by Dan Dillard
“I can’t believe that old man could do this,” one cop said.
“Somethin’ strange about that old man. What is this stuff all over him?” the other said.
“I dunno. I’ll call an ambulance, see what you can do for these people.”
ELEVEN---
Faith held Charlie’s hand. At three plus years old, he’d outgrown Charlie-Bear. In her mind, he’d outgrown it that night when Sam died. She filled out her check and handed it to the receptionist for the co-pay. The woman behind the counter stood up and smiled at Charlie and handed him a sucker. She’d been working there since before Charlie was born and was surrounded by photos of what must’ve been her grandchildren.
“You’re growing up so fast!” she said.
Charlie ducked behind his mother’s legs and smiled.
“Say thank you,” Faith said.
Charlie smiled, but didn’t speak.
“He’s a bit shy,” Faith said.
“How are you all doing?” the receptionist asked.
“We’re making it. It’s been almost two years, now, I guess. Thanks for asking.”
The woman smiled. “It takes time. You take care, hear? You too, Charlie.”
Charlie waved, and after Faith walked him out the door, she held it for another young woman who was coming in, a fussy infant in her arms.
*****
Jeanne McCaffrey held her baby at the doctor’s office. Outside, the sun was bright in the blue sky, belying the freezing temperatures. She hugged the little girl to her chest and rocked her back and forth, ignoring the child’s wailing screams of pain. The doctor walked in and smiled, then made a face that seemed to say, Poor kid. I know how you feel.
The doctor took the little girl and Jeanne stretched, glad to be rid of the weight for a moment. Her daughter was still uncooperative, but the doctor’s clinical nature put her at ease. His face wasn’t concerned. He could’ve been staring at a toaster, or a carburetor. It was all in a day’s work.
He pressed and prodded, bent the little girl’s knees, popped her diaper loose and checked underneath. The procedure was routine. Jeanne imagined the noise was as well. He sat the little girl up, still screaming like an ambulance siren. Then he handed her back to her mother.
Jeanne looked at him for information, but he was scribbling on the clipboard, notes for someone to transcribe. She imagined it said something along the lines of, another kook. Kid is fine. Looking back at the baby, she pooched her lips out and made a sad face, then kissed the child on the head. As she did, something snared her attention. Something in her baby girl’s eye flickered—a fleeting image. She gasped, continuing to watch as it happened again.
“What is it?” the doctor asked.
Jeanne shook her head, then hugged the little girl and smiled at the doctor. Her eyes were sunken, dark circles beneath them. She looked exhausted.
“Either I’m worn out or I’m just crazy. Funniest thing, but I would swear I just saw something in her eye...something that was looking back at me.”
The doctor smirked.
“I’ve heard a lot, but that is a new one.”
“Like I said.”
“I checked her eyes. Clear as a bell. Nothing to worry about.”
Jeanne smiled, a little warmer. There was understanding in her expression. New mothers all had worries a plenty.
“So what to do about this exhaustion?”
“Sleep. Put your husband to work. Call a neighbor or a sister. Baby-raising can be a team sport at times. Colic is common, Mrs. McCaffrey. And the child isn’t the only one who suffers.”
END.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Dan rides this rock through space with you. His wife navigates. His kids provide the adventure.
His Books:
DEMONS AND OTHER INCONVENIENCES
WHAT TANGLED WEBS
THE UNAUTHORIZED AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ETHAN JACOBS
LUNACY
HOW TO EAT A HUMAN BEING
GIVING UP THE GHOST
LIGHT AS A FEATHER
THE TOOTHLESS DEAD
THE JOURNEYMAN
Coming soon..... DIG
By now, there may be others.
Find them all here: www.amazon.com/author/dandillard
Talk to him at any of the following places, he would love to hear from you:
[email protected]
www.demonauthor.com
@demonauthor on Twitter
www.facebook.com/demonauthor
https://gplus.to/dandillard
https://ello.co/dandillard