The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope - By Rhonda Riley Page 0,163

bed beside her where she wanted me to sit. She shifted the baby from one breast to the other, and the newly exposed nipple continued to spurt, the stream of milk landing on her knee.

Sarah and Lil leapt back, squealing and giggling.

The baby startled, lost suction, and then sneezed at the second breast now spraying milk into his face.

“I didn’t know they could squirt like that!” Gracie laughed.

Gracie, Hans, and the baby moved out to the ranch. Their apartment lease had expired, but Hans still needed to finish up his doctoral work. Soon, they would leave for the Netherlands to introduce the baby to his Dutch relations. Then they would live in Washington, DC, for Gracie’s Foreign Service training. After that, she would receive her first international assignment.

That summer and through the fall, Adam and I spent as much time with our daughter and grandson as we could. Adam postponed his usual trip to the mountains.

He did not say so, but he missed his time of solitude. I sensed a restlessness in him that went beyond the normal energy and distraction that comes with having a newborn and a new mother in the house. His tautness relaxed only when he held his grandson.

Late one night, I found Adam asleep in the recliner. Baby Adam, exquisitely new and tender, slept slack-mouthed, drooling on his grandfather’s chest. I knelt next to them and studied Adam’s face. I didn’t want to wake him then, but longed to touch him, to assure myself of his substance.

He opened his eyes, in that abrupt way he sometimes woke, without movement or speech.

I pressed my palm to his jaw, and then cupped the baby’s head with my other hand. “You two remind me so much of all those long nights when Rosie had colic,” I whispered. “You look exactly like you did then. You haven’t changed at all.” I felt an intense longing for the past. He and I would never again be a young couple with children. Yet, I could see on his face, on the very surface of his skin, that he could have all those things again.

He stroked my cheek. “The first time I opened my eyes, I fell in love with you. Before I knew what love was or who you were. Then, at night, I lay beside you absorbing you as a child does the world. I fell into you. And you met me in everything I wanted or did. It was a sweet, complete immersion to take your form. I didn’t expect it, or try to make it happen.”

I nuzzled his hand as he continued.

“With Roy Hope, I had to literally push myself into him. I stole from him. And it took two weeks.” Adam took a deep, slow breath and gazed toward the dark rectangle of windows. Past the reflection of the three of us, moonlight shone on the yard. Beyond our yard and the faint line of the road lay the darker area of gentle slopes and the sky. I could make out one star. I wondered if he saw the same one.

“Evelyn, it’s been years since you had to explain anything about me. But that will change soon. I look at men in their fifties and sixties. Older men, men who . . .” He glanced at me and, mentally, I finished his sentence: “Are your age.”

“Adam, I can’t keep the inevitable from happening.” I felt impotent.

“I know. I don’t expect you to. But we need a solution.” He looked down at our grandson on his chest. “Before he knows me like this. Before more people here mistake me for his—” He hesitated and then recovered. “I’m not sure what to do or what I can do, but give me time.”

I pressed my finger to his lips. “He has a perfectly wonderful Grandpa. And you have all the time I can give.”

Baby Adam moaned and rocked his head. Adam rubbed the baby’s back and his tiny body relaxed immediately. Then he pulled me toward him for a kiss. A tender, sweet kiss. I closed my eyes. His mouth was the world. Hope was a hard, dark seed in my chest.

I reached up, turned off the lamp, and then wedged myself into the recliner next to him. With our arms around each other and our grandson nestled between us, we fell asleep.

During the night, Gracie retrieved the baby and covered us with a blanket. As I woke, dawn light pinked the sky outside the window. My hips ached from