Sophie scooted to a more upright position before taking the food from Luke. “I’ll have to think about it.”
She tried not to feel left out while the others, including Jamison, sat around the dining room table eating. Even after telling herself that she ate alone ninety percent of the time, the feeling of exclusion still wouldn’t go away. The painkillers she’d taken earlier combined with the warm meal made her heavy and lethargic. The conversation in the dining room centered around people she didn’t know, and after a few spoonfuls of the delicious soup, she gave in to sleep.
#
With his sister and her friend gone, the house turned eerily quiet. While Sophie slept on the sofa, Jamie gazed at him with big blue eyes and gnawed on a piece of bread.
Now what? He really wanted to wake Sophie and ask her for instructions, but she looked so beautiful and peaceful, he couldn’t do it. Her phone lay on the coffee table and it gave him an idea. He carried it and Jamie into the kitchen.
“Liz,” he said when she answered. “It’s me, Luke Mason.”
“Luke? Why are you calling me on Sophie’s phone?”
He explained the situation. “And now she’s asleep and I don’t know what to do with Jamie.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No! I don’t want her to know—or to think—I can’t handle this.” He paused. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Has Jamie had his bath?”
“Bath?”
“Then bottle and bed.”
“Bath, bottle, bed,” he repeated.
“Can you find the bottles?”
He opened cupboards and drawers until he found the bottles, nipples, and formula. “Hey,” he said. “The formula has instructions!”
Liz laughed. “Oh yeah, she always reads him Goodnight Moon and sings to him before she puts him down.”
“Sings to him?” he echoed. “Like what?”
“I don’t know its name, something about pretty horses.”
“Ah...I don’t know that one.”
Everything he didn’t know about taking care of a child sat heavy on his mind and shoulders as he carried Jamie upstairs for his bath.
#
Sophie woke to the sound of running water and peals of laughter. She ran her tongue over her teeth, hating the dry horrible taste in her mouth. Pushing herself up, she winced in pain when she tried to move her leg. Clenching her jaw, she moved through the pain, and hopped on one foot to the bottom of the stairs. Then, using the wall as a brace, she slowly made her way up the flight of stairs.
Lavender-scented steam rolled out of the bathroom. Luke knelt beside the old-fashioned claw-footed tub. He’d taken off his shirt and had bubbles up to his elbows. Jamison, covered in froth, looked like a white-haired Santa Claus. The baby pounded his fists into the bubbles and laughed as he splashed Luke in the face.
Sophie leaned against the doorjamb, watching.
Luke must have felt her presence, because he turned her way. “Hey,” he said. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”
“I need my pajamas and toothbrush,” she told him.
“I would have gotten them for you.”
“There are some things a girl likes to do for herself.” The thought of Luke going through her pajama drawer sent waves of panic through her.
Jamison squealed as he again splashed Luke.
