Читать книгу Mother in Training - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 10

October

Zooey could still remember, months later and comfortably absorbed into the general routine of the Lever household, the expression of relief on Jack’s handsome face that first morning she’d arrived on his doorstep. She’d had her most important worldly possessions stuffed into the small vehicle, laughingly referred to as a car, that was parked at his curb.

Funny how a little bit of hair coloring could throw a normally observant man for a loop. When she’d taken the job at the coffee shop, she’d been at the tail end of her experimental stage. Auburn had been the last color in a brigade of shades that had included, at one point, pink, and several others that were more likely to be found in a child’s crayon box than in a fashion magazine.

Going back to her own natural color had seemed right as she opted to assume the responsibility of caring for a high-powered lawyer’s children.

It was the last thing she’d done in her tiny apartment before she turned out the lights for the last time.

It had certainly seemed worth it the next morning as she watched the different expressions take their turn on Jack’s chiseled face.

Finally, undoubtedly realizing that he’d just been standing there, he had said, “Zooey?” as if he were only seventy-five percent certain that he recognized her.

She’d drawn out the moment as long as she could, then asked, “Job still available?”

“Zooey,” he repeated, this time with relief and conviction. A second later, he moved back, opening the door wider.

She had only to step over the threshold before she heard a chorus of, “Yay! Zooey’s here.” And then both children, Jackie in a sagging diaper and Emily with only one sock and shoe on, an undone ribbon trailing after her like the tail of a kite, came rushing out to greet her.

Jack had continued staring at her. “Why’d you dye your hair?” he finally asked.

“I didn’t,” she’d replied, laughing as two sets of arms found her waist, or at least made it to the general vicinity. Neither child seemed the slightest bit confused by the fact that she had golden-blond hair instead of auburn. “I undyed it.” Raising her eyes from the circle of love around her, she’d looked at him. “It just seemed like the thing to do, that’s all.” She couldn’t explain it to him any better than that. “This is my natural hair color.”

Jack had nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if the change in color was a serious matter that required consideration before comment.

And then he’d said something unexpected. And very nice. “I like it.” It was the first personal comment he had addressed to her.

Hard to believe, she thought now, as she threw on cutoff jeans beneath the football jersey she always wore to bed and slipped her bare feet into sandals, that nearly ten whole months had gone by since then. Ten months in which she’d discovered that each day was a completely new adventure.

She’d also discovered that she liked what she was doing. Not that her life’s ambition had suddenly become to be the best nanny ever created since Mary Poppins. But Zooey did like the day-to-day life of being part of a family—a very important part. Of caring for children and seeing to the needs of a man who went through life thinking of himself as the last word in self-sufficiency and independence.

The very thought made Zooey laugh softly under her breath. She had no doubt that Jack Lever was probably hell on wheels in a courtroom, but the man was definitely not self-sufficient. That would have taken a great deal more effort on his part than just walking through the door and sinking into a chair. Which was practically all he ever did whenever he did show up at the house.

There were days when he never made it back at all, calling to say that he was pulling an all-nighter. There was a leather sofa in the office that he used for catnaps.

She knew this because the first time he’d called to say that, she’d placed dinner in a picnic basket and driven down to his office with the children. He’d been rendered speechless by her unexpected appearance. She and the kids had stayed long enough for her to put out his dinner, and then left. He was still dumbstruck when she’d closed the door.

Zooey wondered absently if her employer thought the house ran itself, or if he even realized that she was not only “the nanny,” but had taken on all the duties of housekeeper as well.

It was either that, she thought, or watch the children go hungry, running through a messy house, searching for a clean glass in order to get a drink of water. Taking the initiative, she did the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping and the laundry, when she wasn’t busy playing with the children.

She was, in effect, a wife and mom—without the fringe benefits.

As far as she knew, no other woman was on the receiving end of those fringe benefits. Jack Lever was all about work.

So much so that his children were not getting nearly enough of his company.

She’d mentioned that fact to him more than once. The first time, he’d looked at her in surprise, as if she’d crossed some invisible line in the sand. It was obvious he wasn’t accustomed to having his shortcomings pointed out to him, especially by someone whose paychecks he signed. But Zooey was nothing if not honest. There was no way she would have been able to keep working for him if she had to hold her tongue about something as important as Emily and Jackie’s emotional well-being.

“Kids need a father,” she’d told him outright, pulling no punches after he’d said he wasn’t going to be home that night. That made four out of the previous five nights that he’d missed having dinner with Emily and Jackie.

He’d scowled at her. “They need to eat and have a roof over their heads as well.”

Men probably trembled when he took that tone with them, Zooey remembered thinking. But she’d stood up to her father, reclaiming her life, and if she could survive that, she reasoned that she could face anything.

“And the food and roof will disappear if you come home one night early enough to read them a story before bedtime?” she’d challenged.

He’d looked as if he would leave at any second. She was mildly surprised that he remained to argue the point. “Listen, I hired you to be their nanny, not my conscience.”

She’d gazed at him for a long moment, taking his full measure. Wondering if she’d been mistaken about Jack. Then decided that he was worth fixing. And he needed fixing badly. “Seems like there might be a need for both.”

Her nerve caught him off guard. But then, he was becoming increasingly aware that there was a great deal about the woman that kept catching him off guard, not the least of which was that he found himself attracted to her. “If there is, I’ll tell you.”

“If there is,” she countered, “you might not know it. Takes an outsider to see the whole picture,” she added before he could protest.

Jack blew out a breath. “You take an awful lot on yourself, Zooey.”

In other words, “back off,” she thought, amused. “Sorry, it’s in my nature. Never do anything by half measures.”

He’d made a noise that she couldn’t properly break down into any kind of intelligible word, and then left for work.

He’d come home earlier than planned that night. But not the night that followed or any of the nights for the next two weeks.

Still, she continued to hope she’d get through to him, for Emily and Jackie’s sake.

Jack was a good man, Zooey knew. And he did love his kids in his own fashion. The problem was, he seemed to think money was a substitute for love, and any kid with a heart knew that it clearly wasn’t.

Someone, she thought, heading out of her bedroom toward the kitchen, had given the man a very screwed up sense of values. There was no price tag on a warm hug. That was because it was priceless.

She smelled coffee. Zooey knew for a fact that she hadn’t left the coffee machine on last night.

Walking into the kitchen, she was surprised to see that Jack was already there. Not only had he beaten her downstairs, he was dressed for the office and holding a piece of burned toast in one hand, a half glass of orange juice in the other.

Not for the first time, she saw why he’d always come into the shop for coffee and a muffin. The man was the type to burn water. From the smell of it, he’d done something bad to the coffee.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully, crossing to the counter and the struggling coffeemaker. Taking the decanter, she poured out what resembled burned sludge—she’d never seen solid coffee before—and started to clean out the pot. “Sit down,” she instructed, “and I’ll make you a proper breakfast.”

He surprised her by shaking his head as he consumed the rest of the burned offering in his hand, trying not to grimace. “No time. I’m due in early.”

She glanced at her wristwatch; this was way ahead of his usual schedule. “How early?”

He didn’t bother looking at his own watch. He could feel the time. “Half an hour from now.” He washed down the inedible toast with the rest of his orange juice and set the glass on the counter. “Traffic being what it is, I should already be on my way.”

“Without saying goodbye to the kids?” This was a new all-time low. She thought that pointing it out to him might halt him in his tracks.

Instead, he picked up his briefcase. “Can’t be helped.”

Zooey abandoned the coffee she was making. “Yes, it can,” she insisted. Grabbing a towel, she dried her hands, then tossed the towel on the back of a chair. “I can get them up now.” She saw impatience cross his face, and made a stab at trying to get through to him. “They go to sleep without you, they shouldn’t have to wake up with you already gone as well.”

An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he told her, “Zooey, I appreciate what you’re doing—”

If time was precious, there was none to waste. Zooey cut to the chase. “No, you don’t. You think I’m a pain in the butt, and I can live with that. But the kids shouldn’t have to be made to live without you. For God’s sake, Jack, they see the mailman more than they see you.”

He didn’t have time for her exaggerations. “I have to leave.”

Zooey stunned him by throwing herself in front of the back door, blocking his exit. “Not until you see the kids.”

There were a hundred things on his mind, not the least of which was mounting a defense for a client who was being convicted by the media on circumstantial evidence. Jack didn’t have time for this.

“This is a little too dramatic, Zooey,” he informed her, “even for you.”

He’d come to learn very quickly into her stay with them that the young woman he’d hired to watch over his children was not like the nannies who had come before her. Not in any manner, shape or form.

It seemed to him that if Zooey had an opinion about something he’d done or hadn’t done, he heard about it. And if he was doing something wrong as far as the children were concerned, he’d hear about that, too. In spades.

While he found her concern about the children’s welfare reassuring and their love for her comforting—absolving him of whatever guilt he might have for not taking a more active part in their lives—there were times, such as now, when Zooey went too far.

He glanced at his watch. “Zooey, I’m due in court in a little over an hour.”

She stared at him, unfazed. “The longer you argue with me, the more time you lose.”

His eyes narrowed as his hand tightened on his briefcase. “I could physically move you out of the way.”

Zooey remained exactly where she was. “You could try,” she allowed. And then she smiled broadly. “I know moves you couldn’t even begin to pronounce.”

He knew of her more than just passing interest in martial arts. Late one evening, he’d come across her on the patio as he investigated the source of a series of strange noises he’d heard. He’d found her practicing moves against a phantom assailant, and remembered thinking that he would feel sorry for anyone stupid enough to try anything with her.

Looking at her now, Jack had his doubts that she would use those moves against him. But he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that she wouldn’t. She was adamant when it came to the children.

He tried to appeal to her common sense. This was way before the usual time when Emily and Jackie got up. “You’ll be waking them up.”

Zooey appeared unfazed by the argument. “They’ll be happy to see you. Besides, they have to get up soon anyway. I’ve got to get Emily ready for school.”

He’d forgotten. The months seemed to swirl by without leaving an impression. It was October already. School had been in session for over four weeks now. There were times he forgot that his daughter went to school at all.

Maybe because he hadn’t really become involved in her life, he still tended to think of Emily as a baby, hardly older than Jack Jr.

But even Jackie was growing up.

Jack blew out a breath. “Okay, let’s go. I don’t have time to argue.”

Zooey beamed. She was generous in her victory. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.” Still standing in the doorway, she gestured toward the rear of the house. “After you.”

He eyed her, picking up on her meaning immediately. “Don’t trust me?”

Growing up around her parents and uncle had taught her the value of diplomacy. Her parents were experts at it. So Zooey smiled, declining to answer his question directly. “Better safe than sorry.”

They went to Emily’s room first.

The little girl was fast asleep. Fanned out across her pillow, her hair looked like spun gold in the early morning sunbeams. Coming to the side of the bed, Zooey gently placed her hand on Emily’s shoulder. She lowered her head until her lips were near her ear. “Emily, honey, your daddy wants to say goodbye.”

One moment the little girl was asleep, the next her eyes flew open and she bolted upright.

Her expression as she looked at her father was clearly startled. And frightened. She clutched at his arm as if that was all there was between her and certain oblivion.

“You’re leaving, Daddy?”

I knew this was a bad idea, Jack thought darkly. He ran his hand over the silky blond hair. “I’ve got to go, honey. I’ve got an early case in court today and Zooey seemed to think you wouldn’t be happy unless I said goodbye.”

Instantly, the panicky look was gone. The small, perfect features relaxed. She was a little girl again instead of a tiny, worried adult.

“Oh, that kind of goodbye.” A smile curved her rosebud mouth. “Okay.”

Jack was completely confused. He looked at Emily uncertainly. “What other kind of goodbye is there, honey?”

“Like Mommy’s,” his daughter told him solemnly.

This time, he raised his eyes to Zooey’s face, looking for some sort of explanation that made sense. “What is she talking about?”

Zooey’s first words were addressed to Emily, not him. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to help you get ready, honey. In the meantime, why don’t you lie down again and rest a little more.”

“Okay.” Emily’s voice was already sleepy and she began to drift off again.

Turning toward Jack, Zooey hooked her arm through his. “C’mon,” she whispered, as if he’d been the one to wake Emily up, and not her. Tugging, she gently drew him out of the room.

“What’s she talking about?” he asked again the moment they cleared the threshold.

Instead of answering, Zooey looked at him for a second, searching for something she didn’t find. He didn’t know, she realized. But then, he hadn’t been there during Emily’s nightmares, hadn’t seen the concern in the little girl’s eyes whenever he was late getting home without calling ahead first.

“Emily is afraid that you’re going to die.”

Her answer flabbergasted him. He stared at her incredulously.

“What? Why?” he demanded. He hadn’t done anything to make Emily feel that way. What had Zooey been telling her?

“Because her mother did,” she answered simply, then went on quickly to reassure him in case he thought there was something wrong with Emily. “It’s not an uncommon reaction for children when they lose one parent to be clinging to the other, afraid they’ll die, too, and leave them orphaned. That’s why I wanted her to see you before you left. So she knows that you’re fine and that you’re coming home to her. She needs that kind of assurance right now.”

“So now you’re into child psychology?” Jack didn’t quite mean that the way it came out. His tone had sounded sarcastic, he realized. But it wasn’t in him to apologize, so he just refrained from saying anything.

She treated it as a straightforward question. To take offense would be making this about her, and it wasn’t. It was about the children.

“I dabbled in it, yes. Took a couple of courses,” she added.

Jack was silent for a moment, then nodded toward his son’s room. “And what’s Jackie’s story?”

“He picks up on Emily’s vibrations,” Zooey told him frankly. “Except at his age, even though he’s very bright, he doesn’t know what to make of them.” And then she smiled. “Mostly, he just wants his daddy around. Like any other little boy.”

Jack had never been one of those fun parents, the kind featured in Saturday morning cartoon show ads. He hadn’t the knack for children’s games, and his imagination only went as far as drafting briefs. He couldn’t see why his children would care about having him around.

“Why,” he demanded, “when they have you?”

“I’m more fun,” Zooey admitted, “but you’re their daddy and they love you just because of that. It’s only natural that they’d want you to be part of their lives,” she continued, when he didn’t look as if he understood. “And for them to want to be part of yours. An important part,” she emphasized, “not just an afterthought.”

Jack shook his head. The lawyer in him was ready to offer a rebuttal to what she’d just said. But he held his tongue. Because deep down, part of him knew that Zooey was right. That he should be part of their lives far more than he was.

But right now, it wasn’t possible. The demands on his time were too great, and he had to act while he could. That was how careers—lasting, secure careers—were made.

Lucky for his children—and him—he’d struck gold when he’d found Zooey.

He supposed that made a good argument for going along with impulse—as long as it could stand to be thoroughly researched, he added silently. Old dog, new tricks, he mused.

Standing before his son’s door, Jack paused for half a second as he looked at Zooey over his shoulder. The harsh expression on his face had softened considerably. “Am I paying you enough?”

“Probably not,” she responded, then waved him on. “Now go say goodbye to your son if you don’t want to be late.”

Now she was looking out for him as well. Jack shook his head. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re too bossy?”

The list was endless, she thought, but out loud she said, “Maybe. Once or twice. I wouldn’t have to be if you did these things on your own. Now open the door,” she told him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, amused, as he turned the doorknob.