Commitments by Barbara Delinsky

57
    herself, but that was okay. She'd change into dry things later. For now it was enough that he was calm. She ran a washcloth along his chest and around his neck, then positioned her hand under the cloth and pretended it was a dog - not that he knew what a dog was, despite the endless hours she'd spent pointing at picture books or oohing and aahing over the real thing in the park. But something about the yipping sounds she made and the gentle patter of the puppy's paw on his tummy made him gurgle. She repeated the patter again and again, laughin& praising, coaxing. The results were sporadic, a few gurgles, then silence, another gurgle, then a whimper or two. She continued to bathe him until the gurgles were absent and the whimpers increased to three or four; then, for her sake as much as for his, she took him out. Dried and diapered and dressed in a fresh sleeper, he was precious. She sat in the rocking Page 19
    Barbara Delinsky - Commitments
    chair by his crib and held him close, loving his softness and his babysweet smell. She read him a story - Green Eggs with Ham - because the pictures were bright and might catch his eye and because she'd always found the cadence catchy. Nicky wasn't being caught by either the pictures or the words, but he was getting sleepy. She helped him along by singing softly - humming actually, with a few words stuck in. '
    mmir ... baby ... mmm-mmm ... a word.'The important thing was the movement of the rocker, the warmth of her body, the gentle vibration of the small sound she produced. Carefully, she transferred him to the crib. And then came the one time each day that Sabrina looked forward to. With only the dimmest dresser light on, she bent over the crib and smiled at her son. He looked back at her. He always did at night like this, 58 he was as relaxed as it was possible for him to be Was tired enough to tune out everything but that was directly in front of him. was directly in front of him. She blocked out bright red clown mobile that hung over the crib the vivid yellow cars that raced across the nearby and the turquoise Care Bear that sat between a Cabbage Patch twins at the foot of the crib. , angel?' she crooned ' 4ittle more than a ex. She rubbed his cheek, then his neck. ' a day, has it?' She ran her thumb back and forth er his jaw. ''s mommy's good boy?, she but her voice cracked halfway through when he into a smile. ', that's what I like. That's ti like, Nicky-ricky. How about another one? er one for mommy? A nice big one? A nice big, one? Mommy loves that kind. How about it, -ricky? P tone smile a night was all she got, so when Is eyes began to droop, she turned him onto his ach and rubbed his back for a while. Then she with her elbows braced on the crib rail and ed through her tears. He looked so normal. At night like this when he was when his limbs were loose and his diapered as slightly raised and his hands lay palms and up - by his sides and curls hugged his head, Ahe could pretend that he was like any other three-old. She could pretend that he was dreaming sweet dreams, and that he'd be awake at dawn jumping up and down, clamoring to be free of his crib. Was she lying to herself? Sure she was, and it had nothing to do with better judgment. It had to do with hopes and dreams and the fact that she was desperate. Ninety-nine percent of the time she was realistic; one 59 percent of the time she allowed herself to dream. Only at night. Only when she was alone. Derek Mcgill felt very much alone that night. oh, he was alone every night, but that night it felt worse, and it was all her fault. Up to then, held been in control. He'd learned to slow down his thoughts and narrow them. Prison was too confining for the free run of reason; a man could go mad if he didn't conform. So Derek had conformed. In those idle hours - so many idle hours - he focused his thoughts on the crime held committed, his trial, the work he'd been doing when he was arrested and the connection between the three.