Читать книгу The Twins - Sheldon Cohen - Страница 18

When Werner brought the baby home, Brigid was standing outside in the cold, her hands in prayer position, covering her nose and mouth. It started raining during the train trip home, and the air was brisk and cool. He handed the baby to his wife. She turned, walked into the house, sat down, peeled off the layers of blankets, took one look at the baby’s face, and tears rolled down her cheeks. She said nothing for almost five minutes.

He watched as his crying wife looked at, touched, and kissed the baby. “I can’t remember ever being so happy,” said Brigid, as she stared at her new son. “Look, he’s awake. He is looking right at me, don’t you think? I had to keep busy while you were gone, so I spent most of the time thinking of a name for our son. Remember, you left it to me?”

“Did you pick one?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Well. What do we call him?”

“Erich.”

“Erich. Okay. Erich Stegerwald. I like it. He took his son from his wife. He held him in front of his face. “Erich Stegerwald. You will be a famous man someday.”