“Good morning, sunshine!” Michael said with a wide grin as Barbara opened her eyes. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah,” she answered softly, getting her bearings. “I slept hard.”
An image suddenly leapt across her mind just behind her eyes. It was the face of an intruder, and cold vise-like hands. She could hear the babies screaming. She sat up too quickly. The room started to spin.
“It's okay,” he said, catching her and pushing her back to the covers. “They're already awake.” The hands at her bare arms were Michael’s, but the face she pictured now was another’s. And then it was gone. Or was it ever there at all?
“They are?” Barbara said incredulously, holding up one hand, signaling that she was going to sit up again, but not nearly as rapidly as before. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear them cry.” Her eyes went damp.
“That's 'cause they never did,” her husband answered. “I walked into the nursery when I got dressed and the both of them were just lying there, watching me.” He giggled, stood and removed some change from the end table beside them. “It was almost as if they were expecting me. I took them into the living room and set them down inside the ‘pen’.”
“You're kidding,” she said, glancing toward the master bedroom door, heavily in thought. Never had the twins done anything quietly, much less wake up and patiently wait upon their breakfast. Barbara wrestled with the thought for a moment longer and then looked over toward the alarm clock. “Wow! Is it that late already?”
“Yes, ma'am, it is!” he laughed. “You only slept eleven hours. For a while there I thought you'd sleep forever.”
“It kind of looks like I did!” she said, stretching her arms out above her head. “Are you leaving?”
“No,” he said, getting off the bed and standing to give her room. “I’ve got time.”
Barbara got out of bed slowly, recalling some notion that she might be injured. She reached over and gave her husband a hug. Why she thought she might be hurt, she could not fathom. She felt good. In fact, she felt better than good, and something else, too. Holding her husband there on the edge of the bed, a thought occurred to her. She slipped her hands underneath his sport-coat and ran her fingernails down the length of his back and the white dress shirt beneath.
“About how much time would you say we have, Detective?” Barbara purred, lightly kissing the man's neck.
“Not that much time!” he sighed, blowing the exhale out of his mouth as if he were in need of catching a quick breath. He stirred within his jeans as she rubbed against him one last time and reluctantly pulled herself away.
“Too bad,” she sighed dramatically.
“Wait. I thought you were on your five-day vacation?”
“I was.”
“You really know how to hurt a guy, you know that!”
“Reconsider and I'll make it up to you,” she grinned, gliding softly into the master bathroom.