Petra stood in front of my plane in her uniform, carrying a bundle of navy blankets. Both my pilots were complete professionals, but Petra made most professionals look like part-timers. Jacques stood next to her, also in uniform, but tired, as if he were the one who had been nursing a newborn.
“You flying?” I said to him after Lil let me out of the car and handed me my bag. “You look too tired to drive. Can Lil give you a lift?”
“He’ll take you up on that,” Petra said with a smile as she handed me the bundle she carried.
“Claude,” I said as I held him. He still had the squishy pink look of a newborn. He looked angelic in the mid-morning light. “Nice-looking kid, Jacques. Lucky thing your wife has strong genes.”
Petra pressed her lips together as if she was trying not to smile. “If he roots, come and get me.”
“Roots?” I asked.
Claude waved his hands around, not knowing what they were for or if they were even his. I gave him my finger, and he clutched it.
“Tries to latch on to your breast.”
“Ah. I’m sure I have a bad joke somewhere, but it flew out of my head.”
“That happens.” Jacques picked up my bag. “I’ll help you up. Lange’s gonna copilot. He’s running through the terminal as we speak.”
“I owe you for this.” Worse than owing him, having that baby in my arms made me feel like a petulant, spoiled ass who couldn’t wait a day to see his wife.
Jacques shrugged. “You’re usually pretty easy. And you know, it’s nice to see you getting around again.”
I would have questioned him on how obvious it was to everyone that I wasn’t myself, but it didn’t matter. The baby wiped it all away. I picked a piece of crud from his eye, and when I pulled my arm back, Petra put the diaper bag around my shoulder.
“He needs to be changed fifteen minutes after a feeding. I nursed him in the car, so you’d better get to it,” she said. “You know how to change a diaper?”
“I did it for my nephew once.”
“Great. If he cries, you swaddle him tight. I’ll show you how. He doesn’t use a pacifier, but you might let him suck on your finger for a minute when he’s wrapped. And you hold him and bounce him. Not much rocking, just bouncing. The noise of the plane will probably put him to sleep, but if not, he’ll scream. That’s on you, sir. I can’t come out of the cockpit for fussy. Only hungry.”
“Were you saying something? I was distracted.” I smiled at her to let her know I was kidding.
“We have half an hour or so of flight prep. If you play your cards right, he’ll sleep through it.”
Jacques started up the stairs and indicated I should follow.
This would be the longest flight of my life, and I was ready for it.