The baby’s cooing was just at the level below hearing, below paying attention to, at least, as Jerome tried to come up with a way to end chapter twelve. It was a pivotal chapter, really, the battle between the old guard and the new, the field bloodied by death, but he knew something had to happen. Something to get him from bloodbath to victory snatched from the claws of defeat.

His fingers typed, then with a sigh, he deleted what he’d written. The cooing changed to a more insistent cry. “Sarah!” he called. No answer. “Sarah!”

She appeared at the door of his office, the baby in her arms, happy and smiling again. “Can’t you…?” he gestured at the child.

That look Jerome was beginning to recognize flooded Sarah’s face, and she snapped back at him. “Can’t I what?”

“She was crying.”

“I know she was crying, Jerome. I heard her. But she’s stopped now.” She had, for the moment, but the tone of her parent’s argument was a familiar one, even to an infant, and Melissa knew how that tone went from soft and yet piercing to a louder argument. Only a child?, and she knew.

And it did. Sarah continued, “Were you going to just let her cry, I suppose?”

“No, damnit. Sarah… I knew you were here, didn’t I?”

“Oh right, you knew.” There it was, the sarcasm. The evil tone that was the immediate precursor to the yelling. Melissa knew, and she tried, in her baby way, to forestall it. Her happy noises in her mother’s arms turned to cries, tears falling easily from her eyes.

“Now look what you’ve done.” Sarah cursed.

“Me? What did...? You had her.” Jerome, flummoxed as always.

“That’s it, Jerome. I’m done. DONE, you hear?” She thrust the child at her father. “You take her. You try to deal with her.” Sarah spun around and left the office, the front door of the apartment slamming closed a moment later.

Jerome bounced his daughter on his knee, his hands holding her gently if somewhat unfamiliarly. “There, there, princess. Hush. Hush now.”

Slowly murmuring nonsense words to calm her down, he reached with another hand to the top of his dresser, where an old ragged teddy bear kept company with a pile of change from his pockets and a half-empty bottle of cologne. “Hey, look, Princess! It’s Mister Bear!”

The writer made the bear dance for his daughter, nonsense words combined with nonsense noises, nonsense movements, and the tears slowed. “Shush, darling. Princess.”

Jerome leaned back in his chair and bumped his computer, drawing the infant girl’s attention to it. She gurgled, and reached for the keyboard.

“No, no, Princess. That’s daddy’s story.”

Her expressive face – so young, and yet so alive! – quirked with a question, and he knew what she was thinking. “Shall I tell you a story, Princess?”

Lifting the girl more securely in his arms, tucking Mister Bear into the circle of his limbs, he kissed Melissa’s head, and kicked off his shoes, then crossed into the living room and lay on the ripping leather couch, settling his daughter away from the edge. “Once upon a time…”

“Once upon a time, in a land much like this one, but different, there lived a strong king, and his beautiful daughter, the Princess. She was smart, and funny, and kind, and the most beautiful creature any one in the kingdom had ever seen.

“But the king, although strong, was worried. ‘Will I be able to protect her,’ he asked himself. ‘Will I be able to keep her happy?’

“Because he knew that though he’d loved the Princess’ mother, the Queen, he’d been unable to hold her love, and she had gone, far from the kingdom, far from the King. And the King wanted, more than anything, not to lose his daughter in the same way, but the more he worried, the more he grew afraid, and kingdoms, in those times, could feel fear.

“Soon, the wolves came to the woods. And after them, the kingdom to the North, land of snow and ice, sent raiders who left lines of those they killed in the wind-swept meadows, and the King worried.

“But the Princess didn’t worry. She knew nothing of the wolves, and the dead lines, and the King’s fear. She was beautiful, and happy, and kind, and brilliant, but she didn’t know.

“The ice reached to the castle gates, and the Queen returned from abroad, telling the Princess to pack her bags for a grand adventure, and the King let her go, for though he loved her, he was scared, and there was war in the woods.

“As the Princess rode away from the castle and her father, she waved once and looked forward, not back, but the King watched his past ride away from him with a heavy heart, holding in his arms the Princess’ favorite toy, fearful and alone…

Melissa had drifted off to sleep, and Jerome wiped his face with his free hand, and carefully stood up, and laid the child down in her crib. “Sweet dreams, my princess.”

“I’m sorry…”

By ktbuffy

Links:

• Only A Child?

Wordcount: