Rachel shook her head with a smile, but continued. “He or she internalizes the energy, which is good. It’s like talking to them way before they’re talking themselves. It helps them with language and comprehension.”
“Did you do that with Kyle?” Marcie asked. There was a brief pause before she asked, as if she was considering whether to do so or not, but it turned out to be the right call. Rachel’s gaze filled with fond memory, only faintly laced with the sadness from the loss of her son when he was nineteen.
“Yes. You never know if these studies are right or not, but I can’t imagine any loving mother needs to be told to talk to her child. You talk to one another for nine months while he’s in the womb. It’s just a continuation of the conversation. Kyle’s first words were Baa and Moo. I liked to read him animal stories, and I’d make all the sounds.”
Dana slid an arm around Rachel’s waist, laying her head on her shoulder. Then, playfully, she rested one of the stuffed animals, a cow, on Rachel’s bosom, and squeezed the creature, making it moo.
Rachel chuckled and nudged at her friend. “Let’s go talk Savannah into buying Angelica some more baby clothes.”
“Absolutely,” Ben said. “She only has four hundred outfits now. Clothes she’ll outgrow before she can wear them all.”
As he fully expected, they ignored him, converging on Savannah, who was contemplating a new baby monitor. Ben wandered over to the gadget area, coming to a halt before a padded automated swing.
Angelica had one of those, but this one was the latest model, with fourteen different swing settings, including side to side and bouncing up and down. There was even a place to plug in an iPod for the baby’s favorite lullaby music. The chair could be adjusted like a recliner, putting the baby in more of a sleep position, though still elevated. And there were little adjustable cushions to keep her from getting a crick in her neck. He wasn’t sure if the flexible bones of a baby really needed that, but he supposed it was the same as providing gluten-free dog food. When it came to babies and pets, marketing targeted the adults.
But as cool as that was, his attention was caught by something less techy. He drifted over to the crib area to take a closer look. Over one of them, a star system mobile was gently rotating. It had a selection of twenty-four different lullabies, plus the iPod plug-in option, but what he liked was watching the slow, drifting, up-and-down rotation of the planets and stars. They all glowed with a soft, internal light that he knew would look like a starry sky when the nursery was dark. The center pendant, the weighted item that kept the motion steady, was a tiny knight on horseback with a lance. The knight that protected the baby as the stars continued to shine and the planets to rotate.
Yeah, he was getting that. He didn’t care that some marketing nerd genius had pretty much nailed him with that finishing touch.
Her scent and heat told him Marcie was at his elbow a moment before her soft breast pressed against his arm. She leaned against him to reach forward and up, letting her fingertips drift through the moving spheres. “I love it. She’ll love it, too.”
“I used to lie on the Italian vault in the St. Louis Cemetery and look up at the stars, when I was a kid,” Ben said absently. “Though I couldn’t see them moving, rotating like that, I felt it. It was a good feeling.”
She closed her hand on his biceps. He tried to talk more about his past with her, letting her in. The good stuff was easier. He needed to tell her about Golda. He’d do that tonight. Show her the rolling pin, measuring spoons and old cookie pans he’d kept from her kitchen. The key to good cookies is parchment paper, refrigerating the dough, and most importantly, good pans. You must have good pans, Ben.
“I’m getting hungry,” Savannah said, drawing close to them. “Why don’t we do lunch after we get out of here? Before we hit any other places.”
“Absolutely not,” Ben said. “No refueling so you can drag me to more stores. Isn’t it getting time for your midday naps? Aren’t you pining for your men, and want to go home?”
Savannah punched him in the stomach and then shook out her manicured hand, grimacing. “Ow.”
“Could have told you that wasn’t a good idea,” Marcie said as Ben captured Savannah’s wrist to give her knuckles a soothing kiss. “He’s like a brick wall. But he is ticklish.”
“No, no I’m not. I swear to God, I’m going to—” He backed away as Savannah came at him, both hands outstretched and her fingers wiggling in an ominous way. Her blue eyes were sparkling. He backed right into Cass, who, as a woman with many siblings, unerringly found the right spots beneath his ribs. Twisting away in a move worthy of Elvis, he snatched up a pair of wooden spoons in the baby food area and warded them off. They were nice, flat spoons, and he knew exactly how to use them. He went on the offensive and sent Savannah and Cass dancing back as he aimed for lovely curved flanks and thighs. When they were at an impasse, he pointed a spoon at Marcie. “You are in so much trouble,” he said.
Her eyes glowed.
They grabbed lunch at the Meals from the Heart café, one of Rachel’s favorite places to eat at the French Market. Ben liked their crab cake po’ boys, so he was good with the choice, relieved they hadn’t chosen a fussy place that only served girl food, like salads. Though he had to admit, the raspberry feta salad with salmon Savannah chose looked decently appealing.
Once they’d ordered their food, Marcie grabbed them an empty table, coaxing some unused chairs from other occupied tables to seat them all. As they ate and talked, they people-watched, always a lively pastime in the Jackson Square area. There was plenty of foot traffic, musicians and other buskers who routinely entertained and cajoled tourists into donations to their efforts.
“Hot Toddy next,” Dana said, pointing a French fry in Ben’s direction. She’d gotten the crab cakes but had ordered fries from another less health-conscious vendor. And the serving was large. Far larger than a tiny woman needed. He snagged a couple off her plate and grinned as Cass smacked his hand.
“That’s just mean,” Rachel said. “Stealing from a blind woman.”
“Though likely saving my ass from the extra pounds,” Dana said. “Here. Eat some of these, Rach. Jon likes all your soft places.”
“Peter doesn’t like yours?” Cass asked.
“Of course he does. But he’s a workout Nazi. I don’t want to give him any additional excuse to torture me.”
“At least not in the wrong ways,” Marcie put in.
“So says the pain freak,” Dana said dryly.
Marcie’s gaze slid to Ben’s and held for a lingering moment. Yeah, she was. Thank God.
He stretched an arm over the blind woman's shoulder, flicking her opposite ear. She planted a sharp elbow in his ribs in retaliation.
"Don't make me separate you two," Savannah warned.