Where Old Ghosts Meet - Kate Evans [46]
Not for him, Nora thought. He resisted his own, no problem. But she kept quiet. The engine hummed patiently. She needed to move, to at least get back again on the main road, but she couldn’t brush aside this startling revelation, not even temporarily, and besides, Peg obviously had no intention of quitting and she needed to give driving her full attention.
“By and by, Nora, I noticed him watching me when I’d be talkin’ to the little one, you know, goin’ on with old nonsense to make her smile. He was takin’ it all in but I pretended I was paying no heed.” She gave a long sigh. “One day I came on him. He was leaning over the side of the cradle, his hand stretched out above the child’s face. I couldn’t think what he was doin’. He stayed like that and not a budge out of him for the longest while. My God, I thought, what’s he at, at all? He’d take his hand away and then bring it right back to the same spot.” She made the motion with her hand. “By and by he put his hand to the child’s head and began stroking her little cap of hair. The baby never stirred. He touched her cheek and ran his finger along to the point of her little chin. I could tell it was all a wonder to him. He was just trying his hand at something new.”
She looked straight at Nora, making sure that what she said was being understood. Satisfied, she decided to continue.
“I remember at the time thinking about my father, how when he’d get home after days on the water, he’d pick me up in his arms and hold me to him. There’d be the smell of the day’s work on him, sweat and fish, and I’d bury my face in it all, breathin’ it in, ’til I’d have to break away burstin’ for a breath of air. It was a wonderful comforting feeling. We all need the comfort of another human being sometimes.”
Inside the car it was very quiet, all fears and apprehensions set aside for now.
“This may sound foolish to you, Nora, but I decided one night that it might be a good idea for him to try his hand at holding the child.”
“Isn’t she a picture,” Peg said proudly, holding her out for him to see. He had watched furtively as she bathed the infant at the kitchen table and got her ready for bed, and now, he came forward tentatively. He reached to touch the little outstretched hand. Right away, the baby latched on to his finger with a firm grip. Taken aback, he looked at Peg, unbelieving, certain that something remarkable had just happened. She nodded encouragement, and indicated that he should take the baby. He fumbled around with the blanket for a moment, and then, awkwardly, took hold of the bundle. Immediately, the baby began to scream, arms and legs thrashing about, furious at being disturbed. Straight away, he thrust her back into Peg’s arms and stepped back, convinced that he had done something terribly wrong.
“She’s just tired and needs her sleep,” Peg assured him, as she expertly tucked the child against her shoulder and took her off to bed. When she returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, he was sitting by the fire with his head in his hands.
“I have no way with children. I don’t know what to do with them,” he said without preamble.
“It’ll come to you, you’ll see. All you need is a bit of practice. It’s just like anything!”
He wrung his hands pitifully and stared into the fire. “I saw a young child one time, maybe four or five years old, running after his dog down the lane by his house. He fell hard onto the rough ground. His knees and hands were all scratched and bleeding. I was just a few yards from him. I never moved, never went to him, just stood there listening to him cry, watching, fascinated, as a ball of white snot pumped in and out of his left nostril. Funny the things we remember, isn’t it? It was the dog that came to the rescue. It came bounding back over the path, fussing and whimpering around the boy, and then settled down beside him and began to lick his