Chapter 5
Brad could see the slight change in Lyrian’s expression, when she gave in. She exhaled slightly, and a look of defeat came over her face.
For a moment, he felt sad about that. He didn’t want her to feel bad about this.
But now that he knew he had a child, there was no way he was going to walk away.
He had no idea what he was going to do, since it seemed coming to America with him was a big part of her problem, but walking away wasn’t in any part of it.
He’d figure something out. Even if he had no idea what.
Right now, his focus was a little distracted.
“Can I see… is it a girl or a boy? What’s their name?” His questions tumbled over each other as badly as the thoughts in his head did.
Usually his thoughts were perfectly in control. He was known for his cool head in an emergency. His patients relied on that.
Lucky they couldn’t see him now.
Lyrian hesitated.
Brad held his breath. The urge to demand answers swelled up in him, and he swallowed it down. He’d seen how well that worked last time. When he’d pushed her about coming home with him, she’d closed up and refused to let him in. He didn’t want that happening again.
Even if it was hard to deal with the curiosity consuming him.
Did the child look like her, or him?
Did he have a son or a daughter?
He watched Lyrian’s internal struggle play across her face, holding his breath.
It was the strangest feeling, reminding him a little of Christmas morning as a child.
Back then he hadn’t been in control of everything. He’d trusted that his parents were, and they’d never failed him.
“Her name is Anarian,” Lyrian said finally. “And yes, you can see her. But be quiet. I’m hoping she went back to sleep.”
Brad just nodded, afraid that if he said anything, she’d hear his voice shake.
He followed her into the house, blinking to help his eyes adjust to the cool darkness inside. Lyrian led him into her bedroom, to where the tiny infant, wearing nothing other than a diaper, lay on a sheepskin rug on a mattress on the floor. She was, indeed, sleeping, her tiny thumb in her mouth.
His baby daughter’s slight fuzz of hair had a definite blue tint. Just like her mother’s. Brad blinked in surprise.
But how was that possible? Babies weren’t born with blue hair, no matter how much their mother’s hair had been dyed.
He opened his mouth to say something, to ask what was going on, but he saw Lyrian’s worried eyes on him, and he forced himself to shut it again.
Don’t ask too many questions, Henry had said. Lyrian was skittish.
Brad had seen that first hand. Instead of discussing her concerns with him, she’d run at the slightest hint of difficulty.
If he wanted to make this work, to have a part in his daughter’s life, he needed to reassure her. He needed to persuade her to talk to him instead of running. Convince her she wouldn’t regret sharing this with him.
He needed to let her be in control. For a while at least.
She’d let him into his baby’s room. He didn’t want to blow it now.
“She’s beautiful,” he said instead, his voice choking a little.
And she was. The blue hair gave her character and the same translucent quality to her skin as her mother had made her seem a little fragile. She didn’t look like any other baby he’d ever seen.
Brad couldn’t help like feeling he’d stepped into the middle of some fantasy world.
His uncle’s other words came back to him.
She’s not of this world.
Had his uncle known more secrets than he’d let on?
Just what was Lyrian’s story?
A strong curiosity consumed him. Brad wanted to ask her a thousand questions. To demand the answers.
But he knew, without being told, that that wasn’t going to work. Lyrian reminded him of a deer in the woods. He had to go slowly, to avoid startling her.
If he could get her to trust him, then surely she’d tell him her secrets?
Lyrian headed back to the doorway, motioning for him to follow her.
Brad took one last look at the sleeping baby, then followed her out, tiptoeing as quietly as he could.
Once Lyrian had closed the door behind them, she looked lost.
Brad took her hand, and lead her out into the kitchen.
Neither of them said anything, sitting down at the kitchen table and staring at each other. Brad didn’t break the silence. Lyrian looked like she might just fly away if he breathed too loudly. Let her be the one to speak first.
It took a while. Lyrian stared at the table, tracing her finger across the many scars it held.
Then she looked up, her eyes dark and haunted. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Perfect opening line. She admitted that he was the one wronged. That gave him the advantage.
He didn’t use it.
Instead he said, “What can I do to help? Obviously you can stay here as long as you want. Forever even. The house is yours. Do you need money? A new car? Baby clothes?”
The heat could easily explain Anarian’s lack of clothes, but it didn’t explain the lack of a crib, toys, or any of the other things he knew babies needed.
Lyrian shook her head immediately. “We’re fine. We have everything we need.” She hesitated then, her eyes on him, evaluating him.
There was something she wanted. Maybe even something she needed.
Brad held his breath, hoping she’d trust him enough to ask.
“If… if you could… look after her for a few hours. I… need to go and see my brothers.”
Her brothers again.
She’d said something earlier about him distracting her from finding them, but now she was talking about visiting them as if she knew exactly where they were.
Brad wasn’t convinced they weren’t a figment of her imagination.
If they really did exist, he wasn’t sure he wanted to meet them. Perhaps her comments that they’d disapprove of him hadn’t been a joke after all.
What if she was going to get them to help her throw him out?
He made himself take a deep breath. He was letting his imagination run away with him. For all he knew, they’d take his side, and tell her a child deserved to know its father.
Either way, he wasn’t going to say no to the first thing she’d actually asked him to help with. He wanted to gain her trust, and if that meant taking a chance, and looking after the baby while she went to see her brothers, so be it.
Then it hit him.
Looking after the baby. His daughter.
He wasn’t nervous about the practical concerns. He might have specialised in cardiology, but he still knew the basics of the physiology and care of babies.
So why was he still feeling nervous?
“Uh, sure,” he stammered. “But… uh, what am I supposed to do if she wakes up?”
Lyrian laughed then, her face lighting up, just for a second, with the light and carefree expression he knew so well. “If she cries, pick her up and cuddle her. Talk to her. Walk around the house and show her things.”
It sounded so easy when she put it that way. And he wanted to keep her smiling and happy. But he still wasn’t certain. “What if she gets hungry?”
Some dad he’d make. He had no real world experience at all.
Not that he’d ever let that stop him before. He could find out. He would find out.
If he was going to be a dad, he’d be the best dad anyone had ever had.
Lyrian’s smile didn’t disappear. “I have some milk frozen. I’ll show you how to warm up a bottle.”
It seemed easy enough. Brad nodded. “I’m sure I can manage that.”
Lyrian would only be gone for a few hours. How bad could things get in a few hours?