babyBeatrice sat with her hands folded on her enlarged belly. She could feel little feet kicking, searching for an escape. It was the middle of the night; Bea's mother's old grandfather clock struck three times, signalling that it was now three o'clock in the morning. Edward still wasn't home. Edward still hadn't called. It's later than usual, Bea thought, now wringing her hands, worrying both herself and the unborn baby that was just as active as her fast-paced heart. She held back tears as she opened her book, creasing a new page, trying to pass the time even more.Ed was still at the Royal Canadian Navy Legion, sitting with his head in his hands at the bar, another pint passed to him from his old shipmates. "Congrats on the baby, Eddie" was all he heard for the past eight months. Was he ready? It looked like he didn't have a choice. To Ed, it felt like he had just come home from the war, a window of opportunity open before his very eyes. And yet, here he still sat at the same bar stool,