Upsetting the Balance

Sam hadn’t thought about that. He was going off and leaving Barbara on the spot for God only knew how long, but she was a woman-she was supposed to be able to take care of babies. What would he do if Jonathan started crying?

Jonathan started crying. One minute he was quiet except for snorts and grunts, the next he sounded like an air-raid siren in the little room. Gulping, Sam picked him up, careful to support his head as the doctor had shown him. One thing immediately became obvious: the kid was wet.

Next to the crib stood a pile of diapers; safety pins lay on top of the chest of drawers. Sam undid the diaper Jonathan had on, and discovered he was more than wet; he had a mess in there, too. Sam stared at it: was it supposed to be greenish black? He didn’t know, but figured he’d assume everything was normal there, too, till he heard otherwise.

Growing up on a farm had inured him to dealing with messes of most sorts. He wiped his son’s bottom, which made Jonathan fuss more, then folded a diaper into a triangle and got it onto the kid. He stuck himself with a pin only once, which he reckoned a victory of sorts. The doctors hadn’t circumcised the baby. He wasn’t circumcised himself, so that didn’t bother him.One less thing to have to worry about, he thought.

Jonathan kept fussing. “It’s okay, kid, it really is,” Sam said, rocking the baby in his arms. After a while, the cries subsided to whimpers. Jonathan drifted off to sleep. Ever so carefully, Sam put him back in the crib. He didn’t wake up. Sam felt as if he’d caught a fly ball that clinched a pennant.

Barbara came back a couple of minutes later. “Is hestill asleep?” she exclaimed, looking at the baby.

Sam pointed to the galvanized bucket where he’d tossed the dirty diaper. “I managed,” he said, which, with his ballpark thought of a little while before, made him wonder how Mutt Daniels was doing these days. The news coming out of embattled Chicago lately was better than it had been earlier in the year, but still not good.

“I wish you didn’t have to go back tomorrow,” Barbara said that evening as they got ready for bed.

“So do I.” Sam passed her the cigar the doctor had given him: they were sharing it for a treat. “But I can’t do anything about that I’m just lucky Dr. Goddard was a good enough guy to let me get down here at all.”

By the time he crawled out of bed the next morning, Sam wasn’t so sure he was sorry to go. He wondered if it might not be more like an escape. He’d expected Jonathan to wake several times in the night, and the baby did. Whenever he roused, Barbara nursed him. What he hadn’t expected-nor Barbara, either, by her increasingly haggard look-was that the baby could wake them without waking up him self. Every little snort or grunt or slurping noise Jonathan made would bring his parents alert, their eyes wide, wondering what they needed to do next. Often the answer wasnothing, but they couldn’t know that in advance.

As he put on his khakis, shirt, and jacket, Sam felt himself moving as if underwater. Barbara looked to be in worse shape than he was.

“Jesus,” he said, his voice a rusty croak, “I wish there was coffee.”

“Oh, so do I,” Barbara said fervently. She managed a wan smile. “One thing about the shortages, though: I don’t have to worry about your falling asleep at the reins of your horse and driving him into a tree or a ditch.”

“Something to that,” Sam said. “Not much, but something.” He hugged her, then smiled himself. “I don’t have to lean over your belly any more. That’s pretty good.”

“I’m still all-” Barbara gestured. “I hope I’ll have my figure back when I see you again.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t, because that would mean I won’t see you for a while, and I want you back here as soon as you can come. I love you, Sam, and besides, Jonathan needs to know who his daddy is.”

“Yeah.” The baby was asleep for the moment. Yeager kissed the tip of his own finger and brushed it against Jonathan’s cheek. “So long, kiddo.” He hugged Barbara again. “So long, hon. Love you, too.” Sighing, he lurched out the door and headed down the hall to the stairs.

From behind him, Straha called in peremptory tones: “I must tell you that your hatchling’s howls last night disturbed me and, I have no doubt, other males of the Race on this floor. How long can we expect this unseemly cacophony to continue?”

“Oh, about six months, more or less,” Sam answered cheerfully. “That’s one of your years, isn’t it? So long. I’m going back to Missouri, away from the noise.” He ducked down the stairway, leaving the shiplord staring after him.

Georg Schultz spun the U-2’s prop. The five-cylinder Shvetsov radial engine caught at once. Being air-cooled, it was less susceptible to cold weather than a lot of aircraft powerplants. When the weather got cold enough, oil didn’t want to flow, but it wasn’t quite that bad today. It had been, on and off, and Ludmila Gorbunova had no doubt it would be again before long.