The Thief Who Stoll My Heart

Chapter 8

For the first week, I was happy. Happier than when I was first claimed at camp. Happier than I was on my wedding day. Definitely happier than I was the past few months. Then reality came into play. April would keep Travis and I up half the night and we half debated changing our sleeping pattern to fit hers. Then Travis pointed out that she would probably adapt so that she would cry when we were asleep again. We had Sophia over every couple of days still, as her parents were working over time to make up for the time they took off with the twins. We reminded her to be gentle with April, but apparently her idea of gentle was very different then ours. “No hitting, Sophia!” I said I warmed up macaroni and cheese in the microwave.

“How are babies born?”

“Um…” I replied, “You are going to have to ask Travis about this one,” I said. Travis glared at me.

“Travis, how are babies born?”

“Ask Katie.”

“Katie, Travis told me to ask you.” This time, I was the one glaring.

“Sophia, why don’t you ask your mom when she comes and picks you up?” I said. Just then, the microwave timer went off. “Lunch time!” I said, quickly changing the subject. After Annabeth came to pick Sophia up, I made sandwiches for lunch because we were both feeling to lazy to make anything special.

“I‘m going to warm up some milk for April,” said Travis. I gave him a short nod to let him know I understood, then grabbed the television remote and began to flip through channels. I didn’t feel like watching ESPN or the news at the time. All I wanted to do was sleep. April was still up every night and I was running on short amounts of sleep. I glanced at the clock above the entrance to the kitchen. It was only 9:00, but I was extremely tired. Travis reentered the room, now equipped with a baby bottle in which he handed to me. I gently poked it near April’s mouth until she began to suck on it.

“I know its early, but I am exhausted,” I said. “I think I’m going to turn in.”

“That’s fine. I’ll will too.” I took April in my arms and crawled up the staircase. When I reached the top, I turned to the left and entered the nursery. It was painted dark blue, with the northern lights and stars painted on the ceiling and grass painted along the floor. The carpet was a pale green color and a little flower rag rug was placed right in front of her crib. Gently, I placed April down, crossing my fingers that she would stay as quiet and peaceful through the entire night. I found out at two in the morning that no, she would not. April’s cry pierced the air and I rolled over in bed.

“Not it,” I called to Travis.

“No fair, I did it last night!” Reluctantly, Travis clumsily climbed out of bed and staggered down the hall half asleep to April’s bedroom. After a few minutes, April’s cries had quieted down enough that I could hear what Travis was doing to coax her. He was singing. I concentrated, trying to make out the words.

“Hush my babe, no need for weeping, close your eyes, please do not cry. Must you cry when I am sleeping? Can’t you sleep through just one night?” I smiled at the lyrics, but didn’t say a word. Instead, I continued to listen.

“I know that you’re helpless, precious, and sweet, but must you cry when I’m trying to sleep? Soon my babe, you’ll grow and leave me, pack up, and leave the nest. Though the thought does often grieve me, at least then I’ll get some rest!”

As Travis finished his song and returned back to the room, I smirked.

“Nice song,” I said.

“Whatever.”

Both exhausted and lured by the peacefulness, we drifted back to sleep.