Tony’s heart melted as Nichol’s soft mews filled their suite, a contrast to the whish-whish of waves lapping the shore. Together the sounds created the perfect melody for the middle of the night. He kissed Claire’s forehead and watched the tired emerald disappear behind her closed eyes while their daughter’s little body wiggled in his large hands. Stretching contently, she relaxed as he pulled her against his broad chest. Settling into the rocking chair in the nursery, Tony watched Nichol’s long lashes flutter as she fought the sleepy lids that threatened to cover her dark chocolate eyes. After a few moments of monotonous rocking, her tiny nose nestled into his soft cotton t-shirt, and sleep won, as she lost her fight with one final sigh.
He could return her to her crib and climb back into bed with Claire, but, instead, Tony continued to rock. The silver rays of moonlight through the open doors to the lanai illuminated their bed, allowing him to watch his sleeping wife. Nichol’s feeding schedule had yet to work itself out, and Claire was beyond exhausted. It seemed that their daughter had a ravenous hunger, one that perhaps surpassed her mother’s before Nichol was born.
A grin materialized as Tony remembered Claire eating for two. With Nichol present, and demanding to eat every two to three hours, he understood why Claire had been so hungry. Loosening the pink blanket, Tony reached for Nichol’s hand. Her little fingers grasped one of his and he gently caressed her soft skin. As the scent of baby lotion filled his senses, Tony realized that in a little over two weeks, Nichol had infiltrated every part of their lives.
There were chairs that rocked and swayed. They called them swings, but to Tony they were more like mechanical seats that played lullabies or made white noise, depending upon the button pushed. He didn’t care how many swings or cradles Nichol had: he’d rather hold her safely in his arms. Although Claire claimed he was spoiling their daughter, he’d caught her doing the same thing more than once.
Everyone on the island was smitten and held captive by the beautiful brunette in Tony’s arms. Francis and Madeline were more like doting grandparents than employees. Though they never had children themselves, they were well-versed and experienced in anything baby. It was comforting to have the benefit of their knowledge when questions arose. Madeline had been the one to give Tony his first lesson in diapering. It was even before Claire met their daughter. Her encouraging words gave him the confidence to wrap the fabric around her tiny body. She seemed so small that Tony wasn’t sure he could do it.
“Oui, Monsieur, that is right. She will not break. Oui, lift her legs…”
Never had Tony envisioned taking instructions from a member of his staff, yet with each word, Tony willingly accepted the role of student.
One evening, when nothing seemed to settle Nichol’s cries, it was again Madeline who came to the rescue. At that moment, both Tony and Claire would have willingly allowed Madeline to do her magic, but that wasn’t what she did. Or perhaps it was. Yet the magic wasn’t performed on Nichol but instead on her parents—the magic to empower.
Although Francis and Madeline had retired to their home for the night, Tony wasn’t surprised that Madeline had heard Nichol’s protests through the still of the night. After all, Tony had spent hours walking her up and down the lanai, bouncing her gently as he’d been taught. Their daughter wasn’t having any of it—nothing would satisfy. Even nursing didn’t help. Nichol would begin to eat and then stop, crying and moving her face from side to side. With Claire’s sleep deprivation, she too was on the verge of tears—past the verge. Though she’d tried to hide it, Tony saw the evidence on her cheeks.
With Claire in the living room and Tony walking the length of the lanai, he was startled at the touch to his shoulder. Quickly turning around, he found Madeline.
“Monsieur, she is hungry? No?”
“No, I mean, I don’t know. Claire’s tried to feed her, but after a few suckles, she started crying again.”
“Madame el? Or Nichol?”
Tony grinned. “Both.”
“Bring her inside. The breeze is too strong.”
Willingly, he followed Madeline to the living room.
“Madame el, let me get you something to eat.”
Claire shook her head as her red, puffy eyes looked up from her lap. “No, Madeline, I’m not hungry. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Oui, you do. What does she want?”
“I don’t know,” Claire confessed. “Her diaper is clean. I’ve tried to feed her. She doesn’t want that. I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can,” Madeline replied matter-of-factly. “When did she last eat?”
“It was before dinner.” Claire looked down. “I feel like I’m about to explode.”
Tony stood helplessly as his daughter continued to cry and his wife declared her insecurities. Truth be told, he felt the same way. “Maybe you should—” Tony began as he started to hand Nichol to Madeline.
“Oh, no,” Madeline said, waving him off. “She doesn’t need me. She needs you—both of you.” With that, Madeline disappeared into the kitchen, and Tony sat down next to Claire.
Although Nichol was still crying, it was Claire whom Tony wanted to help. He pulled her closer.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t…”
“Shhh,” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. He wanted to lift her chin and see her beautiful eyes. It didn’t matter to him that they were red. All that mattered was that they were before him. “Look at me. I don’t have enough hands to lift your chin.”