A Perfume Bridge
By Nora Lou Wilson & Rebecca S. Smithey
Note to the reader: This short piece is based on the very last page of Any Other Name, and not on the television series. If you have not yet read it, shame on you. Go and read! You will love it!
New Year's Day
8:20 p.m.
Walt Longmire sat in a Philadelphia hospital room, watching his daughter and new grand-daughter sleep. Actually, to call it a room wasn't quite true. After all of the powers of the Philadelphia Police Department, combined with the attributes of the attendant members of the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department, had persuaded the hospital officials that they were concerned about the safety of the family, the nurses moved the baby and mother into a well-furnished suite.
He did not want to think he was over-reacting, but the news that Tomas Bidarte was still alive and had put a contract out on him had made him cautious to a fault. When he told Vic and Henry about that bit of news, Vic had talked to her father and brothers, and…well, the result was that here they sat in this luxuriously appointed room. He wasn't sure, but he thought that Vic-the- father had also placed the suite under police protection, if the plainclothes guy outside the door was any hint.
He watched Cady breath. Her labor had been very difficult, and for a time, Walt had feared that he might lose both her and the baby, but they had rallied. (He still felt like passing out or puking, every time he thought about it.)
The baby slept in a heavy plastic isolette to the right of her mother, dressed in a pale pink sleeper, her head covered by a soft pink hat. I never knew babies came with hats these days, he thought to himself.
Michael had awakened a few minutes ago and gone downstairs with his parents to grab dinner; promising Walt they would return with a Philly-steak-and-cheese sandwich for Walt's very own. He had not eaten since…well, he really couldn't remember, and he was starving but unwilling to leave Cady and Lola.
As if she could somehow read his mind, the baby began to fidget in the isolette. He could hear her moving about and snuffling a little as she woke. Cady's eyes opened, but he shook his head. "Go back to sleep, Punk," he told her. "I got her."
"What if she needs a diaper change?"
"I think I still remember how." He would not admit to her that he had gotten Doc Bloomfield and Janine, Ruby's granddaughter, to give him private baby care lessons a few weeks back; just in anticipation of this very situation.
"What if she's hungry?"
"Then I'll…wake you…"
He walked over to the isolette and very carefully lifted the baby from where she lay. "Hey there, Little One. You're all of twelve hours old, huh? What do you think of the world so far?" Her sleeper and diaper were dry; she went quiet as soon as he picked her up and he suddenly found that he could not let go of her. She was absolutely the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, perfectly formed and looking up at him with complete trust. Okay, he knew she really couldn't focus in on him yet. Still, when she opened her wide, blue eyes, the sight took his breath away.
As he caught it again, he could smell the incredible scent of a new-born child. There is nothing like this in the world…how could I have forgotten it? Is it a hint of powder and lotion? But there was something he could not place – a scent of newness. Does soft have a smell? That's the best perfume in the world.
She looked so much like Cady…and Martha…Martha, look what Punk has gone and done…I wish you were here, Darlin'…
He could feel Cady watching him. "I wish Mom could see her," she whispered.
"I do, too, Punk. Who knows,,,,maybe she can."
Lola snuffled again, and he held her close, gently rocking her back and forth. He hated to think about how hard it was going to be, returning to Wyoming in a few days and leaving his family behind. For the moment, he was content to hold her, feel her soft breath on his neck and listen to her heartbeat.
"Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets," he sang softly, but she scrunched up her face and began to cry. Everybody's a critic, he thought. So much for Grandpa's singing…Undaunted, he tried again, this time with a song that had a long history in the Longmire family. Martha had sung it to Cady numerous times; he had even done it a couple of times himself.
"I'll walk in the rain by your side…I'll cling to the warmth of your tiny hand…" Suddenly, as he sang, he felt he was being watched, but a glance at Cady showed her eyes were closed. "I'll sing you the songs of the rainbow…" The baby snuggled in closer, and seemed to sigh with contentment. At that very moment, he knew he was being watched, but Cady's eyes were still closed. Before he could react, he was overwhelmed by a strong smell of Jo Malone perfume, Martha's favorite scent.
He looked up; this time he saw Cady watching him, her eyes full to brimming. "Do you smell that, Dad?" she whispered.
He took a deep breath and held Lola out at arm's length. "Martha, meet your new grand-daughter."