A Nanny In The Family

Dark eyebrows raised disparagingly, he said, “That strikes you as relevant, does it?”

“Yes—um, no!” She stopped and blew out a small breath. “What I mean is, I expect you’d like to speak to my previous employers, but I recently moved to the west coast, so I’m afraid I can’t offer you any local names. But I do have good references.”

She reached into the straw bag on her lap, withdrew the manila envelope containing her credentials, and offered it to him.

He set it aside and folded his hands on the desk. His fingernails, she noted, were short and scrupulously clean. “At this point,” he said, subjecting her to another all-encompassing stare, “I’m more interested in hearing why you think you’re the best person to fill the position of nanny to my ward.”

She expelled another long breath, hoping that the next time she opened her mouth, she’d make a better impression. Once again, though, she said exactly the wrong thing. “Well, I’d better explain right off that I’ve never been a nanny before.”

His gaze narrowed as if he’d just sighted an enemy vessel heaving over the horizon. “Now that strikes me as decidedly relevant. Would you care to explain why you’re bothering to waste both my time and yours?”

“Because,” she said, plunging in and praying she’d remember the lines she’d rehearsed all through last night, “I am very experienced in dealing with children, particularly those under stress. And I’m aware that your... ward—” The cold Victorian description stuck in her throat, nearly choking her. This was Tommy they were talking about. Her nephew. A warm, living child desperately in need of the love and comfort she was so willing to give to him.

“Go on, Miss Bennett.”

Could he see the way she was twisting her hands together in her lap? Did he guess that her skin was clammy with cold, even though the temperature outside hovered near eighty? “I’m aware,” she said, closing her mind to everything but the need to convince him that she was exactly the person he was looking for, “that your family has recently faced a terrible tragedy as a result of which your ward lost both his parents. Allow me to offer you my deepest sympathy.”

He inclined his head in a gesture of acknowledgment, a cool, almost detached response, one might have thought, had not the sudden twitch of muscle in his jaw betrayed emotions being kept rigidly in check.

“I have taken an extended leave of absence from my previous job and come to Oregon to be near my relatives,” she went on, veering as close to the truth as she dared. “However, I do need to support myself, and I thought, when I heard you were looking for a full-time nanny, that it was a position I could very well fill.”

She leaned forward, her confidence spurred by the recitation of facts which were not cloaked in lies. “I’m a pediatric nurse, Commander Warner. For the past three years I’ve worked exclusively in the intensive care unit of my hospital. ICU nurses receive a great deal of exposure to death. They learn to deal with it compassionately. If they don’t, they don’t last long. I can help your ward through this difficult time and I’m available to start looking after him immediately.”

For the first time, the Commander looked marginally impressed. “How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-nine.”

He flexed his fingers and rapped a soft tattoo on the desk surface. “Tommy’s mother just turned twenty-eight,” he said, staring bleakly out of the window beside him.

I know, Nicole could have told him. She was eighteen months younger than I. Her birthday was in February. Instead, she said, “I think having him cared for by someone close to his mother’s age might help.”

“I agree.” He pulled the manila envelope closer and set it on the blotter in front of him. “You realize this is a live-in position? That you won’t have much spare time to spend with your relatives? I’d need you here at least five days a week.”

Relief almost made her careless. It was all she could do not to tell him that she’d prefer to work around the clock, seven days a week. “Of course.”

“Your sleep might be disturbed at times. Tom has cried every night for his mother.”

Oh, darling! she thought, her arms aching to hold the child almost as badly as her heart broke for him. She swallowed and said briskly, “I’m a nurse. Shift work is second nature to me.”

He whistled tunelessly under his breath a moment, then slewed another glance her way. “The response to my ad has been disappointing. The woman I saw this morning wasn’t much more than a child herself and totally unsuitable. The one who was here before you has spent the last eleven years with the same family and would have been ideal for the job, but she isn’t free to start working for me until the end of the month.”

Nicole held her breath, sensing victory within her grasp. As if to clinch the matter, from somewhere within the house a child’s cry broke the silence.

“I don’t think I can wait that long,” the Commander decided, and touched the tip of the envelope with his forefinger. “These references...I suppose I should read them. Or are they just the usual claptrap?”

“That’s something only you can decide.”

“Right.” He shrugged. “Would you like some coffee or a cold drink, Miss Bennett?”

“A glass of water would be nice.”

His slow smile creased his cheeks with unexpected dimples. “I think we can do better than that,” he said, indicating the open French doors on the other side of the room. “I’ll have Janet bring something to you on the patio.”

The view outside stole Nicole’s breath away. Perched on a bluff, the house flowed down to the beach in a series of terraces connected by brick-paved paths. A curved flight of steps similar to those at the front door gave way to a swimming pool set in a natural rock depression. To either side, flower beds edged an expanse of closely trimmed lawn. Below, the great spread of the ocean reflected the cloudless blue sky.

From a walkway covered by a vine-draped pergola, Janet appeared, a loaded tray in her hands. “Lovely sight, isn’t it?” she remarked, setting the tray on an umbrella-shaded table and coming to stand beside Nicole. “A body can just feel the peace soaking into her bones.”

Nicole couldn’t. Her entire body was suffused with pain. God might seem to be in His heaven but, appearances to the contrary, things were far from right in her world. The beauty and tranquillity were an affront.

Janet turned away to pour liquid from a frosty pitcher into a tall, stemmed glass. “How did the interview go?”

“I’m not sure. I hope I get the job.”

“Well, dear, I can tell you the Commander won’t bother keeping anyone around who doesn’t measure up. If he thought he was wasting his time with you, you’d be out the door by now. Try this lemonade. It’s the real thing, made from scratch.”

“Thank you.”

“And here’s a plate of biscuits—cookies, you call them—if you’d like something to eat while you wait.”

Breakfast was a distant memory and dinner last night nonexistent, but the thought of food nauseated Nicole. Still, out of politeness, she nibbled at one of the cookies and said, “What I’d really like is to meet the little boy. Could you bring him out to see me, do you think?”

She’d said the wrong thing again. Janet backed off as if she’d been indecently propositioned.

“Oh, it’s not up to me to allow that, dear!” she exclaimed, her accent broadened by shock. “That’s something for the Commander to allow if he decides you’re best for the job.”

But he’s my nephew and I need to see him, Nicole thought. I need to hold him, to smell the little boy scent of his hair, to kiss the soft sweet skin of his neck. I need to know that he doesn’t feel alone and abandoned.

Janet straightened the bib of her apron and sighed. “I just hope he makes up his mind quickly. I don’t mind telling you, I’ve got my hands full trying to run the house and keep tabs on Tommy at the same time. He’s a good little boy, but at that age, you know, a child is only ever still when he’s asleep.”

“Where is he now?”

“Taking a nap. He does that most afternoons for about half an hour.” Janet touched Nicole’s arm sympathetically. “I’m sure the Commander will bring him down and introduce you, if he likes what he’s being told about you.”

“Being told?”

Janet leaned forward confidingly. “He was on the phone long distance when I took in his lemonade, and I just happened to overhear your name being mentioned.”

Exhaustion and stress must be catching up with her, Nicole decided, stifling an untoward giggle at the thought of The Commander sipping lemonade. Wouldn’t a tot of rum be more his style? “Why do you call him the Commander?”

“That’s his rank. He’s a Navy man, didn’t you know? Works designing warships now, of course, on account of his bad back and all, but it was a dreadful disappointment to him that he couldn’t remain on active service. He knew he wanted to go to sea from the time he was Tommy’s age. Learned to sail a dinghy before he turned eight and spent every spare minute hanging around the yacht basin. Knew the name and make of every boat there, built models of most of them, too. Then, as soon as he was old enough, he was off to the Naval Academy and after that, it was glory all the way. Quite the local hero, you might say.”

She leaned close again, as though what she was about to impart was a well guarded secret revealed only to a chosen few. “You should see all his medals. He was in the Gulf War, you know—that’s when he was injured, rescuing one of his men in an explosion on the bridge—and decorated for bravery, or however they call it.”

“Why don’t you tell her my shoe size while you’re at it, Janet?” the object of all this admiration remarked, strolling out through the French doors and smiling at the housekeeper. His eyes, Nicole thought, were even bluer than the sky and his smile dazzling.

“Oh, Commander!” Janet exclaimed, blushing like a girl. “I didn’t hear you come out.”

“So I gather.” Sobering, he switched his gaze to Nicole. “Bring your lemonade inside and let’s talk some more, Miss Bennett.”