Chapter 2 - THE BABY BEHIND THE GLASS
Vincent had never seen anything so small.
His daughter lay inside a transparent incubator beneath soft hospital lights.
Her skin was delicate.
Her fingers were impossibly tiny.
Thin medical tubing and monitoring equipment surrounded her.
A nurse stood beside him.
“She weighs two pounds, eleven ounces.”
Vincent stared.
Two pounds.
Eleven ounces.
He'd held pistols heavier than his daughter.
“Can I touch her?”
The nurse explained the precautions.
After washing his hands and following her instructions, he gently placed one finger near the baby's hand.
Her fingers moved.
Then curled around him.
Vincent stopped breathing.
For thirty-eight years, he'd believed strength meant being impossible to hurt.
Now a baby barely larger than his forearm had made him feel more vulnerable than he'd ever been.
“Does she have a name?” he asked.
The nurse checked the chart.
“Your wife requested Elena.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Elena.
His grandmother's name.
Claire had remembered.
Even after everything.
He looked down at the baby.
“Hello, Elena.”
His voice broke.
“I'm your father.”
The baby moved slightly.
Vincent swallowed.
“I should have been here.”
May you like
He looked through the glass.
“I should have been here for both of you.”
