Two Different Roads

My Little Man

December 1967-the first day of the month was of course Mike and Ellen's one year wedding anniversary. They spent it at home. Vicky took care of Christian while the couple enjoyed a quiet dinner for two after which they cuddled up together on their sofa to watch an old movie. They made love, slowly, gently right there then went upstairs to bed.
Christmas, Mike's birthday, and New Year's Eve were also quiet affairs due to the imminent birth of their child. They'd been told Ellen could deliver as early as the first week of January. As the time grew ever closer, she began to suffer sporadic anxiety. The pregnancy had been fairly uneventful, but there were moments when she couldn't help reflecting back on the baby she'd lost. What if something went wrong? What if there were unforeseen complications?
She didn't dare speak her fears aloud. Admitting to them would have given them more substance and weight. Still, it was fairly obvious to her husband that something was wrong. If he'd had his way he would have kept Ellen at his side continuously just to be certain he was near when she went into labor, but by now she was so tired and uncomfortable that she really didn't even want to leave their bed much less spend the day on the set of a tv show. She had to force herself to stay at least somewhat active, spending time with Christian and Vicky, overseeing the housework, and cooking with Mike when he was home as they both enjoyed.

The days passed. January 4, 1968-The Monkees had wrapped the second season and were all on vacation. Ellen attempted to take a much desired nap after lunch, but the child was too restless. Mike lay beside her, singing softly, caressing her 'abdominal lump', but this time even that didn't seem to help as it usually did.
"I just wish this was over," she finally complained.
"I know Honey-any day now."
She grimaced suddenly.
"Kicking?"
"No, something else. It hurts."
"Do you think it's a contraction?"
"I'm not sure."
She rose from the bed painfully, calling out from their bathroom a mere moment later, "Michael!"
The urgency in her voice nearly caused him to trip and fall in his haste to heed her summons.

"I think my water just broke!"
"Hot damn it's go time!"
II
Jonathan Darby Nesmith came into the world at 10:45 pm after a fairly long and arduous labor. Mike was thrilled but nearly overcome with nervous anticipation as he waited to be given permission to be with his wife and new son. It seemed to take an impossibly long time.
When he was finally able to enter Ellen's room, she was sitting up in bed, her long hair in a neat braid, the baby nursing at her breast. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful. He reached down to gently caress the tiny head which was already covered with dark fuzz that would probably turn into black hair like his.
"See, you make BEAUTIFUL babies, and he looks just like you."
"You think so?"
"I do."
The child finished his meal and his mother burped him gently. "Would you like to hold him now?"
He held out his arms eagerly, and Ellen reached up to place him in his careful, protective embrace. "Hey there, it's Daddy, the one who always sings you to sleep."
"I believe he knows," she said as she watched the newborn squirm with seeming excitement. "He loves your voice as much as I do."

"I think he actually DOES realize it's me." He began to croon another western-sounding old standard:
"When it's twilight on the trail,
And I jog along,
The world is like a dream
And the ripple of the stream is my song...

When it's twilight on the trail,
And I rest once more,
My ceiling is the sky
And the grass on which I lie is my floor...

Never ever have a nickel in my jeans,
Never ever have a debt to pay,
Still I understand what real contentment means,
Guess I was born that way...

When it's twilight on the trail,
And my voice is still,
Please plant this heart of mine
Underneath the lonesome pine on the hill"
By the time he'd finished, the baby had fallen asleep in his arms. "It still works."
The nurse entered the room then to return their son to the nursery, leaving the couple alone. Mike stretched out on the bed next to his wife, held her hand. "You did good."
"You should have been here earlier. At some point I told everyone in the room that your parents were never married."
"What? Oh...you mean you called me..."
"I certainly did," she admitted. "In my defense i was in a lot of pain, and i wasn't too happy with you at the time."
"I've been called worse, probably by my own mother on occasion, and i don't remember you ever complaining about doing what MAKES a baby."
"You know I love you."
"I guess I do, and I love you too Baby."
She snuggled up against his shoulder, and they both drifted off to sleep. He was truly at peace for the first time in months. It was over with Nurit; he was no longer even TEMPTED to stray, and now his beloved wife had just given him a beautiful son. Life was just about perfect. If he'd only known that he was in the eye of a hurricane that would soon come perilously close to destroying everything dear to him.