eredith walked out of the building where her obstetricians' offices were located, and suppressed the absurd urge to throw out her arms and twirl around on the sidewalk. Turning her face up to the sky, she stood, letting the autumn breeze caress her skin, smiling up at the clouds. "Thank you," she whispered.

It had taken nearly a year and two long consultations with her obstetricians, who specialized in problem pregnancies, to convince Matt that whatever the outcome of her pregnancy might be, if Meredith followed their instructions and treatments impeccably, including staying in bed for part of her pregnancy, the risk to Meredith herself would be only slightly more than to any woman. It had taken another nine months to hear the words she'd finally heard today: "Congratulations, Mrs. Farrell. You're pregnant."

On an impulse she crossed the street and bought a fistful of roses from a florist shop, then she walked down the block to where Joe was waiting with the car, surprising him by arriving from a different direction. She opened the door herself and slid into the backseat.

Joe looped his arm over the back of the seat and twisted toward her. "What'd the doc say?"

Meredith looked up at him, her face glowing with wonder and awe. And she smiled.

A broad answering grin split Joe's face. "Matt's gonna be one happy man!" he predicted. "After he gets over bein' one very scared man!" Turning back, he put the limousine into gear.

Meredith braced herself to be thrown against the back of the seat when he blasted away from the curb in his usual fashion, but Joe passed up three opportunities to charge into traffic and two more perfectly reasonable chances to do it at moderate speed. Not until there was no one behind them for a block did he finally pull out, and then he did it ever so slowly, as carefully and tenderly as if he were pushing a baby carriage. In the backseat Meredith burst out laughing.

Matt was waiting for her, pacing back and forth across the living room windows, raking his hand through his hair, berating himself for ever agreeing to let her try to get pregnant. He knew she thought she was, and he was half hoping she was wrong, because he didn't know how he was going to endure the fear if she was right.

He lurched around as the front door opened, watching her as she walked toward him with one hand behind her back. "What did the doctor say?" he demanded when he couldn't stand the suspense anymore.

She produced a dozen long-stemmed roses from behind her and held them out to him, her smile bursting out like sunshine. "Congratulations, Mr. Farrell. We're pregnant!"

He yanked her into his arms, crushing the roses between them. "God help me!" he whispered raggedly.

"He will, darling," she promised, kissing his taut jaw.