Page 73 of The Archer and his Rosebud

“Willa, Willa, Willa.” He holds out his hand. “Let’s get you to that tree lot. It’s time you become an honorary Thomas Christmas tree expert.”

As I push a bundledup Clem in a stroller, Nolan and Eli running up and down the tree lot, hollering about every tall tree they find, there’s a sense of rightness with Archer’s hand in mine. I never had anything like this growing up. No father to take Devin and me Christmas tree shopping as he walked hand in hand with my mom. That’s not to say she didn’t do everything she could. We were never lacking, but maybe this is what I’ve been craving my whole life.

But do I crave this? Or do I crave this with Archer?

“Dad!” Nolan shouts from down the row, Eli jumping beside him. “This one! We found the perfect tree!”

I chuckle. “How do they have so much energy? I feel like I could pop after that dinner.” Yet, I have zero regrets. It was delicious.

“That’s what happens when you overindulge on bread and oil.” Archer’s thumb strokes the palm of our connected hands as he nods toward Eli running our way.

“C’mon, Clemmy. We found your first tree.” He bounces his way back to Nolan, waving us to hurry.

“You told them we’re staying at the house?”

“I asked them before I asked you.”

My feet slow. “But…”

“Yes,” he tugs me forward, “I planned on inviting you to stay with us before Ty showed up. His arrival solidified my decision.”

He didn’t ask us to stay because he’s protective. He asked because he wanted us with him. My affection for this man strengthens.

I peer down the aisle of trees at the two boys flushed with cold and excitement. Their faces have become precious to me in the last several months. “And they’re okay with it?”

“They are ecstatic. They love you two almost as much as I do.” Archer winks.

My heart skips a beat. I refuse to consider the meaning of the four-letter word spoken so effortlessly as Nolan calls to Archer, “What do you think? Is this the one?”

We reach them, and Archer loosens his hold on my hand and pulls the pine tree from the rack, standing it upright. “You boys might be right. Think you can hold it up for me, buddy, so I can get a better look at it?”

Nodding with confidence, Nolan steps in and takes hold of the trunk with both hands, turning his head from needles.

With a critical eye, Archer circles the tree to get a look from all angles. I stifle a laugh.

“You have something you’d like to say, giggles?”

“Nothing at all. You’re the connoisseur. So, what say you? Does it live up to your standards, St Nick?”

“Well.” Archer plucks a sprig and bends the needle, holding it to his nose. “It’s got some dense, fresh branches, no bald spots. It smells amazing, and look at the height on that beauty. It’ll fit right in the corner of our new living room. So, yes, Mrs. Grinch, I think it does.” He winks. “Good pick, Nol.”

* * *

ARCHER

While the boyshelp Willa unload Clem’s porta crib, swing, and a basket of toys from the Expedition, I untie the first Thomas Vermont Christmas tree and screw the stand securely into the trunk.

“Can I help?” Nolan stands at the top of the steep staircase leading to our new front door.

Nine exterior steps and another eight to the main level once inside? “Of course, you can help me, bud.”

Eli and Willa’s chatter lead our way into the house as Nolan steers the top of the tree. I take up the rear and all but maybe ten pounds of the weight.

“Oh, I love this sparkly sleigh ornament.” Plastic rattles from the living room. “Oh, and these… Your dad went overboard buying all these new ornaments.”

“I heard that,” I mumble, earning a mouth of pine needles, as I trudge up the final steps onto the landing.

Willa chuckles. “I wasn’t trying to keep secrets.”

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