Frank and Rebecca were walking dog Frank with granny Patricia, who was walking Alex. The puppy had gotten in that awkward teen stage when his limbs were long and not as adorable as before. But he was the same well-behaved dog who would stare at you with big, black, eyes until you petted him.

They were walking slowly, because of Rebecca. She had on a sundress that accented her baby bump, and every time Frank would steal a glance at it, his eyes would soften just a bit.

They came to the playground, and Frank entered the dog pen with the two dogs. He had a tennis ball in his hands and he threw it as soon as Rebecca closed the gate.

"So, you are the ex," Patricia said, nose scrunched up. She, along with everyone else, had rooted for Frank and Emily to stop dancing around each other. And, now, there was no chance for that.

"We are back together, though," Rebecca said, and the old lady looked at her baby bump.

"How far along are you?" Rebecca placed a hand on her stomach and smiled gently.

"Four months," and they had been four hard months. With her being alone and uncertain that she would manage to give her son the world.

"I remembered when I was that far along with Ben. I had the most inexplicable urge to devour onion rings with whole jars of pickles," Rebecca giggled. She knew that story well, after all, she was living through something similar.

"I like to eat cream mushroom soup. Which is strange. I don't even like mushrooms," Patricia smiled at that and her hand hovered over Rebecca's middle.

"May I?" Rebecca nodded, and she felt a hand gently press on her bulging stomach.

"What is the gender?" Patricia petted the stomach and pulled back her hand.

"I am expecting a boy," Rebecca spoke proudly. She had always wanted a son. They had their share of troubles, but they were not going to bring home boys. At least, she hoped her son wouldn't.

"You are in for a lot of cleaning, then. They like to make messes," Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

"Girls do the same," Rebecca argued, and Patricia winked at her.

"Be solidary with your gender, girl," the two shared a laugh, and Rebecca looked at where Frank was lying down as the two dogs jumped around him.

"Why did you even leave him?" Patricia's voice broke Rebecca from her silence. That was a question the raven-haired woman had asked herself many a time.

"I was afraid. He needed support back then. I have never been anyone's support," Rebecca admitted. Sure, she knew that Frank had the suspicion that she had been with him because of his fame, but she had genuinely liked his character.

"You will have to learn, girl. Sons need their mothers the most," Rebecca nodded. She, herself, had shared everything with her mother. It was the woman who had talked her into going to Flora's funeral and breaking the news to Frank. "And Frank needs you, too. If you can't be strong, you will be unhappy."

"How do I find such a strength?" Rebecca wondered. More to herself than to the elderly woman next to her.

"Make it a habit. A tough decision comes up? Do the hard thing, not the easy thing. Someone needs you to be there for them? Be there. Uphold your responsibility as a mother. We, mothers, have no choice in that matter," Rebecca sighed. It all sounded so simple. And, yet, she found herself lacking the discipline to make it happen.

"You might think it is hard. Impossible, even," continued on Patricia, a hand resting on Rebecca's shoulder. "But all women walk the path you are on, eventually. It is your turn, just like it had been mine or your mother's, before you. Walk it with a head held high and be considerate of others, and you will be fine."

"Granny Patricia, I heard you can make animal onesies," Rebecca said, hopeful.

"You want me to make your son a couple?" Patricia nodded. She could do that. "You better give me pictures in exchange when the munchkin is born."

"No, I want you to teach me how to make them. I want to be able to sew all of my son's baby clothes," that surprised Patricia. She turned towards Rebecca and searched her face for any traces of dishonesty. But, instead, she found only eagerness and love.

"I suppose that, if you don't mind sharing the lessons with Lenore Adams, I can squeeze you in," Rebecca hugged Patricia then, overwhelmed with the knowledge that she had passed a test and that now the old woman was going to give her a chance, if she wasn't approving of her, already.

"Thank you. I will always be on time. What kind of fabrics should I buy?" Rebecca gushed and Patricia began to explain to her the virtues of cotton over synthetics.

When Rebecca and Frank came home, Frank got dog Frank off his leash, who now had a lot more meat on his bones and a soft, glistening, black coat on him.

The dog did his ritual of nuzzling Rebecca's baby bump and then went to play with his toys. Rebecca looked at Frank, who was heading to the kitchen to make dinner.

"Can I help?" She wavered at the entryway, a hand on her stomach. In a sense, it would be as if the three of them were cooking together.

"If you'd like," Frank didn't look at her, but he hadn't refused her, either. And that heartened Rebecca into taking a bag with potatoes and the peeler and sitting by the counter.

"I was thinking we could make potato cream soup?" She suggested. Sure, the desire to gorge herself on mushrooms was there, but her baby needed to get something else than fungi in his system.

"I will make the croutons," Frank busied himself with toasting the bread as Rebecca worked on the potatoes. This was the first time since she has moved back in that they were cooking together. Maybe, just maybe, Frank could grow to have feelings for her again.