A Moment of Sweetness (for Sarah)

     "Oh, aye, ye ‘ave a cry then," the rough voice murmured. Massive blue hands smoothed the light blue blankets on the tiny bundle cradled carefully in the muscular arms. "It’s a ‘ard life, ain’t it, wee one? Ye’ve been marvellous, so ye cry as well as ye like." Bertram Jumoke, in scrubs that made his blue skin look pale, smiled down at the baby boy he held. It was unusual, seeing the massive retired man-at-arms cuddling a day-old baby, but it was something Bertram did with natural grace. He paced around the nursery, murmuring nonsense to the infant, who waved a covered fist in the air. With a tender smile and slightly misty eyes, the troll lowered one finger for the baby to grip. The infant’s tiny fingers did not even come halfway around the tip of his forefinger, and Bertram sighed happily. There was nothing that made him happier than coming to the hospital to play with the babies.

     "Still here Bertram?" Kearna Tierney’s voice was high-pitched and sharp compared to the troll’s low growl, but men considered it throaty. The redhead stood just outside of the nursery, her panther Bagheera looking annoyed at the end of her leash. "I brought the baskets you wanted." She wrinkled her pert nose in feigned disgust. "But not muffins. Muffins are passe. I went for scones and brioche." Kearna purred softly, fluffing her flame-red hair. "Those have style."

     Bertram chuckled, rocking the baby slowly. "Aye, Kearna girl. I t’ank ye. It does tha new mothers some good ta ‘ave someone bring ’em somethin’ sweet ta munch." He smiled down at the baby. "And I still can’t fathom why ye don’t ‘ave one of yer own. T’ey’re a ‘andful, but a ‘andful of love."

     Kearna looked at the baby with a fraction of distaste. "I was an only child, and spoiled. As it is right now, I’m a free girl and still very spoiled. I prefer to keep it that way." She smiled suddenly, so charming that Bertram had to smile back. "At least I’m honest about my preferences. This way, I have all of my boyfriend’s attention, and Baggie doesn’t fuss at me so much." The feline leaned down to pet her thrumming panther, her emerald eyes twinkling up at the troll.

     "Aye, ye’re a spoiled one, ye are. But yer a sweet one, so I canna complain," he said with a smile, stroking the baby’s forehead delicately with a thick finger. "Bring along a basket, will ye love? And we’ll take tha new momma her bundle o’ cuteness. She shoulda be awake by now."

     Kearna wrinkled her nose again, but selected a basket from the cart a male nurse had obligingly pushed up for her. Tilting her head to read the name on the wicker basket, (for Brandenburg’s Mercy Hospital had long ago switched from the plastic bins other hospitals used.) "Maddox Clark? Ah, a name with some class, at least." Blowing a few strands of hair from her face, Kearna padded quietly after Bertram. "I abhor parents who use plebian names for children. It sets them behind in life before they’ve even begun."

     The troll rolled his eyes good-naturedly at Kearna’s lofty tone. "Like yer own did, no doubt."

     "Obviously," she replied, looking flirtaciously up through her lashes. "Doesn’t Kearna just indicate class and elegance? Which I have, of course." The cat primped as she followed Bertram. 

     Bertram laughed under his breath as he toed the door open, stepping quietly into the sunny room. The mother was reading in the hospital bed, (cleverly disguised as a four-poster), and when she looked up to see the troll in the doorway, she beamed. Her long black hair was drawn softly back in a bun, and when she began to push back the covers, she looked tired, but radiant.

     "Nay lass, tuck yer feet under tha quilts. I’ve brought yer wee one ‘ere to ye, and Miss Tierney ‘ere’s brought ye and yer young man some…scones?" Bertram turned questioningly to Kearna, who briskly walked into the room.

     "Yes, scones. With clotted cream for spread and a bit of cinnamon," she said, setting the basket amidst the massive flower arrangements. "It’s good for you and your baby will like the scent. You look lovely, by the way," Kearna mentioned as she shifted a couple of vases, rearranging the flowers to put color around the room. Bertram stepped forward, smiling kindly at the hovering sailor, his uniform without a wrinkle to show for the long night spent in the hospital.

     "’ere ye are, tha pair o’ ye. Yer first? Aye, t’is grand to ‘ave a wee lad for yer first. Love ‘im tender, because little boys grow inta young men awful quick." The troll laid the infant in his mother’s arms gently, and smiled at the euphoric couple. "Best o’ luck to ye." He winked at the mother. "And ye’ve got the look o’ the Irish, me lady, so I’ll say the sun’ll shine on yer back forever." Kearna, fussing with the flowers, made a sharp sound of protest as Bertram shoved her out of the room before him.

     "If you get a chance, come by the Maison de Chat for a celebration dinner! I left a certificate for you!" She called over her shoulder before Bertram firmly shut the door. She huffed as the troll smiled down at her. "What?"

     "I saw ye eyein’ the bairn," he said with a smirk.

     Kearna flipped her hair, her chin tilting upward. "They’re cute, but I’d rather have Bagheera to deal with. She’s much easier to clean up after.

" With a toss of her hair that left the scent of nutmeg and vanilla wafting through the air, she sauntered away, collecting her spoiled panther before sliding into the elevator. Bertram watched her go, noted the pause by the window into the nursery, and simply laughed.

  (A revamp for Maddox’s self-esteem’s sake. *grin*)