Tutor, Nanny, Spit-up, Spy

by Perry Kirkpatrick

  It was pretty obvious, though, that whatever he’d said had been in reference to her.

  “That’s all the more Spanish you’re getting out of me,” Brent said, pulling his large glasses down the bridge of his nose in order to peer sternly at them over the top rims. “I’m Mr. Peters and I’m going to be Juan’s and Sofia’s tutor during your stay here. Your parents specifically requested we do your lessons in English. They want you to get all the practice you can, it seems.” He winked, proving he wasn’t as stern as he pretended to be.

  Emily felt a sense of relief. She wasn’t sure how she would have felt if he and the children had been conversing in what might as well have been Martian to her. Who knows what kinds of dastardly plans they would have come up with.

  Still, though, Brent. You know I’ll have to look up what you said… at least what of it I can remember. Aya como estrella? Something like that.

  “Where are you doing lessons?” Brent asked, hefting the messenger bag he wore slung across his chest.

  “It’s just the next room over, Senor,” Juan said. “I’ll show you.”

  “No need, but thank you. I have a few things to set up, so go ahead and finish your breakfast. I’ll see you when you’re finished.”

  Emily couldn’t help but wonder what he was setting up. Knowing Brent, it wasn’t going to be something as straight-forward as a set of solar system posters. She eyed him as he left the room and then turned to find Sofia staring at her with a knowing look.

  Don’t get the wrong idea, kiddo!

  “You don’t say much,” Juan observed. He was eyeing her, seemingly trying to determine exactly what kind of nanny she was.

  Good luck with that. I don’t even know what kind of nanny I am.

  Taking a deep breath, Emily opened her mouth to speak and then paused. The accent.

  “Well,” she said in her best approximation of French-ness. “It seems Monsieur Peters had a lot of talking to do. With him in the next room, I suppose that makes it my turn? Oui?”

  Footsteps approached from the distance, and she realized the guard—what had his name been?—must be nearly back from his long trek to the laundry room. What a big house!

  The children stared at her curiously, Juan again giving her that searching look.

  He’s awfully serious for a 7 year old.

  The boy cocked his head and asked, “Êtes-vous Français?”

  Emily froze. She had a pretty good guess he’d just asked her if she was or spoke French. The kid had called her bluff!

  Oh, dear! What would Mary Poppins do?

  Be honest and make it fun, Emily.

  She laughed and then spoke, dropping the fake French accent. “Very nice—so you speak Spanish, English, and French? With those three languages you should be able to talk to nearly everyone in the world!”

  “That is Papa’s and Mama’s thought,” Juan said gravely. “But you didn’t answer my question.” He stuffed the last bite of food from his plate into his mouth and leaned back, folding his arms.

  “No, I’m not French and I don’t speak French, but sometimes it’s fun to pretend! Let’s hear your best fake accent.” She grinned and raised her eyebrows as if she’d issued a dare, hoping he’d follow the slight shift in topic. “Let’s hear you pretend to be someone you’re not.”

  The serious little boy regarded her for another moment and then said, “Y’all come on now down to tha crick.”

  His sister burst into peals of laughter. “You sound like you’re from an American cowboy movie! Let me try!”

  “Me too, me too!” Daniel clamored.

  In a moment, the children were all speaking at the same time, trying to one-up each other in acting skills and volume.

  Daniel began barking and announcing, “I’m a dog!” Mateo watched him from the highchair for a few seconds and then began barking as well—but louder.

  Emily blinked at the way her game had spiraled into loud chaos. Just at that moment, the young guard re-entered the room. He walked straight to Emily, flashing a brilliant smile. “Miss Tessier, I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,” he said over the hubbub of the children’s voices, and for a moment, Emily thought he might even bow slightly. “My name is—”

  The rest of what he said was drowned out by Sofia’s piercing shriek. Emily whirled to discover that Mateo had somehow gotten to his knees in the highchair and stretched his chubby little arms just far enough to knock over Sofia’s newly-refilled glass of milk for the second time.

  That little rascal! How did he reach it?!

  Chapter 4

  The milk splashed all over Sofia’s dress this time, so Emily patted her dry the best she could with napkins. Juan was lecturing the baby in Spanish—Emily guessed it was about the need to not spill milk on one’s sister.

  The young, nameless guard had disappeared, but Emily wasn’t surprised since he was the only one left to guard the large house. He likely needed to watch the security feeds. She wondered if he knew about the possible threat to Mr. Gonzalez.

  “Well, that was exciting!” She put on her best Mary Poppins face as she unbuckled Mateo from his highchair. “Juan, you can go ahead to the schoolroom with Mr. Peters. Sofia will be there in a bit after she changes out of this wet dress.”

  Juan nodded and left the room.

  “Let’s go get you changed,” Emily said to the little girl. “You’ll have to show me where the bedrooms are, because I have no idea.”

  “Diaz should have showed you,” the girl remarked, getting up from her chair at the table.

  Emily hoisted the baby and took Daniel’s hand, following Sofia out of the room and down the hall. “I’m sure he normally would have, but this morning was so rushed for everyone. I’ll get it figured out.”

  After a couple of turns, they reached a wide set of stairs. Ascending these—with Mateo growing heavier by the minute—they reached the second floor of the house. Sofia turned off to a door on the left and opened it.

  “This is my room,” she said. “Juan is right next door.” She then pointed out the room the two little boys were sharing and described how it connected to the big room her parents were staying in. It seemed she could work up a good chatter when she needed to.

  Emily helped her get down the dress she selected from her closet. “Do you need help changing?” She couldn't remember if six years old was old enough to navigate clothes on one’s own.

  “Maybe with the buttons in the back,” the girl said.

  Emily and the little boys waited outside Sofia’s room. Daniel was quiet, staring at her with large brown eyes. Mateo, as usual, took his cue from his brother and did the same.

  After a few minutes, Sofia opened her door and turned around backwards for Emily to button her. Emily set Mateo down on the carpeted floor. Before she let go of him, she asked, “He can sit on his own, right?”

  “Oh, yes,” Sofia laughed. “He can crawl and stand a little, too.”

  “But he’s not walking on his own yet?”

  “Only if he holds onto something.”

  From somewhere in the back of her mind, Emily remembered a word. Perhaps it had been used by one of the young moms next door to them at the dairy where she’d grown up. Or maybe she’d overheard someone at church use it.

  “Cruising,” she said. “We call that cruising.”

  Sofia wrinkled her nose, grinned, and tried out the word. “He’s cruising.”

  “There you go!” Emily bobbed her head.

  “Really, he’s cruising!”

  “Yep!”

  “No, Senorita Tessier, Mateo is cruising right now!”

  “Oh!”

  Emily turned to find the baby standing alongside the banister, holding onto it as he crab-walked as fast as he could toward the top of the stairs. She scrambled toward him and snagged the back of his shirt.

  “You’re a tiny trouble-maker aren’t you!” she exclaimed. He clapped his chubby hands together as his older siblings laughed. Emily just shook her head. She’d hav
e to do a better job keeping an eye on the little fellow.

  “Let’s get you downstairs for lessons,” she said to Sofia.

  The girl led the way again, and they soon found themselves back in the hall outside the informal dining room and the schoolroom. Sofia bounded in to join Brent and Juan.

  “Ah, there she is,” Brent said, nudging his glasses up his nose. “Juan didn’t want to wait to get started on his lessons, so he might finish a little before you.”

  “He always does,” the girl pouted.

  “It’s because I don’t waste time,” her older brother muttered.

  “Not all people like their nose stuck to a book page,” the girl fired back.

  “Nope, we’re not starting the school day with an argument,” Brent said firmly. “School isn’t a race. It’s about doing the best you can do for your own betterment.”

  “Betterment,” Sofia echoed.

  “She seems to like new words,” Emily whispered to Brent.

  “Thanks for the tip.” He ruffled a hand through his hair.

  I wonder if he’s feeling as nervous about his cover as I am about mine.

  Something behind her caught Brent’s eye. “Looks like Romeo is here to see you.”

  She shot him a frantic look that she hoped said, “So maybe he is extra friendly, but don’t go nicknaming him like you do everyone else!”

  He just grinned at her.

  Shifting the baby on her hip, she turned to find the young guard waiting patiently in the hall. He either hadn’t heard Brent’s teasing nickname or he didn’t care, for he showed no signs of annoyance or embarrassment.

  “Miss Tessier,” he said, “I’ve brought some papers Senora Gonzalez left for you. One is a sample schedule with activity ideas for the children, and the other is a layout of the house. I have taken your bag to your room, which you’ll see is marked with a red star.”

  He extended the two papers to her with another of his dazzling grins. Emily could feel Brent watching them with amusement.

  “Thank you,” she said, accepting the papers.

  I wish I could remember his name. I’ll have to find a sneaky way to figure it out again. Maybe someone will call him by it and I won’t have to be embarrassed about forgetting already.

  “Of course,” he said. “If you need anything, I will be in the guardroom monitoring things. There is a whole-house speaker—no, intercom system that you can use if needed.”

  Emily thanked him.

  Brent caught her eye as she was about to leave. “Talk later,” he mouthed.

  She smiled in reply and then headed down the hall with the littler two children in tow. Following the map, she headed back up the stairs to the large loft.

  “Let’s see, little friends—what does your mommy have for us to do?” She quickly skimmed the suggested schedule. Mrs. Gonzalez had outlined the children’s usual routine and then made suggestions of things they might do to fill in the rest of their day.

  “Music appreciation sounds like fun,” Emily said, glancing at the baby and then at Daniel. He hadn’t said a word, but just stood, staring at her and twisting the hem of his shirt. “What do you think?” she asked him.

  “I like music,” he said in a small voice.

  Mateo clapped and then tried to wriggled down from Emily’s lap. She restrained him, however, not trusting him around the stairs. She was afraid if she took her eyes off him for even a moment to find a way to play music, he’d tumble down them.

  She looked around the loft and spotted what was likely a media cabinet at the far end. Opening the double doors, she found herself staring at a high-end sound system along with a rack of CDs.

  “And I thought everyone just streamed things nowadays,” she said. Neither of the little boys replied, but she kept talking. “Let’s see—oh! Tchaikovsky is always a good listen!”

  She removed the CD, struggling to keep Mateo’s chubby hands off the disc and its case as she powered up the sound system. The system was complicated, but after a few moments of scrutiny, she got it working.

  The opening strains of the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy filled the loft—excessively loud. Daniel clapped his hands over his ears, and Mateo startled in her arms. She quickly jumped to turn it down.

  “Sorry about that, guys.” She began to sway the baby in time to the ballet music. “Can you feel the music, Daniel?”

  He watched her and unconsciously began to sway along. Eventually, Emily danced the baby around in a whirling pattern. Daniel turned in serious circles, his arms outspread and a faraway look in his eyes.

  Mateo giggled as she spun him.

  Then, without warning, he spit up all over the front of her shirt.

  Chapter 5

  Emily cleaned her shirt and changed Mateo. She still imagined she could smell spit-up, but there was really nothing more she could do about it at the moment. She decided something a little less active was a good idea, so she had Daniel show her where they kept the baby books.

  They sat together on the plush carpet of the loft and read book after book. Emily found herself reading extra fast because Mateo was always eager to turn the page before she was ready.

  Just when they were showing signs of boredom with the books, she checked her watch and realized it was approaching lunch time according to the schedule. “Let’s get you two washed up—and I think perhaps we need to change Mateo’s diaper,” Emily said. “Then I’ll see what we do about lunch.”

  “The lady makes it,” Daniel said.

  “The lady?” Emily raised her eyebrows. “Do you have a cook here?”

  The little boy looked thoughtful for a moment as he processed her words. “Si. Cook.” He nodded.

  “Oh, okay then. That makes things much easier. I won’t have to worry about Mateo cruising away while I try to figure out what you kiddos like to eat.” She winked at him.

  He grinned and then began listing off all of his favorite foods in a confusing, but enthusiastic, mixture of Spanish and English. She listened to his chatter as she guessed her way through changing the baby’s diaper.

  By the time they made their way back to the informal dining room, a plump Hispanic woman was already setting out plates of food. “You tell that tutor there’s enough for him, too,” she told Emily before disappearing back into the kitchen.

  Emily buckled Mateo securely into his highchair and pulled it far enough away from the table she was sure he couldn’t reach anything. “Go ahead and sit, Daniel. I’m going to call the others.”

  She exited the room and popped her head into the room next door.

  “Okay, go ahead and open your eyes,” Brent was saying. “Find a way to see me without turning.”

  Emily cocked her head.

  What kind of lesson is this?

  Juan sat in a chair, and Brent stood behind him, in the opposite corner of the room. Sofia danced around to one side, looking as if she were trying very hard to keep a secret.

  “No clues, Sofia,” Brent said, apparently catching on to her. “Or next time I set up the exercise, I’ll have you close your eyes too until it’s ready.”

  “Okay,” she sighed.

  Juan scratched his head. “I’m not sure—oh! I see you. You are near to the bookcase.”

  “Yes, great job! And how do you know that?”

  “I can see your reflection in the shiny pencil cup. What I mean is, it is like a mirror.”

  Brent clapped his hands and said. “Perfect! You can turn around. The next one we’ll do is more challenging. You’ll have to use two reflective surfaces.” He stopped short as he saw Emily in the doorway. “Hello, there.”

  “Hi—” she said, reminding herself she wasn’t supposed to know him well. “It’s lunch time. The table is set and everything. The cook wanted me to let you know there’s enough for you as well.”

  “Oh!” Brent checked the clock on the wall. “Well, the time passed quickly, don’t you think, kids?”

  “Kids are baby goats!” Sofia protested, wrinkling her nos
e.

  “Yes, you’re right. But it’s also an informal way we say ‘children.’” Emily smiled at the girl. “Go wash up so we can eat.”

  The children dashed out of the room, and Brent followed at a slower pace.

  “Really?” Emily whispered as he approached where she stood in the doorway. “I don’t think spy stuff is part of normal school curriculum.”

  He stopped just in front of her. “Maybe it should be if your dad is a president and you might find yourself in danger at some point. Besides… mirrors are science.” He grinned mischievously and tapped her forehead.

  Holding in a laugh, she just shook her head and moved out of the doorway. Sofia stood a few feet away, her eyes wide and dreamy.

  “Are you going to go out?” she asked.

  “Outside? No, it’s lunchtime.”

  Juan appeared behind his sister, rolling his eyes. “It’s called a date, Sofia.”

  “What?! Who, us?” Emily squeaked. “Gracious, no!”

  Brent just chuckled from somewhere behind her. She hurried back into the dining room to find Daniel half-finished already with the food on his plate.

  “Tessi’s face roja,” the little boy commented between bites, eyeing Emily.

  “Roja means red,” Juan explained, sliding into his seat.

  “I kind of guessed that,” Emily said, covering her face with both hands.

  Brent was still laughing.

  * * *

  As they finished lunch, Emily consulted the schedule and saw a suggestion that the children spend time outdoors playing to work off some energy and get some sunshine. “Sounds hot,” she said, grimacing.

  But they are having a terrible time sitting still. There’s no way the older two will concentrate for any more lessons unless they do something with all that energy.

  “All right, kids—or children—” she winked at Sofia. “Let’s spend a little time outside. I assume there’s someplace for you to play out back?”

  Juan nodded. “Yes, I can show you.”