Jenny was behind the deadline again.

She'd eschewed cleaning up the day before, fatigue setting in after checking and rechecking students' test scores. She'd regretted squeezing in a test before the end of the marking period, but the test quota had to be filled and so she'd done it. It took her four nights of sleeplessness to get through sixty some students and no sooner than when the final test had been graded, she crawled into bed. Sometime before she'd succumbed to sleep, she remembered dimly that tomorrow was a significant date. The next morning she woke up reluctantly, blearily eying the clock as she began pulling on sweatpants and her husband's old football jersey. What was today? Baby night, she remembered sleepily. And then everything came back to her with absolute clarity.

It was going to be special, and the sweetest, most tender night to conceive. She'd read the books, dozens of baby books that told her what to eat, what not to eat, what gentle exercise she should do, things she should get in order. They called for a time of low stress, a certain closeness in hers and Rodger's marriage, and doctors' visits. They'd done that, ruefully giving the beer to a neighbor, tossing the birth control pills a few months back, Jenny herself scowling as she eyed her husband's mug of coffee.

But it would all be worth it, because everything they had done had been leading up to tonight. That was why nothing was allowed to go wrong today.

She massaged her temples, breathing deeply as she looked in the mirror. Ordinarily, she was a pretty woman with an easy smile and bright eyes. She didn't feel pretty today. The week's work, exhaustion and worry had crept into her face, leaving her green eyes weak and limpid while her smile grew weary. She sighed and threw her wildly curly hair into order and walked through the house, inspecting the place.

She felt drained just looking at it. Her computer desk was buried in papers and staplers and files and the kitchen table was not much better, the bank statements and spreadsheets pushed hurriedly to one side while a small calculator lay insulted on an empty kitchen chair. There was a suspicious muddy trail across the kitchen floor which could only mean it was raining out and a kitchen towel was perched on the couch again. Stray dirty dishes were piled in the sink while the dishwasher was open, its mouth gleaming with the teeth of dishes, forks, and cups. A scuffed man's slipper was left by the television and the hall closet had scattered shoes creeping out. But worst of all, her list was missing, torn from the small legal pad attached to the refrigerator door, except for the item dictating she clean house. Now what was she supposed to do?

Taking a deep breath she scribbled out another list onto it:

Call Marge (the cleaning lady)

Get ingredients for dinner

Flowers?

Candles?

Music (find "special" soundtrack)

Unplug phones and turn off cell phones

Remind everyone not to call, visit, email, or communicate in ANY way

Change sheets for the nice ones

Hide mail and newspaper

Get Brazilian?

Take temperature

Adjust heat

Locate lingerie

Hurriedly the woman poured herself a cup of tea while waiting for the cleaning lady to come in. She drummed her fingers on the table, wishing she could have a cup of coffee instead. After two hours wasted pacing the carpet (exercise was good, it could only help at this point), Jenny picked up the phone on the first ring.

"Hello Marge?" She asked hurriedly. A cigarette-roughened voice was on the other line. "Nah, this is Nancy." Jenny breathed in and tried to call down. "Hello Nancy, this is Jenny Packer. I called here yesterday asking Marge to come in at noon to clean my apartment."

The voice on the other side let out a nasty chuckle. "Sorry girly, Marge got canned this morning for sleeping with a client." Better not have been MY husband, She thought venomously and she was adrift in her own thoughts until the women on the phone yelled impatiently,

"HELLO! You'll have to reschedule whatever fancy event for another day, because we're all booked." All of a sudden, Jenny felt like crying. She tried valiantly to keep the sob out of her voice but was unsurprised by the tears squeezing out from beneath her lids, taking her mascara with them down their long inky trail. "But it has to be today! It's important!"

The voice snorted. "What, is it a matter of life or death?"

Jenny made a strangled sound in her throat. "It's a matter of life," She tried weakly, hating how callous the girl at the other end sounded. "I can't do nothing til Tuesday," The woman said pitilessly. Jenny nodded eyes going red. "Thank you for you-your t-time." She choked out and hung up.

She looked around. What on earth was she going to do? Yes, she was stubborn about keeping the place clean, but there were still dirty dishes in the sink, scattered school paper for her work on the desk, and only four hours left to do everything else. She sighed and picked up the vacuum cleaner.

Halfway through vacuuming the den, (her last task in cleaning house) the buzzer rang. She switched the vacuum cleaner off and pressed the intercom.

"Who is it?"

A teenaged boy's voice floated through. "Flowers for you, Mrs. Parker,"

She was in disbelief. Flowers? Well how do you like that? Something off her list. Had she put flowers down on her old list? She didn't know or care."I'm coming down." She said and grabbing her keys she went downstairs to sign for them. Her heart leapt in her chest. It was not roses or lilies like she was accustomed to receiving from her husband Rodger but sweet lovely red peonies among the heather and baby's breath in a glass vase. She took them gratefully and inhaled, the soothing blossoms tickling her nose. She tipped the boy and sent him on his way and climbed back up the stairs, flowers balanced on her hip as she carefully made her way up. It would not do to suffer an injury today.

She finished cleaning, changed the bedding to the nice sheets she'd received as a wedding present, placed the flowers on the dining room table, artfully arranged candles in the bedroom, and was just about to stuff the mail and newspaper under a cushion when she checked her watch.

An hour remained until Rodger got home.

Time was running out and she was still wearing dirty sweatpants and had sweaty hair.

Frantically she pulled open the refrigerator door. There were covered dishes and a bottle of wine there. Where had they come from? Dimly she tried to remember the morning and failed, shaking her head. A post-it note scribbled nearly illegibly said "tonight" on each dish.

She peeked under the foil. One plate held roast potatoes, another steak and there was a salad she didn't remember making. Dubiously, she closed the door and mentally marked that off her list.

Music?

She pressed the little remote to the speakers that she had yet to locate, despite having lived in their home for three years. "Their" song came on.

Next?

The house phones were unplugged.

Sighing in relief, she stepped into the shower stripping off her clothes and tossing them into the hamper. The hot water felt wonderful against her skin and she stepped out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, skin perfumed with soaps and creams. She blow-dried her hair and leaving it down, reapplied lipstick and mascara. She put her cosmetics away and reached for her bathrobe, only to find Rodger's favorite of her chemises hanging on the peg instead.

Odd.

She pulled it on, creeping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. The room was darkened, lighted only by the candles she had laid out, but she knew they hadn't been lit before her shower. The delightful scent of lemon and vanilla wafting from the candles were themselves seductive. It was warm, unusually warm. But she had not adjusted the heat. She padded barefoot to her side of the bed and fumbled in her bedside drawer. There was her diary, hairbrush, hand mirror, a few pens, and a solitary condom. She sighed and placed it in the wastepaper basket. It was of no use to them now…

Where was that blasted thermometer? She could have sworn she'd left it there…

"You don't need it," A warm familiar voice said chuckling. Jenny was furious. Of course she needed it! What madness was she thinking now? She thought about that more carefully. As a matter of fact she hadn't thought that at all…

Warm arms enveloped her, bringing her back to press firmly against a very male front. She knew that form. She knew it as well as her own body. She could not help but smile as she let him take her away…

"You took my list?" She said hours later, leaning back against his chest. As he caressed her hair, which was now more untamed than before, he smiled with a trace of guilt at the corners.

"I took…part of the list. I was in a hurry and I tripped over that stupid door. I was about halfway to my car when I remembered the list so I went back to get it. But I was so late I tore only part of the page off. Forgive me?"

She turned around to regard him amusedly. "I suppose this could be arranged. But I'll need you to free the hostage." She said seriously but soon erupted into giggles, followed shortly by moans.

The next morning the list, previously MIA, found its way to her bedside table. The tenth item on the list was circled in red ink and at the bottom of the paper a familiar scrawl pointed out, "you forgot to get the Brazilian…"

Two weeks later, when the pregnancy test finally turned blue, she didn't need it anyway.