The 485th Day of March
Page 6
Brian dripped the formula against her tongue and she made all sorts of mouth motions in between her cries. In a few minutes, she began to quiet.
“They’re doing a lot of her feeding via the NG tube. With no parent, I’m sure there’s not enough nurses to do this for an hour at a time.” Tristan rubbed his fingers along her kicking feet that fluttered the bottom edge of the blanket.
The baby was calm enough to return to her intense gaze at Brian’s face. “She has such beautiful brown eyes.” She was no longer fighting against the nipple and finally began to suck without the frantic upset of before. That lasted long enough for her to slowly consume an ounce before her eyes drifted shut and her body relaxed. “I think the withdrawal and screaming wears her out.”
Tristan nodded.
“You should hold her for a while, too,” Brian suggested.
They traded places and the baby only roused slightly as she was passed from Brian’s arms to Tristan’s.
Watching Tristan hold her stirred all sorts of emotions in Brian. This was the man who had such reservations about his ability to be a parent. Yet here he was, looking like he would move Heaven and Earth to make sure this child was cared for.
“If they say yes, do you think we can do this?” Tristan asked. “It’s going to be hard and more complicated than we originally discussed.”
Brian knelt down and put one hand on Tristan’s leg and the other against the baby’s chest. “I don’t know if finding her was the universe’s idea of coincidence or destiny, but I think we need to try.”
* * * *
Visiting the hospital almost every day, making a list of items needed for a newborn, and preparing for the possibility of a home visit made Tristan wonder if this was going to pay off or turn into a heart-breaking dead end.
Over morning coffee in the kitchen, Brian picked up the legal pad on the table. “How ‘bout Althea?
On the chance this would all come together and they’d be allowed to name the baby, they’d begun a list.
“No, just hell no. I won’t saddle her with the legacy of my mother’s name. Too much emotional…baggage,” Tristan said.
“Madeline, Arianna, Jordyn…I like the version with the ‘y’ in it but wonder if that would turn into a lifetime of people misspelling her name.”
“You’d be surprised at the ways Tristan can be mangled.”
“Considering the -refinance your mortgage- junk mail we got that spelled it t-h-r-i-s-t-i-a-n, I really wouldn’t.” Brian turned to set his cup on the counter.
Tristan’s phone buzzed. His entire body tightened as he saw the caller was Wanda Cogan. He thumbed the button to answer and put it on speaker. “Good morning, Ms. Cogan.”
“Good morning to you. I have news.” There was a pause. “The committee is willing to move forward with placing the baby with you. The hospital informed us that the baby might be able to be discharged in three days. I would, of course, need to come view your home prior to putting the baby into your care. Are you and your husband still on board?”
Tristan met Brian’s eyes. Brian gave him two thumbs up. “Yes, very much so.”
“I will tell you that the state of chaos caused by the pandemic played a part in this decision. But it was also to your benefit that you had completed a large percentage of the foster care process already.”
“Thank you. We want this to work.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow to set up a time to come examine your house,” Wanda said.
“Okay. That would be great.”
As soon as the call ended, Brian dragged Tristan into his arms and kissed him. “We’re going to be parents.”
THE END
ABOUT A.R. MOLER
A.R. Moler is a chemistry professor at a community college, a homeschooling mom, and an avid science fiction fan. She is a devotee of first hand research for her writing whenever possible and to this end has: learned to fire a handgun, been rappelling, ridden with both EMS and the police, flown a helicopter, bought a motorcycle, and learned to ride it. She has traveled to nearly all the places where her stories are set and taken hundreds of photos for documentation. She has been writing since her high school years, but only recently has become published. For more information, visit armoler.com.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
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