by Pat Warren
Kate had chatted just yesterday with the friendly druggist she’d known most of her life, confiding that she was thinking of getting a job, something different, perhaps in another town. “I guess you could say that. It’s difficult adjusting to such a sudden loss. I thought a change of scene might help.” She had no desire to take him further into her confidence. He was still a stranger, even if he knew Henry Hull.
Besides, she couldn’t imagine how what she might do would be of interest to this stranger. There seemed nothing further to say. “Thanks for your concern.” She turned, about to walk away.
“‘Difficult’ isn’t strong enough,” Aaron said, his voice suddenly thick. “Overwhelming, maybe. Devastating. Debilitating. I know just how you feel.” He watched her slowly swing back to face him and saw renewed interest in her eyes. “I lost my wife six months ago,” he finished, hating having to say if out loud, the finality of the words.
He was quite tall, so much so that Kate had to look up to study him. He was very attractive, but looking closer, she saw more than that, saw the pain on his face, the sorrow in his dark eyes, and felt her heart swell with sympathy. He was young to lose a wife, in his early thirties, most likely. Yet could it hurt any less at a later age? “A sudden loss makes you want to strike out, doesn’t it? At fate, at life in general, the fickle gods, anyone.”
Aaron nodded, seeing that she understood perfectly. “Yes, and then you feel guilty for having those feelings.”
“Exactly.” Kate thought she knew now why Henry had told him about her misfortune. He was very kind and probably thought the two of them might find some common ground, since they’d both experienced a recent tragic loss. “How did your wife die?”
Aaron moved beneath the lamppost, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his eyes focusing on the clouds overhead. “A viral infection. Four days and she was gone.” He shook his head as if he still couldn’t quite believe it himself. “Stephanie was so healthy. We’d been married three years, and she’d never been ill. All through her pregnancy, she didn’t even have morning sickness.”
Pregnancy? Kate stepped closer. “You have a child?”
Aaron cleared his throat and sat up, nodding. “A little girl, Jamie. She was eight months old yesterday.” Getting a grip on his emotions, he turned to her. For a moment, he didn’t speak, just stared.
From afar, he’d thought the woman resembled Stephanie. True, the hair was the same, but up close, he saw many subtle differences. Kate’s eyes were deep blue and fringed with thick lashes, while Stephanie’s had been a warm chocolate brown. Kate was smaller, more slender, where Stephanie’s figure had been more womanly, especially after giving birth. And the voice was all wrong, husky rather than sweetly feminine like Stephanie’s.
But the biggest difference was that Stephanie had looked confident and unafraid, always smiling, certain the world in general would accept her, and it had. This young woman seemed hesitant, uncertain, vulnerable, with a haunted look about her.
No, Kate wasn’t Stephanie, and Aaron was glad. The slight resemblance was hard enough to handle. A more exact facsimile would have been impossible. He pulled out his wallet and showed her his daughter’s picture.
Jamie looked to be about six months old in the picture, with blond fuzz for hair and huge brown eyes. She was seated on the floor and surrounded by several stuffed animals. She was not smiling.
“She’s beautiful,” Kate said softly. The poor little thing. No child should have to lose a parent at a young age. The premature loss affected their whole life. She knew that better than most.
“Jamie’s the reason I came looking for you,” Aaron said, finally getting around to why he’d approached her. “Henry said you might consider taking a job as a nanny.”
Taken aback at the unexpected suggestion, Kate glanced up. “Did he? A nanny. Well, I don’t know. I’ve never given child care much thought.”
Henry had confided to Aaron that Kate Spencer had come from a very good family, but she suddenly found herself financially strapped. He’d gone on to explain that Kate had taught Sunday school, had started a children’s reading hour at the local library, and had babysat Henry’s own two children often on summers spent in St. Clair. “I’d been led to believe that you were good with children, that you liked them. Do you?”
Of course she did, but liking children and caring for them full time were two separate things. “Yes, but I just never considered being a nanny. Of course I babysat in my neighborhood in my teens, like most of my friends.” And her mother had bristled each time she’d done it, for small children had frightened Carol Spencer, which was why she’d adopted a six-year-old. “I was raised as an only child and had nannies of my own so of course, I learned from them.” A couple of the women Carol had hired had been so-so, but Glynis, the one who’d stayed the longest, had been wonderful. “Still, I’m not sure how good I’d be.”
“The job isn’t difficult,” Aaron went on, feeling the need to reassure her. “The pay’s negotiable and the position comes with room and board.” He was getting desperate and hoped it didn’t show. Kate Spencer was the best candidate he’d run across in months of interviews. “We’ve had college girls helping out this summer, but they’re all back in school. Fitz is getting on in years and just can’t keep up with an active child.”
“Fitz?”
“My housekeeper. Her real name’s Margaret Fitzmaurice, but everyone calls her Fitz. She’s been with my family since just before I was born, first as a nanny, then later she kept house for my father. She moved to my house after the wedding to do light housekeeping and cooking. Stephanie was head nurse in the cardiology unit and worked long hours. You wouldn’t have to do anything except care for Jamie, and she’s no trouble, really.”
It was all happening too fast, Kate couldn’t help thinking. She’d been wondering how she’d manage when she’d set out for her walk, and now here was this tall stranger offering her a solution. Still, she felt a little overwhelmed.
Aaron Carver was obviously a man who saw what he wanted, then went after it with every confidence that he’d be able to persuade one and all to do his bidding. But life had taught Kate to be more cautious, to go slowly. And even then, she’d run up against some truly tough hurdles.
The position he offered sounded too good to be true, under her present circumstances. But she needed to know more. “Tell me about your daughter.”
Aaron was unaware that a smile at the thought of his daughter changed his face, softening the harsher angles that sadness had etched into his features. He wanted to be fair and honest with this woman who was struggling through her own loss. “Jamie’s very independent and insists on feeding herself, which can wind up pretty messy. She still drinks from a bottle. She crawls everywhere and she’s trying to walk holding on to tables and whatever else she can reach. She’s a little small for her age, but very healthy, or so Dr. Benson tells me. Frankly, I think Jamie needs the stability of having the same woman mothering her.” His eyes met Kate’s. “I wouldn’t want you to take this job unless you really want to make a go of it. Jamie can’t keep losing people.”
Kate wasn’t offended, was in fact impressed with both the man’s sensitivity and the depth of his feelings for his daughter. “I agree. I wouldn’t want her hurt, either.” When mentally listing her options for job hunting, child care hadn’t even made the list. A degree in fine arts hadn’t really prepared her for the job market. The only work experience she’d had was running her father’s bookstore. But that option had been taken away from her after Dr. Spencer’s death.
Perhaps Aaron Carver’s offer wasn’t so outlandish. He obviously wanted someone reliable, and she’d always been that. Since she needed a place to live, a job and a change of scene, maybe being Jamie’s nanny would solve all three of her immediate problems, and she’d also be able to help someone in need.
Kate looked up at him again. “Before I decide, could I meet Jamie and Fitz?”
“Absolutely.” Aaron felt a
sense of relief, albeit temporary, and a wave of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Jamie would take to this woman, and she to his daughter. Lord, he hoped so. He’d spent entirely too much time away from his desk the past few months. But he couldn’t concentrate fully until Jamie was in good hands.
Aaron again pointed to his house, visible from where they stood. “It’s a short walk, or I can get my car.”
Kate shook her head. “I like walking.” She fell in step alongside him. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but what do you do for a living?”
He slowed his longer stride to accommodate her shorter steps. “I’m an architect in my father’s firm, Carver and Associates. Made full partner last year.”
He’d had it all, Aaron couldn’t help thinking, with a by-now familiar pang of regret. A wife everyone liked and admired, a beautiful baby, a lovely home and full partnership. Then, from out of left field, had come a hit he hadn’t dreamed of in his worst nightmare. Stephanie gravely ill, then suddenly gone forever.
Kate couldn’t help noticing his sudden silence and knew he was remembering something painful. She, too, was given to those unexpected and hurtful memories.
Automatically, Aaron took Kate’s elbow as they crossed the busy road, then started up the hill. The leaves were already changing, several falling to the ground and rustling underfoot as they walked. It wasn’t quite eight. With any luck, he could be in the office by nine. Although everyone had been wonderfully understanding, Aaron hated not carrying his share of the work load.
“As I mentioned,” Aaron went on, “you’d have your own room and private bath, of course. We could work something out with Fitz about days off. Naturally, you’d take all your meals with us. We’re sort of informal.” Stephanie had loved to entertain, supervising elaborate dinner parties in their large dining room, filling the house with laughter and friends. He hadn’t had anyone over since her funeral, not even his father. “We can discuss salary and any other questions you might have after you meet everyone. If you decide to take the position, how soon would you be available?”
She needed to vacate the cottage, which was up for sale. There seemed no point in lingering where memories lived in every room and popped up regularly to sadden her. “Right away, actually,” Kate told him.
Perfect, Aaron thought, refusing to believe she would turn down his offer. Still, a little help couldn’t hurt. Please let this work out, he prayed to a God he was no longer sure was listening.
Kate slowed her steps as they entered through the open wrought-iron gate into the large, fenced yard. Impressive, she couldn’t help thinking. English tudor, two stories plus an attic, a three-car attached garage and a long screened porch that faced the river. The lot was huge and very lovely with several old elms and maple trees, and flower beds neatly edged with angled white bricks. “Did you design the house yourself?”
Aaron nodded, not trusting his voice. He recalled the day he’d brought Stephanie here after it was completed, how her eyes had danced, how she’d squealed with delight. He’d built it for her, and now she was no longer here to share it with him.
Again, Kate saw the signs and knew he was remembering something upsetting. She’d seen the same expression on her own face in the mirror. Maybe it was a good thing, this sharing of grief. Maybe Aaron would understand her as no one else had been able to thus far because he, too, was trying to adjust. And perhaps a child was just what she needed in her life right now. It was truly difficult to be downcast around a happy child just discovering the world, she was certain.
With hope in her heart, Kate followed Aaron onto the porch.
Since her picture had been taken, Jamie Carver’s hair had grown into gold ringlets, but she still wasn’t smiling as Aaron led Kate into the yellow-and-white kitchen. Aaron chided himself for too often presenting such a forlorn face to his daughter that she reflected his own sorrow rather than the joy of childhood that she should be feeling.
“How’s Daddy’s girl?” he asked, walking over to her high chair, where she sat picking up bits of cereal and putting them in her mouth.
Solemn brown eyes stared back at him as she chewed.
“She’s a bit under the weather, I think,” Fitz explained as she sprinkled more cereal on the child’s tray. “Teething, you know.” The housekeeper looked the newcomer over, taking her measure, wondering if Aaron had found yet another candidate for nanny. She was way behind in her work, what with looking after Jamie and trying to get some nourishing food into the still-grieving father.
Aaron introduced the two women. “Fitz’s like my right arm around here,” he went on. “She knows all about the running of the house, about Jamie—and even me.”
“It’s pleased I am to meet you,” Fitz said, her smile welcoming.
Kate was charmed by the woman’s Irish accent. Fitz was a study in gray from her short-cropped hair to her sweater and wool slacks on through to sensible oxfords tied with bright green laces.
“Have you had breakfast, then? It won’t take me but a jiffy to get you some.” Her blue eyes shifted to Aaron. “You, too. I’ve just made a fresh pot of tea.”
Aaron’s smile was affectionate. “I might be coaxed into having one of your scones,” he told her before turning to Kate. “Fitz convinced me ages ago that tea’s better for you than coffee. She also makes the best scones you’ll ever taste.”
Kate had had only juice before setting out for her walk, and a bowl of soup last night, since her appetite was not what it used to be these days. Suddenly, the aroma of fresh-baked scones in the warm kitchen had her mouth watering. “That sounds good. I haven’t had scones since I was in England two years ago.”
While Fitz went to get cups and Aaron removed his jacket, Kate sat down at the table alongside the high chair. “Hi, Jamie.” Chewing cereal, the baby watched her with a serious expression. Kate picked up the sippy cup that she noticed contained milk. “How about a drink?” She held the cup toward the high chair.
After a moment, Jamie opened her little mouth, inviting the drink. Kate touched the plastic spout to her lips and tilted up the glass. Watching her, Jamie drank. “That’s a good girl,” Kate told her.
Fitz brought over cups and the red teapot she favored, along with a plate of scones, and Aaron sat down, observing the interaction between Kate and his daughter.
Kate concentrated on the child, wondering if she could win a smile. “Can I have one of those?” she asked, pointing to the cereal on the tray.
After a thoughtful couple of seconds, Jamie picked one up and held it out toward her. “Thank you.” Kate ate the piece and smiled. “Mmm, that’s good. Your turn.” She handed one to Jamie, who took it from her with chubby fingers and crammed it into her mouth.
A wobbly clown figure was attached to the high-chair tray by a suction cup. Kate batted at it gently, causing it to weave. “Oh, look, Mr. Clown wants to eat.” She held a cereal piece toward the clown’s red mouth, then bobbed the head and made the piece disappear. Jamie’s eyes grew wide. “Where’d it go?” Kate asked. Jamie continued to stare.
Kate pretended to search all over for the cereal piece tucked in her hand, then suddenly pulled it out from the baby’s shirt pocket. “Here it is!” That earned her a small smile as Jamie took the cereal from her. Not a great victory, but a beginning, Kate decided.
“The poor dear’s been through a lot,” Fitz explained as she poured tea for all three of them. “We’ve had a parade of sitters all summer long. She’s not real quick to trust anyone just now.”
“I can’t say I blame her,” Kate replied before taking a sip of tea. It was dark and hot and most welcome after the chill of their walk.
Aaron picked at his scone. “Kate’s been highly recommended as a nanny, Fitz, and I’m hoping she’ll decide to help us out.”
“That would be nice,” Fitz answered. “Are you from around here, dear?”
“My parents have…had a summer cottage near the St. Clair Boat Harbor. They died recently, in an accident.”
“Oh, I
’m so sorry.” So that was why she looked on the sad side. Fitz watched Kate break off a tiny piece of scone and taste it. No appetite, she’d wager. The sweater she wore just hung on her. She needed some looking after, same as Jamie. And Aaron, too. Fitz sighed as she got to her feet, turning to the employer she’d helped raise. “Would you be wanting to show Kate around while I clean up the little one?”
Aaron drained his cup and stood. “Good idea. Let’s start with the nursery upstairs, Kate.”
The tour took quite a while, for the house was large. Either Stephanie had been wonderfully talented or they’d hired a decorator, Kate thought as Aaron walked her along the wide, carpeted upstairs hallway, opening doors to show her the baby’s room, two guest rooms, including the one that would be hers if she took the job, and finally the room that was his directly across the hall.
The door at the far end was closed, and he hadn’t mentioned it, had in fact avoided stepping near. Kate gazed at it curiously, but decided that it would be rude to ask.
Aaron caught her look and cleared his throat. “That’s the master suite, but I decided it was too large for one person.”
She understood all too well that the room held too many memories. “I had to leave my parents’ home. Every time I walked by their room, I began to cry.”
He touched her elbow, leading the way back downstairs. “We have a piano, if you like to play. There’s a tennis court out back, which you’re free to use.” He took her into a room paneled in oak. “The library. Help yourself to anything that catches your eye. There’s a stereo built in over there.” And the terrazzo floor where he and Stephanie had ended many an evening with a slow dance in front of the fire. He felt his eyes fill and turned aside, blinking.
