by Laura Brown
Or Izzy.
He moved to his bedroom. Not much extra space here, but a queen bed fit. Izzy could stay here and he’d take the couch. He thumbed an imaginary controller, needing the fidget action, wondering whether it was Izzy sleeping here or him taking the couch that settled like curdled milk. The only night he’d spent with her had been in her bed, a college-regulated dorm one at that. He still remembered the sensation of her in his arms, how good it felt, even after sex when things should have grown awkward.
But thoughts of her close and thoughts of that long-ago night made his skin itch. He hadn’t wanted to walk away that morning after, and now seeing her every day, seeing their kid, hadn’t done a damn thing to help.
But no, she wouldn’t be sharing his bed. Not with both of them working at the same agency. Co-parents, that was all they could be at the moment, perhaps all they’d ever be.
He’d wait for Izzy, and if the flicker in his gut felt more like anticipation than nerves, he’d deal with that later as well.
Chapter Eight
Izzy checked her GPS again as she pulled into the parking lot behind Nolan’s building. The screen changed, proudly proclaiming she’d arrived at her destination, as though the difficult part of the day had been the drive and not what came next. She angled her rearview visor to pick up the little green frog mirror in front of Archie. “Ready to spend the week with your father?”
She cringed at the words, at the implication. But Archie flailed his little feet and arms, and for a moment Izzy wished for the simplicity of youth coupled with the absolute joy of not knowing what was going on.
Then Archie started fussing and she gave up on her wish. Sure, he was a happy baby, but he couldn’t get what he wanted and adults controlled his every move.
Still, being an adult hadn’t turned into a fun-filled bag of toys.
The building in front of her was a standard apartment complex with a brick exterior. Not the type one gleaned an insight into the inhabitants, especially as no porches existed.
She took a fortifying breath. She’d never lived with a non-related man outside of Levi. The fact that he’d been her ASL instructor didn’t matter when he loved her sister. He was family, or would soon be once they set a date. So in this equation he didn’t count. Sure, he was good-looking, but he wasn’t Nolan, who made her insides turn squishy.
Izzy shook her head and got out of the car.
Once she had Archie in his stroller, with his bag stuffed underneath and her bag over her shoulder, she headed around the building for the front and stopped short at the four steps leading to the entrance. No ramp.
Izzy clamped her molars together and worked at calming her already rising frustration. Not exactly ADA compliant. Did Nolan even have the notification lights he needed?
She pulled out her phone, ready to text Nolan for some help, only she somehow didn’t have his number. Izzy glanced up at the cloudless sky. “Great, just great. If you were gonna send me a signal, you could have done that before I slept with him!”
Archie clapped as though he agreed, and mortification heated her cheeks. Stop it, Isabel, get a grip. She angled the stroller so she could see Archie. “Ready for a bumpy ride?”
He clapped some more, drool deepening the top of his blue onesie to a navy tone. His wide smile calmed her nerves. She suspected he’d clap right through a scolding lecture, or adult argument, but at least he remained happy.
She turned the stroller around and tried to pull it up a step, but her bag slapped her backside and with the stroller weighted down by his bag she’d be out of breath by the time she hit the top step. She grabbed both bags and deposited them at the top, then slid/lifted the stroller up to the top step.
More clapping. Her very own personal cheerleader. She moved in front of the stroller, giving her son a little bow. He squealed in delight. “For my next magic trick, I’ll tackle that door.” Please don’t be locked, please don’t be locked, please don’t be locked.
It was locked.
Dammit.
The name listings to the side held little buzzers and she thumbed down until she came to N. Holtzman and pressed. She didn’t know if there was a speaking system somewhere, but that wouldn’t matter for a deaf man. A slight breeze blew past, and Izzy welcomed the cooling action on this not quite fall weather day as the door buzzed.
She pulled it open, then propped it on her hip, assessing the situation like a complex math problem—if the stroller weighs ten pounds, and the baby weighs twenty, and Izzy had a doughnut for breakfast, how many weights did she need to lift last year to complete the task? She didn’t know the answer, but she did pull the stroller from where Archie held on, only to realize the door held another step and from her angle she couldn’t gain the leverage to get it over.
Definitely needed to lift more weights while pregnant. Why didn’t the baby books prepare her for lifting large and heavy objects?
The temptation to tuck tail and run away stirred, but that would only put her back at a place without a working kitchen and construction noises. Besides, Nolan had already buzzed her in, and Izzy completed her challenges. Some days they were solving engine problems by the side of the highway, or giving birth. Today she battled a door.
When Levi arrived back home, she was having him help her gain muscle mass. Stellar arms were in her future.
For now she tried to yank the stroller in, but the angle got only one wheel up. She paused, breathed deep, and checked on her kid. Archie flashed her a smile, not even a hint of worry that his mother didn’t have the arms for this task.
She moved to readjust, but that meant leaving the door. She swung it open and quickly angled the stroller, but the wheel hit a snag and it took her two seconds too long to fix it, and by then the door had clicked closed once again.
Izzy dropped her shoulders, ready to wave a white flag and claim defeat. Surely the universe was down for her creating Archie, just not connecting with Nolan.
She hit the buzzer—she wouldn’t give up that easily. Hand on the door, she waited for the signal, but it didn’t come. She checked back where she thought the speaker system lay. Maybe there was a camera and Nolan had taken one look at her incompetence and decided to ignore her.
Archie babbled and she squatted down in front of him. “What do you think, kid, should we cut our losses and deal with construction? Or give your father another try?”
He flashed his bottom teeth in a grin and waved his arms, clearly in support of one of those notions, though he wouldn’t tell her which. Or he was down for anything, knowing as a baby he didn’t really have much say in the situation.
Movement inside caught her attention, and she looked up in hope of some nice resident willing to lend her a helping hand. Then the figure came into view wearing well-worn jeans with a threadbare patch on his thigh, a RIT T-shirt stretched over his broad chest—clearly he’d been thinner when he’d purchased it—and no shoes. She needed a bib to catch her drool.
“Need help?” Nolan signed.
She blew a strand of hair away from her face. Great, he probably watched her fumbling and thought she’d drop the kid. Pride wanted to sign “no” and keep going herself, but motherhood had taught her that pride got her nowhere and she needed the assistance. “Too many steps, yes.”
Nolan nodded and opened the door, grabbing the stroller from the front, and pulling it inside as though Izzy had no reason to struggle. Archie squealed and, if she wasn’t mistaken, was happy to see Nolan.
She grabbed their bags, weighing down each shoulder, and followed Nolan into the sparse lobby area that held mailboxes and stairs. No elevator.
This wasn’t going to work. She turned to explain to Nolan, but he plucked a bag off her shoulder, grabbed the front and back of the stroller, and effortlessly carried a squealing Archie up the stairs.
The only other person to carry heavy baby stuff with ease was Levi.
<
br /> Nolan stopped at the first landing, thankfully, and rolled down the hall to the open door at unit fourteen. It occurred to her that regardless of whether he saw her fumbling like an idiot, he’d come down in a hurry to help them.
That warmed away her embarrassment, and she didn’t dare identify why. After all, wasn’t it the least he could do after she gave birth to his son?
He wheeled the stroller into the apartment, and for some reason Izzy glanced at the doorframe. Not something she did consciously or often, but in this case, it allowed her to catch the mezuzah—a small scroll of prayers—that Jews put on their doors to bless their homes.
Holtzman certainly sounded Jewish, but in this day and age she did her best not to assume. Still, she fingered the tiny scroll, even though for all she knew this had been put up by a previous resident.
“You’re Jewish?” she asked once he turned to face her after parking the stroller in the middle of his living room. At first glance she caught a simple, nearly vacant space filled with a couch, coffee table, and entertainment center and little else.
“Yes.”
“Same.” She touched the scroll again, why, she had no clue. Not like she knew any prayers or further traditions besides setting one up. She moved into the unit. At least odds were higher that he wouldn’t have a problem with her circumcising their son.
She glanced around the living space, the stroller dwarfing the room. Beige carpet, beige couch, light brown furniture. Not a lot of color or personality. The place screamed “college student turned bachelor pad” and she bet he had a futon somewhere. It wasn’t a home, rather a brief stopping point.
Then again, she doubted she’d have much different if life had followed a more traditional path.
“I should have left that in the car,” she signed, blanking on the sign for stroller, but knowing pointing would do the trick.
Nolan raised a shoulder. “It’s fine. And it gives us time to figure out what needs to be moved.” He sent her a sheepish grin. “I have no clue how to babyproof.”
Izzy studied the space. She did her best not to freak out about table ends and things like that, but Nolan clearly got his job due to being into technology. Lots of cords, lots of overloaded outlets, and a kid that liked to poke and mouth everything did not make the best combination. In fact, she assumed Archie’s current flailing in the stroller indicated his interest in getting electrocuted.
Her hands fumbled. She’d done most of the babyproofing with Gaby and hadn’t needed to figure out all the signs. “I don’t know the signs, but…” She walked over and picked up a cord. “He will eat, that’s bad,”—she pointed to the outlet and mimed sticking fingers in—“also bad.” She looked around, found something that looked breakable on a low shelf and mimed it falling.
They spent the next ten minutes moving things around and blocking cords and outlets. Her brief attempt at interior decorating came in handy, even if safety was the ultimate goal. It wasn’t ideal, but it should work, especially if they both kept Archie in sight.
Izzy unbuckled Archie and set him down. Instead of sitting or crawling, he stood, hand clutching hers. She gave him her other one and with her support he walked around, checking out this new place.
“He walks?” Nolan’s eyes widened.
Izzy bopped her head side to side and managed to remove one hand to sign. “With help, not on his own, not yet.” Archie reached for her, so she gave him back her hand and he picked up speed, walking around the living room, ignoring the open kitchen, and heading down the hall to the room at the end.
An office, complete with desk and—she nailed it—college futon. Archie moved over to the futon and let go of Izzy’s hands, finding something his height. He held on and bounced, more drool sliding down his chin.
Izzy wiped it away and turned to Nolan in the doorway. “You both can stay here or take my room. I can sleep on the couch if needed.”
“I have a travel crib, but it’s still in my car.” Izzy glanced around. She could easily set up Archie in here, though there wouldn’t be room for the futon to be pulled out. But she was used to sleeping near him, so maybe she’d curl up without a full bed. It was only for a week.
“I can get it for you.” Nolan held out his hand for the keys, and Izzy hesitated. Her instinct was to grab it herself, because that’s how she lived. Her sister’s help could not be beat, but Izzy did her best not to infringe, to do as much as she could. Her baby, her choice, her responsibility. She suspected her sister knew all this and pushed her way in to help, big sister rules and all. But Izzy leaned on them enough as it was.
Nolan was different. He held equal responsibility for Archie’s conception. She needed to let him help. She handed over her keys, resisted the urge to overexplain what he’d be looking for. And then Nolan was gone and she stood in a strange apartment, in a strange room, with the baby who connected her to a stranger.
She scooped up Archie and held him close. “What do you think, baby boy?”
He squealed and clutched her hair, making her wonder yet again if she needed to chop her long locks to keep it away from baby hands. She pushed that thought aside and held him tighter, knowing they’d make it through this week the way they always had, by sheer determination alone.
…
After Nolan’s third trip to Izzy’s car he decided it resembled a magician’s box. He’d thought the two large bags she originally had were enough, but then came the crib, and the portable table chair, and the freezer bag of pureed food. He thought he’d gotten the last bag, but there were a few others still in her trunk, and he had no clue what else to expect.
For a small kid he had a lot of stuff.
They sat at his table as Izzy fed Archie something pureed and green, and Archie accepted it like it was the best chocolate ice cream. Nolan had ordered a pizza for Izzy and him, not wanting to do anything on his stove with a curious kid who had already tried to find a path to the multiple wires Nolan had. Only, said pizza now cooled untouched on Izzy’s plate, as she focused on Archie’s meal.
“What time does he sleep?” he inquired, trying to plan the night and figure things out.
Izzy’s shoulders bounced in laughter. “Sleep, that’s a funny word. Archie goes to bed around nine, then is up one to two times a night to nurse, diaper change, or play.”
Nolan took a closer look at Izzy and the dark coloring under her eyes. When was the last time she got a good night’s sleep? He feared the answer was before Archie had been born. He wanted to help, but he still didn’t know the first thing about caring for a baby and hadn’t even begun to contemplate his future.
He. Had. A. Kid. In his kitchen, eating pureed green glop and smiling. And no matter what he did, he’d always have a kid, always have this extension of himself and responsibility.
Nolan shoved the last bite of his second slice into his mouth and held out his hand. “Let me take over. You need to eat.”
Izzy opened her mouth, ready to fight him he guessed, but nodded and handed over the green glop. Archie followed the transaction, tiny hands smacking the table, opening his mouth like a baby bird waiting to be fed.
Nolan stuck the spoon in the glop and pulled out a large mound. Archie’s mouth opened and closed, but Izzy banged on the table, the vibration pulling his attention. Nolan faced her, and she signed, “Less food, he’ll choke.”
Nolan reduced the mound by half, then moved it toward Archie. The kid leaned forward, gobbling it up before Nolan got close enough, green stuff sliding down his chin. Nolan copied what he’d seen Izzy do, scooping up the falling bits, and slipping it back into Archie’s mouth.
Like giving Archie a bottle, Nolan had an emotional reaction to feeding this kid. He didn’t expect it, or understand it, but couldn’t deny this odd sense of connection and satisfaction at keeping a part of him alive. He didn’t dare sign that out loud, because it would sound more like keeping a plant or a
fish alive, not a human baby.
“What is this?” Nolan asked, as Izzy reached for a second slice.
“Peas.”
Nolan took a sniff of the container and was met with a strong bang from Archie. He glanced at the kid, who had tears in his eyes. “I’m smelling, not eating.” Archie didn’t care, but once Nolan brought the spoon to the baby, he happily chomped it down.
Okay then.
Izzy waved for his attention. “I know, many suggest to go straight to table foods, and peas are small, but the one time I had something not pureed Archie choked, so I feel safer this way.”
Nolan nodded as if he were aware of any of this and not simply reacting to the color and consistency of the food. Then something occurred to him. “You made this?”
Izzy nodded. “It’s easy enough to puree, and cheaper.” Her hands flailed, like she wanted to say more but didn’t have the words for it.
“Thank you,” he signed before even thinking it through. He continued to be amazed by this woman and knew he would have messed it up. And feared he still would.
“For?” Izzy’s eyebrows shot up, an amused tilt to her lips. That small change in her facial expression hit him low in the gut. Her beauty always there, always reaching for him, drawing him to her. And he knew without a shadow of a doubt there wasn’t a chance in them not creating Archie unless they had never met.
“Taking care of him.” He reached over and ruffled the barely there strands on Archie’s head, then smoothed it down, needing the feel of this little being. Thoughts and emotions wanted to consume him, but he pushed those aside and went back to feeding the baby. They were here in part because of his job, a job that wouldn’t approve of this connection between them. He’d do good to remember this fact. He could help, as long as he steered clear of that line. They both needed their jobs, to support their child. It didn’t matter what sparks remained, the job prevented them from exploring further.
