Читать книгу The Nanny's Secret Child - Lorraine Beatty - Страница 10

Chapter One

“Turn right onto Sycamore Avenue. Your destination is on the right.”

Julianna Bishop followed the directions on her GPS and made the turn, searching the house numbers for 122. The old, established neighborhood in Dover, Mississippi, could have been lifted from a fifties television sitcom. Each home oozed charm, their appealing facades nestled on neatly landscaped yards that even the gray drab of January couldn’t dim. Full-grown trees stripped of their leaves arched overhead, filtering the bright sunlight streaming down from a clear blue sky. Evergreen live oaks and giant magnolia trees added a splash of green to the winter landscapes.

The peaceful and picturesque surroundings were at odds with the violent storm raging inside her. She swallowed hard against the tightness in her throat and searched the house numbers again. Heart pounding against her rib cage, Julie pressed down on the brakes, bringing the car to a full stop. She had arrived. One-twenty-two Sycamore Avenue was a two-story white colonial with black shutters, a red front door and a lamppost at the edge of the sidewalk. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, turning her knuckles white. She was doing the right thing. Her prayers had been answered.

Her gaze surveyed the white house more closely. It was exactly as she’d expected. It was a beautiful home, the kind of place where families laughed and loved and enjoyed each other. All that was missing was the white picket fence.

Closing her eyes, Julie inhaled slowly, hoping to settle her jittery nerves. The house and the neighborhood were reassuring. Everything would be fine.

Sliding the gear shift into Park, she inhaled a couple of slow breaths, hoping to calm her churning stomach and take a moment to plan her introduction. The opening strains of “Mighty God” sounded from the depths of her oversize purse. She rummaged around, found the small phone and glanced at the display. DiDi. Her moral support. And oh, how she needed her longtime best friend at this moment. “Hey.”

“Are you there yet?”

DiDi’s anxious tone mirrored her own. “Yes.” Julie rested her head against the back of the seat, mentally scolding herself for being such a coward. “I just pulled up out front.”

“I’m praying for you.”

“I’m praying for me, too.”

“Have you figured out what you’re going to say to him?”

“Uh, I was thinking of, ‘Hello. I’m the nanny.’”

“You know what I mean. What if he suspects?”

“Di, you’re not helping.” Julie pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to quell the nausea.

“Sorry. I know you have to do this. I just hope you find the peace you’re looking for when this is over.”

Her friend’s loving concern and understanding did more to ease Julie’s anxiety than all her prayers. She thanked the Lord every day for sending Deirdre Simmons into her life. “I know it will. The Lord’s given me this chance, and I can’t pass it up.”

“Be careful. Watch your emotions, girlfriend. You deserve to be happy, and I hope after this you will be.”

Julie ended the call, then peered out at the house again. Lord, this is a blessing from You, isn’t it? The answer to my prayers? There was no other explanation. Why else would Gil Montgomery’s name turn up at the Nanny Connection Agency, and why else would she be available to step in to fill the assignment?

The timing was too perfect to be anything other than a gift from God. She’d ended her job as a second-grade teacher at Christmas. In three months she’d be boarding a plane for Paris and a new life as a teacher at the International School. The five-year assignment she’d dreamed about and worked toward for years. In the meantime, she continued to work as a nanny, a second job she’d held in the summers and on school holidays. The butterflies were still battling in her stomach, but she’d regained her confidence. It might be nerve-racking at first, but when all was said and done, she’d have peace and she could step into her future finally free of the gnawing questions. Anticipation coursed through her like carbonated water, making her all bubbly with excitement.

Climbing out of the car, Julie tugged her sweater down, adjusted her scarf and slung her large purse over her shoulder. The walkway to the front door was long and winding, giving her the time she needed to disengage her emotions and find her professional nanny zone. This afternoon’s meeting with the family was a mere formality. She’d been through it dozens of times. It was a chance for everyone involved to get a feel for one another and gauge their compatibility. It was unusual to meet on a Sunday, but given the urgency of the client’s request, it was understandable.

Fingers trembling, she rang the doorbell, lifting up one more prayer. The only way this would work was to keep her heart locked away and her emotions shut down. She’d assimilate everything later when she got home. She swallowed the knot in her throat and tried to ignore the fierce pounding of her heart.

Movement from the other side of the small panes in the front door froze her breath in her lungs. This was a happy assignment. Joyous, even. She would concentrate on that. She pasted a smile on her face as the door clicked open. The man in the doorway stared back at her, looking puzzled and confused. But he wasn’t the middle-aged, slightly paunchy man she’d expected. This guy was early thirties, tops. Tall, well built and with sculpted features that were drawn downward in a fierce scowl. Did she have the right house? The numbers beside the door confirmed her location.

“Yes?”

She cleared her throat. “I’m from the Nanny Connection Agency. You requested a nanny?” His frown deepened, and he scanned her quickly with intense cobalt blue eyes. A gust of wind blew hair across her face, and she raked it way with her fingertips and widened her smile.

“Right.” The man touched his forehead and nodded, motioning her inside. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize what time it was.”

Julie stepped into the foyer, her gaze quickly scanning the small entry. Outdated wallpaper covered the walls, and a shiny brass chandelier hung from the ceiling. The stairs were covered with worn carpet and the parquet floors had seen better days.

“Thanks for coming. I’m Gil Montgomery.” He extended his hand.

She grasped it, her fingers enveloped in a strong, warm grip, along with a snap of static electricity as if she’d rubbed her feet across new carpet before touching him. Or had she imagined it? It was winter after all, and the air was dry. She looked up into his eyes and found it hard to look away. She saw intelligence and probing, and a swell of appreciation rolled along her nerves. He was a very attractive man. She blinked and smiled. “Julie Bishop.” He motioned her to follow him.

Glimpses of the other rooms as she passed by left her puzzled. The interior of the home didn’t match the picture-perfect exterior. The layout was small and cramped, and the scale of the furniture was all wrong. Oversize and ornate, it was better suited for a much larger and more modern home. The rooms were relics from the eighties. The disjointed feel about the house added another flip to her churning stomach. She’d envisioned the inside of the home as warm and welcoming, filled with antiques and lovingly worn furniture. Not these conflicted styles. What did that say about the people who lived here?

Like Gil Montgomery.

Her gaze landed on the broad back of the man. He wasn’t supposed to be this elegantly handsome man who moved with athletic grace and control. He was a head taller than her, which placed him a little over six feet in height. The dark blue knit shirt tucked in neatly at the narrow waist hung nicely over his broad shoulders. She continued her inventory as she followed behind him. A head of wavy, coffee-brown hair curled slightly over his ears and along the nape of his neck, suggesting he was in need of a trim. But it was the eyes that had grabbed her full attention. They were a rich cobalt blue, with long dark lashes and tiny crinkles at the corners. Julie dismissed the idle thoughts. What the man looked like was neither here nor there. She closed her eyes and offered up one more prayer.

“Oomph.”

Her face bumped into a wall of muscle when Mr. Montgomery stopped in the kitchen. Her hands rested against a solid back. Warmth from beneath his shirt transferred to her palms, sending a funny squiggle into her stomach. She dropped her hand and stepped back. His dark blue eyes held concern.

“Sorry. Are you all right? I didn’t realize you were so close behind me.”

She nodded and stepped back quickly, uncomfortable with the sensations coursing through her at his nearness. “My fault. I was distracted by...” you. “Your home, it’s charming.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s a chopped-up mess.”

He’d stopped in a large and sunny breakfast nook. This part of the house had a warmer and friendlier feel, though the furniture was still all wrong. The glass-topped table didn’t fit with the country kitchen, which though charming, was a couple of decades out of date with the light oak cabinets, laminate countertops and almond appliances. Placing her purse on the table, she glanced over her shoulder to find her new employer staring at her. His dark blue eyes narrowed and a deep frown creased his high forehead. Her pulse jumped. What did he see? She forced a smile, her hand went to her throat, her fingers wrapping around the small heart necklace she always wore, trying to calm the sense of being exposed.

“You’re younger than I expected.”

Julie expelled a soft breath. She’d heard this before. “Is that a problem?”

He rubbed his temple with two fingers. “I’ve never hired a nanny before. I was expecting someone more mature. How long have you been doing this? Being a nanny, I mean?”

Typical questions. She was used to them. She smiled reassuringly, trying to ignore the anticipation that was swirling in her stomach now that she was actually here. She only hoped he wouldn’t send her away. “I’m a teacher by profession. Second grade. But I’ve worked as a nanny during summers and holidays for the last six years.”

Mr. Montgomery nodded, the worry lines in his forehead deepening. Had she come here only to be dismissed because she wasn’t gray-haired and over fifty?

“I’m sure you’re qualified, or you wouldn’t be working for the agency.” He gestured for her to be seated at the table, then joined her, clasping his hands on the top. “I wanted to take a minute to talk about my daughter before I introduce you.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting her.” She was surprised she could even speak around the tightness in her throat. He held her gaze, sending her heart pounding again. Could he sense her turmoil? Was the truth written in her eyes? Her false smile? Or was she being paranoid?

“Abby has been through a lot these last six months. Her mother’s illness and death were hard on her. I brought her back here to be close to my family. My mother has been taking care of her since Christmas, but she had to leave the country suddenly.”

Julie tamped down the pain in her heart and schooled her features. This wasn’t going the way she’d expected. What did he mean “brought her back”? “Abby wasn’t with you?”

Montgomery set his jaw a moment before continuing. “She went to live with her mother in Mobile after the divorce. But she’s with me now and that’s all that matters.”

She nodded, unable to speak. Everything was all wrong. She wished she’d read his application more closely. She’d seen where he’d recently lost his wife, but not that he was divorced. She fought to remain composed. “It’s hard for a child to lose a parent, especially at a young age. I imagine she’s having trouble adjusting to the change?”

Montgomery glanced away briefly before meeting her gaze. “Yes. She was just getting comfortable here with my mom and now another change.” He rubbed his temple. “I don’t want her to be any more upset.”

“When will your mother be home again?”

“She’s supposed to return next week. My sister is a dancer. She was performing in London and had an accident. Mom flew over to be with her until she can travel.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “I wanted you to know what to expect. I’m not sure how she’ll react to this new development.”

“I understand. As a teacher I’ve dealt with all types of children and their challenges. I’m sure it’ll be fine, but I appreciate you telling me.” She could see Mr. Montgomery relax slightly, as if a burden was lifted from his shoulders. Unfortunately it had shifted onto hers. Had the mother’s death been so traumatic? Was her father providing the love and support his child needed? She forced her thoughts off that track. One step at a time. One minute at a time.

Montgomery met her gaze. “She means everything to me. I want only the best for her. I’m sure you understand.”

The sincerity and concern in his tone eased much of her worry. It was clear that he loved his daughter. Montgomery’s cell buzzed. He slipped it from his pocket, excused himself, moving to the other end of the kitchen. She heard him say something about breaker boxes before ending the call.

“Other than giving your full attention to Abby, you won’t have any other duties. The housekeeper, Mrs. Fontenot, comes on Friday. I’d like you to be here early enough to fix breakfast and take Abby to school in the morning and pick her up each day. I’ll be home in time to handle supper, but I’d like you to be available at all times while she’s at school just in case.”

“That’s fine. I have plenty to keep me occupied. I tutor older students online, and I’m moving to Paris in a few months so there’s lots of paperwork involved.”

“France. Sounds interesting. I meant to ask where you live. Is it a long commute to Dover?”

“Not too bad. I live in Brandon, east of Jackson. It takes about forty-five minutes.”

He nodded. “I’d prefer you were closer. But if for some reason you need to stay late or be here early, there’s a mother-in-law suite down the hall from Abby’s room. There’s also a small furnished apartment above the garage you can use.”

“I’ll remember that. But I’m an early riser, so the commute isn’t a problem.”

Montgomery rubbed his jaw, then rested his hands on his hips. “I think that covers everything. I’ll get Abby, and you two can get acquainted.”

Julie kept the smile on her face until Montgomery disappeared into the hallway, then lowered her head into her hands. What had she gotten into? Her fight-or-flight instinct was raging. Heart pounding. Veins burning. Stomach in knots. Her common sense screamed run! But her heart ached to stay and face her fear once and for all. She had to know. Once she had that reassurance to hold on to, she could face the future.

* * *

Gil Montgomery strode down the hallway, puzzling over the new nanny. She was not what he’d expected. At first glance he’d thought she was a teenager in her jeans, loose sweater and big scarf. All that had been missing was a cell phone clutched in her hand. But a closer look revealed a woman near his age, with a rosy complexion and a smile bright enough to light up a room, though he’d seen a hint of anxiety in her big brown eyes. The wind had lifted her hair, sending wavy strands across her cheek, and wrapped him in a faint scent of spring.

Spring was a long way off. Glancing down at his hand, he lightly rubbed his thumb over his palm. Had he imagined that jolt to his system when he’d taken her hand? Judging from her expression, he suspected she’d felt it, too. Odd. It had sparked like static, the way it had when he and his brother used to slide their feet across the carpet then zap each other. Except that they hadn’t crossed any carpet.

Of course, her looks were immaterial. Her credentials were what mattered, and they looked exemplary. He was being overprotective. Hiring a nanny had him on edge. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of a younger and very attractive nanny for Abby. He’d feel better with a more matronly woman, someone who could devote all her attention to his daughter. Unfortunately he didn’t have a choice. Until his mother returned, he’d have to rely on this woman to care for his only child.

At the top of the stairs he stopped at Abby’s door. He wanted to pray, to ask the Lord to help his little girl, but he’d prayed for three years and nothing had changed. That wasn’t God’s fault. That was all on him.

He tapped lightly on the door, then peeked in. Abby was curled up on her bed looking at a book, her ever-present gray-and-pink polka-dot backpack at her side. His heart swelled, pressing against his rib cage. Every part of her was perfect, from her sweet little face with her big brown eyes to the sprinkle of freckles across her button nose.

He finally had her back, and from now on he’d be part of her life. A knot formed in the center of his chest. He’d missed so many of her milestones. It had cost him nearly every penny he possessed to gain custody of her and bring her back home to Dover. He would have spent twice that to have her with him again.

But to Abby, he was a stranger. He was the father who never came to visit, who never called or sent gifts. He had, of course, but interference from his ex-wife and her meddling sister had driven a wedge between him and his daughter. Now she was home, but she was withdrawn and sad and he had no idea how to help her.

He approached the bed, putting a big smile on his face. “Hey, pumpkin.”

She looked over at him, her expression devoid of any emotion. “I’m not a pumpkin.”

She’d started to smile under his mother’s care, but now she’d have to adjust to the nanny. So much change so quickly. “I know you’re not. Your grandpa used to call my sisters pumpkin. It was his special name for his little girls. I want to have a special name for you. Like ladybug or cricket.”

Abby closed her book. “I’m not a bug either.”

The words were spoken with little feeling, sending a shard of pain through his heart. He wanted to fill the void left by her mother’s death, but he had no idea how to do that. He came from a large family, two brothers and two sisters, so he should know what to do, but he’d missed too much of his daughter’s life. She wasn’t a baby now. She was a young girl, almost nine, with a mind of her own, and she wasn’t happy to be here with him.

Discouraged, Gil nodded. “Right, well, the nanny is here. You ready to meet her?”

Abby shrugged and got to her feet, picking up her backpack. When she drew near, he reached out and touched the top of her head, stroking the soft brown hair. She stepped out of his reach, rebuffing his touch and plunging a hot blade into his heart.

Closing his eyes, he offered up a quick prayer. Maybe this time the Lord would hear and take action because he was out of options. Please, Lord, help my little girl find joy again. I don’t know what to do for her.

His thoughts circled back to the new nanny as he followed his daughter downstairs. She was young, pretty and capable. He’d seen a spark in her eyes that intrigued him. Anticipation? As a teacher and a nanny, she obviously liked kids. Maybe having a younger woman in her life would be a good thing for Abby. He wasn’t so sure having her in his home would be good for him. He didn’t like the way he was drawn to her bright smile and sparkling eyes. Or the inappropriate questions that burst into his mind. Like was she involved with anyone?

At the bottom of the stairs he stopped and touched Abby’s shoulder. “Remember. Be polite.” She glared up at him, screwed up her mouth and walked on.

Maybe the nanny could do what he couldn’t—make Abby happy again.

* * *

Julie paced the kitchen, waiting for father and child to return, struggling to keep her professional mask in place against the questions and doubts. Her gaze drifted to the bay window in the breakfast room and the wooden deck overlooking the large backyard, where a swing hung from a branch of an old tree. She bit her bottom lip in delight. She could imagine her little charge swinging once the weather broke. But she wouldn’t be here to see that. Her assignment was only for a week. Five days in which to learn the answers to her questions.

Mr. Montgomery’s deep voice sounded from the hall. Julie braced, her entire body vibrating. Would he see? Would he know? No time for further speculation. They were here. She smiled, her heart in her throat. The moment had arrived, and she had no idea what to expect.

Montgomery rested one hand on his daughter’s shoulder as he stood behind her. “Miss Bishop, this is my daughter, Abby.”

She barely heard him. Her eyes were on her new charge. She was a beautiful child. Long dark brown hair fell below her shoulders, held back with clips on each side, revealing little pink ears and soft rosy cheeks. Big brown eyes stared back at her. “Hello, Abby.”

“Hello.”

The reply was uttered with little enthusiasm. Not surprising. Accepting a new caregiver took a period of adjustment. Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be much time for that. For the next few days she’d merely be a highly paid babysitter. But it would be worth it.

Julie moved forward and extended her hand. “I’m...” She cleared her throat. “I’m happy to meet you.” The little girl clutched the faded backpack, staring up at her with a dull gaze. Julie glanced at the father. He looked worried and a bit sad. She remembered what he’d said about the recent upheavals in her life. “Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk a moment.”

Once they were settled, Julie rested her elbows on the table and peered over at Abby, examining each inch of her. From her heart-shaped face to the sprinkle of freckles across her upturned nose, she was an adorable little girl. Her pretty brown eyes were framed with long thick lashes, but as lovely as her eyes were, they lacked the spark of excitement and curiosity Julie liked to see in a child her age. Abby’s demeanor read sad and uninvolved. Julie’s heart lurched, forcing her to corral her emotions and focus on her assignment. “I’m looking forward to spending time together. Is there something special you like to do?”

Abby shrugged, fingering her backpack.

Julie glanced at the father. Pain and confusion drew his brows downward and caused a muscle to flex at the corner of his mouth. He had the look of a parent who had no idea how to help the child he loved. Something inside Julie softened. She directed her attention to Abby again. “I have some things I like to do with my students, so we’ll try them out and see which ones you like, all right?”

“I’m not a student.”

“That’s true. But I’m a teacher most of the time, so I think of all my children that way.”

She frowned. “You don’t look like a nanny.”

“Abby.” Montgomery gently reprimanded his daughter.

She focused her attention on Abby. “Nannies come in all shapes and sizes. Just like children do. And you look like a very nice young lady.” Julie had been angling for a smile, but all she received was a blink. But in that moment Julie saw emotions she recognized and understood. Abby was feeling disconnected and confused. “Abby is usually short for Abigail. Is that your real name?” The child shrugged again. “My name is Julianna Bishop, but everyone calls me Julie.”

Abby stared back at her, little mouth pressed into a frown. “Mine is Abigail Sarah Montgomery. My mommy said Sarah means ‘princess.’”

Encouraged, Julie continued. “Little girls are always princesses to their mommies...and daddies.” An unexpected stab of pain penetrated her barriers. Like sand washing away with a wave, her foundation began to erode. Blood drained from her face. A surge of light-headedness blurred her vision. She rubbed her forehead, willing herself to calm down. She glanced across the table at the little girl and felt her stomach heave.

Mr. Montgomery’s cell rang again, and she grabbed the opportunity to excuse herself. “Abby, could you point me to the bathroom?”

The child gestured to the hall and Julie tried to walk, not run, from the room. Her fiercely pounding heart sent her blood roaring in her ears. She stepped into the small guest bath, shut the door and leaned against it.

She couldn’t cry. Not now. She wouldn’t be able to explain it. Mr. Montgomery might change his mind and ask her to leave. Or worse, he’d demand an explanation. He’d think she was unfit to care for his daughter.

Trapped in a whirlwind of colliding emotions, she fought to find her footing. Fear. Excitement. Joy. Anger. A million reactions she hadn’t anticipated.

Please, please, Lord, help me. Moving to the sink, she ran cold water over her hands and pressed them to her cheeks to ease the scalding heat. Inhaling a few deep breaths, she forced herself to calm down. Slowly her stomach settled. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and saw a woman facing her worst nightmare. Not the image she wanted to project. She wanted to appear friendly and nurturing. Capable and caring. The way she seemed at school or when working as a nanny. Except this wasn’t a normal assignment. Not by a long shot.

Inhaling one last calming breath, Julie straightened and turned to go. As she grasped the doorknob, the anxiety churned up again, buckling her knees. What would Gil Montgomery say if she told him the truth? That the child he called Abby was the baby girl she gave up for adoption eight years ago?