Cradled by the Night by Lisa Greer Page B

being around to help.
    Amelia had gladly taken him up on one formula feeding during the night, but after he had nearly killed himself two nights in by hitting his head on a shelf and nearly dropping the baby, Amelia had given up on the idea. He already worked at least 50 hours a week anyway as a research leader in the company. It was his dream, and he loved it .
    She dragged herself to the bedroom, every creak of the old flooring in the house reverberating through her tired skull, and fell on the bed. A shower would have to wait until the baby was sleeping again later or when Bard finally made it home.
    * * * *
    Her head buzzed with sleep. What had woken her up? The room danced with dim shadows. Crying; that was it. I t didn't sound like Lottie , though.
    Amelia licked her lips and pushed herself up. She wasn't as tired as before, but she still felt disoriented.
    The sobbing continued.
    “Lottie? Is that you, baby?” Her skin prickled as she walked out of the room and slowly down the hall.
    It wasn't her daughter. She already knew her own baby's cry. This was someone’s baby's cry—but not hers.
    Her mouth grew dry. She stood outside the nursery. Not a peep. It wasn't Lottie, then.
    The sound of soft sobbing came again—definitely a baby's cry.
    “Oh my God. What is that?” Amelia clasped her head in her hands, willing the noise to stop.
    I t did.
    After a moment, still standing in the hallway, she laughed softly, not wanting to wake the baby. It had only been an hour since she had fallen asleep.
    I really need to get more sleep myself. I'm losing it.
    * * * *
    “I saw this posted outside the student center—Moms Meet Weekly. It's for all moms of kids of any age—even adults. I found out some of the faculty cut that time out of work to make it.” Bard handed her a flier across the kitchen table.
    Amelia took a bite of broccoli, glancing over at Lottie in her carrier. Sound asleep. At least she had some time to enjoy Chinese takeout—for the second time in two weeks.
    “Hmm. I don't know.”
    “What don't you know? Hon, you need to get out. It's been nearly six weeks since we came home from the hospital. The baby will be fine. I brought home the list of approved sitters in town. They all have f irst a id training and tons of experience. The company started the list years ago when they hired their first female CEO. I guess she knew what the real priorities are.” Bard grinned and stabbed at a piece of beef.
    “That's cool. Maybe I'll give it a try.”
    “Good going. I think you'll like it. I took the initiative and called and interviewed a sitter today.” Bard raised one eyebrow. “So you can go tomorrow. It's at 10 a.m. The sitter will be here at 9:30 so you have plenty of time to get ready and find the place. It's only five minutes away though, at the Anglican church.”
    “Wow. You really do want me to get out of the house.” Amelia scooped up a bite of rice and sighed.
    “I do, because you need and deserve it. This motherhood gig is tough, and I'm working way too much. It will get better in a few months, though.”
    She knew Bard believed it, but Amelia knew better. Research was his life, next to her and the baby, and he had worked hard to get this position. He would make sure to do a stellar job and prove himself early on. That meant working very long hours for at least a couple of years.
    “Sure, babe. Thank you.”
    “No. Thank you. You're amazing. You know that?” He took her hand across the table, and her breath hitched.
    “Maybe.” She didn't feel amazing. She felt strung out, sloppy, and tired, but she also wanted her husband. It had been too long. The baby would sleep for another half hour anyway, and the baby monitor was right there on the table to alert them of her status. The huge house required one. Amelia had grown used to carrying it from room to room.
    “Come on, while we have a few minutes. Is it okay?” Bard pulled her up from the table, a look of concern in his eyes.
    “Yes, I