the bathroom, light-footed, as if in a happy dream.
She turned on the water in the sink with her free hand, mixing hot and cold, and dropped a tear of liquid lavender-scented soap into it. The sound of water spraying onto enamel filled the room, and the baby widened its eyes.
Again, Anne smiled, and cooed, “Oui, mon bébé . Everything’s okay.”
When the sink was two-thirds full, she stopped the water and opened the towel in her arm layer by layer like the most precious birthday present until the tiny, waxed body appeared, moist heat emanating from its skin.
The baby’s legs and arms moved around the slightly swelled torso, tiny fingers curling and uncurling. She was already beginning to learn and discover.
With much care, Anne lifted the baby girl in the air, fingers steadying her fragile neck, and let the used towel drop to the floor. Her body was surprisingly hot, and the skin soft and smooth as velvet. She placed her in the warm water, slowly, to give her time to adjust, and washed her with careful strokes. The baby’s small breaths came out faster, and the dark, but very clear, eyes moved erratically as she observed her surroundings for the first time.
What a charming little being! Again, Anne had to stop herself from placing kisses.
She cleaned the black hair gently with the tip of her fingers. With her free hand, she opened a cupboard underneath the sink, grabbed a clean towel, dipped one of its corners into the water, and wiped the baby’s adorable face, avoiding the eyes.
She could stay like this forever, enjoying one of the most luxurious moments of her life—surely, she was made to be a mother—but voices in the adjacent room reminded her of waiting matters.
She lifted the baby out of the water, wrapped her in the new towel, and carried her back to the room. Caroline sat alone, covered by clean bed sheets. In about ten minutes, the doctor had finished his work. She smiled and extended her hands.
Anne hesitated. This was happening too fast.
But the baby’s not mine. I’m not meant to keep it .
A lump growing in her throat, she went to the bedside and bent to hand over the warm bundle.
Caroline took the baby and stared lovingly at the tiny face peeking out of the towel. “Thank you.” She was radiant.
“It’s my pleasure. She’s beautiful.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Have you given her a name?”
“Yes.” Caroline smiled. “I’ve waited very long to have her, so I’m going to call her Désirée.”
Choking, tears rushing to her eyes, Anne gave the desired miracle a last glance before spinning around and hurrying out of the room, into the hall. Hot tears streamed down her face.
Someday, she would have her own baby.
Yeah, like never. She had been trying to get pregnant for two years.
Dr. Lavogeaux stepped out of a black room down the hall. His eyes widened when he saw her standing with her arms around her chest, trembling and crying. “What’s wrong?” He hurried toward her. “The baby?”
Damn. So much for hiding .
“No.” She sniffed, wiping her cheeks. “I’m just…uh…tired.”
“Hmm.” He stopped in front of her with a severe look, studying her. “I have good news for you. Your friend has a bad cough, but it’s not pneumonia.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
“Oh, thank God.” Relief washed over her.
“I’ve given him medicine and told him to stay the night here. There’s a spare bedroom.”
“But—”
He eyed her. “You should sleep here, too.”
“But my husband—”
“I'm sorry, you're in no condition to drive. You look like....” He pressed his lips together.
A loud bang made them jump. The front door rattled on its hinges with unbelievable force, as if a mad troll had come out of the woods and pulled on the handle. Instinctively, she hunched her back, expecting the door to blow open at any moment. But it held.
Dr. Lavogeaux looked over her shoulder, wide-eyed. “I shouldn’t be going out either, but other patients are
She turned on the water in the sink with her free hand, mixing hot and cold, and dropped a tear of liquid lavender-scented soap into it. The sound of water spraying onto enamel filled the room, and the baby widened its eyes.
Again, Anne smiled, and cooed, “Oui, mon bébé . Everything’s okay.”
When the sink was two-thirds full, she stopped the water and opened the towel in her arm layer by layer like the most precious birthday present until the tiny, waxed body appeared, moist heat emanating from its skin.
The baby’s legs and arms moved around the slightly swelled torso, tiny fingers curling and uncurling. She was already beginning to learn and discover.
With much care, Anne lifted the baby girl in the air, fingers steadying her fragile neck, and let the used towel drop to the floor. Her body was surprisingly hot, and the skin soft and smooth as velvet. She placed her in the warm water, slowly, to give her time to adjust, and washed her with careful strokes. The baby’s small breaths came out faster, and the dark, but very clear, eyes moved erratically as she observed her surroundings for the first time.
What a charming little being! Again, Anne had to stop herself from placing kisses.
She cleaned the black hair gently with the tip of her fingers. With her free hand, she opened a cupboard underneath the sink, grabbed a clean towel, dipped one of its corners into the water, and wiped the baby’s adorable face, avoiding the eyes.
She could stay like this forever, enjoying one of the most luxurious moments of her life—surely, she was made to be a mother—but voices in the adjacent room reminded her of waiting matters.
She lifted the baby out of the water, wrapped her in the new towel, and carried her back to the room. Caroline sat alone, covered by clean bed sheets. In about ten minutes, the doctor had finished his work. She smiled and extended her hands.
Anne hesitated. This was happening too fast.
But the baby’s not mine. I’m not meant to keep it .
A lump growing in her throat, she went to the bedside and bent to hand over the warm bundle.
Caroline took the baby and stared lovingly at the tiny face peeking out of the towel. “Thank you.” She was radiant.
“It’s my pleasure. She’s beautiful.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Have you given her a name?”
“Yes.” Caroline smiled. “I’ve waited very long to have her, so I’m going to call her Désirée.”
Choking, tears rushing to her eyes, Anne gave the desired miracle a last glance before spinning around and hurrying out of the room, into the hall. Hot tears streamed down her face.
Someday, she would have her own baby.
Yeah, like never. She had been trying to get pregnant for two years.
Dr. Lavogeaux stepped out of a black room down the hall. His eyes widened when he saw her standing with her arms around her chest, trembling and crying. “What’s wrong?” He hurried toward her. “The baby?”
Damn. So much for hiding .
“No.” She sniffed, wiping her cheeks. “I’m just…uh…tired.”
“Hmm.” He stopped in front of her with a severe look, studying her. “I have good news for you. Your friend has a bad cough, but it’s not pneumonia.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
“Oh, thank God.” Relief washed over her.
“I’ve given him medicine and told him to stay the night here. There’s a spare bedroom.”
“But—”
He eyed her. “You should sleep here, too.”
“But my husband—”
“I'm sorry, you're in no condition to drive. You look like....” He pressed his lips together.
A loud bang made them jump. The front door rattled on its hinges with unbelievable force, as if a mad troll had come out of the woods and pulled on the handle. Instinctively, she hunched her back, expecting the door to blow open at any moment. But it held.
Dr. Lavogeaux looked over her shoulder, wide-eyed. “I shouldn’t be going out either, but other patients are
Similar Books
