They were five days into the new year. According to her estimates, she had nearly three more weeks of waddling like a duck and feeling the increased discomfort she was fighting now. Jake walked into their home holding two plates heaped with vittles, the weary lines etched on his face deepening as he caught sight of his wife. “Are you all right?” “Yes,” she sighed. “My back is just aching. I feel like this baby turned into a steel cannonball today and fell from my ribs to my knees.” “You think a hot bath would help?” A hot bath would be heaven, and if she weren’t an invalid, she’d take one. But she wasn’t going to ask Jake to prepare one for her. “It’s too much trouble,” she said, trying to keep the longing out of her voice and succeeding, but her eyes failed her efforts. Jake set the plates on the table and tugged on his shirt. “There’s no way I can lay in that bed with you tonight smelling the way I do, and washing up’s not going to do me any good. I’d like a bath, too.”
