Lies and Omissions by Pascal Francine

Author:Pascal, Francine [Pascal, Francine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-07-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Steven Wakefield gently put baby Emma into her cradle shortly after two in the morning. He always held his breath when he put her down, praying the handoff to the crib wouldn’t send her eyes flying open and unleash cries of protest.

Steven knew if she made even so much as a peep, his partner, Aaron, would be running down the hall and would scoop her up and rock her the rest of the night in his arms. And then she’d spend yet another night out of her crib.

Steven knew Aaron really did mean well. They both did. Both of them had instantly fallen for little Emma the day she was born to surrogate mother Linda Carson, whom Steven and Aaron had paid to supply the egg and carry Emma. They had both donated their sperm, and neither one knew who was actually the biological father. Not that it mattered. They were both her dads. So far she didn’t look like either of them, really. She looked most like Linda, her mother, who shared her light blond hair and pink bow lips.

The problem was, Aaron spoiled little Emma. Aaron had read somewhere that babies who were held more often were better adjusted or smarter or something, and so now he had it in his head that the crib was evil and Emma should not spend time in it or in a stroller. Aaron went around with Emma strapped to him all day in a BabyBjörn, and at night, more often than not, Emma ended up in bed with them.

So now Emma cried bloody murder when put down—whether in her crib, her swing, or on her play mat—and insisted on being carried or held at all times. It was exhausting. And easily avoided, Steven thought.

All Emma needed was a little bit of tough love, a tiny bit of crying it out in her crib, and she’d adjust. That’s what babies did.

Steven laid little Emma in her crib without waking her and thought Victory! as he edged his way out of the nursery. Near the door, his right foot landed on a stuffed cat with a voice box, and the ensuing meow rocked the quiet nursery. Steven cringed, waiting for the high-pitched wail. Emma just let out a soft little cry, almost like a yawn.

A microsecond later, Aaron was at the door.

“What are you doing? You know you can’t just put her down in that pink prison.” Aaron walked straight in and snatched the half-asleep Emma off her pink Land of Nod crib sheet.

Emma, now fully awake from the jostling against Aaron’s shoulder, started to cry.

“That pink prison cost us fifteen hundred dollars,” Steven pointed out. Aaron had been the one to insist on the top-of-the-line crib, and now he refused to even put her in it. The nursery itself was a designer shrine that Emma spent next to no time in at all, since every one of her waking and sleeping hours was spent in somebody’s arms.

“You want Emma to grow

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