Dickens and Me

CHAPTER ELEVEN
(copyright 2009 Anita Birt)
With varying degrees of wonder and admiration, Greg watched Jack go to work. "How many times a day does a baby fill its pants?"
"Depends on what they've been eating." He handed the soiled diaper to Greg who dropped it like a hot coal into a plastic bag.
"Sometimes they get stomach upsets and have diarrhea."
"Diarrhea?" Greg hadn't factored diarrhea into his master plan.
Jack cleaned the baby and put on a fresh diaper. "Pass me his sleepers and I'll get him ready for bed."
"In Laura's little guidebook he has to have a bottle before he goes to bed."
"Okay, you get the bottle and I'll sit on the rocking chair with him. Babies like rocking. It's very peaceful."
A mild prick of envy nagged at Greg as he made up the bottle in the kitchen. Jack and he were the same age and compared with Jack he had nothing.
Money in the bank. A vintage Corvette. Things.
Replaceable things.
No cuddly little kids to love. No wife to love.
He was thirty-one.
Is this how he wanted to live? Childless? Without a woman to share his life?
He'd almost left it too late to start a family and couldn't start a family without a wife.
His thoughts hit a wall.
He'd never seriously thought about settling down.
He'd have to give up his freedom.
With the warm bottle in his hand he walked upstairs. The words of a song hummed inside his head.
"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."
Peace reigned in Davie's room. Jack rocked back and forth with the baby snuggled in his arms.
"Give me the bottle. I'll feed him. He's nearly asleep."
A surge of ownership swept over Greg. Jack had kids of his own. He didn't need Davie.
"Thanks, I'll take over." He picked up the baby before Jack could protest.
Davie scowled. "Wa!" He shrieked and waved his arms.
Not to be sabotaged by a six month old infant, Greg braved it out. "Wa, is his favorite word. It means duck and dog and spoon."
"You'd better give him to me. I'll settle him down."
No way was he going to give Jack the kid. "It's okay. He'll soon get used to me. Why don't you get us a couple of beers while I rock him to sleep?"
"Wish I could but I told Tansy I'd only stop by for an hour. We're staying with her parents at their farm. Why don't you bring the baby out to meet everyone and get to see our kids?"
"Are the Thomases still in the same house?" Greg's only memory of their property was the barn where Tansy had peeled off her clothes, lured him to a dark corner, stretched out on some hay and spread her legs.
"I'll only have Davie for a couple of days. How long are you staying?"
"Two weeks to give Tansy a rest."
"Wa!" The baby's attention grabbing, ear-piercing cry demanded quick action.
"Uncle Greg is going to feed you." He smiled hopefully into the baby's face. Davie eyed him and rewarded Greg with a little smile.
Jack paused at the door. "I'll call you tomorrow. I know Tansy would enjoy seeing you again. We can catch up on old times."
"That'd be great." Would Tansy remember seducing him? His introduction to the glories of sex was an unforgettable experience in his young life.
He heard Jack start his car and drive away. A second of panic disrupted Greg's forced calm. He was alone with his nephew. Could he cope?
If Jack could do it, so could he. Breathing deeply Greg sat in the rocking chair, tucked Davie into the crook of his arm and touched the nipple to the baby's lips.
"Ma." Davie gurgled, opened his mouth and sucked greedily. As he slowed down, his eyes drooped and he heaved a huge contented sigh.
Greg rocked back and forth until the bottle was empty. Outside the open window a robin trilled from the maple tree, a familiar sound from Greg's childhood. His mother used to say it was the robin singing its goodnight song.
"Goodnight, Davie." He slipped the nipple from the baby's mouth. He didn't stir as Greg stood, held him against his shoulder and patted his back. A satisfying belch rewarded Greg's efforts and he carried Davie to his cot.
"Time for bed," he whispered and lowered the baby slowly not to wake him.
Davie's eyes flew open. "Wa!"
Greg's stomach tensed. What was he supposed to do now?
He'd read somewhere you should let babies cry and they'd eventually fall asleep.
"Davie," he said in a stern uncle voice. "You have to go to sleep, if you don't you'll stunt your growth and turn blue."
He rescued the Teddy bear from under the sheet and gave it to Davie. He hugged it tight.
Greg raised the side of the cot and propped his elbows on it. "You don't want to turn blue, do you? All the kids at school will point their fingers and chant, Davie is blue. Blue as stew. Blue as glue. Blue as dew. Blue as poo. Blue as view. Blue as woo. Blue as zoo. Blue as...
The baby cocked his head to the side, smiled and closed his eyes.
Big uncle gazed at the sleeping infant. The kid liked rhyming words. If that's all it took to make him happy, Greg would drive him to town tomorrow and buy books full of rhymes.
Sensing he'd passed a critical test, Greg ran down to the kitchen and foraged for food. He'd forgotten to eat. Hadn't had time to eat since he picked up Laura and Davie. He was starving.
Tomorrow he'd work out a schedule for feeding the baby, the animals and himself.
The cats slunk out from behind the planter and purred around his legs. He hadn't fed them or the Kim. She plunked down at Greg's feet.
"Okay. I feed you guys first."
* * * * *
Greg wakened and peered at the clock radio. 6:14 glowed greenly. Forcing himself into semi-consciousness he tried to identify the strange sounds jolting him from sleep.
"Ma, ma."
Falling back on his pillow Greg pretended not to hear. It was too early to start the day. According to Laura's notebook, Davie slept through the night until eight o'clock.
"Ma, ma." Chanted the baby.
Kim padded into Greg's bedroom and stuck her wet nose on his face.
"I suppose the kid sent you in to get me out of bed." Kim licked him and whined.
Greg gave up and swung his legs over the side. "Okay you win. I can't fight you and the kid." He hurried to the bathroom to shave and shower but stopped at the door. If he was in the shower he couldn't hear the baby cry.
A quiver of fear skittered down his spine. He had no experience with babies. What if something happened to the kid? Like he got tangled in the sheet? Or banged his head on the bars?
He peeked in at Davie. The kid was happily thumping the bear on the bars. "Stay with the baby." Greg ordered Kim. She flopped by the cot and rested her head on her front paws.
Greg shaved and showered in record time. The bandage slipped off his heel and he tossed it in the waste basket. Dressed in T-shirt and jeans, he pulled on soft socks to protect the blister, eased his feet into sneakers and walked purposefully to the baby's room.
He patted Kim. "Good dog."
His first day on the job. Untrained. Unsure. He straightened his shoulders and marched up to the cot. Davie was shaking the bars. The bear was on the floor.
"Da, da." He pointed at Kim.
"Dog," Greg said, and was relieved there was no smell lingering in the room. According to Laura's instructions he was supposed to bath the kid first thing in the morning.
"Bath." He lifted Davie out of the cot and carried him to the bathroom.
Baby under his arm, he turned on the taps and ran water into the tub. Not too much and not too hot.
Kneeling on the floor he put Davie on the bathmat and took off his sleepers and wet diaper.
"Oh my God. What's this?" Davie had red blotchy spots on his chest and belly. Greg turned him over. Spots on his back and bum.
Stay calm. Stay calm. Spots aren't fatal.
He felt the baby's forehead. How was it supposed to feel? Hot. Cool. Or something in between?
Davie kicked and cooed on the bathmat. He didn't seem sick.
Determined not to panic, Greg tested the bathwater, ran some cold, tested it again and lowered the baby into the bath.
"Ma, ma."
"Water," Greg said and soaped a facecloth. Davie made a grab for it, missed and slippery as a wet fish slid out of Greg's arms, slithered backwards until his head was under water.
Scared the kid would drown in front of his eyes Greg scooped him out and hugged him.
"Davie, don't scare your uncle like that. You want me to have a heart attack?"
Davie clapped his hands. "Ma, ma."
"Okay, let's try again and don't try any funny business, hear me?"
Greg lowered him into the bath and decided life would be a lot easier if babies were born with tabs to hang on to.
Davie splashed. Afraid to let go, Greg held him with both hands. After five minutes splashing he decided the kid was clean and lifted him out of the water.
* * * * *
Greg phoned the clinic and made an appointment to see Dr. Balfour at eleven o'clock. He wasn't going to take any chances with Davie's health.
His crash course in baby care hadn't included what to do about spots. All things considered he'd coped pretty well from bathing a slippery kid, dressing him and feeding him baby cereal mixed with formula, a messy business but not a bad performance for a rank amateur.
His nephew had suffered no harm. Greg felt like cutting a notch in his belt to mark his success. He'd passed the first test.
Davie banged a wooden spoon on a pot lid while Greg ate two slices of toast and drank two mugs of energizing coffee.
The phone rang. Greg picked it up. "Greg Fraser."
"Hi. It's me. How's everything going?"
Laura's cheerful voice had an upbeat tone alerting him to watch his back. He'd learned how to read every little nuance in her conversations.
"Everything? You mean how's your baby?"
"Of course that's what I mean. How are you two getting along?"
"Fine, but he's broken out in spots. I'm taking him to the doctor this morning."
"What kind of spots?"
"Splotchy ones. He's covered in them. Well not quite, there are none on his face."
"Not to worry. He gets splotchy sometimes when he's upset."
Not to worry. Laura's mantra.
"I am worried. I'm taking him to the doctor. How is Colin?"
Greg heard an indrawn breath.
"He's got chickenpox. He's not supposed to travel for at least a week."
"No problem. You and I have had chickenpox so you can leave Colin and come rescue your child."
"Greg, it's only for a week. Can't you manage for one week? Colin is really sick."
Greg gazed at Davie. Davie grinned toothlessly. Laura had struck again. Hit him below the belt. She knew damned well he couldn't say no.
If Davie could take it so could he but he'd force her hand.
"Four days altogether. Today is Wednesday. Day One. That's the deal. Not one day more or I fly out with the kid and dump him on you and your man." A feeble threat Laura could drive a truck through. Jeopardizing the kid's health by exposing him to chickenpox was not in the cards. She knew her brother's weaknesses too well.
"Is that four days after Friday? You promised to look after him until Friday."
Laura's noose tightened. "No it's four days altogether. That's the deal, take it or leave it."
"I think that'll be okay. Thanks a mill, you are the best brother," she crowed. "I've got to go. Kiss David for me." She hung up before Greg had a chance to get in the last word.
He finished his coffee. Had Laura really agreed to the four day deal or not? Her sweeping generalizations laid traps for her innocent brother. Whatever her plan, he knew the name of her hotel in Vancouver and would be on her case when he figured her time was up.
She'd reeled him in again but he wasn't going to remain hooked. Laura had to learn his endurance had limits.
"Da," Davie said and pointed at the dog.
"Dog," said Greg.
"Da." Davie banged the spoon on the lid.
Greg glanced at his watch. Time to get the kid ready to visit Dr. Balfour.
The baby gave him a good excuse to see her again. After Jack's visit he realized how few female contacts he had in town.
Actually he had none apart from Caroline. Would she accept a dinner invitation? It'd have to be here. He couldn't leave Davie with a sitter.
He got him out of the highchair and carried him upstairs to change him into going-out clothes. "You've got to be clean and smell good when we see Dr. Balfour. Promise not to poop."
He dressed him in a blue jump suit with snap fasteners and stowed a hat, sweater and socks in Laura's big black bag. Maybe he should take a bottle of water in case he got thirsty. He had one already made up in the fridge.
If Caroline could see him now would she be impressed?
Did he want to impress her? Or was she the only attractive, intelligent woman he'd met since he returned home? What the hell, admit it, he was interested in her. He wasn't sure what the attraction was since their relationship was more off than on.
They were linked through the accident, not exactly how he'd imagined meeting his future wiFuture wife? Where had that come from?
Minding the baby must have triggered a primitive desire in his brain, a desire to mate and create a family.
Aware of his own messy clothes, Greg left Davie in his cot with Kim on guard and hurriedly changed into a rugby shirt and tan slacks. All washable.
With Davie hooked under his arm and the bag slung on his shoulder Greg returned to the kitchen and tucked the baby bottle in a side compartment of the bag.
He patted the dog before locking up the house. Poor Kim didn't know what to make of the new arrival. Greg secured Davie in the car seat. "You're a good kid."
"Da," Davie said.
"Good kid." Greg agreed. He got behind the wheel and pushed the button to open the garage.
As he backed out he wondered if he was wasting time trying to get to know Caroline. She puzzled him. Her stiff-necked attitude changed when he'd called at her apartment to check up on her. She'd used him as a sounding board to let off steam about the threatened lawsuit but the minute he'd offered to find a lawyer her mood changed. Her colleagues at the clinic would know what to do.
No further help required was the unspoken message aimed at him and he was quietly sent on his way.
Caroline was an enigma. Yesterday as they sat on the garden swing her interested gaze had lingered on his naked chest and arms long enough to arouse him slightly. Maybe her examination was a cool clinical study of his physique rather than anything remotely personal but it had cranked him up.
He'd quickly diverted her attention to his heel by working the bandage loose and letting it slip through the slatted floor. She'd immediately become Doctor Balfour intent on saving him from an infection.
What if his heel became red and nasty or Davie got really sick he might not be able to drive into town?
Did she make house calls?
The thought cheered him as he drove into the clinic parking lot and stopped in the dappled shade of a huge chestnut tree. The sun blazed down from a cloudless sky. Greg slung the bag over his arm, got the stroller out of the trunk, Davie out of the car and settled him into the padded seat.
"Time to visit Dr. Balfour, Davie. I hope she likes babies because you are one cute little sucker."
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