whether the boys were his own or not. He'd be gentle with them. And caring.
She watched from the shadows of the kitchen as he approached the house and paused uncertainly at the foot of the porch steps. She stepped out, noting that his pants and shirttails were dripping.
"Y'all washed in that cold well water?"
"Thought you'd be laying down." His voice still hinted at displeasure.
"I had a pang or two but there's nothin' serious wrong."
"Shouldn't you see a doctor or something?"
"Doctor," she scoffed. "What do I need with a doctor?"
"I could walk to town, see if we could get one out here."
"Town ain't got no use for me, I ain't got no use for it. I'll get along just fine." Lord a-mercy, she was five months pregnant and she hadn't seen a doctor? His eyes dropped to the dish she held. "What's that?"
"Crushed plantain leaves for the bites. But we better dry the boys off first. You mind doin' one while I do the other?"
She was gone inside the house before Will could reply. A moment later she returned with two towels, tossed one to Will and sat on the bottom step with the other. While she dried Donald Wade, Will found himself balancing on the balls of his feet with Thomas between his knees. Another first, he thought, awkwardly drawing the child closer. Thomas was pink and gleaming and his little pecker stuck out like a barricade at a railroad crossing. He stared straight into Will's eyes, silent. Will grinned. "Got to dry you off, short stuff," he ventured quietly. This time he didn't feel as ignorant, talking to the little guy. Thomas didn't yowl or fight him, so he figured he was doing all right. He soon learned that babies do little in the way of helping at bath time. Chiefly, Thomas stared, with his lower lip hanging. He had to have his arms lifted, his fingers separated, his body turned this way and that. Will dried all the cracks and crannies, going easy where the bites were worst. Thomas's neck was so small and fragile-looking. His skim was soft and he smelled better than any human being Will had ever been near. Unexpected pleasure stole over the man.
He glanced up and discovered Eleanor watching him.
"How you doin'?" She smiled lazily.
"Not bad."
"First time?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Never had any o' your own?"
"No, ma'am."
"Never married?"
"No, ma'am."
They fell silent, rubbing down the boys. The mellowness inspired by the task spilled over in Will and softened his annoyance with the woman.
"You scared the hell out of me, you know, falling like that."
"Scared the hell out of myself." Her lazy smile continued.
"Didn't mean to bark at you that way."
"It's all right. I understand." After a pause, she added, "Reckon you're a little shivery in those wet britches yourself."
"They'll dry."
Thomas stood complacently between Will's knees, and Will had no warning until he felt something warming the cold denim on his inner thigh. He glanced down, yelped and leaped to his feet. Baby Thomas unconcernedly bowed his legs and continued relieving himself in a splattering yellow arc.
"Mercy, Thomas, look what you've done!" Eleanor pushed Donald Wade aside and came up off the step. "Oh, mercy, Mr. Parker, I'm sorry." She dropped a self-conscious glance to Will's thigh. "Baby Thomas, he ain't trained yet, you see, and sometimes—well, sometimes—" She fumbled to a stop and turned pink. "I'm awful sorry.
Will stood with feet widespread, surveying the damage. "Like you said, they were wet anyway."
"I'd be happy to wash them for you, and I'll get you something of Glendon's to wear till they're dry," she offered.
He lifted his head and their eyes met. Hers were dismayed, his bemused. A smile began tugging at one corner of his mouth, a smile as slow as his walk, climhing one cheek until an attractive crescent dented it. He snickered. Inside him the laughter built until it erupted. And as Eleanor's chagrin turned to relief, she joined
She watched from the shadows of the kitchen as he approached the house and paused uncertainly at the foot of the porch steps. She stepped out, noting that his pants and shirttails were dripping.
"Y'all washed in that cold well water?"
"Thought you'd be laying down." His voice still hinted at displeasure.
"I had a pang or two but there's nothin' serious wrong."
"Shouldn't you see a doctor or something?"
"Doctor," she scoffed. "What do I need with a doctor?"
"I could walk to town, see if we could get one out here."
"Town ain't got no use for me, I ain't got no use for it. I'll get along just fine." Lord a-mercy, she was five months pregnant and she hadn't seen a doctor? His eyes dropped to the dish she held. "What's that?"
"Crushed plantain leaves for the bites. But we better dry the boys off first. You mind doin' one while I do the other?"
She was gone inside the house before Will could reply. A moment later she returned with two towels, tossed one to Will and sat on the bottom step with the other. While she dried Donald Wade, Will found himself balancing on the balls of his feet with Thomas between his knees. Another first, he thought, awkwardly drawing the child closer. Thomas was pink and gleaming and his little pecker stuck out like a barricade at a railroad crossing. He stared straight into Will's eyes, silent. Will grinned. "Got to dry you off, short stuff," he ventured quietly. This time he didn't feel as ignorant, talking to the little guy. Thomas didn't yowl or fight him, so he figured he was doing all right. He soon learned that babies do little in the way of helping at bath time. Chiefly, Thomas stared, with his lower lip hanging. He had to have his arms lifted, his fingers separated, his body turned this way and that. Will dried all the cracks and crannies, going easy where the bites were worst. Thomas's neck was so small and fragile-looking. His skim was soft and he smelled better than any human being Will had ever been near. Unexpected pleasure stole over the man.
He glanced up and discovered Eleanor watching him.
"How you doin'?" She smiled lazily.
"Not bad."
"First time?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Never had any o' your own?"
"No, ma'am."
"Never married?"
"No, ma'am."
They fell silent, rubbing down the boys. The mellowness inspired by the task spilled over in Will and softened his annoyance with the woman.
"You scared the hell out of me, you know, falling like that."
"Scared the hell out of myself." Her lazy smile continued.
"Didn't mean to bark at you that way."
"It's all right. I understand." After a pause, she added, "Reckon you're a little shivery in those wet britches yourself."
"They'll dry."
Thomas stood complacently between Will's knees, and Will had no warning until he felt something warming the cold denim on his inner thigh. He glanced down, yelped and leaped to his feet. Baby Thomas unconcernedly bowed his legs and continued relieving himself in a splattering yellow arc.
"Mercy, Thomas, look what you've done!" Eleanor pushed Donald Wade aside and came up off the step. "Oh, mercy, Mr. Parker, I'm sorry." She dropped a self-conscious glance to Will's thigh. "Baby Thomas, he ain't trained yet, you see, and sometimes—well, sometimes—" She fumbled to a stop and turned pink. "I'm awful sorry.
Will stood with feet widespread, surveying the damage. "Like you said, they were wet anyway."
"I'd be happy to wash them for you, and I'll get you something of Glendon's to wear till they're dry," she offered.
He lifted his head and their eyes met. Hers were dismayed, his bemused. A smile began tugging at one corner of his mouth, a smile as slow as his walk, climhing one cheek until an attractive crescent dented it. He snickered. Inside him the laughter built until it erupted. And as Eleanor's chagrin turned to relief, she joined
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