Michael stood at his bedroom window, lost in thought as he sipped at his cup of coffee. It was early. The sun was just rising and beginning to warm the countryside. A slight breeze rustled the leaves on the oak tree outside and stirred the curtains.

Today they were going to do Chantel's school shopping. He could scarcely believe it; his little girl was going to kindergarten! Surely, four years hadn't passed so quickly. It seemed as if it were only yesterday that he had been at Nikita's side, holding her hand, whispering his love to her in between her tears and the verbal threats she hurled at him as she gave birth to their firstborn. God how he loved her, threats and all, as he watched the pain she went through. And yet, what he felt then was but a tiny inkling compared to the love that burst through his being when the doctors placed their baby in her arms and Nikita turned to look up at him with tears in her eyes.

Michael took a deep breath, relishing the joy that his memory evoked. He turned to look over at the bed where Nikita was asleep. The sheets were tangled around her body. Here and there, a flash of silky skin lay exposed. Their baby girl was now four years old-- next month she would be five --and Nikita was with child again. His lips curved into a smile as his gaze softened. Life was good.

There had been time when he'd doubted he could ever feel like this again: happy, contented, at peace. But then he met Nikita and Michael felt life begin to flow once again through his veins. She'd been so reserved and uncertain around him. At first Michael had been determined to leave her alone. She was his employer's granddaughter after all and he knew that there was some sort of family tension between them that he had no desire to be involved in. But in the evenings he would spot her sitting on the roof outside her window, staring out at nothing, and the utter despair she tried so hard to hide during the day seemed to reach out to him, touching the pain he felt in his own heart. Slowly he found himself thinking more of Nikita, and wanting to make the sadness in her eyes disappear and less of his own troubles. In spite of his original intentions, he fell in love with her.

It had happened so slowly he hadn't even realized it until one day he had been walking out of the barn and he looked toward the house and saw her standing at the clothesline, hanging up laundry, and his heart lurched within him.

He'd been so shocked he stood for a full minute just staring at her. For God's sake, she was hanging up laundry! Not looking at all glamorous. And yet he'd wanted nothing more then to be able to walk up to her and pull her into his arms; to feel the curve of her body next to his and have her smile up at him. It was then that he knew where his destiny lay. He might have come to the country to heal the wounds that life had dealt him but he now intended to make it his home, for this was where Nikita was.

Michael walked over to the bed, stopping to place his cup on the table, then sat down. He reached out and brushed Nikita's hair back from her face, then sat quietly watching her sleep. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her lips soft. He smiled to see the mark his mouth had left on the curve of her neck and another one down lower by her left breast. He could never get enough of her or the way she responded to him. It had been that way for them since their first night together -- another memory that he cherished.

They'd been married in a small ceremony here at the house so that Walter could be in attendance for he'd been too sick to leave the house by then. And then for their honeymoon he had taken her to a cabin up in the mountains about two hours away. They hadn't wanted to go too far from home in case Adrian and Walter needed them.

Michael smiled as he recalled the way Nikita had come to him willingly that night. How she'd trembled beneath his touch and yielded her body to his. Nor could he ever forget the magical effect her whispered words of love had on him or the passion that had ruled their first night as lovers. He was convinced that Chantel had been conceived on that very night.

Nikita stirred and looked up at him from beneath sleep heavy lids. Her hand crept out and rested on his knee as she managed a slightly crooked smile at him. Wordlessly, Michael slipped his robe off and climbed in beside her, pulling her warmth close to him.

"Why are you up so early?" Nikita asked, smothering a yawn. Her arms slipped around his waist as her legs twined with his.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Mmm..."

Michael stroked her hair. He kissed her brow and held her tight. "I love you."

He felt her mouth curve into a smile against his chest, then felt her lips kissing the skin right above his heart. Then a moment later, he felt her take his male nipple between her lips. She bit him playfully and he groaned with pleasure then rolled her onto her back.

************

Michael smiled as he watched Chantel skip ahead of him and Nikita. Her hair was split into two ponytails that bounced with each little hop. He reached over and took Nikita's hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. She turned and smiled up at him, remembering their conversation in bed that morning after they had made love.

"I don't want her going to school," Michael had confessed. Nikita had been lying on top of him, her arms folded across his chest. She'd been kissing his chin as his hands caressed her back and hips. At his words, though, Nikita had lifted her head and raised her brows at him.

"Why not?"

"She's too young," Michael frowned. His eyes were serious. "What if something happens to her?"

Nikita tried to keep from smiling but it was difficult. "Something like what?"

He shrugged. "What if she has a hard time adjusting to having other kids around? What if she misses us?"

Nikita laughed as she rolled off of Michael and lay beside him staring up at the ceiling.

"I'm serious, Nikita," Michael said, as he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at her.

"I know you are, love," she replied as she leaned up and kissed him quickly. "But I think you'll find that everything will be fine. All parents feel that way when they first send their child off to school. I know. I read it in a parenting magazine."

"Really? What else did it say?"

The corner of Nikita's mouth quirked upwards. "It said that we should be excited about this next step in our child's life and try not to pass our fears onto them."

"What do they know," Michael muttered as he lay back down and turned his head to stare at Nikita. "I bet that article was written by someone who doesn't even have kids." They discussed it some more and by the time Nikita had gone to wake Chantel, Michael was still slightly apprehensive about letting his little girl go to school all by herself.

Chantel, on the other hand, was bursting with enthusiasm. She rushed through her morning routine, gulped down her breakfast, and then went in search of her father to tell him to hurry up so that they could go get her school supplies.

"Are you still worried about her?" Nikita asked as they walked hand in hand.

"Yes." Michael looked grim. "I know she'll be alright but a part of me can't help but worry."

"God help us when the day arrives that she comes home with her first boyfriend."

"I'll kill him," Michael said. Nikita chuckled and leaned her head against his shoulder briefly.

By now Chantel had reached the end of the aisle. She turned and waited impatiently for them to catch up with her. "Come on!" she called, and then her attention was caught by something on the shelf beside her and she leaned closer to peer at it with curiosity.

"Chantel, don't touch anything," Nikita cautioned.

"I won't."

Michael snagged a cart as they passed the return area and turned to find Nikita bending to lift Chantel. He reached out a hand and stopped her. "You shouldn't carry her any more, Nikita. Let me get her."

Curious blue eyes looked up at him. "How come Mommy can't carry me?"

"Because you're too heavy for her. That's why."

"I'm not too heavy," Chantel protested, hooking her arms and legs around her father. "Mommy always carries me."

"That may be, but now that you're old enough to be going to school, you're also old enough to walk on your own.".

"So I don't have to ride in the cart?"

"No. You still have to."

"But you just said that I'm old enough to walk."

Michael took a deep breath and slanted Nikita a look. "Does she get this from your side of the family?"

"Mommy says I look like her but I act like you," Chantel answered. Michael arched his brows as Nikita pretended to study the sale items on the shelf beside her.

"Is that so?" Michael asked, lowering Chantel into the shopping cart.

She nodded, ponytails bouncing with the motion. "I promise I won't touch anything," she said, giving her father a look that nearly broke his resolve. Nikita saw the look in Michael's eyes and decided she'd best step in. He was such a pushover when it came to Chantel.

"It’s not that, darling," she explained. "There are a lot of other mommies and daddies out shopping with their kids. We don't want to lose you in the crowd."

Still frowning, Chantel relented. "Do you have my list, Daddy?"

"Mommy has it."

"Can I see it?"

Nikita handed the shopping list over to Chantel then pointed Michael in the direction that the school supplies were located in. The three aisles practically overflowed with shopping carts and children darting here and there. Parents, mostly mothers, were looking a little flustered. Michael's eyes widened slightly.

"Maybe you and Chantel should wait on this side where it’s less crowded and I'll grab what supplies I can."

Nikita laughed as she reached over and placed her hand on his lower back. "I doubt you'd even know half the things on that list," she said.

"How come?" Chantel asked. "Didn't you go to school, Daddy?"

"Yes I did. Your mom's just teasing me."

Nikita grinned as she gazed over at the aisle full of women. The men, she noticed, stood off at a safe distance, manning the carts. "Michael, believe me, I think it would be much better if you stayed out here," she said, as she pointed with a slight nod toward the other fathers.

"Are you suggesting that we men can't handle the pressures of shopping?"

"Something like that," Nikita chuckled.

"I guess I'll have to prove you wrong," he said, then took the list from Chantel.

"Hey, Daddy!"

"I'll bring it right back," he said.

Nikita shook her head, amusement shining in her eyes. "Okay. Don't say I didn't warn you." She pointed over to the end of one aisle where there was a stack of red and blue shopping baskets. "Use one of those," she said. "Chantel and I will be in the children's section looking for clothes. Are you sure you'll be alright?"

In answer, Michael bent and kissed the top of Chantel's head. "Don't worry, sweetheart, Daddy'll get your supplies."

Nikita winked at him. "Good luck!"

************

Chantel leaned over to the side, looking around her mother and watched as her father walked with determination toward the aisles where the school supplies were. When Nikita turned the cart into another aisle, and Michael was no longer visible, Chantel straightened and looked up at her mother with a worried expression.

"Mommy, do you think Daddy will be alright?"

"Oh I'm sure he'll be fine, honey," Nikita answered, humming a little tune to herself.

"Maybe we should go help him."

"We will, darling, but not right now," Nikita explained. "This is something Daddy wants to do so we'll let him handle it for now."

Chantel gave in but occasionally her eyes wandered back the way they had come, watching and waiting for her father to re-appear.

Thirty minutes later Nikita and Chantel left the children's section with six new outfits, two pairs of shoes, a raincoat, ponytail holders, and new underwear. As she pushed the cart into the main corridor leading to the school supplies section, Nikita noticed that the area was more crowded then before she and Chantel had left. Chantel had twisted around in her seat and was anxiously looking for signs of her father. I shouldn't have left him, Nikita thought. But he's so damn stubborn...

Approaching the section with the crayons and art supplies, Nikita stood on tiptoes and craned her neck, trying to see over the crowd in order to locate Michael. She saw him standing at the beginning of the second aisle and. Her brows quirked up. Michael was surrounded by women; some young, some old, some with children tugging insistently on the ends of their clothes. Michael stood in the midst of them, his basket hooked securely on his forearm as he held in his hands four notebooks, each colorfully decorated and featuring a different animated character. It didn't take long for Nikita to figure out that her dear husband was perplexed as to which notebook he should choose. A myriad of expressions flitted across his handsome face as the women around him gave their well meaning, but obviously contradicting, opinions. Michael blinked a few times and shook his head.

"I don't think she would like this one," he was saying.

"How old is she again?"

"Four. But she'll be five next month."

"Oh she'll love them," one woman answered, full of confidence as she pointed to the notebook that had a picture of a strange little critter on it.

"Oh boy," Nikita said to Chantel. "Looks like Daddy needs our help."

"Why are all those ladies by Daddy?" Chantel wanted to know.

"Why indeed," Nikita muttered, as she noticed that some of the younger ones were pressing awfully close to Michael.

"Mommy, Daddy's got a Pokemon book. I don't want a Pokemon book. They're scary."

"I know, darling." Nikita pushed the cart closer to where Michael was. "I'll be right back, Chantel." Nikita pushed her way gently through the throng of women, many whom she noticed were eyeing Michael's appreciatively.

"Excuse me," she said, then latched onto Michael's arm and tugged.

"Nikita!" Michael looked surprised, then relieved. "Ladies this is my wife, Nikita."

Dozens of pairs of eyes turned enviously toward her. That does it. I'm not bringing him shopping here again.

"Hello." Nikita smiled and nodded her head toward the ladies as she pulled Michael toward her.

"And that's our daughter, Chantel," Michael said, pointing toward Chantel, who was watching the commotion with a curious expression.

"Ooh! She's so beautiful."

"Look at that cute little nose."

"Oh such an angel."

The crowd followed Michael and Nikita and were soon gathered around the cart, oohing and ahhing, until Chantel declared proudly, "There's a baby in my Mommy's stomach. My Daddy put it there."

************

Nikita bit down on her lower lip, trying to keep from laughing as she stood in the doorway leading from the kitchen to the living room and watched the scene before her. Michael sat on the floor. Spread before him on the rug was, what seemed to Nikita, enough school supplies to last Chantel up unto the fourth grade. And speaking of the little imp, she stood behind her father, her golden curls framing her little face as she hugged him and pressed her cheek against his.

"This is all for me?" she asked, then giggled with girlish enthusiasm as she turned her head to give her father a loud kiss on the cheek. Michael's eyes lit up, the corners of his eyes crinkling with little laughter lines as he pulled Chantel around to the front and, to her squeal of delight, gave her a combination bear hug and tickle.

Nikita raised her hand to her mouth, stilling the trembling of her lips as her eyes misted. He was spoiling Chantel rotten, but, God how she loved him for it. Chantel would never want for love or attention. She received an abundance of it here at home. Nikita blinked back her tears as a smile curved her lips. Then she moved her hand down, placing it over the slight curve of her stomach and the babe that grew within. Her lashes lowered and her expression became tender as the warmth of Michael's love washed over her.

With a soft sigh she opened her eyes to find Michael watching her from across the room. Chantel sat in his lap, engrossed in her study of the giant box of crayons Michael had bought her, innocently oblivious to the silent messages of love being transmitted back and forth between her parents.

Michael leaned down and kissed the top of Chantel's head. "Go get your bag and begin putting your things away."

She stood obediently and began to do as her father requested. Michael stood also and walked over to the stereo. A minute later a lovely French tune trickled through the air. Michael turned and once again looked at Nikita. His smile beckoned to her as she blushed from the heat of his gaze. Then she straightened and strolled over to him.

Michael reached for her hands. Nikita smiled. Her eyes darkened to the color of the sea as she felt his thumbs caress the back of her hands ever-so-softly, evoking memories of how his hands felt on other parts of her body.

"Are you two going to kiss again?" came a curious voice.

"Yes," Michael answered, his gaze never leaving Nikita's face. Chantel covered her eyes and made a disgusted sound.

"Yucky!"

Nikita chuckled as Michael pulled her closer and moved to kiss the corner of her mouth, then the other. "Yes," he said, his voice husky as he placed his hands on Nikita's hips and began to sway with her in time to the music. "This is very yucky, Chantel. Don't ever try it. Not until you're forty-five."

Nikita's brows shot up and amusement filled her eyes. "Forty-five?" she asked.

"Alright," he sighed. "Forty-four."

"Ewww," Chantel said, wrinkling her nose. "I'm never going to kiss a boy!"

Michael smiled and pulled Nikita into his embrace as he whispered. "God, I hope that's true."

***********

All of the new kindergartners had to report to school on Wednesday for testing. Nikita had a doctor's appointment scheduled for that morning so Michael was left with the task of taking Chantel in. He woke early that morning and went downstairs to make breakfast while Nikita helped Chantel dress, and then went to get ready for her appointment. At 7:15 Michael stuck his head out through the kitchen door and called upstairs. "Chantel, hurry up. We're going to be late."

Five minutes later he heard her coming down the stairs, her bag thumping heavily on the steps as she dragged it behind her. Michael walked over to the door, then stopped and smiled. She was wearing one of the new outfits Nikita had bought her. A bright sunshine colored top over a plaid skirt, knee high socks with a small picture of Winnie the Pooh embroidered near the top, and brand new shiny shoes. In her other hand she held her brush and rubberband.

Michael walked over to the foot of the stairs and waited for her. Love mingled with pride in his eyes as he watched her descend. "Good morning, sweetheart."

The bag was abandoned on the last step as Chantel held her arms out to him. Michael immediately swept her up into a hug and kissed her forehead as Chantel looped her arms around his neck and smiled.

"Morning, Daddy."

"Are you ready for school?"

She nodded. "Are you going to take me?"

"I sure am," Michael answered.

"Mommy said you're gonna stay til I finish."

"I will today," he told her. "Remember we told you how today you're going to meet your teacher? Do you remember her name?"

Chantel nodded again. "Miss Andie."

"That's right. She's a very nice lady," Michael continued. "She's going to ask you a few questions and get to know you. It won't take very long so I'll wait for you. Then afterwards we'll go meet Mommy in town and have lunch with her. Would you like that?"

"Yes," Chantel said, then leaned in close, laying her head on Michael's shoulder as she tightened her hold on him. Michael stroked his fingers through her hair. A small worried frown pulling at his mouth as he sensed that all was not well with Chantel.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?"

She didn't move. Neither did she answer.

"Hey," Michael gently lifted her head from his shoulder and sought to look into her eyes. Chantel pressed her forehead against his and placed her hands on his face.

"Can I take Esmerelda with me?" she asked.

"Esmerelda?" The corner of Michael's mouth pulled up into a smile. "Sweetheart, Esmerelda can't go to school with you."

"Why not?" Chantel frowned.

Michael paused as he searched for the right words to say. "You can't take Esmerelda to school because she's a toy, Chantel. She belongs here at home with all your other toys and where she'll be nice and safe. Waiting for you to return home."

Chantel's frown deepened. "But she'll be lonely, Daddy. And I'll be lonely without her too."

Michael sighed. He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. "Chantel, you won't be lonely. You'll meet lots of other little girls and boys your age and you'll make lots of friends. It'll be fun."

Chantel didn't look at all convinced. "Did you go to school when you were small?"

"Yes," Michael said, as he carried her over to the living room. "But I wasn't as lucky as you. I had to go to an all boys school."

"How come?"

"Because I was a little boy."

"Da-ddy." Chantel rolled her eyes and Michael nearly laughed. She looked so much like Nikita when she did that.

"It’s true," he said. He sat down on the couch, placed her in front of him, then took the brush from her hand. "I didn't have any pretty little girls like you at my school. Only boys."

"Yucky."

"Yeah. Yucky," Michael smiled.

"Mommy didn't go to your school?"

"No. I didn't meet your mother until I was all grown up."

"Did you like school?"

"Yes I did," Michael answered. "I met some very nice friends there and I learned a lot of really interesting things."

"Did you miss your Mommy and Daddy when you were at school?" Chantel asked.

Michael put the brush down and turned Chantel around to face him. He smiled at the serious look in her eyes. With his thumb, he caressed the smooth skin of her cheek. "Yes," he said tenderly. "I missed them very much the first few days. And I was scared too."

Chantel blinked, her attention completely focused on her father's words.

"I felt like I had a hundred little butterflies flying all over inside my stomach. Right here --" he pointed and wiggled his fingers against Chantel's stomach and she rewarded him with a beautiful smile. "-- But you know what?" he continued.

"What?"

Michael smiled and took a moment to let his gaze wander over Chantel's face. He felt his heart contract with love and a fierce need to put her fears to rest. "I found out," he said softly, "that all the other kids in my class also missed their mommies and daddies. And they were all a little scared too."

Chantel's blue eyes grew round. "Really?"

"Yes -- really."

She smiled then and turned back around so that Michael could resume brushing her hair. The brush snagged on a small tangle and Chantel winced.

"Ouch!"

"Oops. Sorry, sweetheart."

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

Michael smiled. If it were Nikita brushing her hair, Chantel wouldn't utter a single complaint. But if he brushed her hair, no matter how gentle he was, his daughter made sure he knew that she could feel every single pull of the brush on her hair. But he also noticed that, more often then not, Chantel chose to have him rather than Nikita brush her hair.

"Half-up, half-down," she requested.

"To the side?" he asked, already visualizing in his mind what she wanted.

"No, in the middle. And don't make any bumps, Daddy. I don't like bumps."

"Yes ma'am. Anything else."

Chantel giggled and shook her head.

When he finished Chantel reached up and felt along the top of her head for any signs of the dreaded bumps. Finding none, she turned and gave her father his payment. Pursing her lips she leaned in and kissed one cheek then the other. "Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome, my love. Now lets go get you some breakfast," he said, standing and taking her hand in his. "I made you some eggs. Do you like that?"

"No. I want cereal..."

************

"Sing with me, Daddy. Please?"

Michael sighed. He doubted there would ever be a time he could say no to the women in his life. Nikita ... Chantel ... All they had to do was turn their baby blue eyes on him, say please, and he melted.

He was sitting at the kitchen table as Chantel kneeled on the chair next to him. She was leaning against him, one arm draped around his shoulder. She'd been showing him the work they'd done that day at school and teaching him the latest of her most favorite songs, courtesy of Ms. Andie, her teacher.

"Alright," he conceded. "I'll sing it with you once if you promise not to laugh."

Chantel broke into a grin that spread from ear to ear as she nodded quickly. "I promise."

Nikita, who was standing at the sink washing dishes, turned and gave her husband a bemused look. No matter what he said to the contrary, she knew that Michael loved these after-dinner sessions with Chantel. He was usually busy in the afternoons when she arrived home from school, but, in the evenings, after they cleared the table, he would sit down and wait as Chantel would run to bring her school bag. He would watch her with that special glow in his eyes while she climbed back up on her seat and dig through her bag to search for her work that she'd done at school that day.

It amused him to see all the interesting things she pulled out of her bag: crushed flowers, half-eaten cookies, a cracked marble, or some other little object that would catch her eye. Eventually she would find the picture or other assignment they'd worked on in class and show it o her father. Then she would sing to him the songs she had learned.

Last week she had run around the house, waving her arms above her head and twirling about, singing: 'Windy days, See how the wind blows To and fro.' Today Chantel came home with a new song. A two beat rhythm that she bellowed out with relish: 'The cannibal king With the big nose ring Fell in love with the Hula ma-i-d...'

And now she wanted her father to sing it with her...

Later, as Michael and Nikita prepared for bed, Michael turned to her and said, "I’m worried about these songs Chantel's teacher is teaching her."

"Why? What's wrong with them?" Nikita asked, as she climbed into bed beside him.

Michael reached out and turned off the lamp then gathered Nikita into his arms. His right hand glided down to caress her stomach. "The cannibal king with the big nose ring?"

Nikita smiled in the dark, then moved her hand to lay upon his. "She's teaching them about rhymes."

"Fell in love with the hula maid?"

"Even cannibal kings have to fall in love, Michael."

He was silent a moment, his thumb brushing over the indentation of her belly button. Then he said, "What if they start teaching her about ... you know."

"Know what?" Nikita asked softly, her eyes beginning to close as she submitted to the effect of Michael's gentle caress. She felt him shift though as he propped himself up on one elbow and peer down at her.

"You know," he said, his voice serious. "Reproduction."

Nikita's eyes popped open. Then her mouth curved into a slow smile. "You mean sex?"

"I prefer to think of it as 'making love'."

"As opposed to 'reproduction'?" There was a definite tremor of laughter in her voice as Nikita turned and stroked her knee up his thigh and over his maleness.

"Kita."

"Yes, Michael?" She blinked innocently.

There was silence, and then Nikita heard Michael's soft laughter as his hand moved down to caress her thigh and then her knee. "Never mind," he said. And then his lips found hers and there was no more talk of cannibal kings and rings, or lovely hula maids..

**********

October 29th was Chantel's birthday. Usually her birthday was celebrated with a family outing followed by dinner and a special birthday dessert. This year Michael and Nikita decided they wanted to give Chantel a real party. And since her birthday was near Halloween, they asked Chantel if she would like to make it a costume party. Chantel was thrilled. She hugged her father, then her mother, then ran off to tell Grandma Adrian about the neat birthday party she was going to have.

Over the next two weeks Nikita was kept busy with planning the party. After school got out one day she took Chantel to the local Hallmark store and had her pick out the invitations and party decorations she wanted. That night at home Chantel named all the people she wanted to invite, which was practically the whole kindergarten class plus Ms. Andie. Michael and Nikita filled out the invitations and Chantel carefully addressed each one and signed it.

Michael arranged for a large tent, the type used at garden weddings, to be set up that day. He also hired two clowns, a juggler, and a make-up artist (for those children who wanted to have their faces painted). He searched for and found a children's party store and rented a Moonwalk ride in the shape of a big pumpkin.

Nikita couldn't tell who was happier: Chantel, who laughed with delight and showered her father's face with kisses, or Michael at seeing Chantel's joy when he told her the news. That night, after Chantel had gone to bed, Nikita sat next to Michael in the living room and folded her legs underneath her. "It’s a bit much, don't you think?" she asked.

"What is?"

"The moonwalk. The clowns. It’s a bit much, don't you think?"

Michael took her hand in his. He stared at her fingers and played with her wedding ring. Finally he looked up. "I know it is," he said softly, "but I really want to do this for her." He paused, blinking as he shifted his gaze downward once more. "I never did this for Adam. I always let Elena handle the parties while I was busy working and trying to make our life more comfortable. I always assumed that I had a whole lifetime to spend with them."

His fingers tightened on Nikita's as he lifted his gaze once more to meet hers. "I don't want to make that mistake again, Nikita. You and Chantel --" Michael moved his hand down to rest on the gentle swell of her stomach, " --and our baby, you mean everything to me. I want to spend each day of my life loving all of you and using every opportunity I have to do things for you."

Michael raised his other hand and caressed Nikita's cheek. "I know I indulge Chantel and probably spoil her too much for her own good. But I love her and I want her to know that I love her. I want for her to grow up remembering all these moments together with us. I want her memory, and mine, to be so full of happy moments that there will be no room for regrets later."

There was a quiet pleading for understanding in his eyes that touched Nikita's heart. She leaned forward and kissed his lips once, then twice. "You're a wonderful husband, Michael, and an even better father." She smiled, the tip of her nose gently rubbing against his. "I love you. And in case you haven't noticed, that little girl upstairs, the one you insist on spoiling, she worships the ground you walk on."

Michael smiled as he pulled Nikita close. "Is that why she's always bossing me around?"

"No. She does that because you let her," Nikita answered, laughing as she snuggled closer. She sighed, then closed her eyes as she listened to the comforting sound of Michael's breathing. He was stroking her hair, his lips were pressed against her forehead. "How much did the moonwalk cost?"

"Nine hundred."

"Nine hundred!"

"Shhh..." Michael pulled her back into his arms and pressed her head gently against his shoulder once more. "It’s all taken care of already."

Nikita was silent for a minute, then said, "Michael. I know you love her and I understand your wanting to do things for her. I love you all the more for being such a good father. But I also think we have to be more careful with how much we give Chantel. And with how much you let her get away with. As her parents we have a responsibility to love and teach her. I know we can afford to do all these things for her but I think it’s important to show her that things don't always come easily in life. She shouldn't grow up expecting that it does either. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes," he said, nodding slightly. "You think we should cut back?"

Nikita nodded. "She'll be just as happy with a simpler party. As long as her friends are there and you and I are there along with Adrian. She'll be fine."

Michael thought a while, then sighed. "What if I cancel the clowns, the juggler and makeup artist, but leave the moonwalk?"

"You really want her to have that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," he answered softly.

"Alright," Nikita agreed. "That sounds fair. We'll have cake and ice cream, party favors, hot dogs and chips, punch, a few games and the moonwalk."

Michael bent his head and kissed her brow as a smile curved his lips. "Thank you."

*

Four days before Chantel's birthday party, Michael received a phone call from Chantel's teacher. He was instantly gripped with fear as he immediately assumed the worst. "What is it?" he asked. "Has something happened to Chantel?" Nikita, hearing the tension in Michael's voice and Chantel's name mentioned, appeared at the doorway. The rag she'd been using to dust the furniture hung from one hand as she waited to see what had happened.

"Chantel's fine," Ms. Andie said, "but if you and your wife are available, I'd like to speak with both of you this afternoon. Say about 1:30?"

"Is there a problem?" Michael asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Well ... yes," Ms. Andie said, sounding hesitant. "I should tell you though that this type of behavior is not uncommon at this age, especially with children who come from families where they are an only child."

Michael shook his head, still not understanding what Chantel's teacher was hinting at. "Ms. Andie, please, just tell me what has happened."

The teacher cleared her throat, then said clearly," "Chantel punched another student today out on the playground."

************

Chantel sat on the couch, still dressed in the clothes she had worn to school. She folded her arms and stared at the tip of her shoes. Every once in a while she sneaked a peek up at her father who was standing at the window with his hands in his pockets and staring outside. He still hadn't spoken to her since they'd left the school. His silence made her uneasy. She almost felt bad for punching Ian Reed on the nose.

Almost.

But not quite.

In her mind Ian Reed deserved a punch. He was a mean little boy who was always teasing her. That was why she didn't invite him to her party. Today, when he had started teasing her about being a Halloween baby because her birthday was so close to Halloween, she'd become so angry, she'd spun around and shouted, "You're just saying that because you're not coming to my party!"

Then Ian began taunting her with chants of 'Halloween baby! Halloween baby!"

"You'd better stop that!" she yelled.

"You gonna make me?" Ian asked.

Then, before she even realized what she was doing, Chantel hauled back and popped Ian right smack on the nose -- just as she'd seen Angelica punch that big bully on her favorite cartoon, The Rugrats. Ian fell backward onto his butt and sat staring at her with a look of utter surprise in his brown eyes. Then, as the other kids began to laugh, Ian had begun to cry.

Chantel frowned and slanted a look over to where her mother sat. She looked tired, Chantel thought, and there was a sad look in her eyes that made Chantel feel sad too.

Finally her father turned and looked at her. Chantel stared back at him and tried to form her lips into a smile, but the corners of her mouth felt oddly heavy and refused to curve upward. Instead, she blinked then asked in a tiny voice, "Are you mad at me, Daddy?"

Michael closed his eyes for a moment, quietly gathering strength. He refocused his attention on his daughter. "I'm not happy with what you've done Chantel. It was wrong of you to hit that little boy."

"But Daddy..."

"No, Chantel," Michael interrupted. "There are no buts about this. Even if the boy teased you, it does not give you the right to hit him."

"He was wrong too," Chantel said, her voice trembling.

"Yes," Michael said, not at all liking having to chastise Chantel but knowing that her behavior could not go unnoticed. He sighed and peered deeply into her eyes. "Just because someone does something you don't like, though, does not make it alright for you to strike out at that person." Michael paused, then said: "We're going to go over to that little boy's house and you're going to apologize for hitting him."

"No!" Chantel stared at her father with a defiant pout on her face. "I hate him! I'm not saying I'm sorry to him."

Pain flickered in the emerald depths of Michael's eyes as he watched Chantel's determined little face, and he knew what he had to do. "You won't apologize to the little boy?" he asked softly.

Chantel shook her head stubbornly. "No."

"Then I have no choice, Chantel," he said sadly. "There will be no party this weekend."

Horror filled Chantel's eyes. "But Daddy..."

"No, Chantel," Michael said again, his voice barely audible. Then he turned away so that she would not see how much his decision pained him.

Chantel's face crumbled as her eyes pooled with tears and she stared at her father's back. Then she climbed hastily off the couch and ran upstairs to her room where she collapsed onto her bed sobbing.

************

Chantel didn't come down to dinner that night. Nikita had gone up to check on her and found her curled up with her Esmerelda doll. She had cried herself to sleep. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks flushed pink and streaked from the tears she had shed, and every so often she shuddered as she inhaled. Nikita decided to let her sleep and returned downstairs.

During dinner Michael was quiet. He barely ate more than two bites then spent the rest of the time pushing his food around on his plate. He raised tormented eyes to look across the table at Nikita. "Go check on her again, please?"

Nikita placed her fork down, picked up her napkin and wiped at her mouth and hands. She knew he felt awful. "Why don't you go up to see her? she suggested. "I'll fix a tray and you can take it to her."

Michael shook his head as he expelled a deep breath of air. "Was I too harsh on her?'

Nikita smiled gently at him. "You're trying to teach her an important lesson, Michael. One that you and I both believe in."

"Then why do I feel like the worst father in the world?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

"Because you love her," Nikita answered. "It’s never easy to say no to the ones you love."

*

Michael didn't have the heart to take Chantel's tray to her. He was afraid he would take one look at her and cave in. He couldn't bear to have Chantel look at him with those eyes of hers and see disappointment in them, so Nikita took the food to her. Later, after Chantel had bathed, done her homework and gone to bed, Michael crept in and knelt for the longest time beside her bed, watching her sleep. Then he leaned in and kissed her warm cheek and just as quietly left her room.

It was past midnight when Michael felt a small hand shaking his shoulder. He woke with a start and turned to see Chantel standing there beside his bed. He sat up and turned on the lamp and blinked several times as his eyes focused. "Chantel?"

She stood there before him in her pajamas clutching Esmerelda with one arm and said in a small voice. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

Michael felt his heart break. He reached for her, pulled her up and hugged her tight. He felt her arms circle his neck as she burrowed close. Her tears were hot against his skin. Michael closed his eyes and turned to kiss her temple. Beside him, Nikita stirred, then woke and sat up, staring at him and Chantel. A small smile formed on her lips as she watched the two of them.

"Do you know why I'm punishing you?" Michael asked.

Chantel nodded, then sat back so that she could look at him. "Because I punched Ian on the nose."

"And why else, sweetheart?" Michael asked, brushing her long curly hair back from her face.

"Because I wouldn't say sorry?"

"Yes," Michael answered.

A troubled look entered Chantel's eyes. "But Daddy, my teacher said that if we say something that isn't true, it's a lie. And if I said sorry to Ian but I'm not really sorry for punching him, that would be a lie. Ms. Andie says that we shouldn't lie."

Nikita bit down on her lip to keep from laughing and thereby ruining the serious father-daughter talk going on just a foot away from her.

"Chantel, I'm not saying you have to like this -- what's his name?"

"Ian."

"-- Ian," Michael continued. "I'm saying that you should be sorry for hitting him. Or anyone else for that matter. When you're angry at someone you have to find a way to be not angry without hurting that person or yourself."

"How do I do that?" Chantel asked.

"Well, there are different ways. Some people go for a walk, or they count to ten very slowly under their breath, or just turn away. If someone's bothering you, you should tell your teacher. But it’s never right to hit someone when you're angry." He stroked her hair again. "Do you know how your mommy or I would feel if we found out someone had punched you in the nose?"

Chantel wrinkled her nose at her father as she thought about his question. "Angry?" she asked.

"Yes," Michael answered. "I'd be so angry I'd want to march over there and punch that boy on the nose for hitting my little girl."

Chantel's expression became thoughtful. "Do you think that's how Ian's Daddy feels?" she asked.

"Maybe."

Concern filled her blue eyes. "What if Ian's Daddy comes to punch my nose?" she asked.

"Then I'd have to punch his nose," Michael replied just as seriously. "Then his wife would probably punch my nose. Then mommy would have to punch her nose and soon we'd have nothing but a whole bunch of people with broken noses."

Chantel was quiet for all of two seconds, then she burst into a fit of giggling. "Oh, Da-ddy!"

Michael smiled and hugged her to him. "You see now why it’s never a good idea to go around hitting people? We'd end up in a world full of angry people and broken noses."

Nikita shook her head, rolled her eyes, then snuggled back down underneath the warmth of her blanket. Father and daughter had found their way back into each other's good graces -- just as she knew they would.

"Daddy," Chantel asked, "If I say sorry to Ian tomorrow for hitting him, can I still have my party?"

Michael thought a moment, then took her hand in his and lifted it up to his lips. "First tell me what you've learned from all of this."

"I learned that it’s not right to hit people no matter how angry you get," Chantel replied, "And I learned that I don't like it when you're not happy with me."

Michael's eyes softened and he gently cupped his daughter's face in his large hands. "I'm glad you learned that," he said softly. "There's one more thing though that I want you to know before I give you my answer."

"What's that?"

Michael smiled. "That I love you, Chantel. I love you very, very much."

************

Not only did Chantel apologize to Ian Reed for hitting him, but she invited him to her birthday party too. As for Ian, he seemed to have developed a new appreciation for the blond-haired, blue-eyed pixie in his kindergarten class. In fact, the two became best new buddies.

At the party on Saturday the farm was overrun with little kindergartners dressed as goblins, Jedi warriors, witches, ghosts and all other manner of costumes. Chantel was dressed as a ballerina complete with a frilly white tutu. Her hair was swept up in a bun at the top of her head and crowned with a tiara made of plastic and silver glitter.

Grandma Adrian dressed as a witch and wore a long black wig that she further accessorized by taking a cottonball and stretched it out so that it appeared as if she had cobwebs in her hair. Then she dangled a toy spider from her witches hat and blackened two of her teeth. Chantel danced about excitedly, laughing and praising her grandmother for her disguise. Grandma Adrian stood next to Chantel, her shoulders hunched over, and they greeted each of Chantel's guests as they arrived.

Michael was dressed as a pirate and served as the gopher. He was kept busy all afternoon catering to the appetites of his daughter's classmates. Hot dogs, chips, sandwiches, and juice ... back and forth he went between the tent and the kitchen. Nikita was dressed as a gypsy. She was in charge of the games and the general flow of the party.

The children loved the pumpkin shaped Moonwalk. Michael set Chantel on a chair next to the Moonwalk's entrance and gave her a timer and a whistle. Six children were allowed in at a time. At the end of five minutes Chantel would stick her head inside the pumpkin and blow the whistle, indicating it was time for the next group of kids to come in. Often there were those who refused to come out so Chantel would willingly enter and chase them around, laughing and giggling the whole while, until she got them all out, then ushered the next group in. The funniest time though was when Ms. Andie and some of the parents who had accompanied their children requested if they could have a go inside of the Moonwalk. The children lined up along the large plastic windows and watched with goofy grins as the adults tumbled about inside. And at the end of five minutes Chantel, as with the children, had to enter and chase them out.

After the party had been on for two hours, Michael stopped next to Nikita and asked, "Who's the little boy with Chantel? He's been hanging around her all afternoon."

Nikita followed Michael's gaze and saw Chantel running and laughing as a little dark-haired boy happily chased after her.

"That's Ian Reed," Nikita smiled.

Michael's brows furrowed in a slight frown. "The Ian Reed? The one Chantel punched?"

"That's the one," Nikita answered. She and Michael watched as Ian caught hold of their giggling daughter then quickly kissed her cheek before he turned and ran.

"Why that little ---" Michael started off toward the children but Nikita stepped in his path and blocked him.

"Uh, uh, uh!" Amusement sparkled in her eyes as she wagged a finger at him. "Count to ten, my love. Remember what you told Chantel?"

"Ni-ki-ta, that boy just kissed Chantel!"

"A harmless peck on the cheek, Michael."

"I don't care if it was her toe. No boy is allowed to kiss my daughter."

Nikita chuckled as she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around her husband then leaned up and kissed his angry mouth. "Relax, Michael. You might as well get used to the idea that our daughter is growing up. Today it’s kindergarten, tea parties, and dolls, but sooner then we'll both realize, she'll be a young woman and bringing home her first boyfriend." A wicked smile spread across Nikita's face. "Wouldn't it be hilarious if her first boyfriend turned out to be Ian?"

Michael's expression darkened as Nikita laughed and hugged him again. They both turned then and watched Chantel as she ran about laughing and playing with the other children.

"I wish we could keep her at this age forever," Michael murmured, as he pulled Nikita closer. Nikita sighed and laid her head against his shoulder.

"I know," she whispered, then turned and looked up at Michael. "Lets not think of the future just yet, my love. I've got a birthday cake with five candles on it in need of a birthday girl. Think you can round everyone up?"

"What's after the cake?" Michael asked.

"Then we can send them all home."

Michael smiled and leaned down to kiss her mouth quickly. "With that kind of incentive, I can do anything." And then he turned around and set off to gather all the children, beginning with a golden-haired, blue-eyed ballerina with an impish smile.

The End.