by Kate Hewitt
Then the girls arrived, pounding on the front door, their voices the excited yelps of puppies. The look of astonished delight on Ruby’s face when she saw Maria confirmed I’d made the right choice.
“You’re here?” she exclaimed, and then burrowed into Maria’s middle. Ella smiled, and Alexa looking nonplussed. I counted it all as a win.
Of course, my father-in-law wasn’t quite so enthused.
“What the hell, Nathan?” Paul hissed angrily in the foyer as Maria took Ella and Ruby to the living room, and Alexa disappeared into her room with a firm click of her door. “You don’t know her from—”
“We do know her. We’ve come to know her.” I’d been hoping to avoid this exact scenario, but of course I hadn’t been able to.
“She is a stranger, and you are intending to trust her with your children.”
“She’s not a stranger. And, in any case, this isn’t your concern, Paul.”
“It damn well is! Those three lovely girls are my concern.” He pointed towards the living room with a shaking finger. “How can you risk their lives?”
His hyperbole annoyed me, although I tried not to show it. “I’m hardly doing that. And anyway, I would have to trust my children to someone. I know Maria more than I know some random nanny sent from an agency. Laura knew her, too, and called her a friend.” I folded my arms. “And I don’t need to justify my actions to you.”
Paul’s face was a dull, brick-red, his bushy eyebrows drawn down in a ferocious scowl. “I am not happy about this.”
“Noted.”
We stared at each other for another taut moment before Paul wheeled away, jangling his keys. “We plan to take the girls skiing over Presidents’ Day Weekend.”
Of course they did. I could already see a parade of holidays where I would never be invited. “We can talk about that later.”
Paul nodded, still furious, and then he thankfully left.
Yet later, after the takeout pizza we’d had—Maria had offered to cook, but I told her that could start tomorrow—the girls watching television and the apartment eerily quiet, I’d realized yet again how little I knew Maria, and how I should probably address that before I handed off my family to her like a baton in a relay race.
I found her in the kitchen, the ironing board out, the girls’ crumpled uniforms in a basket next to it.
“Oh…”
“I thought I would do this before I go,” she said with a smile. “Ella said they needed uniforms for school tomorrow?”
“I should have remembered.” Along with a thousand other things.
“That is why I am here.”
Such comforting words, and yet they also made me miss Laura, not just because she’d done all these things, but because she’d been my companion and friend in a way Maria never would, no matter how much I came to know her. I sank onto a stool, fighting another wave of grief that threatened to pull me under.
For the few days I’d been so busy, I’d managed not to miss Laura so much. Now, in the cosy lamplight of a warm kitchen, the comforting hiss of the iron as Maria ran it over my daughter’s clothes… I missed her as much as I ever had.
I cleared my throat, trying to draw my mind back to the present, and the task at hand. “I was realizing I don’t actually know that much about you.” I tried to pitch my tone friendly, but the look Maria gave me was guarded.
“What is it you wish to know?”
“I don’t know.” I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Maria looked as if she were facing an inquisition. “You mentioned you grew up in Sarajevo?”
“Yes.”
“And you had… a brother?”
“Yes.” A pause. “Petar.”
“Was he older or younger?”
“Older, by three years.” Another pause. “He was very serious. Very studious. I was the funny one.”
It was hard to imagine this quiet, contained woman as the funny one, but then I remembered how she’d come alive, telling that story about the man with three sons. “You liked telling stories,” I surmised, and she gave a quick nod.
“Yes. A long time ago.”
“The girls loved that story you told, about the sons. Ruby especially. I hope you can tell her others.”
“Yes.” Another nod; she was looking less wary, which relieved me.
“Do you have any hobbies?” I ventured. “If there is anything you like to do…”
“Hobbies?” She sounded mystified. “No. I have no hobbies.”
“You like to read, maybe?” I persevered. “Or watch movies…?” This conversation felt painful; I didn’t know what I wanted from her.
“Yes, a bit. Romance novels.” She blushed at that. “Something light.”
“Right.”
“What about you? Do you have hobbies?”
I had to admit that I didn’t. A few years ago, I’d played tennis and squash, been part of a wine-tasting club. When I’d gone into business with Frank, all of that had gone by the wayside. “Work is my hobby,” I said, although, of course, that wasn’t true. If anything, it was the other way around. Family was my hobby. Work was my life.
Maria must have seen something of this already, because she pursed her lips, her eyes turning shrewd, before she reached for another skirt from the basket and started to iron it.
“I can walk through the day with you tomorrow,” I told her, deciding we might as well stick to practicalities. “Show you the girls’ schools, the daily routine, where things are in the apartment. The next day I need to be back at work.”
She nodded, brisk now, and I decided to try again.
“Do you miss Sarajevo?” I asked. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, they seemed thoughtless. A stupid question—of course she missed it. Her whole life had gone up in smoke there, as far as I could tell. What was I thinking, asking such an idiotic question?
“Miss it?” she repeated. “No.” The word was flat and decisive.
“Not at all?”
She shook her head. “I don’t miss anything,” she said firmly.
“What about your family? You must have left family back in Bosnia?”
The silence that followed felt frozen. Maria continued to iron, her gaze of Alexa’s tartan skirt spread out on the board. “No,” she said at last. “No family.”
“What about your brother?” I asked, puzzled. “Is he in America or Bosnia?”
“He is dead.” She spoke tonelessly, her voice devoid of emotion.
“I’m sorry, Maria…” Too late—far too late—I realized I should have guessed this. “And… what about your parents?” I asked hesitantly, unsure if I was being nosily insensitive.
“Dead too.” She looked up then, an almost defiant tilt to her chin. “My father was killed by a mortar shell in our apartment. He was reading the paper in the sitting room. We hadn’t been able to go in there for weeks because it wasn’t safe, but it had been quiet for a few days. There was a whistling and then…” She shrugged her shoulders.
I stared at her in horror. “I’m so sorry…”
“My mother died of pneumonia in a detainment camp in Vojno. We were there for four months.”
“I…” I had no idea what to say.
“And my brother was tortured and killed by the Croatian Defence Council.” She spat the words, her features twisting. “So there is no one left, besides my aunt and uncle, and I am not on speaking terms with them.”
She stared at me for another moment, a hard look on her face, and then she resumed ironing.
I gaped at her, overcome by all these revelations. And I thought, in my self-pitying way, that I’d had the monopoly on grief.
And yet… her confession made me uneasy. What the hell had I done, bringing this woman into our lives? I really hadn’t known anything about her, and I felt very aware of it now. How had all those losses affected her? What if she wasn’t trustworthy, what if she became unhinged?
Then Ruby came into the room, holding her stuffed elephant by one worn ear. “I can’t slee
p. Maria, will you sing me another song?”
“Of course.” The smile Maria gave Ruby was warm and easy; it felt almost pure. And as she slipped her hand into my daughter’s, I told myself I could trust her.
After all, I had to.
Now, back in the office, winter sunlight slanting through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I pushed any thoughts or worries about Maria, and even about Ruby, Ella, or Alexa, firmly to the back of my mind. I didn’t want to think about how Alexa still wasn’t talking to me, or how Ella hadn’t eaten her breakfast, or how clingy Ruby had seemed when I’d said goodbye that morning, still in her pyjamas, Maria tidying up the breakfast table.
I took a sip from my cup of coffee as I followed Frank into our conference room, determined to get at least this part of my life back on track. The girls would be fine.
Sixteen
Maria
“Go, Ella, go!” Ruby was screaming as she jumped up and down next to me, both of us watching Ella cut through the water of the Olympic swimming pool. It was her first race as part of her junior swimming league, and she’d been even quieter than usual that morning, refusing to eat, full of a hard, focused determination.
My eyes stung in the chlorine-heavy air as I checked my phone, the latest iPhone Nathan had given me that I still didn’t really know how to work, hoping for a text for him. It was Saturday afternoon, and he’d promised to make the race after checking in with work, but he wasn’t here yet and it was almost finished.
This had become a more and more common occurrence in the three weeks since I’d begun working with the Wests. My duties had stretched and expanded to encompass more than had been written on that little list as Nathan immersed himself in work. And I’d let it happen, because I’d enjoyed being needed. Being wanted, even. Belonging. I’d willingly given up my job and volunteering at Global Rescue for this, and I didn’t mind it at all.
It had felt amazingly easy, at the start. The look of incredulous delight on Ruby’s face when she caught sight of me had been all that I’d needed, and more. So much more.
“You mean you’re staying?” she’d asked over and over as she scrambled onto my knee. “You’re staying for good?”
“Not staying, but I will take care of you,” I said. “Yes.” Nathan was in the foyer, exchanging terse words with his father-in-law, which I was trying not to overhear. “Is that okay, Ruby?” I asked.
“Yes!” This in a squeal that made me smile. “Yes, yes, yes!”
I’d pulled her close as she flung her arms around me. When had I last been so fêted? When, even, had I last been hugged?
Ella, naturally, was more cautious, and Alexa ambivalent, at the best of times. I’d told myself to expect that, not to try too hard at first. I let them have their caution; I understood it. I even felt it myself. Everything was still so strange, from the takeout pizza we had for dinner because Nathan had forgotten to buy any groceries, to the account he set up for me on the computer, so I could do the weekly shop online, something I had never done before. The girls crowded around me as I clicked on various pictures, asking for different snacks.
“Can you buy Frubes, please, oh please?”
“Twinkies, Maria! Please buy Twinkies!”
I didn’t even know what those things were, but I’d laughed and said I’d think about it.
The strangeness had continued when Nathan tried to engage me in conversation, asking me about my family, about Sarajevo. This was chit-chat, something I’d long lost the knack of. When he asked me about hobbies, I had no idea what to say. And then when he’d pressed about my family… I hadn’t wanted to tell him. Who wanted to hear? It always made things awkward, as people stumbled over their apologies, their blatant horror.
I supposed I thought Nathan might understand, at least a little, because of Laura, but he’d looked as stunned and dismayed as anyone else who has heard my story, and not many have, because I never want to tell it. I hoped it wouldn’t change his opinion of me, to know my losses. He would not learn anything else. He’d backed off then, at least, perhaps realizing the futility of trying to get to know a ghost.
And yet I hadn’t felt like a ghost when I’d tucked Ruby into bed that night, and she’d flung her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. I’d felt very much alive when Ella, fresh from the bath, had asked me, shyly, so shyly, to help get a tangle out of her damp hair. Even when Alexa had slunk out of her bedroom and complained there was nothing to eat, and I’d been able to smile and tell her I’d buy groceries tomorrow… no, I hadn’t felt like a ghost then, either.
And yet with Nathan I did not know how to be.
We stumbled through the routine of the next day, with Nathan showing me the ropes he was still grappling with himself.
“Daddy, my uniform is in this drawer,” Ruby had exclaimed, rolling her eyes, when Nathan had been showing me where the girls’ clothes were. “And I have ballet on Fridays, not Thursdays.”
Nathan had smiled at me wryly, but with a glimmer of guilt. Beneath the good-natured teasing, there was a sorrowful note that twanged through all of us. Laura would have known this.
The next morning, Nathan had set off for work almost as soon as I arrived. I cleaned up the girls’ dishes and helped them find their uniforms. Suddenly I was in charge, and I felt as I had when I’d first come to this country, catapulted into a strange, new world I knew nothing about, trying to find my footing and slipping all the time.
The girls liked to help me, at least; they held my hand, skipping down the street as they showed me the way to school. Although Alexa stormed ahead, pretending she didn’t know me, all flying hair and catwalk stride.
“You don’t have to pick me up after school,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked through the school’s double doors. “I’m not a baby.”
“I’m not a baby,” Ella said with quiet dignity, and I smiled down at her, squeezing her hand.
“No, of course you are not. I shall see you this afternoon, and be glad of it.”
After that, I’d dropped Ruby off at preschool, five minutes late, much to the huffy annoyance of Miss Willis, whom Nathan had warned me about. The other mothers had looked at me askance, with thinly veiled curiosity, exchanging looks with each other, eyebrows raised. No one spoke to me, but I did not mind.
I was back at the apartment by half past nine, and for a little while I’d busied myself, cleaning the kitchen, doing the laundry, making the girls’ beds. I tidied Alexa’s messy room a little, screwing lids on bottles and boxes of makeup, folding up sweaters, half-afraid to touch her things and seem as if I were poking and prying.
I peeked into Nathan’s bedroom, unsure if I should make his bed or not, as I had all the girls’. Then I saw the rumpled duvet and creased pillows and decided I might as well.
It was strange, being in that room. I studied an artistic black and white photo of Laura and Nathan on their wedding day; she was holding her billowing dress down in the breeze, her head thrown back, laughing, as he reached for her hand. It was a moment of pure, uncomplicated joy, captured by a photographer without them even seeming to notice, all of it so foreign to me that I found myself studying it like a scientific specimen. This is how people are, how they can be.
I picked up the dirty clothes on the floor, and hung up a pair of trousers in the closet, pausing at the sight of Laura’s clothes still hanging next to Nathan’s—colorful skirts and soft cashmere sweaters, lots of boots and scarves. I caught the faint scent of her perfume, something orangey I remembered, and it filled me with sadness.
What was I doing here? How could I ever step into this family’s life, attempt to help them, even if just in some small way? I was so unqualified. I was so unworthy. And yet I was here.
The Wests had taken over my whole life, what little there had been of it; five days a week, I left their apartment at nine at night or later and was back again by half past seven in the morning. Weekends, I’d started coming over as well, to manage their activities; I spent more time on the bus and trai
n than I did in my own apartment.
A whistle blew from across the pool, interrupting my thoughts, and I looked up to see that the race was finished. Ella had come in third. She pulled herself out of the pool, her little body taut and dripping, and stalked to the bleachers where she’d left her towel.
“Did Ella win?” Ruby asked me, and I took her hand, leading her towards the bleachers.
“She did well.”
Yet it was clear from the way Ella was hunched under her towel, her chin jutting towards her chest, that she didn’t feel the same. Since joining the junior team, she’d poured all her focus and energy into swimming, with practices three evenings a week. As Nathan often worked late, I took her to all of them, usually with Ruby in tow, sitting a little bit apart from the other parents, listening to Ruby’s steady stream of chatter.
I saw the way Ella tried so hard, how frustrated she became with herself when she didn’t do as well as the others. I’d tried to talk to her about it, but she’d brushed me off. I’d mentioned it to Nathan, and he’d looked surprised.
“Ella? She’s so laid-back. Laura used to worry she was a little too dreamy.”
“She seems very focused about swimming.”
Nathan had nodded, seeming almost pleased. “It’s good for her to have something to focus on. I wish Alexa would find something, other than being angry with me.”
I did not know how to answer that, and I wasn’t sure it was my place, and so I’d said nothing.
“Good job, Ella,” I said now, as cheerfully as I could. Gently, I put an arm around her shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze before stepping back, that little bit of contact still feeling unfamiliar and yet so important. “Shall we have hot chocolate at home to celebrate?”
Ella shook her head, wet hair flying and flicking Ruby and me with cold drops, her face closed, her mouth drawn tight. “There’s nothing to celebrate.”
