His Wet Nurse

Close encounters (22)

It was indeed a funny sight to behold, Theodore Newman, the fierce ex-Naval commodore, in his intimidating demeanor, holding and murmuring words to his son while parading the tiny room.

His bulky body seemed to eat up the entire space as he strode around, silently praying Jema would be quick with her bathroom exercise.

She strolled out still in her bloodstained robe.

"Why are you still wearing that?" His face melted into a frown as he took her in.

She shrugged. "There's no fresh robe in the bathroom and I can't wrap myself in a towel. Gosh, how did I forget my clothes?" She muttered the last words, rubbing at her drowsy eyes. She hadn't slept at all and it was five in the morning.

"I'll ring them up to get you some, just take him back." He moved closer to Jema.

"I can't!" She blurted.

"What?!"

Slowly and painfully, Jema raised her trembling arm at him, for him to see how weak and unstable she was. "My wound got ripped open again, it's sending tremors through my muscles..." She lifted her heavy eyes at him and spoke. "I can't hold him anymore, you have to do it yourself."

Theodore stepped back in confusion, "Then why can't we just lay him on the bed? Have him propped against a pillow. It helps, I know it helps." He protested.

"He's used to the baby rocker, you can't just replace his crib with an ordinary adult bed, he'll not be comfortable."

Theo groaned frustratedly, "What a spoiled little man, how did you raise him this way?"

"I guess he took after his father after all." Jema shot back. She could tell from her sudden fearlessness that the horrific events had taken a toll on her, she was snappy and fatigued. "You can try the bed, I'll go see if I can get a bandage for myself." She went over to the phone and dialed the receptionist.

Jema was done with the call when she heard the baby's cry. A triumphant smile spread across her face. She was right about laying him down on the bed but Theo's stubbornness wouldn't let him listen. He wanted to get rid of the responsibilities of holding his son so badly.
She wondered what callous manner he'd grown up in. The man was unable to express the simplest task of care. No wonder he had a home full of servants, chefs, nurses, and a home manager who knew little about nurturing a four-month-old. They were all under his spell of command, eager to abide by his stoic rules no matter what the outcome was.

It had been a mouth-gaping encounter for Jema when she first arrived at the mansion, the house was cold like its owner, large but distant, unable to be called a home and she only realized why after the club incident. Theodore Newman lacked every warmth a child should've been given. Having everything to his disposition wasn't enough for a child who lacked parental care and love. They grow up becoming angry children, brooding teenagers, and eventually cold, icy men who think emotions were a form of weakness instead of strength.

If exhaustion was a person Theo would be it, for he returned with his son looking defeated. "What else can be done? I'm utterly exhausted. Can I at least sit?" His eyes pleaded with Jema like she held the key to his problems.

"I can't guarantee you anything, you could try rocking him while sitting... but just be very subtle with it or he'll wake."

Theo perked up in a bit of excitement and properly positioned himself on the cushion, wrapping his bold arms around the baby. The constant jerk of his thighs gave a little idea of comfort to the baby as he slept through it.

"It worked!" Jema exclaimed quietly when she stepped out of the bathroom after changing into a fresh robe.

"Huh! I'm glad it did," Theo's drowsy voice muttered. He was extremely famished, with hardly enough strength to stay up and extract answers from Jemaa on the incident that happened. That was all he thought about up until the baby was handed over to him.