Chapter Nine- the Middle
Briseis rocked back and forth gently, the breeze from the incoming cool weather blowing across her back. Pat, as she nicknamed him, lay in her arms, eyes wide and searching. He was a very curious baby, always looking, touching, and sensing everything he could. She smiled down at her son, stroking his cheek lightly. He gave a gurgle-ish giggle, taking hold of his momma's finger tightly.
At nine months old, Pat had done nothing but make his parents' lives happier. His smiles, his gestures, even his crying was a welcome edition to their world. His favorite place to be was in their arms, curled tightly against their body, looking straight into their eyes.
Briseis gently tickled his feet his little kicks a response. She kissed his forehead sweetly and sat back, rocking a bit harder.
In her mind, she mentally retraced her path for the umpteenth time. She followed it from her home, to living in Troy, to the temple of Apollo, to Achilles' arms. Portions of her mind that chastised her for leaving Paris and the Trojan survivors now died off in a chorus under floodwaters. She knew now that she chose the right path. Every minute of everyday, Briseis could breathe. She was still bound to the rules of royal conduct, but found that in her home, they were less confining.
Briseis watched as Pat's eyes drifted shut, twisting slightly to lean his head more against her chest. A few more moments passed and he was sound asleep. Gracefully, she left her chair, taking him to the nursery. He had a cradle that was dark wood with the symbols of Phtia and the Gods to protect him as he slept. He wiggled a bit, and then settled into the soft of his blankets.
She became aware of Achilles' vision on her back. It felt like warm candle wax on her skin, coating her through and through, waking her senses. He stood watching her as she laid their first-born child into the cradle and now she waited for him. Almost on cue, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him.
Later in the night, Pat was upset and crying, the nurse unable to quell him in anyway. Briseis calmed him quickly, stroking his arms and tracing circles on the top of his tiny hand. She smiled and held him close, humming lightly to him as she paced the balcony. Achilles came out to find her sitting on the far railing, softly singing to him.
Pat lay in the middle of the bed now, surrounded by blankets and her arms. He lay next to them, watching his son's newborn eyes shift and turn about the room, returning always to his mother. His tiny fingers gripped tightly to her's, drawing another smile from her.
That night, the baby slept in their bed, neither moving for fear of hurting Pat. Instead, they lay facing the child. He was content within the confines of his parents' hold. In the middle of the bed and in the middle of their lives.