by Freya Barker
“You have a breast infection, honey,” I tell her, when she winces at my touch.
“Should we take her to the clinic?” Jared asks, walking in with Ole on his arm.
“There are some things we can try before we need to do that. First order of business is to let that little bruiser drink as much as he can manage.” I smile into Ole’s curious eyes as I reach out and take the baby from Jared’s hands. “If you can grab two bowls, one with ice cold and one with hot water. Oh, and two washcloths, please,” I instruct Jared.
“It hurts when he latches on,” Jordy complains.
“I know, but what you have is likely a backed up milk duct. The more he drinks, the looser it gets. We’ll do some hot-cold compresses; hot before, to soften things up, and cold after nursing, to soothe.” I unwrap Ole while I’m talking, until he’s only in his diaper. “Roll on your side, Jordy.” I place the baby next to her on the bed, cozied up against her skin, his little mouth already searching for the nipple. When Jared walks in, I take one of the washcloths from him and wet it in the hot water, squeezing out the excess, and draping it over her breast, leaving the nipple free. “What you need to remember is that the strongest pull of his mouth is from his bottom jaw, so you want to position him with his chin in the direction of any hard spots.” I grab the edge of the duvet and tuck it under the baby’s legs and butt, so his head is angled down a bit and help him latch on.
“Should she be doing this if it hurts that much?” Jared says over my shoulder on hearing his sister’s sharp hiss and seeing the tears rolling down her face.
“Yes,” I answer resolutely when I see Ole suck deep and Jordy visibly relaxes. “Come with me,” I order Jared, pulling him out of the room behind me, straight to the kitchen. “Do you have apple cider vinegar?”
“Pantry,” he says, immediately moving in that direction.
“Good. And I’ll need a bit of honey to if you have it. If not, syrup will do for now.”
When he’s set everything on the counter, he looks up at me expectantly.
“The vinegar has anti-inflammatory and antibacterial properties, so we’re gonna use that to battle her fever from the inside. One tablespoon of that and half of one of honey to a cup of water. She needs to drink that three times a day and keep it up for a full two weeks. It’s just like antibiotics, it won’t have it’s full effect unless you finish the course,” I explain, as I mix the first batch under his watchful and dubious eye. “I also need you to run over to my place, take my flashlight, and grab me a green cabbage from the garden. They’re still small, but will do the trick.”
“You sure this is all gonna help her? Sounds more like the makings of coleslaw or something.”
“Cold cabbage leaves will bring down the swelling,” I tell him with a smile. I can see the disbelief all over his face, but I’m not worried, he’ll be a believer soon enough.
“Anything else,” he says with a hefty dose of sarcasm. “Cucumber? Tomato? Root of hemlock?”
I throw my head back and laugh. It’s not like I’ve never encountered a cynic. Plenty of them. I’ve also never encountered one who didn’t ultimately become a believer after seeing the effects of some simple home remedies. His reference to a potion, albeit jokingly, is not unusual either. Midwives were at some point in time viewed as witches, until finally common sense prevailed. Just as I’m positive Jared will come around as well.
“You’ll see,” I tell him, handing him my flashlight.
Jared
“She’s asleep and Ole is tucked in with her.”
I turn my head over the back of the couch to see Mia slowly approaching. Without a word, I pat the seat beside me, watching her come around and bend to give Griffin, who’s curled up on the other side of the coffee table, a scratch. She finally sits down, kicks off her flip-flips and tucks her feet up on the couch, leaving quite a bit of distance between us.
I’d been staring blindly at reruns of Criminal Minds, yet listening to the soft murmurs coming from Jordy’s bedroom, my thoughts on Mia. It’s like watching two different people; the confident, self-assured, composed midwife, versus the skittish, insecure, withdrawn hermit. Yet both are all Mia, which makes her even more intriguing. Her kindness, empathy, passion, and intellect are clear in both sides of her. Intriguing, complex, beautiful, and fascinatingly irresistible.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask, in an attempt to break through the fast building tension, as I watch her hands wring in her lap.
“Just water is fine,” she says on a whisper.
“I can make some tea?” I offer, getting up from my seat.
“Water’s fine. I should be getting home soon anyway.”
“Why?” flies out of my mouth before I can check it. “I mean, what if she needs you later?” I lamely add as I fill a glass with cold water. “Besides, you haven’t slept much in the heat, by your own admission. You can crash in the spare bedroom, it’s nice and cool.” I hand her the glass before sitting down beside her again. I watch her throat work as she swallows a sip, before she sets the glass down on the table and turns to me, folding her hands in her lap.
“Maybe I will,” she says so softly, I have to watch her lips form the words.
“Come here.” I watch as her eyes flash and her body goes rigid, yet she doesn’t move. She also doesn’t resist, when I lean over and pull her closer, arranging her so her back is tucked against my side, her butt pressed against my hip, and my arm is loosely curved around her shoulder. Close but not restraining. “What do you want to watch?” I ask, pointing at the TV.
“Criminal Minds is fine,” she says, her body still tense against mine.
It isn’t until a new episode comes on that she finally relaxes into my hold. About five minutes after that, her head is on my chest and she is fast asleep. The moment I lift her up, to carry her to the spare bedroom, Griffin is on his feet, his ears up and alert as he follows me down the hallway. I’ve just loosely covered her with the sheets when he jumps on the bed and curls up against her back. I leave the door open a crack, and turn on the bathroom light, so she can find her way around in the middle of the night. Then I cross the hall to my bedroom, leaving that door open as well, strip off my clothes, crawl in bed, and close my eyes.
-
A creak of a floorboard wakes me up, sometime during the night. For a second I’m disoriented, until I remember Mia across the hall. I stretch out, tuck my arms behind my head, and listen to the sound of muffled voices coming from the other side of the house. Footsteps moving around, cupboards opening and closing, and the sound of the tap running in the kitchen—before it goes silent once again. A sense of craving, deep in my gut, keeps me restlessly alert
Finally, when I hear the slight shuffle of bare feet coming down my hallway, I roll out of bed. Mia jumps when I open my door all the way, whipping around with her hand pressed between her breasts.
“God, you scared me,” she whispers, closing her eyes.
By the time she opens them, I’ve closed the distance between us. I tug her close with my hand on her hip and my other arm wrapping around the small of her back. Her eyes widen, as do her lips as I lower my head and take her mouth.
Soft, warm, and deliciously wet, with a rich flavour the brief taste of her skin a few days ago only hinted at. Her body presses closer to mine involuntarily and I release her hip, only to slide that hand up her side and around to her neck, holding her head in place as my tongue explores deeper.
She feels good. So good that if I don’t release her now, I’ll lose all control. Reluctantly, I pull back from her inviting mouth, leaving her with a soft press of my lips against hers. Her eyes, luminescent in the dim light of the hallway, are confused, but she doesn’t say a word. She moves obediently as I lead her into her bedroom, peel back the covers to let her climb in bed, and tuck them back over her.
“Get some sleep,” I tell her, leaning in to press one last kiss to her mouth before heading back to my own bed.
This time, I close my door.
Not so much to keep anyone out, but more to keep myself in. Because the moment I give in to the temptation on the other side of a hall, I will lose myself.
THIRTEEN
Mia
I love this time of day.
It’s early enough that the light from sun is just peeking through the treetops. Narrow beams filter through and hit the smooth surface of the lake, evaporating the fine fog rising up from the water. Some rustling a little further along the shore catches my attention, but it’s just Griffin, who’s poking out from the underbrush, out on his morning explorations.
I was a little disoriented when I woke up, and a lot surprised that I’d so easily fallen asleep again. That kiss. A touch, once so casual, so commonplace, had felt preciously intimate and completely revealing. The mechanics of it instinctual, despite the length of time I’d been without, yet the rush of need it evoked felt unfamiliar. There had been no thought to whether I should or shouldn’t, in fact, I’m pretty sure my mind was a complete blank. I don’t know where it would’ve ended, if not for Jared pulling back. I certainly had no sense of self-preservation in that moment. When he walked me to my bed, part of me expected him to crawl in with me. I don’t think I would’ve stopped him. But he didn’t, and this morning I can’t help feeling grateful for that. It didn’t feel like a rejection when he tucked me in, kissed me gently, and walked out of the room. It felt more like a promise.
The house had still been silent when I snuck outside behind Griffin, wrapped against the morning chill in the quilt off the bed. The sound of the sliding door opening behind me had me shoot a glance over my shoulder.
“Morning,” Jared says from the doorway, dressed in shorts and a wrinkled shirt. It takes him a second to navigate closing the door behind him with two mugs in his hands, before he walks up to me, handing me one. “Milk and a little sugar, right?” I accept the coffee with a smile, taking a sip right away.
“Morning,” I finally reply, earning a smile back as he sits down in the chair beside me. “Just what I needed.”
The sound of paws on the deck announces Griffin’s return. He ignores me and goes straight for Jared, shoving his big head under his hand for attention.
“Hold on, buddy,” he says, putting his mug safely under his chair before giving the dog a sturdy two-handed rubdown. “How did you sleep?”
“Good,” I answer immediately. “Really good, actually.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am, a little,” I admit. “I didn’t hear the baby once. He must’ve slept a good stretch. I should probably go in and check.” I move to get up, but Jared stops me with a hand on my arm.
“They’re fine. He woke up ten minutes ago, I changed him and Jordy’s feeding him now.”
“Oh, okay,” I mumble, sitting back down, trying hard to ignore the goosebumps rising on my skin from the feel of his touch. It feels nice. Even nicer when he doesn’t let go, instead slides his hand down and casually tangles his fingers with mine. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, to find him staring out over the lake.
We sit like that for a while, sipping coffee and silently enjoying the lake coming to life. I’m reluctant to admit that the view from his dock is better than from my porch, and watching the sun come up together is infinitely more enjoyable than doing it alone. Even if neither of us says a word.
Just as my reservations start resurfacing about the wisdom of what is happening here, he gives my hand a squeeze before letting go.
“Another one?” he asks, getting up and indicating my now empty mug. He catches my quick glimpse at the house. “I’ll check on them.”
“Okay, then sure.” I smile up at him, expecting him to head inside. Instead he stays put, looking down at me. “You look beautiful,” he says in a low voice that has my muscles instantly turn to Jell-O. Before I can react, he puts his free hand on my armrest and leans down, pressing his mouth to mine. He opens enough to pull my bottom lip between his, stroking it lightly with his tongue before letting go.
Oh my. I’m sure my mouth is hanging open as he turns and heads inside. It isn’t until I hear the door slide shut that sanity returns, and with it a panicked reach for my hair, which as usual, has matted into my customary morning bird’s nest. Shit.
For someone who has gotten by the past years by carefully guarding herself and controlling her environment, I sure seem content to go with the flow; Jared’s flow.
-
“I want to take a quick shower,” Jordy says, swinging her legs out of bed. “I’m rank.” Her nose curls up as she sniffs her nightshirt. “Nothing like the combination of sweat and sour baby milk.”
“Go,” I urge her with a wave of my hand. “And use the handheld to spray directly on your breasts, alternating hot and cold.”
Jared had insisted on cooking breakfast, and I’d gone to check on his sister, finding her snuggling with Ole, but awake, clearly a lot better. Although still too warm, she no longer had chills and her eyes were a lot clearer.
The little one is cuddled up contently against my shoulder. I can just make out his downy cheek and softly pursed little mouth. Every so often, his suckling instinct will surface and I can hear the soft smacks as his tongue presses against his palate. I love that sound, just like I love hearing the little sighs and groans as he stretches and settles again. I become aware of a feeling I recognize from a long time ago as I carefully put Ole down in his crib, instantly missing his warm little body against me.
Longing.
There’d been a time when Blair and I had talked about having children. After 9/11 we actually started trying, having both come to the harsh conclusion that life was too short to wait for perfect moments. It had become all too obvious that for some that perfect moment might never come. I’d had one miscarriage early in the pregnancy, something that took a while to recover from, emotionally. Rationally, I knew that quite often miscarriages occur because for one reason or another, the baby is simply not viable. But working with pregnancy and childbirth, being constantly exposed to it, there were times I felt resentment. Especially since I didn’t succeed in getting pregnant again. Not before things started going south.
Here I am, forty-two years old, and by most standards, too old to even contemplate the possibility, but still feeling the longing for something I won’t ever have.
“Pancakes!” Jared yells from the kitchen, and with a quick peek to make sure Ole is still sleeping, I walk out, leaving his door open a crack.
“Jordy should be out of the shower shortly,” I tell him, sitting down at the kitchen island. He turns around from the stove with a plate in his hand, setting it down in front of me.
“Good,” he says, leaning over and surprising me with a swipe of his thumb along my lips. “She was starting to smell,” he adds with a chuckle, completely oblivious to the fact he just scrambled my brain again with that simple touch.
“I heard that!” Jordy bites off, sliding into the seat beside me.
I hadn’t even heard her come in. I give her a quick smile, trying to gauge if she’d witnessed her brother’s intimate little touch, but she gives no indication.
“It was bad,” Jared pokes back. “I was afraid you were going to spoil my appetite.” He teasingly pulls a strand of her hair as he sets a plate in front of her, too. She grimaces at the sight of a short stack of blueberry pancakes on her plate.
“Not sure I can handle this,” she protests.
“Nonsense,” he states. “You haven’t eaten since Saturday.”
I sit and take it all in, both entertained by and slightly in awe of the easy way these two interact. I was an only child. A surprise for my parents who, already in their late thirties, had given up hope of having children. Despite the fact I sometimes wished for a sibling, I had a wonderful childhood. They loved me to bits and I was devastated when they passed away within a year of each other, eight years ago. Mom went first from a massive stroke and Dad simply didn’t wake up one morning, eight months after that. I’d been in rough shape then, and a
lthough I managed to struggle through my mother’s funeral, having my father by my side, I couldn’t make it through his.
Steffie had been with me, since Blair was working on a project in Beijing at the time. He wasn’t able to make it back. The anxiety had been high before we even left the house, but it became unbearable when I saw only a handful of people gathered at the brief service at the funeral home. The thought I had no family left, no blood ties to another human being, was too much for my already overwhelmed emotions.
“Hey...” Jared’s voice cuts through the painful memories, and I’m mortified to feel a tear trickling down my cheek. He cups my chin in his big hand and with the fingers of the other, wipes under my eye. I force a smile on my lips.
“I’m good,” I lie through my teeth. “I’m starved, actually.” I gently push away his hands and grab my fork, pick up a bite, and shove it in my mouth. “It’s good.” I nod encouragingly and give a worried-looking Jordy what I hope is a reassuring smile.
“It’s really good.”
Jared
Not sure what happened over breakfast. One moment Mia was smiling at the banter between Jordy and me, and the next she is somewhere else, her eyes unseeing. For a minute there, I thought she was maybe having an anxiety attack, but when I touched her face and her eyes focused on me, all I could see was intense sadness.
She tried to brush it off, and I chose not to push it at that time, but I will try to get it out of her. She looked actually relieved when Ole announced he was hungry. Urging Jordy to finish eating, she was on her feet and off to the nursery in a flash.
Both women are now holed up in Jordy’s bedroom with the baby. With the kitchen clean again, I head to my office to call Brian. He didn’t have a chance to go into detail when he was here, but had urged me to call him first thing Monday morning about some interesting prospects he wanted to discuss.
“Morning,” I greet him when he picks up.
