Chapter 13: The Burp

Ward's POV

Norm Lawton called Summer at eight on Monday morning, and I stood in his kitchen and heard one side of it.

"Summer, it's Norm."

He listened.

"No, I'm not calling to yell at you."

He listened again, and his face didn't change.

"That boy's father wants to hold him. You know he has the right, and so do I."

He turned the toast over in the pan.

"My kitchen, at noon. Bring your mother if you want a witness."

He hung up and put the toast on a plate for me.

"Eat," he said.

I ate.

At noon Summer came up the back steps with the carrier on her arm, and her mother came behind her with a diaper bag and a hard mouth.

Her mother took the chair by the door.

Summer took the one at the head of the table, where she could see every inch of me.

Corrine came down the hall with Posy on her shoulder, looked at me once, and went back upstairs.

I understood it was a kindness.

"Sit," Norm told me. "Summer, hand him over."

She didn't move.

"Summer."

She unbuckled the straps with stiff fingers and lifted him out.

I stood up and put out my arms, and she set him in them with her jaw tight.

He was heavier than he had been at the motel.

He was warm and damp, and he smelled like milk.

I stood there holding my son on purpose for the first time.

"Sit down before you drop him," Norm said.

I sat.

The baby rooted at my sleeve, found nothing, and began to fuss.

"He's hungry," Summer said sharply.

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