Page 37 of Trusting You
“I watched you,” he said in a kinder tone. “When you put her down for a nap.”
I nod. “Of course. Let me know if you need anything.”
Locke smiles, and it reaches his eyes. It’s that expression which halts me from opening my mouth and saying she needs a bath first, then some lotion, definitely a diaper change. It would sound so witch-like, considering all Locke wants to do is hold his new daughter a while longer. And Lily can go one night without a bath. Hell, I don’t even know how often the foster family washed her.
All I can go on is my own experience, and I gave that child a bath every night because of how much she loves splashing and playing with her water toys.
I don’t know if Locke has bath toys.
Tomorrow, I think as Locke walks past me into Lily’s room. He’s given me a tomorrow with her.
I sit down on the couch and, short of literally twiddling my thumbs, I chew on my lower lip as I listen to the sounds of Locke changing Lily, putting her in a onesie that maybe came from the suitcase the caseworker and I brought, or from his own purchases.
She’s cooing, making baby sounds, likely kicking her legs up in the changing station and giving Locke a hell of a time—shit, does Locke know to wipe front to back with a baby girl?
“Stop it,” I say to myself. I refuse to jump up and check. Locke knows. I’m not a handmaiden assigned to Lily. Nor am I a nag.
Patience.Locke will tell me all about it when he’s done.
In about the time I figured it would take, the babbling turns to crying, then to screams. After ten minutes, I can’t take it anymore and run to the nursery.
I crack the door open enough to see Locke practically jumping in place, trying for Mary Had a Little Lamb again, jerkier in tone this time because of all his leaping.
The light’s still on, so bright compared to the lamps in the main room, and when Locke spins, Lily’s bright red face and gaping maw of a mouth greet me.
“Oh, boy,” I say, and somehow, Locke hears me over the cries.
“Carter! Fuck, what am I doing wrong?”
The face he gives me is laced with such desperation, I dial down the lecture I’m about to give and step all the way in.
“She’s overtired. Overstimulated from the day and the company. This is pretty normal,” I explain.
“Normal?” he echoes, except with a lot more screech. “Is she hurting? It sounds like she’s in pain. Is her tummy okay?” He bounces in place, and when that only sends her into hysterics, he stops and looks at Lily like he’s broken her.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”
My heart cracks just a little.
“I don’t know what to do to help her,” Locke says. He’s stricken.
“It’s okay,” I say “This is the only way she knows how to communicate right now. You’re not doing anything wrong.”
“Then…how…?”
I’ve come close enough to take her, but Locke doesn’t give her to me. He keeps holding on, displaying an unexpected willingness to keep trying.
“So…bring her close to your chest,” I say loud enough for him to hear me over the cries. “That’s it. Good. Now sway, back and forth, like this.”
I show him a simple side to side, as smooth as could be, and I’m holding my arms as if I’m holding her. “Just sway, like that. Yes.”
It’s doing nothing to bank Lily’s cries.
“Is she hungry?” Locke’s face is white over hers, his eyes the size of a badger’s. “I just changed her. It can’t be dirty already, can it? Is it?”
I shake my head. “She’s just not used to you. Let me…” But then I stop. Think. The last thing I want to do is tear Lily away from him because I know what kind of emptiness that causes. “I’m going to come closer.”
I flick off the light and step up to them, wrapping one arm around Lily and weaving the other around Locke’s neck. “Follow my movements,” I say to him. “Just like that.”