Come Fly With Me.... Fiona Brand

of the room still had the yellow strip running across the news report, telling about more snowfall and more people cut off from their family and friends. ‘I see there’s going to be more snow.’ She nodded at the TV.

      He sighed. ‘Yeah.’ He shrugged his shoulders as his eyes met hers. ‘Seems like we’re not going anywhere fast.’

      ‘At least the electric shower will be working. And the kettle and hob. I’ll be able to sterilise things and make some more bottles for Abraham.’ The practical things. The things that always came into her brain first.

      But there was something else there. Something else drumming away inside her head.

      They were stuck here. For at least another day.

      Another day with delectable Dan.

      Another day with a baby. Could she cope? Could she do this again?

      It was as if something happened inside. A little flare sparked inside her brain. This was it. This was her chance.

      If only she had the courage.

      She held out her hands towards Abraham. Would Dan notice they were trembling? ‘May I?’

      He nodded and handed over the half-sleeping babe to her. Abraham didn’t seem to mind who was holding him. He snuggled instantly into her shoulder, obviously preferring the upright position.

      There was a loud splurging noise, closely followed by a smell creeping around the apartment. Carrie wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, Abraham. How could you?’

      Her hand felt along his back and came into contact with a little splurge at the side of the nappy and halfway up his back. She let out a sigh and set him down in the crib.

      ‘I guess it’s going to be a bath for you, little sir.’

      ‘How are we going to manage that? We don’t have a baby bath.’

      Carrie walked over to the deep kitchen sink. ‘We’ll improvise. This is the best we’ve got. Don’t you remember ever getting bathed in the kitchen sink as a child?’

      He shook his head. ‘Can’t say that I do. Is it an English tradition?’

      Carrie had started to scrub the sink within an inch of her life. ‘I guess it must be, then. My gran’s got some pictures of me sitting bare naked in her kitchen sink. I thought everyone did that.’

      She filled the sink with some tepid water and baby bubble bath before testing the temperature. She stripped Abraham’s clothes and put them in a bucket of cold water to soak. Dan wrinkled his nose. ‘I’m going to wash these? Really? Wouldn’t it be better just putting them in the garbage?’

      Carrie shook her head. ‘We don’t have that luxury, Dan. We only have a few things that fit him. They’ll just need to be soaked and then boil washed.’

      Dan lifted the bucket and headed down to the laundry. ‘Be back in five,’ he said.

      Carrie lifted Abraham from the towel he was squirming on. ‘Let’s see if we can get this all off you,’ she said as she gently lowered him into the warm water.

      The expression on his face was priceless. First he squirmed. Then he let out a little yelp of dismay. It only lasted for a few seconds before the shock of being cold disappeared and his little body picked up the surrounding warm water. He gave a little shudder. Then started to kick his legs.

      She smiled. His first baby bath.

      Her first baby bath. And it was just the two of them.

      There was something about it that was so nice. She knew this should be a moment that he shared with his mother. But it was almost as if this were meant to be. She watched as his little legs stretched out and kicked in the water in the sink. She lapped the water over his stomach and chest. He let out a range of little noises. If she didn’t know better she could imagine he was almost smiling.

      Some babies screamed when they hit the bathwater, hating being stripped of their warm cocoonlike clothes. But not Abraham. He seemed to relish it, enjoying kicking his legs in the water.

      She lifted some cotton wool balls, being careful to make sure he was entirely clean. Turning his position slightly, so she could make sure there was nothing left on his back.

      That was when it happened.

      That was when he gave a little judder.

      She knew instinctively something was wrong. She turned him over, her hands struggling to hold his slippery body as she panicked. He was pale. Deathly pale. Almost as if he was holding his breath.

      No. No!

      She let out a scream. She couldn’t help it. The whole world had just started to close in all around her. She grabbed him beneath the arms and thrust the dripping baby into Dan’s arms as he strode back through the door.

      ‘Carrie, what’s wrong?’

      She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t breathe. Her feet carried her outside the apartment door and out onto the steps. The cold snow-covered steps where she’d found him. As soon as she reached the cold air it was as if her legs gave way and she collapsed down onto the steps, struggling to catch her breath.

      There were tiny little black spots around her vision. She put her head between her legs and told herself to breathe slowly. But nothing could stop the clamouring in her chest.

      That sight. That pale little body. That still little chest. It had been too much for her. That momentary second of panic had made her head spin. No one should have to go through that twice in their life.

      No one was meant to experience that again.

      Breathe. In through her nose, out through her mouth. And again. Breathe. In through her nose and out through her mouth.

      She tried to get control. Her senses were picking up something else. A noise. A background noise. A baby crying.

      Then she started to sob. Uncontrollably sob. Abraham was fine. She knew that. She’d panicked. If she’d stopped to think—even for a moment—she would have realised he’d only been holding his breath for a second. But she couldn’t. She didn’t possess those rational kinds of thoughts any more. And she doubted she ever would.

      Then she felt it, a hand creeping around her shoulders and a body sitting on the step next to her. The heat of another body touching hers. The comfort of an arm around her shoulders and the feeling of somewhere she could lay her head.

      But he didn’t speak. Dan just held her. She didn’t know how long passed. She didn’t know how long she sobbed. All she knew was his arms were around her and he was holding her—as if he would never let go.

      His hand was stroking her hair. It was bitter cold out here, but neither of them seemed to notice. ‘Tell me, Carrie,’ he whispered. ‘Tell me how to help you.’

      ‘You can’t, Dan.’ It was a relief to say the words out loud. ‘I panicked. I thought Abraham had stopped breathing.’

      ‘He’s fine, Carrie. Abraham is absolutely fine.’ His voice washed over her, like a calm, soothing tonic. He lifted her chin towards his face. ‘But you’re not.’ His finger traced the track of tears down her cheek. ‘You’re not fine, Carrie. Tell me why not.’

      It was time. It was time to tell the truth. ‘Why do you struggle with babies?’

      The million-dollar question.

      ‘Because I had one.’

      She heard his intake of breath, but to his credit he never reacted the way she expected. There was a few moments’ silence while he obviously contemplated her news. ‘When did you have one?’ His voice was low, comforting. The question wasn’t intrusive. He made it feel like an everyday conversation.

      ‘Last year.’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘Yes, oh.’ A shiver danced along her spine. Was it a reaction to the