Page 65 of Chosen By Swift

“All three, if necessary. Do you sign?” He seemed hopeful.

“Only a few words,” she said with an apologetic look. “Bonnie’s sister-in-law is deaf, and she taught me a little, but not enough to carry on a conversation.”

“It’s fine. Maisie has other ways to communicate.” As soon as he opened the door, the high-pitched squall of a fitful baby pierced her eardrums. The poor thing was wailing incessantly, and Terror stiffened at the sound. “The pediatrics team has tried everything to help us. They even suggested a sedative.”

“They probably meant for you,” Alys remarked, realizing a moment too late she had actually said that aloud.

Terror shot her a funny look. “You may be right.”

Embarrassed by her gaffe, she followed him into the apartment and found his wife, Maisie, desperately trying to console a young baby. Her hair was a mess, and she had dark circles under her eyes. Tears glistened on her cheeks, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept or showered in days. Instantly, Alys’ heart ached for Maisie.

“This is Hallie’s friend, Alys.” Terror signed as he spoke. “She has a lot of experience with babies. She can help us.”

Maisie scowled and signed back at Terror in angry bursts. Alys didn’t need to be familiar with the language to get the gist. Her presence was clearly not wanted, and honestly, she didn’t blame Maisie for feeling that way. She was a stranger barging into their home.

“No, we need help. We can’t do this on our own.” Terror continued signing and speaking as their son cried. “You need to rest. You’re going to collapse if you don’t get some sleep.”

Maisie signed something at Terror that made him suck in a sharp breath, and a moment later, she was thrusting their son into his arms. She stormed away in tears, and Alys felt even worse about the trouble she had caused.

“Please,” Terror said, his concern for his wife evident. “Can you help us?”

“Yes.” She slipped off her messenger bag and placed it on the nearest chair. “Have you tried a sugar tit?”

“A what?”

“A dummy?” From the blank look on his face, he didn’t recognize that term either. “Something for the baby to suck on that isn’t his mother’s breast?”

“Oh! A pacifier!” Terror cradled his squalling son and walked to the dining table where an assortment of baby items was laid out. “He won’t use them. He spits them out or refuses to take them.”

Alys picked one of the pacifiers up and examined it. The shape was right, and she supposed the material was easier to clean and more hygienic than a bit of cloth wrapped around a sugar cube. “Do you have sugar?”

“Yes.”

“Here. Let me have him.” She carefully took the baby from Terror. “Dissolve some sugar in water and then put a baby blanket or towel in the dryer. It needs to be very warm.” Back home, she would have placed the blanket by the fire, but a dryer was immensely more preferable. “Where are the diapers?”

“There are some in that basket.” He gestured toward the living room.

“And is he nursing well?”

Terror nodded. “It’s the one thing he does without complaint.”

“Has he fed recently?”

Terror glanced at the doorway to the bedroom. “I’ll have to ask her.”

“After the sugar water and hot towel, please,” she said and then carried the baby into the living room. As she spotted the diapers, she called out, “What’s his name?”

“Liron.”

“Liron,” she murmured at the red-faced baby. “I’m sorry you’re so upset. I’m sure this is all very confusing for you.” She gathered the diaper changing supplies and placed a receiving blanket onto the couch cushion to protect it. She slowly removed his adorable tiny outfit. The dark blue pants and pale gray shirt were made of the softest material, and she wondered if it was available in much bigger sizes.

Still in diaper and socks, Liron screamed and punched his angry fists into the air. Colic was never easy, and there were no surefire cures, either. Even though she had learned many tricks helping to raise her siblings, she wished her mother were closer so she could ask for guidance from a true expert.

After squeezing a dollop of lavender scented lotion onto her palm, she rubbed it between her hands to warm it. Very gently she began to rub the lotion on the screaming baby. She followed the movements her mother had taught her, long and soothing strokes down the trunk and along the limbs. She carefully turned him over and did the same massaging movements on his back, working the comforting lotion into his skin.

Even though that didn’t quiet him, she wasn’t deterred. She changed his diaper and put him back into his clothes. Terror appeared with a cup of sugar water and two pacifiers. She dipped one into the sugar water and brought the clear nipple to Liron’s mouth. The baby stubbornly refused any attempt to insert the pacifier, but he did seem to enjoy the taste of the sugar. After a few more tries, he relented and accepted the pacifier.

But he cried around it, whimpering and snorting and making the angriest scrunched up faces at her. She picked him up and began to bounce him as she walked, patting his back and making soothing sounds. He alternated between moments of soft whimpering and loud shrieks that punctured her ear drums. Alys didn’t give up, though. She kept trying different movements and speeds. Eventually, she would find something that worked.

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