When I make it to the third-floor human resources office, I’m surprised to find the well-dressed man and old lady from the lobby crowding out the waiting area. It’s not because they’re huge or anything, nor is the room small, but rather because every inch of space is occupied by the baby in their care.

The baby who is now awake and howling.

I overhear the man in the suit say, “We’re trapped in here until she stops. Mother I don’t want to say I told you so, but I told you so.”

I’m pretending I don’t notice them as I read a folded card that’s been placed on the reception desk. We will return at 2:00 p.m. Those with interview appointments, please sign in on the clipboard. Those without appointments, please wait. We apologize for any inconvenience.

I write my name at the top of the list and smile briefly at the man as I pass him to take a seat in the far corner, trying to give them space while trying to stay focused.

After a few moments, I can’t help but look. I’m one of those people whose heart breaks when I hear babies cry, and because this baby won’t stop, I’m already wondering if I should ask if they need help. Watching out of the corner of my eyes, I see the old woman pull the baby to her chest, but her thin arms are shaking from the effort. I don’t think she can hold the baby’s weight for long. Worse, the man doesn’t seem to notice the woman’s in trouble, because he’s digging deep into the fancy diaper bag. “Damn. Where is that thing?”

“Keep searching. Poor little love and her little cries.”

“You call these little cries, Mother?” He snorts over his shoulder, resorting to dumping the bag contents on a chair. “I learned late last night that this kid is louder than an opera singer, and she’s only on her warm-up. Prepare for the glass breaking part next.”

The baby starts wailing even more piteously which makes me stand and approach cautiously. “Excuse me. I think, if you’ll let me, I might be able to help.” The woman’s silver eyes pierce me like a lance. I try not to be intimidated. “I’m really good with settling babies. Honest. I worked in a daycare after school, for two years. The baby room. Babies are my favorite.”

“Who are you? Do you dare try to ingratiate yourself to us,” she asks haughtily, looking me up and down.

“I’m sorry. I’m ashamed to say that I don’t know what that word means.” The old woman frowns like I’ve surprised her with my honesty but she holds quiet, so I forge ahead. “I’m here interviewing to be a waitress.” I point lamely behind my back at the clipboard and we all wince simultaneously as the baby’s cries grow more frantic. “It’s not easy being a baby, you know? May I try?”

“Please, Mother. Let her. I can’t find the pacifier anywhere.” He steps over to me. “This is My mother, Mrs. Felix. I’m Gregory Felix, but you may call me Gregory. We also had an appointment today. One we thought we could attend to while the baby slept. She normally sleeps anywhere just fine. She’s just eaten a huge bottle so we thought we’d be good for a few hours, but she seems not to be able to keep her nap going today.” He points to the squirming unhappy bundle. “So, please do, young lady, if it’s not too much trouble, please help us if you’re able.”

The man’s expression is pleading, desperate even.

The old woman again holds quiet, but like a queen, nods once keeping those eyes on me like a hawk.

I take the baby from her arms, undaunted by the old woman’s fierceness or the baby’s cries. The squirming crying baby cradles easily against my heart and tucks her legs up tight against me. I breathe deeply and calmly, letting her feel my calm all while loving how her ginger-blonde hair tickles my chin. “Oh, she smells wonderful. Baby shampoo is simply the best, isn’t it?” I whisper, cuddling her closer, and begin patting her back while I softly say, “Shh…shh…shh, there, there, noisy one. Shh…shh. It’s okay.”

The baby cries more into my neck, but her flailing arms seem to calm. “Is she teething?” I look over her head at the man who only shrugs. “How old is she, about five or six months?” I ask, then point to the pile of diaper bag junk on the chair. “Can I please have that blanket?”

They both blink oddly at me, but they still say nothing as the man—Gregory—hands me a pink, fleece blanket.

I wrap it around the baby’s form and turn slightly away from their stares while I rock on my feet, continuing with my calm breathing as I whisper more nonsense in her tiny seashell-soft ear, “Shh. Shh. Sweet baby. Shh. Shh. Let’s start with names. I’m Robin. Shh. It’s okay.” I tighten my arms and rock her more. “I have a brother whose named Sage. It means wise one, but it’s also a plant. Dad almost didn’t do it to him, but then he decided if a boy had a name like Sage he’d be one heck of a good fighter. And it’s true. Kid is tough. There. There. Shh. Shh.”

“It’s working.” The old woman draws her brows down even more, but her tone has softened. “Young lady, what are you doing that’s different than what I was doing?”

“Maybe it’s because I can stand and you can’t?” I answer quietly. “And, like I said, I have tons of experience with babies. With the ones who are possibly over tired, like she seems to be, it’s about patience, consistency, and a singular calm focus.” I turn back to the frosty old woman happy to see her distrustful glare has been replaced by grudging approval.

“Patience, and singular calm focus are things that might be against your personality, Mother.” The man chuckles, drawing a little smile that breaks his mom’s severe expression.

“I can learn. Go on, child. Tell me what you’re doing, step by step. I suppose I’ve forgotten how difficult it is to soothe a baby.”

“I’ve never analyzed it.” I keep patting the baby’s back, thinking. “I’m letting my voice go all around her while letting my warmth and breathing soak in to her, all while doing these circle-pat-pats with my hand. See?” I move so she can watch my hand going around her back. “It helps to talk non-stop, too, in a soft and confident voice.”

The old woman shakes her head. “I could swear I was doing just that.”

“It’s possible your hold wasn’t tight enough? That’s also important,” I suggest. “Little ones like tight cradling which is what the blanket is also helping with. Shh-shh. There. There.”

“My arthritis makes a tight hold on anything impossible, so maybe that’s where I went wrong.”

The baby’s crying fades to an intermittent, exhausted sounding whimpering, and then she stops crying, only stares up at me quietly with wide, bright-blue eyes that nearly take my breath away.

“Her eyes are gorgeous,” I whisper.

“A family trait. You should have seen my daughter’s eyes and her father’s eyes are the stuff of legends, so I hear.” She sighs. “I don’t give compliments lightly, young lady, but I find you to be simply amazing.” The old woman’s smiling at me now, and I note the eyes behind her glasses are kind and they’re also as gorgeous and as bright as the baby’s eyes. “Like a baby-whisperer, you are,” she adds.

I shake my head, and feel my cheeks growing warm at the praise, but answer only with a polite, “Thank you.”

“Did you say you and your brother are called Robin and Sage?” Gregory steps forward, like he’d like to get a better look at me. “Your dad is Army, then? Special Forces?”

“Yes. How did you—yes.” I swallow, not meeting the man’s gaze. “We were named after the—”

“The final training exercise. Robin Sage. I completed that training myself in North Carolina, many years ago. Make that many, many years ago, I’m retired now.” He straightens his back. “Excellent names for kids. Your dad must be devoted to SF.”

“Oh. Yes. He is.” I try to keep my voice all casual, like this is easy to talk about for me and I answer, “My father was—is—one of the lead trainers.”

“Ah. That explains it. I was also Special Forces. Airborne. I saw your brother’s military issue cap and pack in the lobby, so I wondered about you two.”

“I saw you staring. You actually reminded me of my dad, how you were watching everyone so Special Forces carefully. It’s a thing, isn’t it?”

He nods, warm twinkling eyes meeting mine. “Yes. We don’t watch people. We watch their hands. Hands always tell what a person’s about. A face can be trained to hide emotions, but hands,” he points to my hand as it circle-pats the baby’s back. “Hands tell all.”

The old woman scoots her chair forward with one foot. “How curious, Gregory. And what were Robin’s hands doing when you first saw her?”

The man smiles at his mother, and I decide I like how his calm grey eyes match the silver strands in his salt and pepper hair. “She had them gently on her little brother just as she has them gently on the baby now. I’m assuming the boy I saw in the lobby is the Sage we’ve been talking about?” I nod as he goes on, “Is your father with you two? I would love to meet a fellow SF soldier.”

I glance nervously at the door and scan the empty offices again while working to evade his questions with some indirect answers, “If you don’t mind, Sir…”

“Gregory,” he interrupts.

“Gregory.” I swallow, flushing slightly. “Please don’t mention my brother to anyone here. He’s thirteen. I know he shouldn’t be down there alone while I’m up here, but it’s just us right now. I mean, today.” My breathing falters. “Because I’m responsible for him. Our father’s deployed. Now that school’s out for summer, I’m tasked with watching him every day. He thinks he’s old enough to take care of himself, even though he’s not. I bring him along to—places, but I don’t let him catch on that I’m babysitting him, you know, or he’d be offended.”

Gregory laughs, “I remember being thirteen.”

I swallow, scouring my brain, not wanting to lie to the man outright, but hoping I haven’t accidently said too much. “It’s not usually a big deal, but see, I really want this job. I’m sure the hotel would frown on the fact that I brought my kid brother to an interview. It’s not very professional, but I wanted to take him around to see the sights. It was the only way.”

“I won’t say a word. You did the right thing bringing him for some fun.” Gregory nods to the calm baby in my arms. “Besides, Mother and I understand all too well how it feels when kids—and babies—don’t have consistent care situations. Luckily, they are so resilient. They bounce back even stronger when things go off kilter, don’t they?”

“I hope so.” I breathe out with relief, suddenly loving this guy, because he said what my worried heart needed to hear. Sage is resilient, despite what we’ve been through. And he will bounce back. I’m going to make sure of it.

“Can you say where your father’s deployed?”

I answer that one honestly. “We aren’t sure. You know how sometimes Special Forces won’t give details on deployment locations?”

“I do know. That secrecy is not easy on anyone involved, but it’s often necessary for the job. How long has he been gone?”

“Over a year.” I hate that my last answer feels like a lie, but not telling people that our father is M-I-A isn’t exactly lying, is it? And besides, the deployment, plus the part where Dad went missing now does add up to over a year of time.

“A long one. He should be home soon, then.”

I only nod because I’m trying not to wince as this flicker of sympathy crosses the man’s face.

It’s so sincere it almost blown apart my scotch-taped heart. Thankfully, he doesn’t question me more, instead he suddenly smiles and produces the long-lost pacifier from the front of his suit coat pocket. With a self-depreciating head shake he steps over and pops it into the baby’s mouth. “I knew I had it somewhere.”

The baby blinks, pulls in two long sucks on the pacifier like she’d been waiting for that, breathes out one last adorable shuddering breath, and falls completely asleep.