Page 43 of The Unseen
“I think it sounds like a lovely idea. I’ll take care of it,” Gabe promised.
“You are a very good daddy.”
“It’s your idea. I can’t take credit for it.”
“No, you can’t, but you’re still a good daddy,” Quinn replied, blowing him a kiss.
After Gabe and Emma left, Quinn changed Alex’s nappy, deposited him on his activity blanket, and made herself some breakfast. She’d put off the walk for another day, as it was too cold anyway, and take Alex to the clinic instead before stopping by the institute to talk to Monty. And if she timed her visit right, Gabe might take her out to lunch. She wasn’t the type of person who needed round-the-clock company, but she did get lonely, spending nearly every day by herself. Alex was amazing, but not a very skilled conversationalist just yet. She missed the bustle of the city and the comforting din of conversation as people enjoyed a good meal and a drink before returning to the business of the day.
The clinic was busy when Quinn came in, but luckily, there weren’t too many people in front of her to see the pediatrician. Dr. Rankin was in his forties. He reminded Quinn of a large, cuddly teddy bear. His soft brown eyes, dark hair, and thick neat beard only served to reinforce the comparison. He had a gentle manner with both babies and mothers.
Quinn waited patiently while the doctor examined Alex. The baby didn’t like having his stomach palpated and kicked his legs in outrage, his face warning Quinn that he was preparing to howl for help. Dr. Rankin finished his examination and tickled him, getting a happy snort instead. He allowed Alex to grab thestethoscope and study the shiny surface before carefully removing it from his hands and turning to Quinn.
“Is he all right, Dr. Rankin? He often cries and seems uncomfortable in the evenings.”
Dr. Rankin gave her a reassuring smile. “I don’t see anything wrong, Mrs. Russell. Alex is thriving and developing normally. What did you have for dinner last night?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“I made pasta primavera. It’s the easiest way to get vegetables into a five-year-old,” Quinn replied proudly, having figured out how to outsmart Emma.
“What type of vegetables did you add to the pasta?”
“Broccoli, carrots, peas, and red and green peppers.”
“Garlic?”
“Yes, I added some to the sauce.”
Dr. Rankin nodded as if Quinn had just confirmed his suspicions. “Some babies can handle anything, but others have a more sensitive digestive system. Perhaps the garlic, broccoli, and peppers were too much for him. He doesn’t ingest them directly, but everything you eat is in your breast milk. If you plan to continue nursing, you might want to try eating things that are easier for Alex to process.”
Quinn shook her head in dismay. “I didn’t realize the vegetables might upset his stomach. I’ve been avoiding harsh spices and processed foods. I thought I was giving him nutrients by eating more vegetables.”
“And you thought correctly, but certain vegetables can be hard on his system, and garlic in particular.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I will certainly keep that in mind.”
“You can begin to wean him if you’d rather not continue nursing. Are you returning to work?”
“Yes, but my hours are flexible for the time being. I’d like to nurse him until he’s six months old. I will do whatever is necessary.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll see you next month for Alex’s checkup.”
Quinn dressed Alex and settled him in his pram. She was immensely relieved there was nothing wrong with him, but guilt gnawed at her gut. She’d been thoughtless and had caused her baby pain. And the worst of it was that she was desperately craving things she couldn’t have, like curry and kebobs, and wine. It seemed even salad had to be avoided for fear of causing Alex suffering. Quinn sighed and rolled the pram out of the clinic. Being a mother was a lot different than she’d expected.
TWENTY-THREE
“Well, hello there, my dear,” Monty gushed when Quinn pushed Alex’s pram into his office. “You’re looking radiant, if I may say so without causing offense.” Monty winked at Quinn in a conspiratorial manner and peered into the pram. “And aren’t you a lovely little lad. Daddy has shown me photos, of course, but they don’t do you justice. Spitting image of Gabe, this one,” Monty added as he beamed at Quinn.
“I know,” Quinn replied with a sigh of resignation. If she didn’t have a caesarean scar and leaking breasts, she could claim she’d never had anything to do with this baby.
“Could be worse. My sister looks just like my dad, and lovely man though he might have been, no woman should have that cross to bear. Gabe is a beautiful man, and I know beautiful men,” Monty purred. For a short, round, bespectacled man who favored yellow polka-dot bowties, he attracted an inordinate number of attractive young men who were only too happy to be squired around town by the aging historian.
“Got a new boy toy, have you?” Quinn asked.
“Oh, darling, he’s divine. Simply divine. Twenty-seven years old and looks like Colin Firth inPride and Prejudice.”
