this George Baxter, probably not his real name, well, Flora wasn’t going to judge his secrets. But she wasn’t going to simply hand him someone else’s baby, either.
Even if she wasn’t sure her ears would ever recover from the high-pitched screaming.
“Flora Montgomery. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Baxter. I do appreciate your offer, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t be proper.”
Another smile filled his face. “Could I make a suggestion, then?”
“It would be most welcome. I’m sure it couldn’t hurt at this point.” Flora sighed, looking at the wailing baby once more.
“You’re holding her wrong,” George said. “Cradle her gently next to you, like so.”
He bent down and picked up a large stick and demonstrated.
Flora shook her head. “I tried that, and the baby cried even worse.”
“Does she need to uh...” George shifted, looking more uncomfortable than he had at saying his name. “...belch?”
She wasn’t allowed to say that word in polite company. Let alone discuss those particular things with a man. But she did need to find a way to get the baby to quiet down.
“How am I supposed to know that? The baby doesn’t talk.”
If he sensed her irritation, he didn’t show it. His face held a look of kindness and gentleness. Patience. The kind of man Flora would like to get to know, were he not so far outside her social station. A pity, since the harder Flora had worked on improving her character, the less appealing those in her social station seemed to be.
Eyes twinkling, George held the stick to his shoulder. “Put the baby against your shoulder, like so, and gently pat her back.”
George reached forward and tapped her arm lightly. “Like this.”
What sort of man would be so...kind...as to go so far to help a woman in distress when it was a matter in which most men would never be involved?
Flora had seen mothers pat their babies like that. She imitated the action. The baby obliged by letting out a large belch. Then another.
And then she promptly emptied the contents of her stomach on one of Flora’s best dresses.
But at least she finally stopped crying.
With a smile, George untied the kerchief from around his neck and handed it to her. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you. You don’t know anything about babies, do you?”
“I’ve never held a baby in my life.” Flora brushed at the mess with the handkerchief with one hand, while trying to balance the now-happy, squirming baby with the other.
The handkerchief did little to mop up the mess. No wonder so many of the women of her acquaintance wore such unsightly aprons. At least their dresses could be salvaged. “Do they all expel such...”
George chuckled, and reached for the baby again. She shouldn’t let him, but she had no idea how she was supposed to not drop the baby and get the foul-smelling liquid off herself. How did other women manage? Surely it wouldn’t hurt to let this man help her for just a moment. If he didn’t look like a miner, she’d think him a gentleman for sure. Hadn’t he already demonstrated a level of civility that went beyond what most people would do?
Giving her a charming smile as she relinquished the baby, he said, “I believe they do. Though this little one seemed to be more enthusiastic in her efforts.”
Flora used her now-free hand to finish cleaning herself off, but it seemed like she was only making a bigger mess of things.
“There’s water in my canteen.” George pointed to an object resting against a tree. “Feel free to use it all. The creek’s not too far.”
So many rules of propriety were being breached in this situation. But as Flora used the water to cleanse the remaining mess, she found she honestly didn’t care. With only the water and handkerchief to clean up, she knew she was doing a fair job, at best.
Flora watched as George cuddled the baby, chattering at her and pointing to things. She would never have imagined that a man would be so good with a baby. She shook her head. One more reason she shouldn’t judge by appearances. The same way people would have assumed that as a woman, Flora would know what to do with one.
“Do you have children of your own?” Flora asked, handing him back the handkerchief.
“No.” George gave her a warm smile, and for the first time, she realized that the man was quite handsome, indeed. He had blue eyes that crinkled at the edges, and though his dark brown hair was unruly, she found the way it curled at his collar quite attractive. Even the stubble on his chin made him seem...well, masculine, adding to his charm.
“But I have a nephew, and I’ve always gotten on with children. Even now, when I attend church, no matter where I go, the children seem to congregate around me.”
He tickled the baby under her chin, making her giggle. “Babies aren’t so hard, really. They just need to know that they’re safe and loved. The reason you’re having so much trouble is that you’re nervous. Babies can sense that.”
Flora sighed, watching how comfortable he was with the baby in his arms. “I suppose. I just don’t think she likes me much. Most people don’t.”
The sound of chatter in the distance reminded Flora of her duty, and that the returning women would not appreciate the fact that she’d allowed a strange man to hold the baby.
“Thank you for your assistance,” Flora said, holding out her hands. “I should take her now.”
“You are most welcome, Flora Montgomery,” he said softly, his breath a whisper on her cheek as he placed the baby in her arms. “And if it’s any consolation, I like you just fine.”
Her face heated as she shifted the baby and stepped away. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been soon enough for the returning women.
“Flora Montgomery! How dare you canoodle with a strange man while watching my precious Ethel!” Mrs. Willoughby marched up to her and snatched the baby out of her arms.
“I didn’t—” Flora couldn’t finish her sentence as her gaze drifted to the other women standing around, staring at her like she was some fallen woman.
Was this how others had felt when Flora had lashed out at them for what Flora had considered improper behavior? Oh, how she wished she could go back and change the way she’d reacted to situations she’d known nothing about. Accuse first and make apologies never, that had been the way of things. How wrong she’d been.
“Ma’am, I can assure you, there was nothing improper between myself and Miss Montgomery. Little Ethel had a slight accident on Miss Montgomery’s shoulder, and I was helping her clean up the mess.” He held up his soiled handkerchief, as though proving his case.
“Ethel was ill?” Horror flashed across Mrs. Willoughby’s face as she examined the baby.
Flora was nearly concerned herself, except for George’s chuckle.
“I’m
