Page 125 of His Surrender

The plastic crinkles softly as she searches through it. It’s such an ordinary sound. One I’ve heard a hundred times when she’s unpacking groceries or putting away diapers.

Today, it somehow feels unbearably loud.

She pulls out the tiny bottle of infant acetaminophen and turns it over in her hands, carefully reading every line of the label.

Not because she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but because she wants to be absolutely certain.

I admire that about her.

“What do we do now?” I ask quietly.

She doesn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she finishes reading the dosage chart before looking back at me.

“We’re going to bring her fever down.” Her voice is calm and steady like she’s talking about making dinner instead of caring for a sick baby. “Then we watch her.”

I blink. “That’s it?”

A small smile touches her lips. “For right now.”

I look down at the bottle in her hand.

It’s tiny, maybe three inches tall.

Somehow, that little bottle is supposed to make my daughter feel better. It doesn’t seem possible.

Aubrey notices the uncertainty on my face almost instantly. “Dean.”

I meet her eyes.

“Babies get sick.”

“I know.” The words leave my mouth automatically.

The truth is … I don’t know. Not really.

I’ve spent the last three months reading every parenting book I could get my hands on.

None of them explained what it would feel like when your daughter didn’t smile at the sound of your voice. Or how quickly your imagination could convince you something terrible was happening because she had skipped one nap.

Aubrey shifts closer until she’s kneeling right in front of me. “Can I have her for a minute?”

I hesitate. Not because I don’t trust Aubrey, but handing Liana over somehow feels like admitting I can’t fix this myself.

I carefully transfer her into Aubrey’s arms.

The movement wakes Liana just enough that she lets out a tired little cry.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Aubrey whispers, gently rocking her. “We’re going to help you feel better.” Her voice changes when she talks to Liana.

Liana settles almost immediately.

I watch Aubrey draw the medicine into the tiny syringe before gently brushing it against Liana’s lower lip.

“There you go.”

Liana makes an adorably offended face. Her tiny nose wrinkles while most of the medicine disappears. A little dribbles down her chin. Aubrey catches it with a burp cloth she somehow already draped over her shoulder.