Hannah's Baby. Cathy Thacker Gillen

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      Joe eyed the telltale stains on her white dress. “I see what you mean,” he remarked dryly, knowing as well as Hannah she couldn’t sit there forever. “So what’s the plan?” he asked.

      “I was going to try and bathe her in the hopes that the warm water would relax her.”

      Joe seemed to concur that it was a good plan. “But…?”

      Hannah swallowed, aware she was beginning to feel overwhelmed by all she didn’t know and had yet to experience. “Isabella’s never had an actual bath in a tub or sink. The caretakers wipe them down with washcloths in the orphanage.”

      Compassion lit his eyes. “You think she’s going to freak?”

      Unfortunately, yes. “It had occurred to me.”

      He squinted. “What happened to her hair?”

      Hannah looked down at the top of Isabella’s head. “I rubbed baby oil into her scalp, to soften the cradle cap.”

      Joe moved to stand beside Hannah. “It looks soft, all right.”

      As well as greasy. “Obviously, I need to shampoo that out.”

      Looking more man of action than uninvolved bystander, Joe braced his hands on his waist. “Hard to do if you can’t put her down,” he noted.

      Hannah didn’t want Isabella screaming in terror before she even got her in the water. Nor could she do everything with one hand, while still holding Isabella with the other. “Exactly.”

      Joe sized up the situation. “Want me to help?”

      He didn’t know how much. Yet, her conscience prevailed. “I promised you that you wouldn’t have to do this stuff,” Hannah reminded him guiltily.

      Joe’s lips tightened with determination. “Let me put it to you this way. If she doesn’t sleep, you don’t sleep. And if neither of you sleep, I won’t sleep…and I like to sleep. So, what do you say we get this show on the road? Where do you want to do this?” he asked.

      Hannah sized up the accommodations. The bathtub was way too big and deep for a baby who couldn’t even sit up yet. “How about the sink?”

      “Good choice.” Joe cleared the toiletries from the marble counter between the two sinks. “She can look at herself in the mirror.”

      Hannah turned the infant so that Isabella could see her reflection. The smile she had hoped to see did not come, but Isabella kept her gaze on the mirror. “If you could hold her, I can get everything ready.”

      Joe held out his hands. Their hands and arms touched as they shifted the baby from her embrace to his. Isabella’s brows knit together, but she did not make a sound.

      Hannah spread a thick hotel towel on the counter, and draped the baby bath towel on top of that. She brought in a bottle of lavender-scented baby wash and shampoo, a small thin baby washcloth, a clean diaper, undershirt and sleeper. Joe swayed the baby back and forth in his arms until the shallow oval basin was filled with warm water.

      Hannah turned to him, aware she was nervous again. Maybe because it had never been more important to her to do something right. “I’ll ease her clothes off while you hold her.”

      “Sounds good.”

      Gently, she eased the pants and sweater Isabella had been wearing from her body. The diaper, after that. It was the first time Hannah had seen her baby without any clothing. She was shocked by how thin Isabella’s arms were, but relieved to see her torso was nice and sturdy, her ribs barely discernible beneath her delicate golden skin.

      Hannah checked Joe to see if he was ready. He looked back at her as if to say, Here goes.

      Murmuring soft words of comfort, Hannah eased Isabella Zhu Ming into the warm water. Isabella stiffened, a look of terror on her face, and began to struggle hysterically to get out. Joe produced the yellow rubber ducky. Isabella batted it away, still kicking.

      He began speaking in Mandarin Chinese.

      Isabella grew very still.

      He did a little puppet show. “Huaji rubber ducky. Rubber ducky xihuan, Isabella Zhu Ming…”

      He made quacking sounds that had Hannah smiling, Isabella solemn but intent. He had the duck “swim” circles around Isabella and washed the rubber ducky’s beak with the same baby wash Hannah was using on Isabella. By the time Hannah had put the shampoo in Isabella’s hair and tenderly massaged it in, Isabella was less concerned with the newness of her bath, reaching tentatively for the duck. She had it clutched in her hand by the time Hannah rinsed the soap out with a cup of water. Joe and Hannah locked eyes. They shared the triumph of her first bath, which, thanks to his help, had been relatively stress-free.

      Isabella was still holding on to the toy when Hannah drew her out and wrapped her in a hooded towel. Soundlessly, Isabella examined every aspect of the duck while Hannah dressed her in a soft pink cotton sleeper. Hannah picked her up and breathed in the soft, clean baby scent of her. Tenderness, unlike anything she had ever felt, filled her heart. And she could have sworn, Joe felt it, too…

      JOE HAD HEARD IT COULD TAKE days, weeks…even months for an adoptive mother to bond with an older infant.

      Obviously, he noted as Hannah cuddled Isabella Zhu Ming Callahan close to her heart, this was not the case here. There was an unspoken connection between the two that transcended the barrier of so much that was unfamiliar. They communicated with touch and look. The message both were sending out was that they belonged together.

      “You look so…wistful,” Hannah remarked, reluctantly handing Isabella back to Joe so she could make another bottle of formula.

      “Do I?” He cradled Isabella in his arms and found the experience of holding the sweet and solemn little girl every bit as fulfilling as Hannah evidently had. Was this how it felt to be a parent? Was he giving up something incredible in refusing even to consider the possibility of fathering a child? Or was he being smart, given the kind of life he led, in abandoning the idea of a family of his own?

      Finished making the bottle, Hannah retrieved Isabella and sat down in one of the upholstered chairs in front of the windows.

      “You do.” She offered the bottle to Isabella. Once again, the baby turned her head away from Hannah to drink it. She stared at Joe instead.

      Restless, Joe got up and took one of the chocolates the hotel staff had left on his pillow at turndown. “I was just thinking about how much of the world I have left to see and write about,” he fibbed, sure the unexpected sentiment he felt would disappear the moment they got back to the States and parted company once again.

      Hannah shifted so the baby would be situated more comfortably in her arms. “How many books have you done so far?”

      Joe picked up the camera she had brought with her and took a couple of photos he knew she would appreciate later. “Ten.”

      Hannah smiled as the baby snuggled closer and shut her eyes. “How many do you intend to do?”

      He shrugged, intent on capturing that moment of sweet mother-daughter bonding. He knelt and СКАЧАТЬ