Page 4 of The Archer and his Rosebud

“Fair enough, but I promise I’m not trying anything here. I’m not hitting on you, Willa. I’m just offering help. I live next door. The building managers know me, and I can grab my ID or give you numbers to verify I’m stable. You caught a glimpse of one of my boys the other day. I’m a dad, a business owner.” Look who can’t shut up now.

“Archer, it’s fine. There’s no need for a background check.” Willa runs the back of her hand under her nose. “Thank you for the offer, but I can’t.”

I should drop the suggestion, so of course, I don’t. “You can, though. Put on a bathing suit. Do you have a solid shower curtain? You could leave the bathroom door open, and I’ll sit with Clementine where you can check on us whenever you like.”

Sliding Clementine to her side, Willa studies me. Hesitation in her eyes. Which is understandable. I’m a strange man offering to watch her newborn while she showers. That’s crazy, and dangerous. But I have to do something for this woman.

“You said you haven’t showered because you’re afraid to leave her by herself for a minute. Let me help. If nothing else, take the time to wash your hair in the kitchen sink. I’ll stay at her side and make sure she’s safe. I’m CPR certified and everything.”

Willa huffs a laugh. “Am I considering this?” She tucks a tangled strand behind her ear. “Okay, I will throw on a swimsuit and jump in to wash up and shampoo my hair. I’ll put her in her bouncy chair in the doorway. She hasn’t cared for it much, but she’s calm right now. The vibrations might keep her content. All you have to do is watch her.”

“Whatever you need from me.”

While Willa changes, I return to her kitchen and put the food I brought in her refrigerator. Then I begin loading the dishes off the counter into the dishwasher. Crossing the line, but I’m compelled to help her. Unlike my two-bedroom floor plan, her bathroom is at the front of the apartment, across from the kitchen. I lean against the cabinets and wait while a robe-clad Willa settles Clementine into her baby bouncer and draws her into the center of the small space. After the water turns on, and the screech of a shower curtain reaches me, I sit in the doorway, my back against the wooden frame.

Latching onto the bottom of the seat, I rock the seat. Any attempt to keep her baby happy so she can shower in peace. Even when someone else is taking care of your kid, I remember that tension, that paternal need when my boys cried. There’s no relaxing when that sad sound is in the air.

Willa peeks out from behind a plastic floral curtain.

“Still here. Still alive,” I tease, and she rolls her eyes, slipping behind the curtain.

After a minute, her voice echoes through the bathroom. “You have a southern accent.”

“I do. I’m Texas born and raised.”

“Texas? What are you doing in Vermont?” Water splashes against the shower liner in streams, like she’s washing her hair.

Clementine’s eyes blink and droop as the bathroom fills with steam. “My ex remarried, and her husband’s job brought them here this spring. I go where my boys go, which means Vermont is my new home.”

“How old are your sons?”

“Eli, the one you saw last week is five. My eldest, Nolan, is eleven.”

The shower curtain snaps, revealing Willa’s sudsy, dripping hair and face. “Eleven? How old are you?”

Brushing a finger over my lips, I point to the sleeping angel at my side. “I’m thirty, and she’s asleep,” I say, wincing. I’ve been thirty for less than a month. I’m still getting used to it.

“She fell asleep without a sound? I’m shocked. She must like you.”

“Feel free to call me the baby whisperer,” I joke. “I have no idea how or why. I’m sitting on the floor doing nothing special.”

Willa disappears into the shower. “I sit, and she loses her mind.”

“Because you’re her sole provider. She knows she gets everything from you. Cry, and you’re at her beck and call. You’re literally her walking food dispenser.”

A quiet chuckle filters through the curtain as she mumbles. “Freaking milking cow. Thirty, huh? I guess that means you were around my age when you had your oldest.”

“I was.” I rub a hand down my face. “If you’re close to done, I’ll head out so you can change and have some peace while she sleeps.”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second. Thank you, Archer. While a tad unusual, it was thoughtful of you to do this for me.”

“Hey, I’m doing what Mr. Rogers said and being a good neighbor. Keep taking care of yourself, Willa.”

I spot the full trash bag on my way out, the unmistakable aroma of dirty diapers filtering through the air. I hoist it up, taking it with me.

A hum of satisfaction rumbles in my chest at having helped Willa in such a simple way. I can’t help thinking of Leah alone with Nolan when I was out of town working.You can’t change the past, Arch.Their similarities weren’t on my mind when I knocked on Apartment 3C, but I see them now. Maybe if Leah had had help when I wasn’t around, things would have been different.

ChapterThree

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