Mitchell, eyes having adjusted a little, went over to her, and watched her. “Do you need me to call Dr. Frey?” he asked.She finally finished and s...ood up from the half squat she’d been in, and ran her hands over her very pregnant belly. “N-no it’s okay. I can clean it up.”“Like hell. Go lay down in bed, I’ll clean this,” he said. His voice was a command but his tone was soft. Full of concern and love for his wife, the woman carrying his child.She waddled over to lay down in bed. Mitchell went. We got home, showered and changed and chugged off to The Rancherita, where Ann and I downed a pitcher of wine margaritas and Hilda had her usual grilled cheese sandwich. I'm sure we also ate something. We drove home, got Hilda to bed and read ourselves to sleep.Ann and Hilda left about 8:30 on Sunday morning -- bound for a day of delights at Knott's Berry Farm with Ann's sister and her brood. I drank coffee, looked at the Union, tried to shake the grit out of Aphra Behn, gave up, and decided to. More

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