| Hybrid 15 Epilog |
"Here's your new home Charles Frederic," Leslie cooed as she gently laid her newborn son in the bassinet, then stood to peer down at him with her arm around Luke. "He's so perfect," Luke smiled proudly as he reached into the crib to take his son's hand. "And quite a grip too. I'll bet that he's going to be a baseball player, just like his old man." "Let's get him walking before we start throwing balls at him, okay?" She smiled indulgently at him, but she had to admit that she wouldn't be adverse to telling everyone that her son was the new star pitcher for the Reds. "Say dada, Freddie," Luke asked the infant, receiving a gurgling smile in return. "Dada. Da--da," he repeated more slowly. Les laughed at him as she hugged him around the waist. "He's only two days old Luke. Give the kid a chance." He stood up to fold his arms around Les. "You never know, Les. We may have a genius on our hands. We might have to start teaching him calculus before he starts crawling." "God forbid!" she cried jokingly. "I had enough trouble with algebra, I'd never get through calculus." Luke chuckled at her, then gave her a light kiss. "I seem to recall that you didn't think that you were going to make it through labor either." "I wasn't the one that almost passed out half way through it," she teased him. He squeezed her tightly against him as he gave her a stern look. "You swore that you would never mention that to anyone." "Oh, please forgive me." She blinked up at him innocently. "I had no idea that included you as well." Freddie grunted loudly to draw their attention back to the crib, then gave them a playful smile. "I don't care what that nurse says," Luke said as he looked down at his son. "That is a smile, not gas." "Dada," Freddie returned, then smiled again. Luke turned to Les sharply with a surprised look on his face. "Don't go jumping to conclusions," she warned him. "Saying dada is the easiest thing for a baby to master. But still, he shouldn't be doing that for a several months yet." "I told you he was going to be a genius," he said with certainty, then reached down into the crib once more. "That's daddy's little man," he congratulated him with a gentle rub on his belly. "Now say Mama. Ma--ma." "You're incorrigible!" Les laughed at him and tugged at his hand. "Come on, Coach Jenkins. You promised to fix me the biggest steak I have ever seen to make up for that hospital food." "Don't you want to take Freddie...I mean Charlie...with us?" he asked, reluctantly allowing himself to be pulled away from the crib. "We really need to decide what we are going to call him." "We'll decide over dinner," she told him, grasping his arm more firmly when he tried to go back over to the crib when their son grunted again. "Let him get some sleep. The poor dear must be exhausted after being passed around so much at the hospital. I swear that those nurses never saw a baby before." "If I recall, the consensus was that he was the most beautiful baby that anyone had ever seen," Luke returned smugly. "And I'm the most hungry mother you've ever seen," she warned him. "Now feed me, Coach Jenkins, before I have to come back to feed your son." "Yes Mrs. Jenkins," he conceded, laughing at the school teacher sound of her married name as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They had almost reached the door to the nursery when a tiny voice called out to them from the crib. "Mama!" Luke and Les looked at each other swiftly, then their heads turned slowly toward the crib. The waited for a few seconds, wondering if Charles Frederic had actually uttered the word that they heard, then they looked back at each other once more. "Naw!" they said in unison, then went into the kitchen to prepare their meal. Charles Frederic, alone in his crib, laughed to himself. Just wait until I call them Luke and Les tomorrow, he thought. |
 |
 |
 |