He looked down at his wedding ring and rubbed it quickly, his thumb catching on the engraved edge.
Money had purchased the extra space in row two, but it could not buy a single second of quiet, and the seat belt sign was still illuminated.
The passenger in seat 2B, a man in a crisp charcoal suit, turned around to stare.
“Is there a problem?” the man asked, his voice cutting through the noise.
Henry did not answer, keeping his eyes on Nora’s face, which had turned a dark, angry plum color.
He carried the crying baby into the narrow galley, where the overhead lights were dimmed to a soft blue.
The flight attendant was setting miniature bottles of gin into a metal drawer, her hands moving with practiced speed.
“Do you have any warm milk?” Henry asked, his voice clipping the words short.
She stopped her work and looked at Nora, her eyes narrowing with a soft, careful pity that made Henry’s chest tighten.
“We only have cartons of cold milk for coffee, sir,” she said. “I can run some hot water into a plastic basin to warm a bottle for you.”
“That will take ten minutes,” Henry said, checking the digital clock on the galley wall.
“I can try to speed it up,” she said, reaching for a plastic tray on the counter. “Is her mother on board to help?”
Henry gripped the diaper bag strap tight, the leather cutting into his shoulder.
“No,” Henry said.
He turned back toward the main cabin, Nora’s cries rising in pitch as they crossed into the darker aisle.
Back in his seat, Henry unzipped the side pocket of the leather bag and pulled out a silver baby rattle engraved with Clara’s initials.
He shook it near Nora’s ear, hoping the light metallic chime would distract her from her distress.
