Carrot Cake 5, Coffee 4: Cradle
Title: Cradle
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Carrot cake 5 (whisper), coffee 4 (fan), butterscotch, whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles.
Word Count: 600
Rating: PG
Summary: Five babies Gary Hawkins held, and the one he never did.
Two tiny children lie side by side in a tinier crib, hospital bracelets still on their wrists, blankets tucked around them. An ancient fan spins above them, blurred in motion. Their eyes are shut, their mouths relaxed; they are asleep simultaneously for the first time in their lives.
The larger one wears a pink knit cap and clutches her brother's blue one scrunched in her fist; this will, in the future, be seen as a sign of things to come. The smaller one has his arm across his sister's chest, his hand clenched in her sleepsuit.
That won't change either.
--
Ethan is crying. Again. Lynne got up last time-- Gary's turn.
"God, kid," he groans, and picks Ethan up, rocking him gently side to side. "Look, here's your binkie. Or are you hungry?" He checks the diaper-- nope, doesn't need changing, still screaming. "Ethan, I have to teach in four hours..."
Finally, out of desparation, he starts receiting Shakespeare-- it works on Lynne, and Ethan does quiet down. But every time Gary stops, he starts screaming again.
It takes half of Hamlet to put him to sleep. Gary decides later that it's probably responsible for Ethan's propensity to rhyme.
--
Fourteen weeks.
He came home with Ethan, found Lynne in bed, home sick. She was groggy, unresponsive, so he moved to take her temperature. He's so grateful he saw the blood before Ethan came in.
He thought she was dying.
No, only a miscarriage, they said at the hospital. There's nothing "only" about it. Ethan's too young to understand, but he knows something's wrong; he clings to his mother like a barnacle. Lynne is white and quiet. And he can't seem to think about it; he shakes when he tries.
He thought she was dying.
They made it fourteen weeks.
--
Gwen has twins, to no one's surprise except her own. Since, you know, there have been twins in every generation of their mother's family as long as they can remember.
"Yeah," Gwen says, juggling the boys, "but that doesn't mean I would."
"Except for the part where it does," Gary says, and relieves her of one of the twins; James, he thinks. "How's Dean doing?"
She rolls her eyes. "Freaking out via phone. Here I thought a Marine could deal."
"Take it from me," Gary says, rocking (definitely) James, "no man can ever deal with this."
Gwen snorts, and smiles.
--
Clara was an accident.
A very welcome one, but an accident nonetheless; after that miscarriage neither Lynne nor Gary was eager to try again. But then the test showed two pink lines, and Ethan started asking why Mommy was getting fat (he stopped that in a hurry). And they were both tense and nervous, jumping at shadows the whole time, but it went by in a blur, and now he's sitting here with a pink-blanketed baby staring back at him, fearlessly, sucking on her thumb.
Clara, they've decided, for their little girl. It means bright.
She is their brightness already.
--
Clara's nursing when he arrives at last, a baby in each arm, with an annoyed expression that lightens when he enters. "Daddy!"
"God," Ethan says, and turns around. "Cover up."
The annoyed expression is back. That was fast. "You know I have breasts, Ethan."
"That doesn't mean I want to see them!"
"Children," Gary says, mildly, and moves to Clara's side. "So this is Billy and Molly."
"Yes." Clara beams. "Take Molly, will you? She's done." She waits until he has Molly secure to add, gently, "Molly Lynne, Daddy."
Oh, Lynne.
He smiles, and aches, and holds his grandchild tight.
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Carrot cake 5 (whisper), coffee 4 (fan), butterscotch, whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles.
Word Count: 600
Rating: PG
Summary: Five babies Gary Hawkins held, and the one he never did.
Two tiny children lie side by side in a tinier crib, hospital bracelets still on their wrists, blankets tucked around them. An ancient fan spins above them, blurred in motion. Their eyes are shut, their mouths relaxed; they are asleep simultaneously for the first time in their lives.
The larger one wears a pink knit cap and clutches her brother's blue one scrunched in her fist; this will, in the future, be seen as a sign of things to come. The smaller one has his arm across his sister's chest, his hand clenched in her sleepsuit.
That won't change either.
--
Ethan is crying. Again. Lynne got up last time-- Gary's turn.
"God, kid," he groans, and picks Ethan up, rocking him gently side to side. "Look, here's your binkie. Or are you hungry?" He checks the diaper-- nope, doesn't need changing, still screaming. "Ethan, I have to teach in four hours..."
Finally, out of desparation, he starts receiting Shakespeare-- it works on Lynne, and Ethan does quiet down. But every time Gary stops, he starts screaming again.
It takes half of Hamlet to put him to sleep. Gary decides later that it's probably responsible for Ethan's propensity to rhyme.
--
Fourteen weeks.
He came home with Ethan, found Lynne in bed, home sick. She was groggy, unresponsive, so he moved to take her temperature. He's so grateful he saw the blood before Ethan came in.
He thought she was dying.
No, only a miscarriage, they said at the hospital. There's nothing "only" about it. Ethan's too young to understand, but he knows something's wrong; he clings to his mother like a barnacle. Lynne is white and quiet. And he can't seem to think about it; he shakes when he tries.
He thought she was dying.
They made it fourteen weeks.
--
Gwen has twins, to no one's surprise except her own. Since, you know, there have been twins in every generation of their mother's family as long as they can remember.
"Yeah," Gwen says, juggling the boys, "but that doesn't mean I would."
"Except for the part where it does," Gary says, and relieves her of one of the twins; James, he thinks. "How's Dean doing?"
She rolls her eyes. "Freaking out via phone. Here I thought a Marine could deal."
"Take it from me," Gary says, rocking (definitely) James, "no man can ever deal with this."
Gwen snorts, and smiles.
--
Clara was an accident.
A very welcome one, but an accident nonetheless; after that miscarriage neither Lynne nor Gary was eager to try again. But then the test showed two pink lines, and Ethan started asking why Mommy was getting fat (he stopped that in a hurry). And they were both tense and nervous, jumping at shadows the whole time, but it went by in a blur, and now he's sitting here with a pink-blanketed baby staring back at him, fearlessly, sucking on her thumb.
Clara, they've decided, for their little girl. It means bright.
She is their brightness already.
--
Clara's nursing when he arrives at last, a baby in each arm, with an annoyed expression that lightens when he enters. "Daddy!"
"God," Ethan says, and turns around. "Cover up."
The annoyed expression is back. That was fast. "You know I have breasts, Ethan."
"That doesn't mean I want to see them!"
"Children," Gary says, mildly, and moves to Clara's side. "So this is Billy and Molly."
"Yes." Clara beams. "Take Molly, will you? She's done." She waits until he has Molly secure to add, gently, "Molly Lynne, Daddy."
Oh, Lynne.
He smiles, and aches, and holds his grandchild tight.