The story is copyright to me.

Food for the Soul
By Mary Combs
February 2000

The Hunger woke him.

A ravening need, a physical pain blotting out everything else —his whole being was consumed by it. He screamed in agony, reaching out blindly, and She was there ,soothing him, pulling him into the warmth of her arms The familiar scent of her was a promise of ease. Warm flesh was pressed against his mouth, and he drank deeply, gratefully, sighing in relief as the pain faded and he was filled with warmth and love.....

"Hungry baby," Fleur observed, somewhat critically, from her perch on her father's knee.

"He certainly is," Natalie replied, settling little Nick more comfortably against her breast. "In fact, he's insatiable." Her eyes twinkled briefly at her husband. "I wonder where he gets it?"

"What's sayshabell?" Fleur asked, ignoring the rumble of her father's laughter.

"Insatiable means always wanting more," Nat explained.

Fleur contemplated the idea for a moment, her head cocked to one side, her brow furrowed, and her rosebud mouth pursed in an expression that her father had declared to be a perfect reflection of Natalie.

"Cookie?" she asked, leaning forward and thrusting a somewhat dilapidated graham cracker toward her brother's ear.

"That's very nice, sweetheart, but he hasn't any teeth yet," Nick said, putting a firm hand around her middle and pulling her to a less precarious position. "He can't chew."

"I got teeth," Fleur exulted, flashing a double row of pearls and demonstrating their effectiveness by chomping down on the graham cracker. She flourished her plastic mug somewhat dangerously before taking a large gulp. "I got milk," she added with deep satisfaction, staring into its depths.

"You certainly have," her father said, drawing her more securely into his lap.

"Milk for Daddy." she commanded, in a tone that brooked no denial, twisting around and offering him her cup.

Nick meekly bent his head and took a sip. "Thank you." he said, doing his very best not to make a face.

"Welcome," Fleur replied with imperial graciousness, then turned her attention to experiments in dunking.

Natalie smiled at him sympathetically. Poor darling. After all these years, he still had not managed to overcome his distaste for pasteurized milk. Compared with the rich, creamy liquid he remembered from his mortal childhood, it tasted watery and burned.

She gave him a reassuring smile and mouthed the words *I love you.* Nick replied in kind.

He looked down at the happy little being in his lap and experienced one of those precious moments of intense awareness that come so rarely in life, when the flow of time seems to slow.

The sound of the birds' morning calls outside the window mingled with Fleur's contented mumbling, little Nick's more urgent noises of satisfaction and Natalie's whispered endearments......

The cool slickness of the floorboards beneath his bare feet contrasted with the warmth of the sun on his face and of his daughter's body in his lap.....

His hand was cupped over Fleur's tummy, and through the fuzzy texture of her pink nightsuit he could feel the little heart beating away merrily under his thumb. The fragrance of milk and graham crackers and baby powder mingled with the scent that was uniquely hers.....

A loud noise interrupted his reverie, and time resumed its usual pace.

His daughter was blowing bubbles in her milk, with great gusto.

Nick opened his mouth to say something, then stopped and simply kissed the top of her head. Accustomed to such tributes, Fleur remained undistracted. He looked up to see Nat grinning at him.

He shrugged and crooked a smile. "At least she comes by it honestly. I used to do the same thing."

Nat laughed. "Me too." She looked off into the distance, smiling at a memory. "Minnie Mouse."

"Come again?"

"Minnie Mouse. She was on the inside of my mug."

Nick chuckled. "I had a dragon."

Natalie bent her head to murmur to the baby in her arms, then turned her gaze back to her husband.

Nick's face bore that sweet mixture of tenderness, awe and amusement that she often caught there when he was watching her with one of the children. His hair was rumpled, there was sleep in the corners of his eyes and the bridge of his nose was, as usual, ever-so-slightly sunburned. His deep-blue silk pajamas were liberally sprinkled with graham cracker crumbs and there was evidence of Fleur's milky kisses on his cheek and his collar. She thought he had never looked quite so handsome.

"Penny for your thoughts," he asked.

"I was thinking, the two of you are a study in blue, rose and gold."

Nick laughed. "Funny you should say that. I was just thinking how much I'd like.." He hesitated slightly. "How much I'd like to paint you... like this."

Natalie thought about it for a moment, then nodded her assent. "But not this morning," She turned her attention to moving little Nick to the other breast. During the transition, he favored the other half of the family with a slightly dazed, milky grin.

"That's our cue, ma petite" Nick said to his daughter, grabbing her around the middle and rising from his seat. "Time to go fix breakfast!"

"Moatmeal!" Fleur declared happily from under Nick's arm.

"Moatmeal it is. And a poached egg for Mummy." He carefully retrieved her mug and set it down on the bureau, then swung her up to the ceiling and down to the floor. "And after breakfast we'll go shopping."

"Puppies!" cried Fleur, the fixation of the week being the local pet store.

"Paint." Nick stated firmly. "And canvas and maybe a couple of new brushes. Daddy's going to paint a picture of Mummy."

"I gonna paint, too," called Fleur, dancing out the door and down the hall on her tiptoes.

"Okay, we'll get you some.... watercolors. Nice, washable, non-toxic watercolors." Nick said with a grin, catching the look in his wife's eye. "And sponges and paper towels and a couple of dropcloths," he whispered reassuringly to Natalie as he ducked out the bedroom door.

The End