The Bachelor's Bride

Chapter 11- Etta

Elliot was a cute little child, and he was pretty easy to watch over. He did seem to think it was odd that I couldn't talk, since he couldn't talk either. It worked out, in a strange sort of way. We used hand motions and pointing to communicate with each other. It was all going really well.

That's is, until lunch time came around.

I had heated up the stove top to cook some soup, and I turned my gaze away for a second. I immediately heard a loud shrieking cry spill out from Elliot. I ran over to find him to the floor, cradling a burnt hand. He must have reached up and touched the hot stove top while I wasn't looking. I scolded myself for not keeping an eye on him. I scooped him up into my arms, unsure of what to do with the panicking child.

I ran over to my neighbors, pounding on their door until an older woman answer, scowling, "What?! Why is that child wailing? It's hurting my ear drums!"

I showed her Elliot's hand.

"He burned himself? Well, don't you know how to treat burns?" The old woman asked. I shook my head. She sighed heavily, gathering Elliot into her arms. "Come inside. I probably have some cream in my cabinet."

I followed her into her small, but nearly identical to mine, kitchen. I cradled the whimpering little Elliot close until she returned with cream, water, and bandages. She first carefully cleaned the burn before rubbing on a thick cream and wrapping his small hand in thick bandages. She tied it up, "There. That should do it. Now what were you doing, letting the little boy climbed around near hot stoves?!"

I shrugged, tears in my eyes. I wanted to explain, but I didn't have my notebook with me. I had left it behind in the midst of panic. I made a writing motion, and the older woman nodded in understanding. She handed me a notepad and pencil that was sitting in her kitchen counter.

I wasn't paying attention. He's my friend's son, and I was watching him today.

"Well, a fine job you did of that." She scoffed.

Tears began to roll down my eyes at her scolding. I didn't want to cry, and I told myself to stop. I wasn't a cry baby. I was a grown woman. But I felt so guilty for letting him get hurt, and I was already an emotional mess.

"Now, now, enough of that. Here." She handed me a tissue. "My name is Mrs. Littleton, by the way."

I am Etta Muller.

"Well, Etta, why don't I go and help you make lunch before you accidentally burn the place down. You can keep an eye on the little one right here while I make something for the two of you." She offered.

Really? Are you sure?

I was surprised that this complete stranger would be willing to do such a big favor for me. She waved me off as if it were nothing, "I haven't been around a small one in a while, and it's refreshing to see him. I also would like to keep my apartment intact."

I smiled at her joke and led her and Elliot back to our apartment. The soup was boiling over the pot. Mrs. Littleton hurried over and turned down the heat, stirring the soup slowly back to a simmer.

"There we are." She murmured quietly. She tasted the soup and added some salt to it. "Perfect. Catch the little tyke so we can eat this delicious soup."

I caught the laughing Elliot in my arms who was now totally oblivious I his hurting hand. Mrs. Littleton Padres out soup for each of us.

Thank you so much for helping.

"Oh it's no problem at all," she smiled, starting to soften slightly towards me.

I could tell I was going to become good friends with Mrs. Littleton.

Copyright © 2017 by Rosanna Parker
All Rights Reserved

A/N
I know it's a short chapter, but I haven't had the chance to update anything in a while, so I wrote up something quick while I'm working on the next chapter.

I would totally mean the world to me if you could please vote and comment! You guys make me smile, reading all the funny little things you leave in the comment section below! :) Have a lovely day!!!
-Rosanna