Ch 22 – A Day With Dad

"We'll be quite alright, my Mrs. Hughes." Carson soothed, rocking his son in his arms.

Bretton babbled, slobbering all over his hand as he watched his mum and dad kiss each other farewell. The little boy was confused, not used to hearing his mother say 'good bye.' He fussed loudly, kicking in his dad's arms, desperate to be with her instead.

"Good-bye my wee baby sweetheart." Elsie baby talked, kissing her son's forehead. "So, you're sure…"

"Quite sure." Carson smiled, reassuringly. "Go and have a good time Elsie."

Elsie had not had a day to herself since Bretton had been born and was hesitant about leaving him for a whole afternoon, especially when she was nursing.

"Well then." She kissed her husband's cheek. "I'll be off. I hope my boys have a wonderful day together! And remember, if you need me to come home …"

"No, no mummy, we'll be quite fine." He said pointedly.

"But…" She hesitated.

"No." Carson chuckled, kissing his wife's forehead. "Have a wonderful day my darling Mrs. Carson… Have some fun."

…..

"Now you're sure you'll be fine?" Mrs. Patmore stressed.

Daisy hesitated, unsure she could assure her superior turned mother figure.

"It'll be quite fine Mrs. Patmore." Anna almost giggled, patting Daisy on the arm as she passed.

But Beryl wasn't sure. In all these years, she'd never left Daisy totally alone to supervise dinner before. The mother-daughter-esc team was nervous about how this would go, but Beryl (who NEVER got out) was excited for the afternoon she and Elsie had planned.

"I won't disappoint you Mrs. Patmore." Daisy promised.

Beryl paused, side-eying her sternly as she bit her lip. She smiled suddenly. "I know you will, I've every confidence in you Daisy." Daisy blushed.

….

Brett giggled wildly, shrieking as his dad tossed him in the air. It was just a little ways up; but Brett felt as if it were high, high in the sky. The tiny boy squealed and laughed, blushing as he tried to shove both of his bitty fists in his toothless mouth. Carson smiled, blowing a raspberry on the baby's bare tummy.

"We're going to have fun today aren't we m'lad?" Carson asked.

The baby cooed as if trying to speak, looking down at his dad with curiosity in his little eyes. The little boy couldn't recall ever being left alone with his dad for so long, and while somewhat worried about the whereabouts of his mummy, he found the idea of time alone with daddy exciting and wondered what they would do together.

"I've an idea. Since daddy's got the day off to spend with you; why don't we take a walk into the village and get some surprises for mummy?" Brett started to fuss as Carson readjusted him in his arms, kissing the side of his tiny head. "That way, I can show the village my boy."

Carson was immensely proud of his having produced a son. He supposed it was a bit hypocritical of him, being so deeply in love with his wife and proud of his son, when months earlier he'd rejected them both... But once he'd seen the light, Carson couldn't help but embrace everything about it. He was, without a doubt, the mushiest of husbands and the proudest of daddies.

….

Brett looked around wide eyed from his place cuddled into the crook of his father's mammoth arm. Now several months old, he was more in tune with the world than ever before and had a whole host of questions he could not come close to articulating, even in his bitty mind.

Carson cuddled his son in a thick tartan blanket, holding him close as he walked into the village. The baby, who's vision was also clearer than ever before, combed over everything that came into his view with sharp eyes, raising his little barely there eyebrows in ways that looked just like his dad… But Carson didn't notice.

"This is the village m'lad." Carson paused to waive at a passing man who waived in his direction. "You see there's the Bakewell's, and the haberdashery, and a new place just for ice cream … I think we shall try that in the spring, you and I… Oh and the village school. You shall go there one day." He promised.

Bretton paused, sort of understanding his dad's words, and surveyed the big kids carefully as they came out of the school, laughing and joking as they walked in large groups. Brett, a little intimidated by this, inched closer to his dad. He knew little of older kids, save George and Sybbie who liked to come downstairs and study him, promising friendship that could not yet be reciprocated. To him, they seemed less like him, and more like smaller grown-ups.

Brett clutched his dad's jacket, feeling uneasy. Carson pat his little boy's back as he watched the older children, feeling emotional about the idea of his miracle son growing up. It was already happening too quickly … Carson was anxious that Brett's might be a good boyhood… And that he should be there to see it.

Carson sighed, looking down with alarm when Brett suddenly coughed.

….

An Hour and a Half Later

"Shuuu, shuuu it's alright. I know we cry a lot when we're sick m'lad." Carson soothed, rubbing circles on the baby's back as he fussed.

Brett rubbed his eyes, unable to get comfortable in his father's arms. The baby boy had defied Dr. Clarkson's expectations of him: first that he be miscarried or born too early, and that if not: he'd be a very sick little boy. All predictions made because of his mother's age …

But actually, Brett was an exceptionally healthy baby, which was why this first illness had all his senses on high alert. Except for a little tummy trouble, Brett had never felt off a day in his life. He didn't know what to make of these strange new feelings, and found that his sniffly nose, sore throat and cough terrified him tremendously.

He cried, coughing on his bitty, balled up fists, wondering why daddy, in his infinite strength couldn't make the feelings stop. Carson rocked his son, his heart heavy over the fact that their first day alone together had been ruined… And that he couldn't fix it.

"Shuuu m'lad."

Carson was overwhelmed, having never thought he'd ever be in this position: slaving over a hot stove, a sick, crying baby in his arms … He kept singeing himself on the pots and pans, letting go of things too prematurely, all to ensure he had a firm hold of the baby as bits of the shake crept in…

Carson found himself terrified, his heart starting to race at the thought that his worst nightmare was about to come true. What if he dropped the baby? Or worse, dropped the baby and set the house on fire? Carson stepped back from the stove, trying his best to calm himself. They'd certainly be no better off if he gave himself a heart attack that was for sure.

"How about I heat a bottle, my baby love?" He asked the still crying baby.

Carson was unsure how this worked exactly and didn't like to think on it. Elsie had prepared for her day trip for several days, leaving milk behind for Brett in the ice box, milk that was to be reheated. Carson had a good idea of how to do it, only that he was too shaky to do it.

Brett cried louder, feeling miserable as his father put him down, laying him on a blanket by the fireplace. Brett was confused, mummy would never ever lie him on the cold, hard floor, blanket or no. He continued crying, feeling alone and abandoned in his time of need.

Carson went to work, preparing the bottle, his son's continuing tears causing him to be more jumpy than he was and continue burning himself on repeat, the shake unwilling to stop. The formidable butler was near tears, and felt more than defeated by the circumstances, but he would catch himself on fire before he let his baby go hungry.

"My, my Brett. Brett my boy it'll be alright." He soothed, shakily testing the contents of the bottle on his arm.

He hissed, the bottle itself hot to the touch, the contents inside feeling just right for the baby. It'd been many weeks since anyone had made a bottle, as Elsie remained very close at hand. And unbeknownst to Carson, his son could not remember ever having one.

"Shuuuu." Carson soothed, Brett almost in hysterics when he was finally picked up again.

Carson settled into the comfy rocker by the fire, taking the time to let the shake start to ease a bit, getting used to holding his son in the crook of his arm. He was nervous, having only fed Brett once or twice before… With Elsie's help. He was terrified he'd drop the bottle on the baby, or let him choke…

Brett was confused now, understanding this was how he was fed… But not who he was fed by. He wanted his mummy, she was his greatest comfort, she had the milk and moreover: he found himself worried about her although he didn't yet really understand the concept of worry. Where was she… when he was not there to make sure she was alright.

But Carson was determined and eased the nipple of the bottle into his panicked baby's mouth. Brett calmed instantly, comforted once a single drop of his mother's milk hit his tongue and slid down his aching throat. He stopped crying, almost at the drop of a hat and started to drink.

"There's my lad we'll be all right, won't we?" Carson whispered, tears in his eyes. He had so little faith in himself and somehow, he'd done it.

Brett opened his eyes wide, shocked by the idea that somehow, his father could feed him too, he'd thought it just a mummy thing.

"I'm sorry you feel so awful, but we'll find a way." Carson promised, not noticing his son's tiny hand grab his shirt and squeeze. "And I'm sorry you didn't like the floor … But soon it'll be a place to play. When you feel better, daddy will help you learn to crawl m'lad… And after that." He chuckled, "cricket!"

Carson smiled with his whole heart, noting his sick baby had calmed significantly, and seemed to hang on every word he said as if listening.

"I can't believe I've my own little lad, of whom to teach cricket!" He marveled.

The idea took Carson's breath away for just an instant, causing him to wonder once again: 'How could I have a son?!' "

"Look at those arms… You'll be a fine cricketer at that…!"

Carson gulped, a wave of doubt hitting him. How could he teach him cricket when even a bottle had been so hard? The formidable man took a deep breath, deciding just to find joy in whatever he could: Brett did.

The baby looked up at his dad, drinking fast… A bubble of snot coming out of his bitty nose. Carson smiled.

"We'll get better." He said, taking a bit of the baby's blanket and drying his nose. "It'll work out, a day at a time."

….

Brett cooed, clinging to his dad's shirt as he watched the pans simmer on the stove before him. The little one's ears ached but his pacifier eased the pain. He suckled quickly, his little nose oozing, but found himself infinitely comforted by his father's loving embrace, enough to be interested in the cooking.

"Somehow my lovely son." Carson smiled. "We can tell mummy we had a good day. Even though you've gotten your first cold."

"He's got his first what!" Elsie exclaimed, ripping off her coat and rushing in.

Carson chuckled, pulling Elsie into his free arm and kissing her.

"How was the theatre?" He asked, as if their son's illness was not of great concern.

"But Charlie…" She protested, swooping in to examine her sniffily baby.

"We've not been feeling our best mummy, but we've still made a good time of it." Carson offered. "We've seen the town…"

"What!"

"We've made this fine dinner."

"But Charlie, I was supposed to…"

"We've played, and played together." He chuckled warmly. "And we've nursed this cold business."

Elsie paused with concern, eyeing her husband carefully as she took the baby in her arms, kissing his forehead. The little one fussed, still feeling quite ill. He wanted his mum … but also, wanted to stay with his dad.

Elsie kissed the baby's head. "Oh my poor wee baby is so warm." She considered, kissing him again, rocking him gently before looking back up at Carson. "Did daddy make you feel safe m'love?"

"I'd say he did." Carson mused warmly.

"Daddy did a wonderful job." Elsie smiled, satisfied and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. "And to think." She considered, looking down at her son as she turned to walk away. "He thought he couldn't do it." She giggled.

Carson beamed with pride, watching as Elsie, now humming happily, took the baby upstairs.

"Ow!" He jumped, looking down when he realized that, because of the shake, he'd burned himself again.