Chapter 14 - The Call at Two in the Morning.
Claire answered on the second ring.
"Claire Bennett."
For a second there was only breathing.
Then Adrian spoke.
"Please tell me you are working."
Claire sat up in bed.
"I am now."
"I'm sorry."
"Is Noah okay?"
"Yes."
That answer came too quickly.
Claire switched on the bedside lamp.
"What happened?"
Adrian exhaled.
"He's been crying for forty minutes."
Claire heard the baby in the background.
The sound was tired, not frantic.
She also heard Adrian moving around.
"Any fever?"
"No."
"Breathing normally?"
"Yes."
"Feeding normally today?"
"Mostly."
Claire relaxed slightly.
"All right."
Adrian laughed without humor.
"You say that exactly the way you did on the plane."
"Because panic makes people hear faster than lectures."
Another cry came through.
Adrian lowered his voice.
"I tried the blanket."
"Okay."
"I tried the lullaby."
"Okay."
"I changed him."
"Good."
"I offered the bottle."
"And?"
"He drank a little."
Claire smiled.
"Then maybe he is just having a hard night."
Adrian was silent.
Claire understood the real question.
"That can happen even when you're doing everything right."
His breath caught.
"Right."
She heard him sit down.
In the weeks since the flight, Adrian had called the clinic twice.
Once about feeding schedules.
Once about travel routines.
Both times he had sounded embarrassed.
Tonight he sounded afraid.
Claire asked, "Where is Vanessa?"
"Sleeping in the guest room."
"Wake her if you need help."
"I know."
"But you don't want to."
"No."
"Why?"
Adrian was silent.
Claire waited.
Finally he said, "I want to prove I can do this."
Claire leaned against the headboard.
"To whom?"
He did not answer.
She continued.
"Noah does not give trophies."
A tired laugh.
"He should."
"Adrian."
"I know."
"Do you?"
He sighed.
"No."
Claire listened to the baby cry.
Then she heard Adrian hum.
Four notes.
Noah quieted for one breath, then fussed again.
Claire said, "Put the phone down for a second."
"What?"
"Put it on speaker."
He did.
Claire heard fabric move.
"Now stop walking."
The footsteps stopped.
"Sit."
He sat.
"Hold him close."
"I am."
"Not like a test."
Adrian was quiet.
Claire softened her voice.
"Like you don't have to win."
Noah cried.
Adrian breathed.
Once.
Twice.
Claire waited.
A minute passed.
Then another.
Noah's cry weakened.
Adrian whispered, "He's still awake."
"Babies are allowed to be awake."
"I hate how obvious you make things sound."
"It's a gift."
Adrian laughed.
Noah made a small sound.
Then the line grew quieter.
Claire could hear Adrian's breathing.
"What changed?" she asked.
"I stopped trying to make him stop."
Claire smiled.
"Exactly."
Adrian was silent.
Then he said, "My father visited yesterday."
"How did that go?"
"He brought no lawyer."
"Promising."
"He brought three toys Noah is too young to use."
"Also promising."
"He apologized."
Claire blinked.
"For the petition?"
"For the forged letter."
"Did you believe him?"
Adrian paused.
"I believe he regrets what happened."
Claire recognized the careful answer.
"And Vanessa?"
"She starts every sentence with 'Would you like a suggestion?'"
Claire laughed.
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is."
Noah made one soft noise.
Adrian whispered, "He's asleep."
Claire checked the clock.
2:29.
"Then you should sleep too."
Adrian did not answer.
Claire knew another question was coming.
"Claire?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you help us?"
She thought about the private jet.
The crying.
The arrogance.
The family watching.
The way Adrian had looked when he believed every sound from his child was proof he was failing.
"Because you were listening even when you looked angry."
Adrian laughed softly.
"That's generous."
"It's accurate."
"No."
His voice became serious.
"I mean why did you stay?"
Claire looked toward the photo of her own daughter on the bedside table.
"Because someone stayed for me once."
Adrian waited.
Claire had never told him the story.
"When my daughter was six weeks old, I knew all the textbook answers."
She smiled sadly.
"I was still terrified."
"A nurse was terrified?"
"Especially a nurse."
Adrian was quiet.
Claire continued.
"I kept treating every difficult night like a professional failure."
"What happened?"
"My husband took the checklist out of my hand."
"And?"
"He told me our daughter needed her mother, not a shift supervisor."
Adrian laughed.
Claire smiled.
"I hated him for about six minutes."
"Reasonable."
"Then I listened."
The line stayed quiet.
Finally Adrian said, "Warmth."
"Warmth."
Claire expected him to say goodnight.
Instead he said, "There's a foundation board meeting next month."
Claire groaned.
"That sounds dangerous."
"I want to fund a parent-support program through your clinic."
Claire sat straighter.
"Adrian."
"No publicity requirement."
"Adrian."
"No naming rights."
"Now I know you're serious."
He laughed.
"I want someone to be there for parents before they end up on a plane thinking a bottle is the only answer."
Claire looked at her sleeping house.
"We can talk in daylight."
"Fair."
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Claire."
She ended the call.
The next morning, a photograph arrived.
Noah was asleep on Adrian's chest.
The blue blanket covered both of them.
The caption contained four words.
NO EXPERTS REQUIRED TONIGHT.
Claire smiled.
Then she noticed something else in the background.
Vanessa stood beside the crib holding a familiar sealed folder.
On the front was Martin Cole's handwriting.
ADRIAN - PRIVATE.
May you like
And the message beneath the photograph said:
Dad found one more thing Lena left behind.
