safety and her survival. For now.
Of course, I'm not planning on keeping her forever. Someday, when this nightmare is over or she's old enough to understand, whichever comes first, I'm going to tell her the truth and find her parents. In the meantime, though, she's mine to protect and care for.
"I promise I'll take good care of you," I tell Lara as I stroke her plump, rosy cheek.
Sure, I'm not her real mother and I know nothing about being a mother, hardly having had one myself, but I'm a woman. Billions of women have raised children since the dawn of time, right? Plus Lara is so small and she doesn't do much. She's practically sleeping most of the time. How hard can it be to take care of her?
~
Extremely hard, I think as I rock Lara in my arms while she continues bawling. In fact, I might just be on the brink of collapsing again.
I haven't had any sleep. I was just about to drift off when Lara woke up and started crying. I checked her diaper. It was fine. I gave her a bottle of the milk that I'd prepared beforehand and she drank it, but afterwards, she continued crying. I checked her diaper again. It still seemed fine. I tried to stick the pacifier into her mouth but she wouldn't have it. She wouldn't even suck on her thumb like she used to. I picked her up and started to rock her in my arms. I even sang a lullaby even though I never sing. That worked, but then the moment I put her back in the bassinet, she woke up and started crying again.
This is the third time. I swear her cries are getting louder and I'm running out of patience. And energy.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
I'm in such a panic that when I hear a knock on the door, I jump.
"Triss?"
I draw a deep breath. It's just Antonio.
"Do you need help?" he asks.
I want to say no. He's done more than enough for me. He rescued me when I collapsed. He protected me from the cops. He took me into his home. He asked Sally to buy everything Lara needed. He even gave me clothes and food. I don't want to take advantage of his kindness and cause him any more trouble.
Still, I can't refuse help, not when I don't know what else to do.
"Yes," I answer. "Please."
Antonio comes in wearing a sleeveless grey shirt and a pair of blue plaid pajamas. For a moment, I get distracted from my current situation as my gaze rests on his bare, sculpted arms and firm chest muscles outlined beneath thin cotton. I knew he was fit. I just didn't notice how ripped his upper body was until now, almost like one of Jim's thug friends, except with Antonio there's nothing intimidating about his build. Just plain impressive.
I snap out of my thoughts as he stands next to me. He takes Lara from my arms. She stops crying for just a second as she stares at him and then starts again.
"I don't know what's wrong with her," I confess. "I've tried everything."
Except massaging Lara's tummy, which is what Antonio is doing right now. He sits down on the edge of the bed and lets her lie down on his lap. Then he lifts her shirt and rubs her belly. She stops crying.
He continues doing that for a few minutes while I stand and watch, astounded by his composure and skill, both of which I now realize I sorely lack. His hand is large, yet it moves with such gentleness and precision against her tiny body. His chiseled features are softened as he gazes at Lara tenderly while making soft, assuring sounds. No baby talk. Just words spoken calmly in that voice of his that seems to have the depth of a well of cool water in the middle of the desert. Soothing. Mesmerizing. You can't help but want to throw yourself in.
I'm not the only one falling under Antonio's spell. So is Lara. Her eyelids begin to droop. Her small fists, which were clenched in frustration earlier, relax. Her breathing settles into a quiet, even rhythm.
Antonio stops rubbing her tummy and puts her down on the bed. She stirs for a bit and I worry that the spell might break and we'll be back to square one, but after he grabs her woolen blanket and wraps it around her like a cocoon, she goes still. Antonio