She burps, let’s out a squeaky cry, and falls right back to sleep. “We’re doing well.” She hands Morgan to me. I don’t think forced smiles are necessary yet.
Rachael smiles as if she feels the need to make a quick recovery. But I’m getting a crash course in motherhood.” Her smile dissipates as her brow tightens. “Do you have kids?” I ask, washing my hands at the kitchen sink, but I think I know the answer. That would require more knowledge of babies and a confidence she doesn’t possess.
Rachael’s smile grows a fraction like I passed the first test, but I honestly don’t think it’s a test. No knitted booties from a grandma or great aunt. Why are there no toys that Morgan is too young to play with but they can’t resist trying to entertain her with them anyway? Where is the baby swing sitting in a corner? Or the dark wicker basket of diapers and other baby essentials that should be on the wooden coffee table? Toys. I follow her to the living room filled with oversized leather furniture and a wall of curtain-framed windows overlooking dense woods. And by girl I mean young lady because I’m certain she’s older than I am, at least by five or so years, but younger than Nate.
Wow! Did she just now realize it’s okay to talk in front of a sleeping baby? Poor girl. When her wonder-filled gaze meets mine, I lift my brows a fraction. “Only took half her bottle before drifting back to sleep.” “Yes…” Rachael watches Morgan “…she’s being lazy this morning.” She tests a few more words.
I spoke beyond a whisper and the world may end.Īn exhale tiptoes past her parted lips once she realizes babies don’t require complete silence to sleep. Rachael’s back stiffens on a silent gasp. This must be Morgan?” I refrain from saying the obvious “she’s so tiny.” But she really is tiny, even for a one-month-old. Slipping off my shoes, I browse around for any signs of Nate. Babies also turn perfectly-put-together humans into buffoons. Not really, but her exaggerated jaw flapping makes it easy.
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