“There, there, little one, soon over.” Jean smiled, her warm eyes admired the swell of the tiny rib cage. She set him onto the towel and patted him dry. Quickly, she applied more oil, dressed him, and swaddled him in a blanket. The screaming stopped. The baby’s mouth closed. Peace. The child slept. My small hairs gradually relaxed. I could feel muscles loosening all over the room. Carlotta wiped the sweat from her face and neck. Jean handed the child to her. Carlotta clutched him, wrapped the tails of the shawl around him. Jean swept the towel and cotton into a wad, neatly dumped the water into the sink, wiped out the tub, and propped it in the corner.

“Just remember to wash his face before you wash his ass. Don’t get his navel wet before the string drops off. And don’t soap the hand you’re holding him with. He’s slippery enough as it is.”

We all stood, silent. My knees felt wobbly. All of our faces bore a weak expression. Jean didn’t seem to notice; she looked around for a towel and finally wiped her hands on the damp bundle from the bath. Sam lifted the towel he’d been holding, but it was too late.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked.

“No, thanks. I’ve got to get back. My brood hasn’t had lunch yet. They’ll be having too much fun in the refrigerator.”

Rennel stirred heavily. He shifted the crotch of his leathers down and cleared his throat. “I’ll drive you.”

“Thanks. That’ll be fine.” Jean looked around the room. She picked up the bundle of laundry and stepped up to Carlotta. She lifted the edge of the shawl and peered in at the lump.

“He’s lovely. He’ll be fine. But you have to take care of yourself. He’s still eating what you eat. If you want to make up a shopping list, I’ll stop by later for it on my way to the market.”

Carlotta nodded. Jean looked around at us again. Something puzzled her, like maybe she wondered why we weren’t acting happy. She gave me a curious look and a wave as she followed Rennel outside.

The smell of her lotion lingered on for a while, but as soon as she left, the room felt grubby. I wanted to scratch.

Sam put water on the stove. Carlotta stood still, wrapped inside the shawl with the child. The light of the window fell on her in a showy way. It irritated me the way she stood there in the light, the shawl folded so that it would drape in that particular way. She assumed a familiar pose, and she bent low over the strange flesh huddling in her shoulder. I could see that a woman must stand this way with a child on her arm, and yet it seemed deliberate and sly.