"Yes. Her name's Dawn Rose."
"That she's… either 'A' like me or 'AB'." I tried to look at him even if I knew it was useless. I couldn't see and that was frustrating.
"If you like, Roy, we can talk this further over in a more comfortable setting. Like the house." The teenager, now identified as 'Roy', shifted.
"I… I can't come right now. I promised to help… my aunt." He gave a slight, embarrassed cough. "Can I come over tomorrow?"
"Don't you have school tomorrow?" questioned Grandma seriously.
"Not really. I tested out last year. I would have earlier but… I was… staying on for Abbigail…" By the end of this, he was mumbling shamefully.
There was a long silence and I was again transferred from one set of arms to the next. The one that held me was Grandpa. I could smell it.
"We can see you tomorrow," agreed the man holding her. "Come along, dear. Let's go home for now."
"What time would be a good time?"
"Anytime you wish. Just not before nine, please."
.
The next day, or so I assumed as time was very tricky to track for me, I was back in my father's arms.
I tried again to get a view of his face and I knew I was staring up at him. I didn't really see anything. He, however, could see me. "She seems… aware?"
"Yes, we've already noticed she tries very hard to stay awake. Perhaps she'll be a genius." Nope.
I didn't think so but I don't think I minded the idea of it. Dad was touching at my nose and I wrinkled it as much as I could.
It probably wasn't that visible and more of a face-scrunch than a nose wrinkle. "Thanks, Sarah."
The sound of clattering china was heard but I was more concerned about the big finger poking me.
As he'd been kind enough to let me get an arm out, I wrapped tiny fingers around it even as baby instincts insisted on sucking on the digit.
It did not provide milk but it seemed to help pacify some of the neediness the infant instincts had and I wasn't against that.
It was weird, honestly. I could feel the nail and I could just about define every ridge of his fingerprint with my tongue. It was slightly rough but not super rough and just big enough that it was a comfortable fit.
I was sucking on my father's finger and he was letting me.
In reality, I don't know how long I resided in his arms. I wanted to see more, know more, but the chatter meant little when I would drift off in the conversation or required feeding or changing.
Oh, and he got to learn how to change me. The gagging sounds were funny even if baby vocal cords weren't up to snuff about the giggling.
He also learned how to feed me and how to burp me. He got the full trial course and did admirably well for a teen who had been roughly introduced to the fact he had a child.
I slept in his arms, taking in his scent. He smelled of ozone though I didn't know why.
I'd always loved thunderstorms and the clean smell they brought. It was comforting. It smelled like home and it made it that much harder to stay awake.
"I see her."
"I can see you in her, too."
"Could I please try? I… I really did love her."
"Just don't take her away from us. That's all we ask."
"Can't we talk about this first?"
"Sarah, he has the right. And if he stays near, you won't ever lose Dawn."
"I promise… and I promise that I'll come over and let you have her as much as you want. But it doesn't seem right I don't take responsibility for what happened. And…"
I don't know what was said after that. I was too asleep to know or care.
.
"She's so cute!" Hearing that high pitch startled me and I started crying before realizing what was going on.
"Oh, I scared her." Not that I had any idea where I was. The smell of ozone invaded my senses as someone picked me up and I found myself cuddled into arms.
"It's alright, Dawn," a male voice said as a patting sensation came through my butt. I scrambled for context as I cried, panicked baby brain not helping.
"Malory didn't mean to scare you." The patting helped a great deal and I calmed down to a bare whimper. It probably didn't help I'd woken hungry, either.
"You clearly don't have sense." The voice was rough and I guessed it was a man, probably roughened by drink and smoking. "What makes you think you can care for a baby, boy?"
Arms stiffened around me as I continued to whine. "Well, I don't know if I can or not," Dad said. "But I'm not going to pretend I don't have a child, Aunt Chris."
Holy hell, that was a woman. And my father's aunt.
Which begged the next question: Where were his parents? And what was Malory in relation to him? A sister? A cousin?
When it was obvious I wasn't going to quiet down, Dad checked my diaper, already wary of the contents.
Again, thoughts of amusement but they paled in the face of the gnawing need for food. He then tried a bottle of the goat's milk that I'd become very used to already and I greedily took it.
"You don't really know the first thing about infants." That deep voice. The aunt.
"I got lessons from Mr. and Mrs. Edgecombe, Aunt," Dad told her.
"That won't make things easier on you, kid. I don't know much about babies but I know they take a lot of time."
I didn't stop sucking at my bottle and I could sense the wariness about me. My eyes moved between dark and light blurs, trying to identify expressions even though I knew I couldn't.
"If I don't try, Aunt Chris, I think I'll regret it." There was a snort and a rough sound like a chair being shoved back.