're very wise," Micah said. "I've been to many other worlds and I've never seen any monsters. The people may not look exactly the same, but all are humanoid in appearance."
"Do they have organized religion on Xanthia?"
"Not exactly. We have places of worship, but people attend whenever they wish."
"Not like here, where we go to church on Sunday?"
"No."
"Are you a religious man?"
Micah nodded. "In my way. On Xanthia, I went to worship once each week when I was home. Sometimes to meditate. Sometimes I went into one of the reflection cells and played one of the religious tapes."
"Would you mind going to church with me?"
"No."
Lainey smiled at him, then sat back as the waitress brought their food.
After dinner, Lainey called home to check on the baby, and then they went for a moonlight walk on the beach.
"We'd better take our shoes off," Lainey suggested. Micah steadied her as she removed her heels and stockings; then he took off his shoes and socks and they walked barefoot in the sand.
"The water is cold," Micah mused. "On Xanthia, the oceans are warm."
"Do you miss your home?" Lainey asked.
"Not when you're with me," he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
A soft sigh escaped Lainey's lips. "Oh, Micah, you should have been a poet."
"Me?"
He laughed softly as he drew her into his arms. She was beautiful in the moonlight. Her hair shimmered with blue highlights, her skin was luminous, her eyes as warm and dark as a handful of earth. She was like the ancient goddess, Zanadeus, who had walked the shores of Xanthia, luring unsuspecting men into the arms of the sea.
Gently, he framed her face in his hands. "You're my home, Lainey," he murmured. "Don't you know that?"
His kiss was warm and soft, filled with promises of forever, of sun-kissed days and moonlit nights, of happiness doubled because it was shared, of sorrow halved because it was understood by another. He kissed her with all the love in his heart, and prayed that it would be enough, knowing his life would cease to have meaning if Lainey ceased loving him.
"Micah, let's go home."
Startled by her request, he drew back so he could see her face. "Is something wrong?"
"No." A faint blush heated her cheeks. "I was hoping... I mean, it's been a long time since we..."
She gazed up at him, her eyes filled with a need that went beyond words.
"Is it all right?" Micah asked. "It's not too soon?"
"It's not soon enough," she murmured, her lips grazing his.
Heat seared through him, instantaneous, as though his whole body had been struck by star fire. She kissed him, and the flames burned hotter and brighter and he knew he couldn't wait until they got home, that he had to have her now, or die.
Swinging her up into his arms, Micah walked swiftly down the beach toward a small cove. Stripping off his coat, he spread it on the sand and then, his hands shaking with urgency, he began to undress her, marveling anew at the perfection of her body, at the silken touch of her skin beneath his fingertips. She was the essence of life, a goddess come to life, a miracle wrapped in moonlight.
He groaned low in his throat as Lainey's hands moved over him, freeing him from his clothing, gliding over his skin. Wrapped in each other's arms, they sank slowly to the ground.
The roar of the surf echoed the pounding of his heart as he worshiped her with his eyes, his touch. His heart swelled with love when she urged him to shed his human shape. She whispered her love as she caressed him, her hands exploring the solid wall of his chest, brushing the webbing on his hands. She nipped his earlobe, and each touch told him more eloquently than words that she loved him for who and what he was, that their differences didn't matter at all, that nothing mattered except the love they shared, the love that had bound them together and culminated in the birth of their son.
Carefully, he merged his flesh with hers, afraid of hurting her in his eagerness. It had been so long, he thought, so long since he'd been able to bury himself within her warmth, her sweetness. Tears burned his eyes as she welcomed him home, her hips lifting to receive him, her arms holding him tight as she whispered his name, then gasped with pleasure as two became one in heart and mind and body.
Her name exploded from his lips in a harsh cry of exultation as they reached for the stars and found them. Together.
Lainey came awake slowly, a smile on her face. Now she knew how Scarlett had felt the morning after Rhett carried her up that long flight of stairs.
With a contented sigh, she reached across the bed for Micah, but her hand closed on empty air. Disappointed, she slid out of bed, pulled on her robe, and padded down the hallway to the nursery. Sure enough, Micah was there, bent over the white wicker changing table as he sprinkled powder on the baby's dimpled bottom, then put a clean diaper in place.
Lifting the baby to his shoulder, Micah turned around, his eyes caressing her. "Good morning, Mom."
"Good morning." Lainey smiled up at him. "Did I thank you for last night?"
"No thanks are necessary," Micah said, returning her smile. "I assure you it was my pleasure."
"And mine. Are you hungry?"
"Very hungry." His gaze moved over hers, hotter than the tail of a comet. "I could use some breakfast, too."
Happiness bubbled inside Lainey as she took the baby from his arms. "I'll feed the baby, and then fix your breakfast," she said with a saucy grin. "And then I'll see what I can do about that other craving."
Lainey snuggled closer to Micah. Never before had she realized what a blessing it was to work at home, to be able to work at her leisure, to take long lunch breaks in her husband's arms.
With a sigh, she gazed at Micah, feeling utterly content. She loved him, wholly, completely, not just because he was the most handsome man she had ever known, but because he was thoughtful, generous, caring, kind, compassionate... She smiled inwardly, thinking there weren't enough words to describe him.
She started to tell him how much she loved him when she noticed the troubled look in his eye. "What is it?"
"Nothing."
"Micah, I know you better than that. What's wrong?"
"I need something to do, something to occupy my time."
"What would you like to do?"
"I don't know." He rolled onto his side, facing her. "I love you, Lainey, more than my own life, but I can't stay here, in the house, forever. I miss piloting my craft. I miss the excitement, the adventure. Do you understand?"
Of course she understood. She'd die without her writing. It was a part of her, something she had to do. And yet, as dear as her writing was to her, she sensed that flying meant even more to Micah than her writing meant to her. But there were no spaceships for him to fly here.
Frowning, she realized there was no way he could get any kind of job without the required forms of identification - a birth certificate, a driver's license, a high school diploma, a Social Security number. Some jobs required applicants to be fingerprinted. Did Xanthians have fingerprints? And what if a physical exam was needed?
She groaned softly, dismayed by the seemingly endless documents Micah would need. And yet, such things couldn't be impossible to obtain. There were lots of people who had entered the country illegally and they managed to get by. Somehow, they would find a way.
She was still trying to come up with a solution the following morning when the doorbell rang.
The minute she looked through the peephole and saw Frank Bergen standing on the porch, she knew that trying to find a birth certificate for Micah was the least of their worries.
Hoping Micah wouldn't come home early from his walk, she opened the door.
