Very soon, under Charlotte's guidance, Karl completed his first time bathing his son, though Charlotte still did most of the cleaning.
Using a large, soft dry towel, he wrapped up Klein, who looked like a drenched little beast, and carried him out of the tub. The little one had enjoyed his bath and playing in the water with his father, and now, thoroughly content, he curled up in his father's arms. His little head rested dependently against Karl's shoulder as he gave a tiny yawn.
Holding that warm, soft little body and feeling that utterly unreserved dependence, Karl was filled with an unprecedented sense of fulfillment and responsibility. The gloom seemed to have truly scattered quite a bit, replaced by a fierce determination to protect everything before him at all costs.
Yet the trial was not over. Charlotte carefully dried Klein's hair and body with another towel, then changed him into clean pajamas. But the little one did not seem satisfied. He began twisting restlessly in Charlotte's arms, rubbing his little face against her chest and making soft, whimpering noises.
"He's hungry." Understanding at once, Charlotte carried her son toward the bedroom.
Karl held the used bath towel and instinctively followed her to the bedroom door, then stopped. Inside, the firelight was just as warm, and the large bed was piled with thick down bedding. Holding Klein, Charlotte sat in the armchair beside the bed and began undoing the buttons of her blouse.
Karl felt that this was not a scene he should be watching yet, so he hurriedly looked away. "Then I'll go out first..."
"No need." Charlotte's voice came from behind him. "Sit down."
Karl's heart nearly leaped out of his chest. He wanted to remain by the mother and son's side too, to be there for this