Lian crossed his arms, staring
at the woven basket resting upon his oak table and frowning
at the contents. “There was nothing accompanying this”—he
waved a hand—“delivery? At all?” I really don’t need to
be dealing with this right now. What is the purpose of this
being dropped in my lap?
“No, sir, Mr Yang. Two of the
vineyard workers found it out by the south end.”
He scowled further and bent
in closer. A baby. Who would leave a baby in a field? Had
whoever abandoned him seen the workers? The infant chose
that moment to open his eyes. His face scrunched up and he
emitted an ear-piercing wail, one someone his size shouldn’t
be able to make. Babies always surprised him with what they
could do, though, and what they could survive. Yes, they
were fragile—however they were also incredibly resilient. So
while he knew he shouldn’t be taken aback, there would never
fail to be a small part of him that found these little
beings to be so completely full of amazement.
“What’s his problem?” His
ears rang. “Is he hurt?”
“I believe he wants to be
held, Mr Yang.” The statement was delivered deadpan.
“Don’t suppose that’s
something you’d care to do, is it, Maxwell?”
Lian sent him a knowing grin.
He’d not truly expected the man to do so. Exhaling sharply,
he wiped his hands off on his pants prior to carefully
lifting the baby free. His fingers found out the truth in
seconds. He’s wet. “We need some cloths for a diaper,
Maxwell. As quick as possible.”
“Right away, sir.”
It had been years since he’d
been around a baby, longer since he’d cared for one. The
child kept up a steady stream of cries, his pale face
becoming a mottled red.
“Easy, little man. We’ll have
you fixed up in no time.” He reached into the basket and
frowned. Also wet.
“Here we go, sir.” Maxwell
came back with a tray of items.