Her head tilted and she stared at me with questioning eyes. “Why do I feel like there are a million words floating around in your mind, but you only allow a certain number to escape?”
I didn’t reply.
As I stared at her rocking my daughter who was growing more and more upset, Lucy smiled and winked my way. “See? Told you. She’s just being a baby. I’ll take care of her for a while. You go ahead and take care of yourself.”
I thanked her in my mind, and she smiled as if she heard me.
The moment my head hit the pillow, I was fast asleep. I hadn’t known I was so tired until I truly had a moment to rest. It was as if my body melted into my mattress and sleep swallowed me whole. No nightmares or dreams found me, and for that, I was thankful.
It wasn’t until I heard Talon screaming that I tossed and turned in my bed. “Jane, can you get her?” I whispered, half asleep. Then my eyes opened and I glanced at the other side of my bed—it was still completely made, no wrinkles in the sheets. My hand grazed over the empty spot that reminded me I was in this alone.
I climbed out of bed, and as I walked through the hallways, I heard a soft whisper.
“You’re okay, you’re okay.”
The closer I grew to the nursery, the more the gentle voice calmed me. I stood in the doorway, watching Lucy as she held Talon and fed her.
Maybe in many ways, staring at my empty bed was a reminder that Jane was gone, but seeing Lucy before me was a small reminder that I wasn’t alone.
“Is she okay?” I asked, making Lucy turn, surprised.
“Oh, yeah. Just hungry, that’s all.” Her eyes traveled across my body. “I see you don’t smell like a sewer anymore.”
My hands ran through my still damp hair. “Yeah, I took a quick shower and a quicker nap.”
She nodded and walked over to me. “Want to feed her?”
“I—no. She doesn’t…”
Lucy nodded me over to the glider chair. “Sit.” I started to protest, but she shook her head. “Now.”
I did as she told me, and when I sat, she placed the baby in my arms. The moment the exchange happened, Talon started to cry, and I tried to quickly give her back to Lucy, but she refused to take her.
“You’re not going to break her.”
“She doesn’t like it when I hold her. She’s not comfortable.”
“No, you’re not comfortable, but you can do this, Graham. Just breathe and calm your energy.”
I grimaced. “Your hippie weirdo side is showing.”
“And your fear is showing,” she countered. She bent down, placed Talon’s bottle in my hand, and helped me feed her. After a few moments, Talon began to drink and calm down, her tired eyes closing. “You’re not going to break her, Graham.”
I hated how she could read my mind without my permission. I was terrified that each touch from me would be the one that would end Talon. My father once told me everything I touched, I ruined, and I was certain that would be the case with my baby.
I could hardly even get her to take a bottle, let alone raise her.
Lucy’s hand was still wrapped around mine as she helped me feed Talon. Her touch was soft, gentle, and surprisingly welcoming to my unwelcoming soul.
“What’s your greatest hope?”
Confusion hit me at her question. “What does that mean?”
“What’s your greatest hope for life?” she asked again. “My mother used to always ask us girls that question when we were kids.”
“I…I don’t hope.”
Her lips turned down, but I ignored her disappointment in my reply. I wasn’t a man to hope; I was a man who simply existed.