After talking with Mum and Dad, and the older kids, we've decided to stay a few more precious days. I especially miss my babies, since they're still so young, and neither of us wants to miss anything in their development, especially since they're our last two. But Russell's parents assure that they're just fine, they're not walking or talking yet, and that we should take some time to be alone with one another. Just in case, is implied, but never said.

Since the night we opened up things have decidedly been different. We're much more candid, and, I believe, so much more conscious of one another's emotions. There's still so much more to talk about, so much to say, but I firmly believe we'll have a lifetime to do it in. I have to believe that.

The next morning, over brekkie (I did break down and make something a bit more nutritious than leftover cheesecake), I say, "When we get back, we should register Lily for school...you can't put those sorts of things off, and I'd hate to forget to do anything to get her ready."

Russell looks up at me. "You sure you still want to do that? Send her, I mean."

He's thinking of, I'm sure, what might happen to him, what if he does end up facing a jail sentence. And, he's due to go back to the States about the time she's starting school. I plan to go with him, to face whatever we're going to have to, but I know both of us don't want our daughter to face beginning primary school for the first time alone, either. And, I know he's also considering what other children might say to her and how she'll be treated.

I sigh. "I'd like to think that we won't end up having to live in the US for a period of time," I say softly. "I would like her experience to be as fun and uncomplicated as possible. She's expecting to go, Russell. She's looking forward to it now. And I think, if we put it off, she's going to worry even more as to why. She's already frightened of what might happen, and I don't want to give her anything more to be troubled about."

He still doesn't say anything. I go on, "We have to let them find their own identities, sweetheart. I know you're concerned...I am...about how they'll manage. It's only natural. But, they're all bright and caring, and I think they'll be just fine." I reach out and cover his hand with mine. "We've taught them well." But I know he's not really worried about the children's ability to handle 'real' life, rather, what could happen to him and how we would manage alone. Quietly, I tell him, "I have to believe things will be all right. Because...if I don't...I'm lost, and I'm terrified, and I can't cope. And if I can't do that, I can't help YOU cope, and I won't be able to help the kids."

His expression grows very tender. "Lissy, when will you start to worry about yourself for a change?"

"Never." I feel tears well up in my eyes. "Because I'm your wife and the kids' mum and...and..." he's there before I can finish the sentence, lifting me onto his lap and holding me like he would if he were comforting Lily. I know he's upset, I can feel the tension in him, but he still cradles me gently, his face turned into my hair. I don't think he means for me to hear him, but I still do.

"What would I do without you?" he whispers brokenly. "Where would I be?"

I hate to say this aloud, but I think we found the answer to that, in New York. And I pray desperately to God we won't ever have to find that out there again.

Later on, the two of us are out on the terrace, enjoying the cool breezes and the sunshine. It's always been about simplicity for us, small things in life bookmarking special time shared, memories made, rather than the grand huge adventures. Those are memorable, too, but whenever I get all reflective and go back through my life's scrapbook, the little things are what I usually recall.

I think about this journey that is my life with him, always growing, always changing. It's never been predictable but I don't think I'd want it to be. Even when there have been the difficulties, the obstacles and what seems to be a broken path ahead, every bit of that is for a purpose. And usually what I've found is that it leads to something incredible and wonderful. Maybe not right away, but if you think about it, every big trial we've dealt with together has brought us to something more.

If we hadn't separated, long ago, we wouldn't have found this new level of understanding. We wouldn't have had to learn, albeit the hard way, the value of one another and how much we were willing to fight for the other person. If we hadn't lost our first baby, it wouldn't have led to the wonder of first Lily, then Tyler, then Emmy and Jaden. We might have taken the miracle of even having children, of birth and parenthood, for granted. If I hadn't been depressed after Tyler was born, I wouldn't have discovered what strength I truly possess, just how deep and intense is Russell's love for me. And I have absolutely no idea what we're to learn from this, but I imagine it'll be a revelation.

They say God will never give a person more than they can handle, and I hope this is true because I get the feeling this is going to test our faith. It's already made us test our faith in each other. It's testing the security and the comfort of our small family. And, like I told Russell, I have got to believe that everything will work out for us, because it's that faith that has sustained us through everything, all this time.

The brush of his hand, against my cheek, brings me back to the present, and I turn my face to look at him. He's watching me with a thoughtful expression. "You seemed so far away," he comments. "Are you all right?"

I nod. There's this feeling of peace that's come over me, and I want him to feel it too. "I'm fine," I tell him. "And I'm not far away. I'm right here." Reaching for him, I kiss him and hug him close. "I'm right here," I repeat, meaning more than physically, and I see in his eyes he understands this.

"Let's go inside," he says, with that perfect synchronicity he seems to have with me. He takes my hand into his and we escape together, into our own little world.

We make love slowly, peaceful and tender, more like a gentle blending together rather than a cataclysmic burst of passion. We've done this a lot since we arrived here; it's as if it's our way of strengthening our bond between one another, the physical leading to a genuine and heartfelt emotional closeness as well. It's almost like being newlyweds again, except that I'm grateful for our history together and our experience, our knowledge of each other; because I feel it heightens our love for one another rather than detracting from it. Afterwards, with Russell still within me and his body wrapped around mine, we fall asleep.

When I begin to drift back to consciousness, I have this hazy sense of arousal, from this erotic dream I was having. In it, he was exploring every inch of me, in the most intimate way possible. I could swear I really felt his hands and his mouth on me, tasting me, touching me. I feel that familiar fluttering down low in my belly, that of burgeoning, impending orgasm, the first kindling of a spark and my body reacts to it, reaches for it, wanting it to grow and go on. My hips are moving, trying to find him, even as I feel myself wet and open and searching...I whimper as I imagine I feel him stroke me there, parting the velvety folds of me, finding the heat and the heart of me, the center from which every other sensation is radiating outward...

I open my eyes to look into his and I realize I wasn't dreaming. He's kneeling there, between my spread legs, which are draped over his thighs, leaving me exposed and open to him. His hand is touching me, arousing me gradually, steadily, which doesn't take much because my body's so attuned to his anyhow that it reacts normally and predictably.

He doesn't say anything, just continues to hold me captive with his gaze. I whimper again when he barely grazes my clit; because I want this, want him so badly, before I was even truly aware he was doing this to me. Then, without warning, he lifts my legs higher, over his arms, his big hands grasping my waist and pulling me into him at the same time he pushes himself into me. I cry out, panting from the sudden, beautiful, deep penetration, the sweet shock of it, and he freezes, fearful he's hurt me.

My hands find his thighs for leverage, this position leaving me completely vulnerable to him. Vulnerable, and yearning. "Don't stop," I breathe. "Please...I need..." I need so many things and I can't find the words to describe it to him. Luckily he knows me so well he knows exactly what I want, and wordlessly still, he begins moving. I silently tell him with my own eyes that's not enough, and soon he's practically pounding into me. I'd describe his actions as fierce and angry, but although it might seem that way, I don't get a sense of that at all from him. Desperate is another word that comes to mind, and although it sounds like a bleak term to describe something so primitively wondrous as this, I do get a faint hint of Russell's despair. I understand it because I feel the same. It's like we're trying, with each time we make love, to imprint every nuance, every bit of it, into our minds. Just in case. God, I hate just in case.

With every upstroke, he pulls me down, hard, so I can feel him deeply in my womb. I'm careful not to dig my nails into his legs but try to hang on for the ride of my life. And he never once takes his eyes from mine, never says anything aloud, but I can read everything in his expression anyhow. It's so emotional, so stunning, that it takes my breath away. To speak would be to break the spell somehow, and neither of us wants to do that.

He raises himself up, just a little, so that when he thrusts into me, he's stimulating my aching, swollen clit, and that's all it takes. I feel myself begin coming, close my eyes briefly at the welcome relief of it, and then quickly open them to watch him. He's still fixated on my face---I know he's told me often he loves to watch me come---and then, he throws his head back, letting out a low groan as he allows himself his own release. I've never seen anything more primal and more beautiful and I stare at him until he lowers his head and we're looking at each other once more.

Still nether of us says a single thing. He carefully slides his arms out from under me, letting my trembling legs rest on the bed, and then he leans over me, still kneeling there, to caress my face and kiss me, his fingers tangling in my hair. Then, twisting slightly to the side, he lies down with me, snuggling in close. I lift my legs over and around his, trying to get as close as possible.

Just when I think we're going to fall back to sleep, he lifts me in his arms and carries me from the bed. I don't even ask what we're doing or where we're going because I've been with him long enough to know he's unpredictable and I love him that way. Besides, I trust him in whatever he'd do. He takes me into the bathroom and turns on the shower, waiting until the water is just the right temperature before lifting me in there and following behind me.

He doesn't let me bathe him but does it himself and then, when I would wash my own self, gently pushes my hands away and takes over. I stand there, under the warm, soothing spray, while he carefully, tenderly cleans me and even does my hair. When that's done, he turns me to face the tiled wall. I instinctively widen my stance, expecting him to take me again, from behind, but he just leans me in towards the side of the stall, until I'm bracing myself there with my forearms, my head resting there on them. Water cascades over both of us, mostly him, as he shelters me from it with his own body, wrapping both arms around me and holding me close. Just holding me. He pushes his warm, wet face against the side of my neck and kisses me there.

"I love you, Liss," I finally hear him say, over the noise of the spray. "Love you, so fucking much." 

I feel tears mixing with the bath water. Fortunately for both of us, we can't tell the difference. "I love you," I tell him. Turning in his arms, I slip mine around him and we hold each other close, for a while. It feels so good and feels so right and I wish we could stay like this forever. Well, maybe minus all the water. But you know what I mean.

Later, when evening falls, we decide to hell with it, we're going to get dressed up nice and go out. With four children, that's something that's kind of a rare treat now, rather than the norm. But with each passing day, although I cherish being with Russell, I miss my kids, and I know he does, too. Our time alone is slowly drawing to an end and it's bittersweet both ways. I love being alone with my husband but long for our babies. I guess it's all part of being a family, and I wouldn't change that for the world.

He's waiting for me in a respectable suit (minus a tie---he looks so sharp but there's only so many concessions one can ask of him) when I come out for his inspection and approval. I brought out one of my 'little black dresses' that I haven't worn since, I believe, at least pre-Jaden and Emily. I'm pleased to note I still fit into it. It's got a low cut bodice, with spaghetti straps that crisscross over the low back. The skirt ends just above my knee and it makes me feel very dressed up and sophisticated. I decided to wear my hair up, the only adornment a simple delicate diamond necklace and matching earrings, and I'm proud to see Russell's reaction.

Until he examines me more closely. "What?" I ask, as his expression hardens and he reaches out to touch the base of my neck.

Without saying anything right away, he points me in the direction of the gilded mirror in the entryway. I can't see what he's referring to, until he stands beside me and traces it with his fingertip. There, at my collarbone, is a love mark, or I guess what we Americans would refer to as a 'hickey'. It's not really dark, in fact, it's mostly a rosy spot instead of a bruise, but it stands out somewhat because of the stark contrast between my skin and the black dress.

"It doesn't hurt." I smile, almost treasuring it, because it's a reminder of what happened between us this afternoon, but he doesn't seem amused. "They'll think I put it there," he says.

"Well, of course you did...I wouldn't let anyone else do it." 

"Everyone will think I did it to hurt you, Lissy." The look in his eyes is both bleak and grim. "Strip. I want to see what else I did to you." 

"But I...you didn't hurt me...you'd never hurt me..."

"Strip! Now!" I must look stricken because his face gets really gentle although he's insistent. "Take your dress off and let me look at you." 

With shaking fingers I undo the zipper and let the dress fall to my feet, until I'm standing there only clad in black bikini panties, my heels and thigh-high black stockings. I have to fight the urge to try to cover myself because, although this is my husband and I love him, this isn't erotic at all. It's heartbreaking and I wish he wouldn't feel he had to castigate himself for leaving marks on me. I'm sure I did the same to him, in fact, when I look closely, there's a faint similar mark on his own neck, although no one would be looking at him.

I feel like I'm under a microscope as he examines me. There's a fading red mark on the curve of one of my breasts, probably from whisker burn more than anything else, and a smudge on my hip, probably from when he held me there when he was thrusting into me. None of these were forceful enough to be anything but a brighter shade of pink, nothing black and blue, but he's agonized and concerned. If there's anything I DON'T want, it's for him to ever be afraid of touching me, of leaving marks on me, because he's gentle and would never, ever hurt me. We both, of course, know this, but the general public, already rife with rumors, would interpret this as something else altogether.

I touch his face as he drops to the floor at my feet to draw the dress back up for me. "Don't. Please don't do this to yourself," I plead with him. "I'll change...I'll cover it up with makeup...I'll find a piece of jewelry that'll cover it...but don't ever, EVER be ashamed of what you do to me. I love it and I love you. Please."

We stand there looking at one another. Finally he helps me zip back up. "You look beautiful," he says, quietly. "Think there's something you can do to sort of make that a little bit...less noticeable?"

I smile at him. "I have a larger necklace I can put on instead. And, I'll dab a little cream and powder over it. Blend it in; you won't know it's there." But I will. I kiss him.

He kisses me in return. "I'll just have to be more careful where I leave those from here on out," he says, and I feel much better. Don't crush this man's spirit, I silently warn some unseen enemy. Because then you're going to have to deal with me.

The call comes the next morning. By the way, the dinner last evening turned out very nicely. I was able to cover up Russell's love mark with a bit of makeup and also by changing to a wide, simple, gold collar-type necklace he brought back from a trip to Italy some time ago. We were able to forget all that had gone on and enjoy ourselves immensely.

Anyway, when the phone rings, it's Russell's publicist, which somewhat surprises both of us as he's deliberately made his choices, since 'the incident', of what kinds of interviews he'll do, which haven't been much. Wendy has basically run the requests by him and that's been about it. And pretty much she's only run them by him if they've been seriously made from legitimate sources, of which there has only been a handful. She's good at what she does; she's worked with Russell for years and is good at so-called damage control.

He has a funny look on his face as he listens, then punches the speakerphone button and puts the receiver back. "She wants to talk to you," he says, "and she wants me to listen in."

"Me???" He gives a sort of negligible shrug and sits there beside me. I can't tell from his face what this could be about and why it would directly concern me.

"Lisa, have you heard of the Today morning TV program?" she asks. 

"Of course." We have a similar show in America, where over brekkie people get news, interviews, and anything from fashion to cooking segments. You could have someone talking about endangered birds in Africa one moment and learn how to crochet a doily in the next. Very popular and watched by probably more than half the country.

"Have you heard of their segment, "Today's Australian Woman"?" she continues.

"That's where every month they choose some prominent woman, famous or not, and does a feature on them, right? Someone who did something unusual or interesting and..." I'm seeing where this is leading and I'm in shock. I look at my husband, who appears torn between amusement and disapproval, with more than a tinge of extreme spousal pride thrown in.

"Well, they've selected you. And they would like to know if they could interview you."

"ME???" I ask again. Then, "But...I'm not even Australian! I'm a Yankee, for bloody hell's sakes! And, what did I do?"

"You," my dear hubby reminds me, "interrupted my appearance on television and proclaimed your love to the entire continent." 

Wendy says reasonably, "Insofar as you're married to Russell, they consider you close enough as an Aussie. And, after the appearance on Andrew's show, people are talking. They'd like to hear more from you."

"They want me to talk about the phone thing." I'm weary of it. However, it IS an opportunity, once again, to defend Russell's honor and to proclaim my love, as he puts it.

"They'd like to hear more about your feelings on that, yes, and what it's like being married to a famous celebrity...but they also want to profile you as a woman, and just a wife, not Russell's specifically, but a wife and a mum of four children. They're going to be calling in a bit to go over details, but that's how it was presented to me. Apparently, not knowing who to call to arrange things, they decided I could represent you as well. Which we can negotiate later," she adds, humorously. "Usually, they film a background piece, but they said they have enough stock footage of the two of you and enough still photos..." (Well, I guess they would, I think wryly), "...mostly what they'd like is the interview itself."

"When would that be taped?" Russell breaks in. 

"It...well, it wouldn't be taped." She sounds reluctant to bring this part up. "They want you in the studio to do it live during the broadcast. The day after tomorrow."

I look and feel slightly dizzy and ill. He notices and tells me, "You don't have to do this." 

"Do you WANT me to do this?"

"It doesn't matter what I want, Lissy." 

"Yes, it does." 

"It's your interview and your decision." Although he adds, "I would support you in anything you chose to do." 

And I know he would. Finally I say, "Can...Can I think about it?"

"Of course." She adds, "As I said, they'll be calling you probably not too long from now to make their pitch, and they'd be the ones you'd have to tell. I'm just the poor messenger, you know."

"Of course you are," Russell says. I wish I could tell how he felt; it'd make my decision a hell of a lot easier. "Talk to you later." 

"Call if you need anything," she says, including me in that, and she disconnects.

I take a deep breath and look at him. "What do you think?"

"As long as they don't upset or railroad you into anything, if they legitimately present the piece as she said, focusing on you and not on me, I say, go for it," he says.

"But they only chose me because of you." 

"If they do the piece like she said they wanted to, Lissy, they chose you because of you, love. You stand out because of me," I give a most unladylike snort at that, "but then, you stand on your own. You shine. You're exceptional."

"You're saying that," I protest, "because you're my husband." 

"I'm saying that," he counters, "because I love you. And soon, the whole country's gonna see how much you shine, too. If you do it. And if you don't, that's perfectly fine, too."

I don't have an ego. I honestly don't. One famous Crowe is enough for me. But this is an opportunity that doesn't come along every day. It would be a chance for me to show who I really am, I'm hoping, not Russell Crowe's wife or the Mum of Russell Crowe's children, but me. Not that I don't treasure those titles, because I do, but the focus would be on me, hopefully, and while that's scary, it's also sort of exhilarating.

The phone rings again. We look at each other and he hands it to me.

The show makes their pitch, much as Wendy had described. When I express concern over Russell and how he would be portrayed in the interview, they tell me that I could talk as little or as much about him or the kids as I wanted, and that they want to concentrate on me, which pleases me. "After all," the producer tells me, "the bit's called "Today's Australian Woman", right?"

"I'm not Australian, you know that, right?" I ask for the hundredth time, sure they have me mixed up with some other wife of some other big name Aussie movie actor who got arrested for throwing a telephone.

"There's no worries on that one," he reassures, and so I agree.

Russell let me, actually insisted, on my negotiating the interview myself, without him there, although he did say he wanted me to get an idea from them of what topics would be brought up in the short five minutes or so they have planned to speak to me. He's protective and doesn't want me to turn shocked, be made to cry, or as he tries to joke, chuck my own something at the host during the live broadcast. I don't find that funny in the least. It's what I expect: incident, husband, kids, and interests. They've promised they wouldn't throw me for a loop, and considering the fact I'm making Russell go with me to offer support, I don't know that they'd dare.

We call the kids and tell them to watch Mum on TV the morning after next. Tyler is beyond thrilled, and even Lily's excited 'Mum's turning famous'. I tell them both that after this one, Mommy is retiring from show business, permanently.

They've given me carte blanche on my own hair and clothing. Usually, I'm very confident about what to wear when, and when I snuck onto Andrew's show, although I wasn't fancy, neither did I look like a frump. But this time, it's all on me, and I'm nervous about how I come across. Of course, after all the years of dealing with Russell and his fame and so-called 'image', I know that you will never please everybody and that there will always be someone criticizing what you say or do. But, I want to appear right, for me as well as for the rest of the family.

"If I wear jeans and a tee, like I usually do," I lament, pawing through the closet as Russell watches, trying to be utterly patient with me, "I'll look like a schmuck. Too casual. And if I dress up, I'll appear too unapproachable. I don't want to look like a slut, and I don't want to look like I'm about to go off and play footy with the blokes."

He grins, because he loves when I attempt to sound Aussie. "First, I don't know what a schmuck is, exactly," he says (he manages to make it sound almost sexy, with his deep voice and accent), "but you're not one, I'm sure. And I know what you mean about the rest, although I wouldn't be against you playing footy with ME or dressing like a slut for ME...you'll be fine, sweetheart. Although," he adds, "do me a favor and don't try to sound like a local, or you WILL sound like a schmuck."

I make a face at him, though I kiss him. "Thanks, honey." 

He laughs and I feel only marginally better.

In the end, I choose a very simple dove-gray pantsuit, with tailored trousers and a slightly fitted jacket, over a feminine, pale pink camisole edged with lace at the top of the bodice. Matching silvery pearl stud earrings, and then my Mum's pendant with the diamonds that Russell gave me. It's small and dainty and unobtrusive. I decide to leave my hair loose, merely brushing it and letting it fall down my back, because that's how he loves it best and it's natural for me. I do my makeup as usual, only expecting maybe a touchup when we get to the studio. I feel like me, and I don't feel like a slut, a female footy player, OR a schmuck, thankfully.

Russell accompanies me to the studio, where we're immediately greeted by the producer I spoke with on the phone. "You'll be on in about thirty minutes," he tells me, "but we'll want you in a little earlier than that, of course, to get things ready." He introduces me to the hair and makeup women. "I think you're lovely as is," says the makeup lady, "although we'll probably put a bit of extra on you, due to the lights, as well as here," she indicates my neck and the front of me that shows above the camisole, "just to even things out."

I'm suddenly quite anxious. "Should I have pulled my hair up, maybe, or back...??" I ask the hair lady. Russell rolls his eyes but before he can speak up, she tells me, "You're absolutely perfect the way you are, dear."

"Do you want him to watch from the Green Room or from the sidelines?" asks the producer. Once again, my husband seems to be torn between being amused at my star treatment and a bit miffed that suddenly, he's kind of relegated to the background, literally assigned to holding my purse, which looks incredibly hilarious in his large, strong hands. Now, when HE'S the one in the spotlight, I don't mind being in the background. I seek it out, in fact, most of the time, but it's kind of funny letting him see how it feels.

"The sidelines," I answer promptly, giving him a 'you're NOT leaving me' sort of look. My purse is one of those impractically tiny ones today, only enough to hold lipstick, keys, some money, ID, and my cell phone, so when he notices he's holding onto it, he manages to make it fit inside of his jacket instead. All we'd need is some tabloid photo of him holding a handbag with some headline that he's turned into a drag queen.

The makeup lady is doing some finishing touches, not adding much to me at all. I should either be grateful they think I'm a natural beauty or else worry that they consider me beyond help. The hair lady's left me largely alone, although she does do a bit of primping and smoothing to my hair. Another assistant is attaching that portable microphone pack to my back, at my waist, under the jacket, and clipping the mike itself to my lapel. Just before I'm hustled off, Russell kisses me briefly. "You look stunning," he says. "Knock 'em out."

I wince slightly at his choice of words, but kiss him back. I can see him, staying within my line of vision, as close as he can get without getting in anyone's way.

I'm introduced to the host who will be doing the interview, a pleasant lady about my own age who I've watched countless times and who's even interviewed Russell before. "We're so glad you agreed to do this," she says. "Now, we'll sit here and as soon as the other segment's done..." the one being shot in another part of the studio that we can see on a monitor, "...it's going to me for a teaser. That's where I tell the viewers that you're coming on just after the commercial break. When I introduce you, the camera will shift to you..." she shows me the proper one, "and you look right there at it and just smile. It'll only be for a few seconds, and then it'll go to break. Then, you'll have just a few minutes and we'll be live to all of Australia!" I suppose this is meant to exhilarate me but instead I feel slightly weak again. I glance at Russell and he surreptitiously gives me what I call his "Maximus salute". Over the years it's become a sort of long running joke between us but it's also what we tell each other in times of need. Strength and honor. Hey, if it worked for all those Romans, surely I won't faint, right? I briefly wonder what Tyler would have to say if I chundered on live television.

"When we're doing the interview," she's telling me, jerking me back into the present, "just concentrate on me. You needn't worry about the cameras, just relax and be yourself. It'll be like we're having a conversation, that's all."

I nod, still feeling a tad queasy. I'd put my head between my knees but then I hear someone say, "And in five...four...three...two...one..."

The host says cheerily, "Thanks, Bob! And when we come back, we're profiling our choice for "Today's Australian Woman"...and surprise! She's really a Yank! Lisa Crowe is coming up next." The green light goes on over my camera and I focus on it and smile, feeling like a beauty pageant contestant, fighting the urge to do a pageant wave. Elbow, wrist, elbow wrist. Or, more appropriately, a deer in headlights.

"And...cut!" The light turns red and then goes out. I relax. "That was wonderful!" she says. I wish I could remember her name, unfortunately. "I'll introduce you, then we'll show the little piece we put together on you (God only knows what THAT will entail), and then we'll talk. About five minutes or so and it'll all be over."

All told, my delivery of the twins via cesarean took about ten or thereabouts, once they got me open. I can do this. I can do this. I...can...do...this...

"We're coming back LIVE in THIRTY SECONDS!" says the technician. Please don't puke, Lissy, don't pass out...I again glance at Russell and swear I can read the same thing in his expression. Instead of wondering of Tyler's reaction if I threw up, I imagine what Lily would think if it came back live to me lying prone on the floor with my husband doing rescue breathing on me. She'd probably find the notion terribly romantic.

"And in five...four...three...two...one..." IF our son WAS here, I think, I'd have to hear that for the next twenty-four hours or so. He's just learning to count. I can see my kids so clearly in my mind's eye, Jaden and Emily too, for I know Lil especially wouldn't want them left out, all eagerly gathered in front of the television at home with Mum and Dad waiting to watch and listen to me. Me, without Russell. Me. Me and me alone. Just me. Oh, good lord, what have I gotten myself into this time?

Out of the corner of my vision I see the green light's on the camera and I don't have any more time to agonize or to really think about it. 

"And...We're back live on Today; the time is approximately eight seventeen in the morning. If you're just tuning in, thanks for joining us," says the host, who I finally remember as being named Meagan. Don't ask me to tell you her last name, however. "We have a real treat for you now...our choice for "Today's Australian Woman". She's a modern, on-the-go woman, a loving wife, a devoted mum of four gorgeous, adorable children...including six month old twins! She's full of many interests and talents...oh, and did we mention the fact that she's actually American, born and bred? Or that she's actually the wife of our own Academy Award winning actor, Russell Crowe? Exclusively on Today, we'd like to welcome Lisa Crowe!" I blink a moment,and then quickly find my composure, trying not to look nervous and trying not to turn my attention to either the cameras or Russell. I can swear, however, I can feel his eyes on me. It's that uncanny sixth sense we have as husband and wife. Not to mention the fact that I'm by now so used to being called Lissy, even if it's mostly only by him, that to hear my given name kind of throws me off kilter.

"Thank you, Meagan, lovely to be here," I say, demurely. 

"We're glad to have you. And I know we'd all like to know you a bit better...why don't we take a look at how you happened here to be our pick for Aussie woman, shall we?" It smoothly then goes to the prepared piece. I sit there, watching and listening to her recount the highlights of my life thus far with Russell. I feel like I'm on that extremely old show This is Your Life. This is YOUR life, Lissy Crowe.

Pretty much they touch on how we met, our courtship, the piece punctuated with paparazzi photographs of us, us at the Oscars, us going through the airport here in Sydney, us out and about. Our marriage, with a couple of the 'official' photos we released to the press, in order to try to take some of the heat off of the event. More footage of us arriving at various premieres and award shows. They mention, one by one, the birth of each child, showing photographs of each of them captured at various times in their young lives, out with us. I have to hold back laughter when they show, talking about Tyler, one of his infamous face-pulling paparazzi pictures. I'm sure he's jubilant over that right this moment, watching this. They mention the bits of writing I've done, here and there, for some Australian magazines. They talk about my love of handicrafts, that I enjoy making clothing and things for the kids, even though we're famous, as Lil might say. Still, I don't really mind. It's a very nicely done piece and I'm rather pleased. Nothing sensationalistic or exploitative at all.

"How do you feel watching all that?" Meagan asks me. 

"I can't believe it's my life," I say truthfully. "It seems so...surreal." 

"It looks like a wonderful life," she replies. "They're beautiful, your children." 

"Thank you." I always love compliments on my kids. "They are the lights of my life. That, and my husband, of course." I really have to fight the urge to look over at him and smile.

"He IS a pretty spectacular bloke," she says. I want so much to see if he's preening at this or rolling his eyes. It could be either one. "I imagine things can get interesting at times."

"Oh, yes. But, I imagine most couples' lives are pretty interesting at times, you know. Ours is...a bit of an unusual situation. I think, though, that Russell and I both pride ourselves on being pretty normal people and pretty regular parents. We try to keep things stable for our kids. No spotlights."

She laughs. "I can't imagine that you're just 'regular' parents."

I smile. "Well, you'd have to ask our kids about that." And Tyler would chatter on if you'd let him, I think to myself. 

"Do they know what happened with Russell, in New York?" she asks. Not maliciously, because I was warned about it, and I get a feeling of nothing but sympathy from her. Sympathy, and more importantly, support. It's difficult, though, for me to talk about it to her, a virtual stranger, knowing he's right there, and that millions of other people are watching right now, including the kids and his parents.

"Yes, we spoke to them about it. They understand that what he did was inappropriate, and that he's very sorry for what happened. We've always vowed that we would be as honest with our children that we could possibly be, for their level of understanding, and both Lily and Tyler know that he did something wrong. However, they love him so much, and we're planning to work through this together, as a family."

"How did YOU feel about it?" She smiles. "I reckon we heard about it on the telly, already." 

I blush. "Yes, well...so many things have been said, either completely falsified or half-truths. There've always been, and I imagine there'll always be. Usually, I've let things go, because you have to. It's difficult, but with Russell's fame, I guess it comes with the territory. But, when they began questioning my love for him, my support and my commitment to the life I've built and the relationship I have with him, I felt I had to speak up." Now I feel incredibly serene, because I'm confident of my feelings for him. "I'm not excusing what he did, because I do believe it was the wrong way to behave. He knows this as well. He's a very intense, driven, passionate person who does nothing halfway, and I believe that his behavior was extreme because he's such a focused individual. I'm also very sorry this all happened, believe me, and we're trying even now to come to terms in dealing with all of it. It, however, doesn't lessen my love for him, which is as strong now as ever." I don't want to sound like a righteous crusader for justice and I don't want people to feel sorry for me, or him.  I do, however, want to make my position known and to let people know that I support him, wholly and nconditionally.

"Which is one of the reasons we selected you for Today's Australian Woman," she says, quietly. "You're a strong woman who's willing to stand up for your beliefs and we admire that about you."

"Thank you," I say again, feeling my heart thud, just a little, at the praise. 

"Of course, we realize you aren't Aussie-born, so we'd like to take this opportunity, since we selected you, to make you an honorary one," she says. She then presents me with a large, cute, stuffed koala. "And, we know Russell's originally a Kiwi, so..." I also get a New Zealand flag. I have to tuck both into the chair beside me. "My kids are going to fight over the koala," I comment. "But, I appreciate this."

"Would you like to talk more about the children?" she asks. "Twins! How is that working out?"

"Jaden and Emily are healthy, growing, and active." And I miss them, awfully. "It will be interesting to see their personalities develop. Already, they're so caring, so affectionate and bright. Lily is my nurturer. She's sweet and thoughtful. She's a writer and she's very creative and talented. Tyler takes after Russell. He's rambunctious and outspoken, and he's loving and funny. I adore them all." I smile. "As you can tell."

"You're also a writer, and you craft as well."

"I try to find the time, which isn't always easy, believe me. But I wouldn't trade any of it for anything. Things are good." 

"I'm sure we'll be hearing more from you, Lisa."

"Not if I can help it!" I have to laugh. "The spotlight isn't really my thing. Ask my husband." 

"Well, you've done exceptionally well today. We've enjoyed getting to know you better. Thanks for being on." 

"Thanks again, Meagan, for having me." And, just like that, it's over. 

"You were wonderful!" she says. "A complete natural." 

"I'm glad I had you fooled, then," I tell her. "I was petrified!"

"I'm sorry, however, we didn't talk much about you personally," she apologizes. "I sort of shortchanged you in that regard." 

"Oh, no, it was perfectly fine." I'm just glad it's finished. "I feel much better talking more about my family, anyway." I finally look at Russell and he's smiling. I think he, too, is pleased, and probably more than just a little relieved it's done, too.

"I think people got a sense of who you are, and what you're about," the producer says. "We do appreciate you agreeing to do this."

"I'm grateful you let me." God, it's turning into a fawning mutual admiration society. But as I get up, Russell comes over and hugs me. "You were perfect," he says. Of anyone's praise, it's his I treasure the most. "May I take my superstar wife home now?"

"You certainly can." Everyone's shaking his hand, too, as if I won my own Oscar or Nobel Prize or something. I can see how this could easily go to one's head but I can't see how my husband can treat it like it's old hat. The urge to throw up would probably come even if it were my thousandth interview.

I feel like I've just been to a carnival, not only because my stomach's still doing flip flops, but also because of the rather large koala that Russell's taken for me in exchange for my purse, and the flag. Same exhilarating yet tiring feeling you'd get at the carnival, too.

He takes my hand as we exit the studio. "I love you," he says, and that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all morning yet. 

In the car, on the way back home, my cell rings. I know without looking at the display that it's Lily. "Hi, sweetie," I say, answering.

"How'd you know it was me?" she asks, while in the background I can clearly hear Tyler shrieking, "I WANNA TALK TO MOMMY TOO!"

"I'm a mum, I have ways," I tease. "No, I just knew it'd be you guys, muffin." 

"You were superpendous!" she says. She's cute in that she tries so hard to use big words with often amusing results when she gets them mixed up. "You looked so beautiful, Mama."

Tyler again demands, "LET ME TALK!" Russell can even hear this because he chuckles. Not wanting to be left out, I can even hear Jaden and Emily squawking, and, because I AM a mum with supernatural powers, I can tell which one's which. "Thanks. Hey, Lil, can Daddy and I call you right back when we get home? We'll put it on speaker and so can you and we'll all talk together."

"How long will that be?" She's bursting at the seams to say her piece, I can tell.

"Few minutes, tops," I promise.

"Hurry, hurry..." she pleads. Again, our son protests, "GIMME THE PHONE, LIL!"

"Tell him we'll talk soon." I feel badly for Mum and Dad because I sense impending chaos. "And tell him if he doesn't mind I'll know. Talk to you in just a bit."

When I hang up, Russell's laughing. "Everyone wants a bit of you, love."

"I'm saving the best bits for you," I reassure. "But let's get home before Tyler has a fit, shall we?"

As soon as we get in, I dial the farm. Lily answers and promptly says, "Just a moment, Mummy, I'll put the speaker on." I do so as she does and I can hear the twins babbling and then Tyler pipes up, "Are you there, Mama?"

"I'm here. So's Daddy." "Hi, Daddy!" they chorus in unison.

"Hi." I feel my heart warm at all of us together again, which will soon be in more than in spirit because we've decided to head back there today. "So, what did you think of seeing your Mum on television?" he wants to know.

"You looked like a princess, Mum," Lily says admiringly. 

"You were a beaut, Mommy," Tyler says, which makes us laugh. "You talked 'bout us!" He's more excited about that, I think. "I saw my funny face picture," he adds, giggling.

Lil sighs. "I can't BELIEVE they showed THAT," she says, and I laugh even more at her exasperated older sister persona. "You said I was a writer, Mama! On TV!"

"That's because you are, sweetheart."

"Emmy and Jaden got all excited to see you. When are you coming home?"

"Tonight, in time for supper," Russell tells them, and they cheer. "Not enough time to get the house ready," Jocelyn breaks in. I almost forgot they're there. "No worries, Mum," I soothe. "We'll just be glad to get there, is all."

"What's bunkshuss?" Tyler wants to know. "You said I was a bunkshuss." 

I can't believe he obviously hung onto my every word. "That's rambunctious, peanut," I tell him.

"It means you're a loud, lively sort," Daddy tells him.

"It does?" He's oh-so-proud of that one. "I'M BUNKSHUSS!" he proclaims. 

"Indeed you are, mate." Russell and I exchange smiles. 

"What was I again?" Lily asks.

"You're my nurturer," I tell her. "That means you take care of everything and everyone around you and you care a great deal about them." 

I picture her small, satisfied face. "I try," she says modestly, and I laugh again. 

"Who gets the walla bear?" I knew Tyler would want to know. 

"It's your Mum's, she earned it," Dad says. "Though maybe she'll let you pet it. Just a little bit; Mummy and I will have to pack up, and then we'll be on our way home soon, all right?"

"Okay!" I can see them dancing around the phone. "Hurry, hurry..." Lil starts chanting again.

"We can't get packed if we're on here all afternoon," I tell her. "So, let's hang up and we'll see you in just a few hours." 

There's a chorus of I-love-yous all the way around and then it's quiet once more. I sigh happily. "You were terrific," Russell tells me again. "You shone, just as I said you would. I'm proud of you."

My expression grows thoughtful as I look at him. "Well, you gave me wings to fly," I say. "You gave me space to grow, love and confidence and you helped me find all of it. So, thank you." When it's my turn, I want to be able to give him that as well. I hope I will have half of his strength and courage if it's called upon. For now, though, we're simply going home to our kids, and I look forward immensely to that.

When we get home, we're barely out of the car before the door opens and I first see my 'bunkshuss' son barreling out, followed closely behind by Lily, and then Dad and Mum, each carrying a twin. Em and Jaden practically bounce out of their arms when they see us, all four children carrying on such a racket that I can't hear myself think. But it's a welcome sort of craziness, and glancing at Russell, I can tell he feels the same.

Tyler wraps both arms around my legs, effectively halting my progress, and I lift him up. He squeezes me tight in a huge hug and gives me an equally huge, sloppy kiss. Meanwhile, Russell's picked up Lily, who's doing much the same with him. Then we switch off and I get the same nice, although more subdued treatment from my daughter. Finally, after setting her down, I reach for both twins at once, who immediately burrow in my embrace. Jaden keeps patting me, which I suppose is his way of expressing what he can't vocalize just yet, and Emily rests her head on my shoulder, her thumb in her mouth, contentedly.

"Daddy would like a cuddle, too," I tell both babies. They go to him for a snuggle, Jaden kicking and wriggling until his dad tucks him under his arm like a footy ball. He, for some reason, likes to be packed around by Russ that way, his little chubby feet flailing, gurgling with glee. Em settles against him like she did with me; she's a very affectionate, sweet girl much like her older sister. Now the two oldest are back clamoring around me, both of them talking at once. I take one of their hands in each of mine and we all go into the house.

"When can I be on TV, Mama?" Tyler's asking me. When I look at my husband, I clearly read his expression to be, when hell freezes over, but I smile and say, "Someday, peanut, I suppose."

"You gots to be famous, like Mum and Daddy," Lil tells him. 

"I don't WANT to be famous..." I protest, and Tyler pipes up, "But I gots a famous Mommy and Daddy...Dad, can I be on The Wiggles?" That's him for you. Never mind about Oscars or the Today show...what he really wants is an in for his favorite Aussie children's program.

Russell sighs. "You've got enough wiggles in you for ten kids, mate." 

"I was proud of you, Mum," Lily says to me. "'Cause I know you were prob'ly scared, but you did so good!" I squeeze her hand and smile at her.

"I wished they gived you a REAL walla!" Tyler tells me. 

Max, too, is right there, tail wagging furiously, and I pause to pet him. "Yeah, that'd go over right well," I comment. "With a dog, and the horses, and the cows (especially your friend and mine, our own Junior)...all we'd need is a real koala to add to our menagerie."

"What's an inangerie?" my inquisitive son asks.

"It's like a zoo, of sorts." Apparently Russell's newest role in Tyler's life is to act as his interpreter.

"Cool! Can we HAVE a zoo?" His eyes light up. "I want an elephant!"

Now it's my turn to sigh, albeit quite happily. It's good to be home.

Tyler's like a dog with a particularly succulent bone: he just won't let go of a notion. It takes us the better part of two hours, especially on Russell's part, to convince him that it's not in anyone's best interest to have a zoo out here in the bush, that an elephant wouldn't especially feel much at home here, and that the horses and cows might not find the presence of said exotic beasts amusing. Mummy doesn't often cope well with the snakes and the other native creatures one finds occasionally out and about without adding jungle animals to our mix. Finally, he gives up his idea and settles in. However, I have to admit, I kind of missed this sort of negotiating banter. Even though, and don't tell my husband this, he can get the exact same way, if he's got something stuck on his mind. It's another trait our son's seemed to inherit from him.

He and Lil graciously agree to allow the twins to have Mommy's hard-earned stuffed koala, which we put in their room, and we pass out the treats we brought back from Sydney for them. Mostly, we enjoy being together once again. Even Alex and Jocelyn, although I'll bet the two of them are going to sleep soundly tonight, without our energetic foursome to look after any more.

When we sit down to supper, Russell asks Lily to say grace, and she does so sweetly and in a heartfelt manner, which makes me realize just how much I've missed them. "Dear God, thank you for Dad and Mum coming back, 'cause we were gettin' lonely without them. Thank you for helping Mama be brave on TV (yes, thank you, I add myself), and thank you for having Nana and Papa look after us, too. Thank you for everything that's good, and thank you for our food. Amen."

"Thanks, God," Tyler adds, "for making Nana make fork chops, 'cause they're my favorite! Amen." 

We all laugh at that. "Are you leaving again anytime soon?" Lil wants to know, as we pass Nana's afore praised 'fork' chops (and indeed, they ARE delicious) around.

"No, we've got to get you registered for school, and all ready to go, it won't be long now," I tell her, keeping Tyler from filling his entire plate with mashed potatoes.

"Will Daddy have to go back to 'Merica and talk to the judge?" she asks, and suddenly the entire room falls silent. Even the babies are still. 

Russell's the one to speak. "Yeah, we'll be going and sorting this whole thing out, sweetheart. But until then, we'll be home with all of you," he tells her quietly. He doesn't quite meet my gaze and I feel badly that this got thrust to the forefront again. Lily didn't mean to, of course. But it's been so easy to kind of put that in the back of our minds. He adds, "And then, we'll come back home, and we'll all be together some more." 

She nods her head, satisfied that he knows exactly what will happen. We DON'T, though, but we have to try to keep things normal, for all our sakes.

That night, we tuck the kids into bed, after we've already all said goodnight to and seen the babies off to sleep. Russell and I take turns; usually, we hear them both say their nightly prayers all together, and then he'll put one in bed while I do the other, and then we switch. It gives both children a chance to be alone with each of us for a little bit, and it's always a special moment before bedtime.

Tonight, he takes Lily and I get Tyler first. I'm snuggling the covers up over him, sitting there beside him, when he says, "Mommy?"

"Hmm?" I smooth his hair, study his adorable face, which reminds me of the photos Jocelyn has of Russell as a little boy, and lean over to give him a kiss.

"I'll take care of you, Mama. You and Lily and the twins." 

"You do such a fine job of looking out for us already, honey, but Daddy can watch over all of us fine, I think, don't you?"

He nods, solemnly. "But if Daddy has to go to jail, and we're all alone...I'll take care of ev'ryone, I promise I will." 

I stifle a sob. That this small child, barely three years old, would understand the gravity of the possible situation, and take it upon himself to become the man of the house, both fills me with pride and shatters my heart. I hug him, trying so hard not to cry in front of my son. "I know you would, Tyler. But, Daddy's not going to jail. It'll all be okay."

He nods again. "Just in case, though, Mommy, I wanted you to know." 

I try to smile, kiss him swiftly. "Okay. Goodnight, sweetie. I love you," I tell him, hurriedly exiting his room. I've grown to absolutely hate the words, just in case.

I attempt to stay calm and composed when seeing to Lily. I know Russell knows something's up, because now I was the one avoiding his gaze when we passed switching kids' rooms. Everything is fine there. "I'm glad you're home, Mum," she tells me.

"I'm glad, too." I feel like there's a tight elastic band squeezing hell out of my heart. "Are you okay?" she asks.

"I'm doing fine, muffin, just real tired, but happy to be back." I kiss and hug her, as well. We cling to each other tightly; I so did miss all of my kids.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"I love you," I tell her, feeling the squeezing sensation ease just a bit when she responds with a cheery if slightly drowsy, "I love you back!"

Out in the hall, Russell's waiting for me, leaning against the wall, with that completely unreadable look he sometimes gets on his gorgeous face. Without a word, he grabs my hand and hustles me into our bedroom, quietly closing the door behind us. He examines me with eyes that sometimes see too much, but not anything I wouldn't want him to see within me, anyway. "Did Tyler talk to you?" he wants to know.

"Yeah." I press my hand over my mouth. Then, "What did he say to you?"

"The same thing, I reckon." He looks so weary and hurt, almost like he did when he first came back. "That he was going to take care of everyone if I went to jail."

"Honey...don't..." I reach for him. He holds me as if we were being buffeted by a storm and he had to shelter me and keep me safe. In a way, that's what's happening. "I hate what I've done to you," he whispers. "You, and the kids."

"Shh..." We're not going back down that dark, broken path again, I won't let us. "You've done nothing but love us. Just let us love you. Let us love you, that's all."

We hold on to each other until I can literally feel everything negative seep out of him again. This storm has passed but there are more on the horizon. However, if we can hang on to each other, I think we'll be all right. I've got to believe we'll be all right.

If there is anything I don't want, it's to transmit a lot of our worries to our children. When Tyler told both of us that he would look after our family, it bothered me that he'd done enough thinking about what could possibly happen to his father to come to this conclusion, that we might need him to step up and be in charge.

And I also refuse to let Russell face any of this alone. I can see the pain and the fear he's felt over this. He hides some of his emotions well with the rest of the world, but he's never been able to with me, probably because I know him, body and soul, at least as well as I know my own self. It takes a huge amount of trust to allow another person so close to you that they can witness you at your most vulnerable, and I treasure that so much within my heart. A lot of married people probably take that for granted. We've fought so hard for it that I know we never will.

I fight my way from sleep, where I had this suffocating, drowning sensation. I can still feel it as a leaden weight pressing against my chest, making me gasp for breath, struggling against something holding me back, holding me down. Then I realize, coming to, that it's simply someone, holding me. Not restraining me, but trying to protect me. I'm crying and trying to draw a breath, make myself calm.

"Liss...Shh...Sweetheart, I'm here, it's okay, it's all right..." I comprehend that it was nothing more than a bad dream, jumbled notions, visions of my husband in handcuffs and my children crying, all of them apart from me, frantic, trying so hard to fight my way to them, any of them, all of them. Wanting to comfort my little ones, wanting to free Russell. Then it became me who was captive, screaming at the top of my lungs, but no one could hear me. I know this was the perfect example of things crowding my mind so much they spilled over into my sleeping subconscious, but still, it was so real that my heart's still pounding.

"Baby...shh...please, don't cry, I'm here...I'm here..." He's talking to me, his hand stroking my hair, and I just concentrate on the feel of him against me, touching me, the wonderful intimate sound of his voice, willing myself to settle down. "Lissy..."

I open my eyes. His are so close, and I can see myself reflected in their depths. He's turned the lamp on, low enough to banish the darkness and to let me see him clearly. The bedclothes are tangled around us and I realize before he caught hold of me, before I came back awake, I must have fought him something awful. He turns my face into his shoulder, still holding and rocking me. He's murmuring to me, nonsensical things, allowing me only to listen to his tone and the cadence of it, like he does with the twins to lull them asleep, like he does with Lil and Tyler when they're in need of comfort. I cling to him and try to absorb all of his love and goodness deep within me.

"I'm never gonna leave you," he promises, and somehow I know he'd move heaven and earth to keep that promise to me. 

I whisper, "I'd make an awful single mum."

He kisses my temple. "You're not gonna be a single mum, angel." I feel terrible I voiced my thoughts aloud; he's got enough to worry about. But there's nothing in his expression except concern and love. "You're not gonna be a single anything. You're stuck with me, Liss, might as well face it." He draws his fingertips down my face. "Want to talk about it?" He's referring to my nightmare. "What was it about?"

"Everything. Nothing. You and the kids, lost...me, unable to get to you...it was all disjointed, one thing after another after another..." I'm shuddering just thinking about it. He sighs and holds me close. "We're all here. We're all safe. Lissy, it's all right."

"Russell, it didn't make any sense." I gulp down a sob and finally feel my body relax against his. 

"A lot of life doesn't make sense, love," he says, without irony. "We'll work things out, together, though." 

As long as we're together, that's all that matters. After a long while of just cuddling me, he turns off the light, and when I fall asleep again, it's to the distinct sensation of being cared for and loved. I'm secure and I'm safe, and this time I'm not plagued by fear and sorrow.

We try to concentrate on everyday living, because it's all we can do, until we hear more about what might happen and when Russell needs to go back to the States. I've been concentrating on school shopping for Lily, who's excited over the prospect of new clothes and a new backpack and school supplies. There was never a question that she would go to school here. Life here is less hectic and less complex, and despite the sometimes primitiveness of living out in the bush, it's a good place to raise our children. I'd have never thought I'd love it so much here, but I do. Sydney is a different sort of lifestyle, by necessity rather than by much of choice, and while I enjoy the vibe, I've turned into this sort of homebody that craves the simplicity and the normalcy of the farm.

Russ and I even take her to meet with her teacher, and the two of them immediately take to each other. Lil's kindergarten teacher is young, only in her mid-twenties, and she assures us there should be no problems having her in class. Pretty much, people around here are used to Russell and treat him like any other citizen anyhow. I can tell that Lily will simply be Lily, and besides his new title as The Husband of Today's Australian Woman, he's going to have to get used to merely being Lily's Dad. I know for a fact, though, he secretly loves that. No star treatment here.

"The focus is on Lily," Miss Jacobs tells him, "not you." And while that's said politely and with a bit of teasing humor, she means that. I think Russell's glad that the focus isn't on him for a change, especially in light of all that's happened over the last little while.

I'm so tired all the time, between trying to get Lily adjusted to being a schoolgirl, to keeping up with Tyler and taking care of Emily and Jaden. I'm wondering if I'm beginning to come down with something, because it takes me a while to get going full steam in the mornings and then I practically collapse at night. But I don't think anything of it until one evening, when I'm almost asleep before Russell even joins me in bed. He sits on the edge of the bed, just looking at me, and I ask him, "What?"

"Still feeling under the weather, love?" He's got one of those unreadable expressions on his face as he puts one big hand on my forehead. I bat it away. "No fever."

"No, you're not warm, but..." now he looks decidedly troubled. "Could you be pregnant, do you think?"

"WHAT????" I sit bolt upright in bed, feeling dazed, confused, and now, slightly ill. But I think back, and the possibility's there. I feel like the bottom's dropped out of my stomach. We look at one another.

"You haven't...well, you know, had a period, since I got back." This is true, and I'm slightly overdue. My body's never been regular like clockwork anyhow, but it has fairly enough to the point where one would notice. And believe me, now we're both noticing. Not to mention, since he came back, we've been like two rabbits in heat, unable to get enough of each other. "But I'm on birth control," I say, stupidly.

"It's not foolproof, Liss, only about as much as the fools who use it, I reckon." We conceived Lil without trying, without planning actually, and although it seemed then to be one of the worst times, it was the best time it could have happened. We needed her then. Tyler was totally planned, and so were the twins, although we were trying for just one and hit the baby jackpot. This would be a complete surprise, if it's the case. But the timing now, frankly, sort of sucks. And the thought of having another baby with the twins barely over a year old at the time of its birth scares the holy bloody hell out of me. Five children, three of whom would be under eighteen months old, is enough to frighten anyone.

"What would we do if...?" We decided, after Jay and Em, that was it. Finito, done, family completed, no more children for the Crowes. Especially with a possible trial and who knows what else for Russell hanging over all of our heads, throwing a new baby into the mix would be complicated.

Not that I wouldn't love it any less than our others. Even though I've had problems in my pregnancies here and there, especially the last, with the twins, I enjoy it. There's something primitively satisfying about knowing that you're creating a new life, feeling it grow and move within you, looking at the man you love and knowing that it's his child you carry inside of you. But...

"Don't freak out, Angel, not till we know." Though I can see the same thoughts swirling through Russell's expression. "Tomorrow, you'll call the doctor, and we'll get a test and take it, here...and we'll deal with whatever comes, right?"

I have to ask myself, as I attempt after all of this to go to sleep, what more could possibly be coming our way, and then tell myself I probably don't want to know.

I'm not able to get in to see my regular doctor in Coffs Harbour until the next day. Today, though, it's nearly killing me not finding anything out, so as soon as possible, we're sending Terry's wife out for a pregnancy test. I can only imagine the furor and the rumors if I went, or Russell, god forbid. Although it'd be funny to see the looks if we sent Mum or Dad to fetch it for us. The family's sort of in shock at the possibility, and it's all any of us can do not to convey any of this to the children.

So, I go do my thing, and I can only say that the results are highly inconclusive. Meaning, both of us peer at the damn stick until we're going cross eyed, and neither of us can decide what it's trying to say. The box said 99.9% accurate, but then, the birth control was also supposed to be about the same percentile effective. It LOOKS like it's negative, but the lines are blurry and I can't be sure. And if so, why am I feeling so damn lousy and why hasn't my body's normal routine kicked in?

"Shit!" I say for about the hundredth time since gazing at the test. 

"Liss, we'll find out for sure, tomorrow." Russell, though, looks like a teenager hoping he didn't knock up his girlfriend. I wish we'd made her buy more than one. "The test could be defective, or outdated, or..."

"Of course we'd get the only nonworking test in the entire country!" 

"Sweetheart, calm down." Yeah, he's a fine one to talk, pacing and twitching like he is. "Lie down, why don't you; you're practically swaying on your feet." I do feel tired, again, despite it all. "I'm going to take care of the kids, it'll be fine." He helps me to lie back on the bed and covers me with a blanket. "Russell?"

"Yeah, love?" 

"Do you want to have another? I know we talked about it, but..."

He looks at me with complete honesty. "I don't know, sweetheart. I guess we'll have to see if there IS another, and then go from there." 

I don't know either. Any part of him and any part of me is a blessing, I've always said that and it still holds true. But with the chaos surrounding our family, with the challenges of the twins and the others, I'm not sure if becoming a mum again would be practical or quite welcome. If I AM pregnant again, I think to myself, I'd better get voted Australian Woman of the Decade, at the very least.

The next day we both trek to the doctor's to find out, once and for all, just what the HELL is going on with me and my system.

The doctor is very thorough, asking all sorts of questions (not even batting an eye when we confess just how often we've been sexually intimate in the last little while; I guess there are times Russell's so-called 'image' is good for something) and taking the requisite tests.

He leaves us to go over the results, both of us sitting nervous and impatient in the exam room. It seems like an eternity and my mind contemplates every possible scenario. I remember Lily's hope when I was pregnant with the twins that next time I might have three, and this thought makes me positively blanch with fright. Neither of us can talk because we're both thinking of various outcomes. Finally, we get the summons to join him in his office and we sit there in front of his desk, holding hands and awaiting the news. My hand's like ice and Russell's clutching it almost desperately.

When you hear something come out of someone's mouth that you've been both anticipating and dreading, it's like watching a film in slow motion, you know, where the dialogue track is sooooo slooooow. I swear to God, there is at least a ninety second delay between him saying "Well, you're definitely..." and then, "NOT pregnant."

I feel like a balloon that someone's blown up nearly full to bursting and then they suddenly let all the air out in a tremendous rush. Out of the corner of my eye I think I see my husband actually visibly collapse back into the chair. Tears inexplicably rush to my eyes and I have to fight to keep them back.

"Is that welcome news, then?" the doctor asks, and I can't speak; merely wave my hand around noncommittally. 

Russell says finally, "We've decided what we've had is plenty." He adds, "I reckon." 

"What IS wrong with me?" I manage to choke out. 

"Plain and simple, you've had a great deal to cope with over the last several weeks, and it's all finally catching up with you," he says. "Your system's been thrown off kilter, so you skipped a period. I know you said you've been eating and sleeping pretty well, and you said your relationship and your sex life in particular has been good..." (I have to fight not to glance at Russell over that one), "...so what it is, is good old exhaustion. Stress. You've been overloaded emotionally, and you've got a lot going on physically, taking care of the family, and now, your body's trying to catch up. I could hospitalize you. I SHOULD hospitalize you, but I know neither of you would be happy about that, so what I will do is let you go back home on the provision you get some rest, and you try to calm yourself down. Easier said than done sometimes, I know. I'm going to prescribe a bunch of vitamins and supplements for you, and I'm going to expect to see you in a week. If I don't like what I see," he threatens, "then you'll go into hospital, and not another word out of either of you."

Well, I guess we've been told. He knows us well, though, so when he tells Russell, seriously, although with a decided twinkle in his eye, "It's your responsibility to help take care of those kids of yours and keep your hands off your wife for awhile," it's all I can do not to burst into semi-hysterical laughter. We're not pregnant! And, I don't know exactly how I feel about that. I know I didn't want to be, but now that I know for sure that I'm not, it's kind of this mixed bag of emotions.

The emotions all swell to the forefront when we get home. The family's there, watching the kids, and at their quizzical expressions, Russell merely shakes his head and says, "We're not." That's when the entire thing hits me and I have to leave before I break down in front of them all. The last thing I hear is Tyler asking, "We're not what?"

I sit on the edge of our bed and the tears come again. Part of me was already gearing towards the possibility of a fifth child, and now that it's not to be, it's overwhelming. This is almost like mourning the loss of the baby we miscarried, only that time, we were saddened that we lost something we didn't even know we had. This time, I'm mourning something that technically never even existed in the first place, which is bizarre, yet the feelings are just as real all the same. Of course, I'm glad we don't have the complication of another pregnancy, not now, and I don't have regrets that we mutually decided no more kids, but still, there was a tiny piece of me that hoped there would be another, and now, that's taken away.

Russell comes in and sits down beside me, saying nothing for a moment. He wraps his arm around me and I snuggle against his shoulder, still crying softly. "Are you going to be okay?" he asks finally.

I nod. 

"Somehow you haven't convinced me," he teases, although his expression is full of understanding. "Are you disappointed?"

"A little." I sniffle. "Relieved, and disappointed."

"Me, too." I look at him with a bit of surprise. "Didn't think I was, until he said there wasn't going to be another." He smiles. "Then I wondered if I was going mental, wishing it was so, seeing as how we've got us quite the bunch here at home."

"Me, too." Now we smile at each other. "Well, Lissy, you're not going crazy, and there's nothing wrong with being glad, either," he tells me. "Five WOULD be a little much to take, y'know." 

"I know." I sniffle again. "But the babies won't stay little too much longer." I think that's really it. Despite the sometimes uncomfortable, unpleasant aspects, I've enjoyed being pregnant. And I love taking care of my kids as infants, love looking at every part of them miniaturized, love the feel of a tiny one (or two) in my arms, nursing at my breasts, helpless and depending on me to nurture them.

He kisses the top of my head. "Sweetheart, isn't it exciting, watching them turn into real little people, though?" he wants to know. 

I think of Lily and Tyler, the joy I take in them as well, watching them grow and discover new things, take on new challenges, and learn how to simply live life. "Yes," I admit.

"Okay then." He gets this sly grin. "Besides, I can't keep you barefooted and pregnant all the time, 'cause you're this big celebrity now, you understand. Got a reputation to keep and your sexy beautiful looks to uphold, right?"

I laugh through my tears and elbow him, and suddenly everything's fine again.