007:

I hadn't met her yet, but he'd said to just leave a note with details of what I wanted done. The note was on the counter. I held it up for him to give to her. She was his housekeeper, after all, and we hadn't even been introduced.

The housekeeper was in her mid thirties, I supposed, as she and her assistant came into the kitchen. Rafe was perusing the list I'd made last night. He looked up at her and smiled. "Raya, this is my wife, Aubrey. Aubrey, Raya Rowe. She's been my housekeeper pretty much since I bought the house."

I went to shake her hand, and felt queasy as she wore a heavy flowery--- no rose scented--- lotion or perfume. I backed up with a smile, holding my nausea at bay as best I could.

"Aubrey and I would like for you and---- tell me your assistant's name, please."

The brown haired brown eyed slender girl with the long hooked nose that came around the corner dressed in shorts and a blouse, with ten bracelets on her left wrist, waved and smiled, popping her bubblegum. I estimated her age at close to twenty.

"I'm Mona Tate." She said cheerfully, and I know my eyebrows rose as I shook her hand too.

"We're hoping that you can remove all the bottles of booze out of the liquor pantry in here and the others in the dining room cabinets. There's a trailer in the garage with crates for them to be loaded into. Already counted and inventoried, so you don't have to do that part." I knew Rafe was letting them know in case they thought they were being thrown away and they could snatch a few.

"And the downstairs guest room needs to be cleaned top to bottom, bathroom too." I said. I gave Rafe a smarty pants saucy look. "We'll be moving up to the master bedroom today."

"Other than that, just the normal stuff. Aubrey's not as much of a clean freak as me, but she is a really good housecleaner. I don't think you'll find anything really gross to clean. Tiffy's stuff is, as usual, in the laundry room." Rafe took my hand and twirled me around as we headed to the garage.

"I'm pretty sure I can't drive off and leave you here."

"Cause I might steal the booze?" I laughed, swinging my purse to my shoulder. A hot breeze blasted us from the street. It smelled of ozone, and I scrunched up my lips, looking up at the little I could see of the sky here.

"Cause you've stolen my heart. I'm not used to being separated."

I went back over to him. "Rafe. We talked about this. It's just for a few hours."

"Videos tend to go over schedule."

"They also tend to be boring, you said, and I think that's half your problem." I grabbed his chin and shook it as he closed his eyes in annoyance. Then without warning, he grabbed my face with both hands, and as he had before, hunched his shoulders into mine as he kissed me passionately, firmly and with real deep thoroughness.

There were words that could have been quipped. We were both fairly good at that. But instead he whispered the five things he loved about me that he'd stated before we went to bed last night. It was a habit we'd acquired while on tour, and even though it had been hit and miss, we'd started it up once we were married. Today these things included: he loved my mole on my arm, he loved my chapped lips, he loved the way I lay when we'd had sex and I was sleepy, he loved the way I wrote notes for the housekeeper, and he loved that I was easy to change my plans to accommodate his pleasures.

I saw right away where that one was heading. "You knew when you married me this day would come."

"I'm being triggered by the last time we didn't leave this house together." He pouted twirling my hair and wiggling his hips to get even closer to mine.

"Phone!" I said. "Big difference."

"I know." He hung his head.

"Rafe. I'll see you in a few hours. It'll be your excuse to get out of there."

"Good idea." He said and dropped my hand to go and get into his car. I waved once more for good measure, and then walked the few steps to my house and pushed the button for the garage door opener.

There was the little unused bright yellow VW Beetle. Oh, how I had missed her!!! My little honey bee car!

Getting in, and listening to the Beach Boys on CD was so familiar. I tootled down the road to the freeway and got on, heading to the beach. The hour drive was a breeze, and I felt happier than ever.

It was a little surreal, though. This was the first time, and I was one of those first time noticers. The first time you shower after the first time you make love. The first time you walk through the door after being gone for a long time. The first time you drive your car after acquiring another car. Just one of those things. This was the first time I drove this car after being married. The first time back to work after Angelee's death. The first time going to ABCSC as a married woman. The first time going anywhere by myself without Rafe---- the first time going anywhere pregnant.

I felt this huge wave of gratitude wash over me. Huge--- the hugest. It was like a storm of gratitude. I was married to the man of ---- Heavenly Father's dreams--- I guess I hadn't really had perfectly clear dreams myself. 

My dream guy had not been a tall, dark-haired, tattooed, way built rock star. Nope. And he knew it. But his dream gal had been an Elite Forum model--- several times over. Long, full, beautiful silky smooth hair, tall, long legs--- not a brainy, short, kinky curled baby daughter of pop star and actor family, neonatal surgeon. And neither of us cared.

Oh, at first we were a little skeptical, I think. We had stuff to work out. We still do. There might always be stuff to work out. But Heavenly Father brought us together, and kept us together and now we are experiencing our first day apart since we were brought together.

I giggled and swung my hair. I felt like a kid. First day apart--- I kidded myself--- I sounded like a teenager.

My phone buzzed and came on the car speakers.

"Baby, where are you? I miss you."

I laughed and laughed. "Don't ever tell anybody how whipped you are. You'll never live it down."

"This isn't whipped, this is me missing you."

"I was just thinking it's our first time apart. Maybe that is a little traumatic."

"A lot traumatic. I think we should go back home--- and spend the day in bed analyzing it."

I laughed harder. "Rafe--- you big goof. Go film the silly video. It's all set up for you. You can do this."

"I'm going to be standing around all day, trying to think of funny things to say. I'm not a funny guy. I can't think of funny things to say all day."

"Wimp. Just be yourself. And don't scowl."

"I am scowling. I scowl all the time."

"Right. Whatever. I will see you in.... what four hours.... Lunch. You won't hardly get any filming done."

"I'm scowling right now."

"Then just imagine I am kissing you---- all over. Even on your scowl."

He laughed.

The freeway does not go all the way in to Huntington Beach where ABCSC is situated so you have to take Beach Blvd. all the way to the beach and then make a right up PCH--- till just past Main. It takes about a half an hour from the freeway to get all the way into the underground parking facility. But when I did, I noticed that Mom's car was not there. Which didn't mean anything really.... It was still early and if she was coming today, it would be later. She usually flew in about one or two. But sometimes she went to Rocks and met up with whoever was there for the day---

I asked the phone to dial her number and she answered after a few rings.

"Hi Mom. I'm here at ABCSC, are you here too?"

"I'm at MLSM in Salt Lake. Why, do you need me?"

"No. I'm here to assess your preemie, and take a look at----." I consulted my phone schedule. "Lacee Donaldson."

"She's a scheduled c-section with multiples." Mom recalled.

"Routine? Why am I being called in?"

"Pre-eclampsia. One baby is posterior, cord around the neck."

"Oh, okay. I'll take a look. We may have to go sooner."

"That's why you're there. Good luck."

I parked and got out, I was wearing jeans and a blouse, sandals, and sunglasses pushed back on my forehead. I could have dressed more professionally, but I hadn't been sure I was seeing anyone --- let alone performing surgery.

I slid my ID card into the card reader and the doors slid open for me. Then there was the tunnel to traverse. Another card reader admitted me to the professional wing. My office was on the second floor attached to the delivery rooms. I saw the nurse's station lit up with four gals, and one doctor.

My office was beyond them. I felt the wonder of medical professionalism surround me. ABC wasn't a hospital, but it was a birthing center. There were nurses and midwives on staff and one full-time doctor. At any given time, there could be from twenty to fifty residents. Fifty was the max here. Fifty was a lot. But---- that was just residents. These midwives often saw upwards of 40 patients a piece every day. Outpatient birthing accounted for the majority of business at ABC. In that case, it was considered a clinic. But it was also a residential hospice and an adoption agency.

"Doctor Mann!" Veva Ansel, our resident OB-GYN came around the counter to embrace me. "I'm so glad to see you back here! We were beginning to think you weren't coming back."

*******