We Could Get By

xxxvi.

Sweeney had been sitting on the ground beside Lindy’s cradle, stiff as a board, for nearly thirty minutes. He did not seem to notice that Nellie was even awake. Sweeney had already managed to fend off Socks, who tiptoed warily across the floor only to bristle at the sight of Lindy. The cat was not quite sure what to make of the dimpled baby, and Nellie was certain, judging by the look on Lindy's little pink face, the feeling was quite mutual.

Nellie rubbed the sleep from her eyes and studied the sharp sloppiness of her husband’s early morning state of undress. Surely, he must have meant to do up the buttons of his shirt, but it hung off the broad slopes of his shoulders like a cape. His hair was nearly flat on one side from the way he had fallen asleep the night before. She was sure that, could she see his face, there would be a stray dot of lather on his cheek. She thought of his scars, raised and pink and permanent across the stretch of his back and the hollows of his chest.

He said something under his breath, barely audible, his head bent low so only Lindy could hear. Nellie crept towards the foot of the bed, leaning over it just enough to take in the scene before Sweeney noticed that he was being watched. In the white oblongs of light that fell across him through the drapes, he almost looked to be smiling.

It lasted only a few precious, fleeting moments before the baby began to fuss, and Sweeney’s arms shot out to pick her up. He held her as close as he dared; he still seemed a bit afraid of her- or perhaps he was afraid to hurt her, Nellie thought.

“No- no, stop that,” he muttered as if Lindy could comprehend and turned to leave the room. When he caught Nellie smiling fondly at him, he froze like someone caught in the midst of petty theft. “I didn't want her to wake you.”

Eventually, Lindy would have a room of her own, but Nellie could not bear the thought of letting a tiny, days-old baby all on her own every night. Sweeney was not fond of the idea, himself, though she would never hear him say it aloud.

“I've been awake a while,” Nellie said softly, holding her outstretched arms to Sweeney. He settled in the slight dip of the mattress next to her, and she wrapped her arms around his solid torso and buried her face in his shoulder. He smelled warm and homey and familiar, a fond memory or the last lingering notes of a favorite song. He leaned his weight against her. She could feel the press of his tired skeleton through his shirt, his thin white skin.

Lindy made a noise that sounded like the very beginning of a small cry, and Nellie was quick to accept the little rosy bundle when Sweeney held her out to his wife. He absolutely could not abide a crying baby, though he certainly tried his best. Nellie watched with amusement at the barely suppressed frown, the twitch of his nose and the ghost of a grimace.

“Oh, love, stop it!” She teased. “ ‘S jus’ a baby- everythin’s all new an’ big an’ scary for ‘er.” Lindy wrinkled up her tiny face, eyed turning to dissatisfied slits nearly engulfed by the rosiness of her chubby cheeks. “Ain't that right?”

“She's lovely,” Sweeney said quietly, the words hitting the air small and strangled. Nellie looked at him, the threat of tears stinging her eyes and softening his features. The earth halted just for the briefest of instants; she felt everything come to a stop. Never could she have prepared herself for the emotions that had welled up inside her like rainwater in a tin bucket. For all of her wistful imagining, her carefully constructed daydreams built up over the shambles of the life she'd had, the real thing was infinitely sweeter than any rose-colored snippets she might have tried to conjure up.

And what would she tell Lindy, Mrs. Lovett wondered, when the girl grew and wanted to know how her parents had met? Oh, Nellie had endless little memories to relay, stories and half-truths. Somehow, every moment had led her here to something far lovelier than any contrived imagination. And yet there was still some twinge, some ache that tugged persistently at her heart.