Lee McClain - His Secret Child

“We can have them at the house?” Mercedes jumped out of Carlo’s lap and threw her arms around Fern. “I always wanted a puppy! What’s his name, Mama Fern?”

“I don’t think he has one yet.” Fern stroked Mercedes’s hair and there was such happiness and tenderness in her face that Carlo had to look away. “We’ll think of something to call him, at least for now.”

“His name is Spots,” Mercedes announced. “’Cause he has spots!”

“Makes sense to me.” Carlo got to his feet, bringing the pup with him. “If you carry the little one and I carry the mama...”

“Can you? She’s huge.”

He gave her a look and then opened the cage. “I can, unless she wants to walk. I don’t know how her health is.”

“And you hafta carry me,” Mercedes reminded him.

“That’s right.” He patted her messy hair as warmth spread through his chest.

So they made their way back to the house in stages. Carlo carried the big dog while Mercedes and Fern worked in the kennel and watched the puppy. Then he went back to carry Mercedes while Fern brought the puppy and a bag of supplies.

By the time they got settled in the house again, he was sweating and dizzy, but he kept it together and brought in a bunch of wood and built a fire. Made sure the mama and puppy were settled, along with Fern and Mercedes. And then he collapsed onto the sofa.

He must have dozed off or even passed out, because Fern touched him and he jerked and then relaxed. Something in her touch was soothing.

“You made yourself sick again, didn’t you?” she scolded. “I heated up more soup. Sit up and eat it.”

Carlo couldn’t let her do this. Couldn’t let himself accept the caretaking, especially when he knew that his only shot at Mercedes was being superman here. If he couldn’t be superman, if he had to be weak, then he needed to hide it away. Along with his strange desire to reach up and touch Fern’s cheek. “I’ll just sleep it off in the den,” he growled, and slunk away from the vulnerability and the weakness and the worry.

* * *

Fern watched him go, and the sense of rejection was enormous. Just like her to mess things up with Carlo. Of course he didn’t want to spend time around her. She’d come on too strong with the nurturing, but what was she supposed to do? She was more used to being around kids and animals than adults. Kids and animals loved being taken care of.

A big manly man like Carlo was different, she supposed, and it was just her own awkwardness that had made her think she could take care of him, or that he’d want her to.

“Mama? What are we gonna do now?”

The plaintive voice pulled Fern out of her funk. It didn’t matter what some strange man thought of her. She squatted down beside Mercedes, who was sitting cross-legged petting the little puppy. “You’re doing just the right thing. I’m proud of you for being so gentle. You just keep doing that while I text the caretakers and find out what to do next.”

Although Fern could see now that Brownie’s ribs showed, her demeanor was much happier. She wasn’t whining anymore, just licking her puppy as if to make up for the time apart.

Minutes later Fern’s phone buzzed and she read the instructions, still sitting with her arm around Mercedes. “Okay, they say we’re supposed to get the mama dog something to eat. Even if she’s nursing, we should put some soft food nearby so she can eat whenever she needs to and get her milk back up.”

“What’s the puppy doing?”

Fern watched as the puppy nuzzled at the mama dog’s teats and took a deep breath. Okay, time for a new mothering challenge. “Mama dogs feed their pups from their bodies. The dog has a nipple like a baby bottle, and milk comes out of it.”

“That’s silly! That’s not where milk comes from.”

“Nope, but our milk comes from cows.”

Mercedes’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t drink from a cow!”

Fern chuckled. “No, but the cow gets milked by the farmer, and then the milk gets sent to the grocery store, and then we buy it and drink it.” She hesitated. “When you were a baby, you drank from your mama just like that little puppy.” She didn’t want to upset Mercedes, but the social worker had told her it was good to refer to her biological mother naturally, in conversation. That way, Mercedes would know that her mother and her experiences with her mother weren’t a taboo subject.

“I drank from my mommy?” Mercedes asked wonderingly.

“Yes, your mommy told me she breast-fed you for a whole year. She loved you so much.”

“Yeah.” Mercedes looked thoughtful for a minute. “Hey, the puppy is biting the mommy!”

Fern was watching, too. The puppy was obviously getting some sustenance, but even to her inexperienced eye, it looked like a struggle. “Tell you what, let’s get Brownie that food. Maybe she needs more to eat before she can feed her pup.” She sincerely hoped Brownie could feed the pup entirely, both because it was better for the little guy, and because she didn’t know exactly how they’d manage the frequent feedings a little puppy would need.

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