"I'm not kidding. Hannah." he said, his face screwed tightly in a serious expression.
"I'm not kidding, either." I told him, kissed him goodbye, and headed back to Java del Mar.
The moment I opened the front door. I sensed a major change. Our maid Lila was hurrying up the stairs, carrying a tray of food. She didn't even pause to look my way. Miguel came charging down the hallway toward the stairs. too.
"He's home!" he cried. "Claude is here!" he announced. I could almost hear the fanfare. However, his excitement was infecting.
"That's wonderful!" I cried.
"Come on." he urged. "Before he falls asleep. You won't believe how alert he is for an infant so small. There's no doubt he knows your mother's voice and touch. You can see the pleasure in his face."
I followed him up to their bedroom. Mommy was sitting up in bed, and little Claude was in his bassinet beside her. Her face was lit with such happiness, it could have illuminated the room. I thought.
"Hannah, where have you been? The doctors just decided it would be all right to take him home. You can't imagine how surprised and overjoyed we were to hear it. I'm so happy I had everything prepared in anticipation."
"For months, she means," Miguel kidded,
I approached the bassinet and gazed down at my little brother. He waved his arms vigorously and then paused for a moment when my shadow moved over him.
"You can hold him if you like," Mommy said. "Just be sure you give his head good support."
"I'm afraid to." I admitted. "He's so tiny. He looks even smaller than he did behind the window."
"He's not, He's two pounds heavier." Miguel said with a boasting that made it seem he had done it all himself.
"Pick him up, Miguel, and let her hold him." Mommy insisted. Miguel did with expert care.
-Hold out your arms, put your hand here," he instructed, then gave me little Claude.
I felt his squirming and the warmth in his body; however, he sensed my tension, too, and that made him uneasy. Almost immediately he started to cry. I looked up with panic.
He doesn't like me holding him." I said.
"It's all right." Mommy said. "He just has to get used to you and you to him. Once you relax, he will, too." she assured me.
I held him a little longer, and then Miguel mercifully took him from me. In a moment little Claude stopped crying and looked relaxed again.
Miguel's face blossomed with just as much happiness as Mommy's. The two of them never looked as radiant nor as blissful. I couldn't think of a time when they were as contented with me or with something I had done. All little Claude had to do was wiggle his nose and they would break into ecstatic delight.
"He's already developed your thoughtful expression." Miguel told Mommy.
"That's not thoughtful, that's plotting." she replied. "I can see you in those eyes."
"Look at these fingers." Miguel continued gently holding little Claude's tiny hand between his thumb and forefinger. "He'll be a pianist or a brain surgeon, for sure."
"Maybe he'll be an artist like Uncle Linden," I inserted, and they both looked at me as though they had forgotten I was in the room. too.
"Yes," Miguel said, but without any sense of conviction.
Mommy said. "I know that twist of his lips. He's getting hungry."
She put her tray to the side and held up her arms. Miguel placed little Claude gently in them and stepped back as Mommy lowered her nightgown to begin breast-feeding. I turned to leave.
"You don't have to go. Hannah." she called.
"I've got a lot of homework and two tests tomorrow," I told her. It wasn't so. but I felt a need to leave,
"Okay. Come see me after dinner," she said. "You can hold little Claude again then."