Nina felt all this, but didn’t think it. She would have been embarrassed to discover competition in her love. She had been dazzled by her sisters, had felt puny beside them, an indecisive flickering yellow in between the elder’s fierce red and the younger’s warm green. As her mother and father and Brandon and Wendy gathered around the mute, watchful Luke, Nina, for the very first time, was at the center of her family. That was all she knew of her pleasure.
“Hello, beautiful,” her father, a man who usually didn’t bestow adjectives on his children, said to Nina.
Her mother took Luke. Joan didn’t even ask for her grandchild. She opened her arms and Luke seemed to float into them. Luke’s brilliant blue eyes beamed light, cracking the frozen surface of his grandmother’s thin face and rejuvenating her pale eyes. Joan closed her hands on the little body and brought her face close to the new skin, to the puffed and open red lips.
Luke screamed. He shut his eyes, opened his mouth, and complained from his soul with all his might. His disorganized arms reached out for rescue, his legs went stiff with resistance, and his mouth blared protest.
Nina took Luke from Joan quickly, too quickly, she realized when she glanced at her mother. Joan seemed disappointed and offended. “You frightened him,” Joan said.
“Other way around, I think,” Brandon said with a laugh.
“He had a bad night,” Eric mumbled. Nina noticed he looked mortified.
“Is he colicky?” Joan asked.
“No!” Nina said. Eric had begun to nod yes and got stuck in mid-motion by Nina’s vehement denial. Meanwhile, at the energy of Nina’s answer, Luke cried louder, his legs kicking, his beautiful features demolished by the elastic expansion of his toothless well of sorrow.
“Let’s get the bags,” her father said, and walked away. Eric hustled after him (like a bellboy, Nina couldn’t help thinking), Brandon grinned as if it were all a practical joke, Wendy stared at Luke, and her mother frowned at her.
“Maybe he’s hungry,” Joan said, with no love in the word “he.” The pronoun was said coolly; she might have used “it” for all the warmth in her tone. Luke had failed to please her, so Joan’s love had retracted behind her country-club leathery face, lost to view.
Nina cringed for a moment, ready to apologize or resist sullenly. The instincts were familiar, although Nina couldn’t place them. But she resisted the reactions they urged. “How was your trip?”
“After forty years, it’s pretty boring,” Joan said. She was again drawn to the beautiful form of her grandson. Luke sat stolidly in Nina’s arms, his great blue eyes evaluating Joan, the trees, Wendy, the men unloading the luggage, each scanned with a deliberate scrutiny that seemed masterful and dispassionate.
“Unnn,” Luke commented, and made a gesture with his hand at Joan.
“That’s Grandmother Joan,” Nina said.
“Hello, Luke,” Joan said cheerfully. He had gotten a reprieve. “Hello, baby.” She put her hand on his curled foot and squeezed gently. He watched her closely, his body still, like a cat studying prey.
Joan, encouraged nevertheless, moved closer. Again Luke seemed to gesture at her, his hand reaching out in a spasm. Joan opened her hands to him. He arched in her direction. Nina offered and Joan took him.
Eric came toward them, carrying two suitcases. Her father had only a small overnight bag. “Hey, hey,” Eric said to Joan. “He looks good on you, Grandma.”
“Grandma!” Brandon said to the trees, with a sarcastic tone.
Joan nodded self-consciously at Eric. Luke glanced at his father. Nina moved away from Joan and Luke to open the door. At this, Luke wailed, his arms out to Nina.
Joan stiffened, held him away from her, and said, “He wants you,” to Nina.
“He doesn’t like you, Joan,” Nina’s father, Tom, said casually as he passed on his way to the house. Brandon laughed, with energetic malice, and followed Tom.
“No, no,” Eric argued even though Tom and Brandon went on inside without listening. “He just doesn’t know her.”
Nina felt stuck at the door as she watched Luke’s distress become hysterical. Joan didn’t hug him, or rock him, or distract him. She held Luke in the air like a squealing pig, her mouth closed, her eyes startled and wary.
“Get him!” Eric said in a whisper, but with urgent emphasis.
“She’s here.” Joan finally spoke. She took a few steps toward Nina and held Luke out, his legs kicking, his face red. “He needs to be fed,” she repeated as Nina at last broke her paralysis and accepted Luke.
“No, he doesn’t,” Nina heard herself say in a wondering tone. “He doesn’t know you.”
“Well, I only saw him once before. Why would he know me?”
“That’s right,” Eric said. “He needs time.” He carried the bags in.
“Maybe he’s cold,” Wendy said.
“Hello, Wendy,” Joan said. “I haven’t greeted you.”
“I’m fine,” Wendy answered.
Joan nodded as if this were very gratifying news. “Good.” With that she went inside the house.
Luke’s screams had become muffled moans and whimpers. He nuzzled his face into Nina’s breasts. His tears had primed them. But it was an hour before his next feeding, and what’s more, Nina felt her pride was at stake. She had said to Joan that Luke wasn’t hungry.
“Are you going to feed him?” Wendy asked. She was the only one left outside.
Nina’s breasts dripped. Luke squirmed and moaned. He could probably smell their sour residue. Her left nipple throbbed. She gave in, opened her shirt, and lowered the flap that covered her left nipple. Luke latched on.
“Can I touch them?” Wendy asked.
“What?”
Wendy put out her hand and held it only an inch or two from Nina’s right breast. “Can I touch it?”
“They’re sore,” Nina answered, too thrown to know what else to say.
“I’ll be gentle,” Wendy said with a hint of irritation that Nina might think otherwise. Wendy lowered the flap and cupped the breast, holding the thick knob of Nina’s nipple tenderly between her index finger and thumb. “What does it taste like?”
“I don’t know!” Nina said, wanting to pull away, but frightened to. What if Wendy didn’t let go?
“Come on,” Wendy said. “You must have tasted it. Eric must suck on it sometimes. Does he like the taste?”
“He does not!”
Wendy, her face only a few inches from Nina, smiled knowingly, and shook her head no, almost with pity, as if Nina’s attempt at lying were too foolish even to merit a contradiction. Then Wendy lowered her head — Nina watched unbelievingly, sure that Wendy would stop, couldn’t mean to — and put her lips around the nipple, licking its tip with her tongue. Luke moved his feet out of Wendy’s way, but was otherwise unperturbed, staring up at Nina with his serious blue eyes and sucking lazily.
Nina, panic in her throat, grunted to stop herself from screaming, and put her free hand on Wendy’s blond hair, gathering a bunch of it. Nina yanked hard.