He put on a robe and slippers and went through the house to Mrs. Talley’s room. He listened at her closed door and could hear nothing. Quietly, Jamie pushed open the door. Mrs. Talley was sound asleep, huddled under the covers, snoring. Jamie walked over to the crib. The baby lay on its back, its eyes wide open. Jamie moved closer and looked down. There was a resemblance, by God! It definitely had Jamie’s mouth and chin. Its eyes were blue now, but all babies were born with blue eyes. Jamie could tell by looking at it that it was going to have gray eyes. It moved its little hands in the air and made a cooing sound and smiled up at Jamie. Now, that’s a brave lad, Jamie thought, lying there, not making any noise, not screaming like other babies would do. He peered closer. Yes, he’s a McGregor, all right.
Tentatively, Jamie reached down and held out a finger. The infant grabbed it with both hands and squeezed tightly. He’s as strong as a bull, Jamie thought. At that moment, a strained look came over the infant’s face, and Jamie could smell a sour odor.
“Mrs. Talley!”
She leaped up in bed, filled with alarm. “What—what is it?”
“The baby needs attention. Do I have to do everything around here?”
And Jamie McGregor stalked out of the room.
“David, do you know anything about babies?”
“In what respect, sir?” David Blackwell asked.
“Well, you know. What they like to play with, things like that.”
The young American said, “I think when they’re very young they enjoy rattles, Mr. McGregor.”
“Pick up a dozen,” Jamie ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
No unnecessary questions. Jamie liked that. David Blackwell was going to go far.
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That evening when Jamie arrived home with a small brown package, Mrs. Talley said, “I want to apologize for last night, Mr. McGregor. I don’t know how I could have slept through it. The baby must have been screaming something terrible for you to have heard it all the way in your room.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jamie said generously. “As long as one of us heard it.” He handed her the package. “Give this to it. Some rattles for him to play with. Can’t be much fun for him to be a prisoner in that crib all day.”
“Oh, he’s not a prisoner, sir. I take him out.”
“Where do you take him?”
“Just in the garden, where I can keep an eye on him.”
Jamie frowned. “He didn’t look well to me last night.”
“He didn’t?”
“No. His color’s not good. It wouldn’t do for him to get sick before his mother picks him up.”
“Oh, no, sir.”
“Perhaps I’d better have another look at him.”
“Yes, sir. Shall I bring him in here?”
“Do that, Mrs. Talley.”
“Right away, Mr. McGregor.”
She was back in a few minutes with little Jamie in her arms. The baby was clutching a blue rattle. “His color looks fine to me.”
“Well, I could have been wrong. Give him to me.”
Carefully, she held the baby out and Jamie took his son in his arms for the first time. The feeling that swept over him took him completely by surprise. It was as though he had been longing for this moment, living for this moment, without ever knowing it. This was his flesh and blood he was holding in his arms—his son, Jamie McGregor, Jr. What was the point of building an empire, a dynasty, of having diamonds and gold and railroads if you had no one to pass them on to? What a bloody fool I’ve been! Jamie thought. It had never occurred to him until now what was missing. He had been too blinded by his hatred. Looking down into the tiny face, a hardness somewhere deep in the core of him vanished.
“Move Jamie’s crib into my bedroom, Mrs. Talley.”
Three days later when Margaret appeared at the front door of Jamie’s house, Mrs. Talley said, “Mr. McGregor is away at his office, Miss van der Merwe, but he asked me to send for him when you came for the baby. He wishes to speak with you.”