“That’s it,” Luke said, his voice thick with laughter. “Bath time is over.” He put Jamison on his hip, soaking the waistband of his pants, and pulled a towel off the rack.
“He likes the ducky towel.” Sophie reached around him and tugged a white hooded towel with a large orange beak sewn onto it out of the cupboard.
“Did he tell you that?” Luke asked, taking the towel from her hand and rubbing the baby dry.
“You’re doing it wrong,” she told him and she showed him how the towel fit around Jamison’s small wet body. “Want me to take him?”
“No. You can barely stand on one foot. I got this.”
“Do you know where his diapers are?”
“Huh, no.”
Wordlessly, she jumped on one foot into Jamison’s room and pulled a clean diaper out of a basket and handed it to Luke. “Pajamas are in the top drawer.”
She started to say something when he pulled out a blue cotton onesie, but stopped herself.
“What?” he asked. “He doesn’t like these pajamas?”
“It’s not important.”
“No, tell me.”
“Well, it’s just I’d dress him in something warmer.”
He nodded. “Good point.”
She watched in silence as the half-naked Luke dressed Jamison.
“Maybe now that you’re here, you could sing the pony song,” he said.
“It’s the horse song,” she said. “And did he tell you about that?”
“No. Liz. She’s been coaching me.”
“She coached me, too, at first.”
He shot her a surprised glance. “I’m surprised you needed coaching.”
“Of course. I don’t know how to be a mom.”
“I would never guess that. You make it look easy.”
“Well, it’s not. Not at all.”
“I believe you,” he said as he placed Jamison in the crib.
Jamison began to howl.
“I’ll stay with him while you get him a bottle,” Sophie said.
Luke slapped his forehead. “Of course! The bottle.”
“He likes it warm, but not too warm,” she told him as she limped into the room to stand by Jamison’s crib. She patted the baby on the back, wishing she could pick him up to comfort him while Luke headed for the kitchen.
#
Luke took his time making the bottle, enjoying the sound of Sophie’s song floating through the floorboards. She didn’t have a classical soprano, but he found her voice entrancing. Slowly, he made his way upstairs. As he’d feared, she ended the song as soon as he entered the room. She sat in an old-fashioned oak rocker with Jamie curled under her breast.
