Jane moistened her lips. “Well, I couldn’t reach her. But that’s not surprising. She’s…always running here and there…working odd hours. I’ll try her again later.”
He put a pound of butter into the refrigerator. “The letter from your boss will satisfy me for the moment. But I would like to talk to your sister.”
Her head bobbed silently and then she headed off to put the new tube of toothpaste and bottle of shampoo in the bathroom cabinet. Oh, heavens, how she hated lying. She was going to trip up and get her story all confused if she wasn’t careful.
Now she’d have to remember she’d told him her sister worked a job that called for odd hours. When in reality, Pricilla didn’t even have a job. What if Greg asked what kind of occupation her sister had?
Jane closed the bathroom cabinet and heaved a sigh. Lying wasn’t for the faint of heart, that was for sure.
“Hey.”
Greg’s voice startled her nearly out of her skin, and she turned to see him standing in the bathroom doorway.
He grinned. “Didn’t mean to scare you. What’s got you so on edge?” Before she could respond, he said, “Here. Catch. This goes under the sink.”
He tossed a package of toilet tissue into the air. She caught it easily and stored it away.
What had her so on edge? he’d asked. When she faced him once more with every intention of responding to his query, she saw that he had evidently gone back to the kitchen. She looked at her face in the mirror. The answer was easy. Murderers, thieves and liars led a paranoid existence. Especially murderers, thieves and liars who had been blessed—or cursed, as the case may be—with a healthy conscience.
Okay, maybe lumping herself in with murderers and thieves was being a bit overly dramatic. But she sure was feeling awfully paranoid. And guilty as sin.
Back in the kitchen, Greg was just putting the fresh produce away. She saw the table laden with jars of baby food, pureed apples and pears, green beans and peas, boxes of rice cereal and zwieback biscuits, cans of formula, packages of diapers. The thought of him shopping up and down the baby aisle in the grocery store for all the things Joy would need through the week…well, Jane found the idea quite endearing.
“Wow,” she whispered. “You didn’t forget a thing.”
“You think so?”
There was clear uncertainty in his question, and Jane found that charming, too. He wanted to be a good parent, to provide Joy with everything she would need. He came to stand beside her and looked down at his purchases.
“I was worried. I had to go out about a million times last week. First for diapers, then for baby formula and again when we ran out of cereal. I was trying to avoid doing that this week, if it’s at all possible.” He chuckled as he picked up a squeaky toy he’d bought. “I couldn’t resist this.” He pressed the colorful wheel-shaped teether. “I thought about getting it out to distract her in the car, but I knew she was too upset for that. So I just hurried home as fast as I could. What she needed was a nap. Not a new toy.”
Instincts. He had a daddy’s instincts. Heat curled low in her gut, and Jane realized she found the idea to be…sexy. Startlingly so. It was silly, really. But she couldn’t help herself.
His tone was soft as he said, “You know, when you smile like that, those blue-gray eyes of yours twinkle like stars in a clear night sky.”
She blinked. Blue-gray? Twinkle? Like stars in the sky? She’d never heard herself described in such a manner. She’d always thought her eyes were a dreary gray. Like an overcast day. But here Greg was comparing her gaze to glittering stars. Her smile broadened of its own accord.
“Thanks,” she whispered, unable to keep her chin from dipping, her eyes from cutting up at him through lowered lashes. She felt suddenly shy. Bashful.
For a moment, they stood there, just smiling at each other. Jane basking in his compliment, and he…well, she had no clue what he might be thinking.
At last he said, “We never got a chance to finish our conversation this morning.”
“Our conversation?” For a split second she felt at a complete loss. His unexpected flattery had really thrown her for a loop. As if she were on some wild amusement park ride.
“About Pricilla,” he continued, carrying several jars of the baby food to the pantry. “Joy’s mother.”
“Oh, yes. Of course.” At the mention of her sister’s name, Jane’s heart seemed to sink right down to her ankles. “Joy’s mother. I asked you where she was this morning.”
He nodded, coming back for a second haul of the tiny jars. She watched his big hands span across the jar lids, and she couldn’t help but remember how his touch had been so gentle on Friday when he’d listened to the sound of her heart. Blood whooshed through her ears at the memory.
Focus, darn you!
“Well, like I said—” his back was to her as he put away the fruit and vegetables “—I didn’t know Pricilla and I were parents until she showed up on my doorstep last week. She just knocked on the door, told me I was a dad and then proceeded to drop off Joy and all her belongings.”
An uneasy feeling crept over Jane.
“Just like that?” she asked him. “She just showed up and handed over the baby?”
“Just like that.” He came back to the table for the boxes of cereal and teething biscuits. “She gave very little explanation. Only that she’d tried to raise Joy and just couldn’t do it. She did look terribly harried. And Joy was crying her little eyes out when they arrived. Hungry. Tired. She was a handful for quite a while before I got her calmed down.”
He’s lying. He’s lying. Jane kept chanting the silent words. Pricilla wouldn’t do such a thing. She wouldn’t just dump off her daughter as Greg was describing.
The awful memory of arriving home before her sister…of catching Pricilla carrying Joy across the lawn, coming from the neighbor’s, and the baby with no coat to ward off the chilly fall wind. Jane grasped the back of the kitchen chair. Maybe Pricilla would leave her daughter with a sitter for an evening, but surely she’d never unload Joy for good. Never. Greg was lying. Yet, uneasiness crawled around in her chest like a thousand creepy little spiders.
“Pricilla didn’t stay long,” he continued. “She handed me Joy’s birth certificate. I was named her daddy right there on the dotted line. But then, I realized Joy was mine as soon as I got a chance to really look at her. She’s my very image, don’t you think? Right down to the dimples.”
Jane knew she should be pitching in, helping Greg put the baby food into the pantry. But she was too overwhelmed by what she was hearing to move, to think clearly, to speak, so she simply stood there holding on to the chair back for dear life.
“Oh, and she gave me what few medical records she had, too. Thank goodness she’d started Joy on her baby shots. And she kept good records of them, too. For that, I’m thankful.”
Again his back was turned to her as he faced the pantry. Joy’s birth certificate and inoculation record booklet. Jane hadn’t thought to check to see if they were still in the file cabinet at home. The dread in her belly thickened to what felt like cement.
“Pricilla told me not to call her.” This time his chuckle was without humor and came out sounding more like a disdainful sneer. “Said she’d call me, if and when she ever wanted to see Joy again.” He came to stand by the table next to her and, heaved a sigh. “I’ve been thinking about seeing a lawyer. I’d like to have permanent custody of my baby girl.”
Somehow, Jane got through the rest of the afternoon. Thankfully, Joy had only slept an hour and then the child was refreshed and ready to be occupied. Jane was happy to oblige. Playing with the baby had given her something to do with her hands, something on which to focus her thoughts. She hadn’t wanted to think about Pricilla. And she hadn’t wanted to wonder one more second if Greg had been telling the truth. She hadn’t been up to working it all out. Not then. She just hadn’t.
But now in the wee hours of Monday morning when all she’d done was toss and turn and then toss
some more, she couldn’t help but think about this situation. Her sister. Greg. Joy. The deceitful predicament she now found herself in. Guilt ran through her mind like a wild, uncontrollable brushfire searing to ash all her positive explanations, all her logical motivations, as if they were bone-dry tinder.
The whole time Greg had been telling her his side of how Joy came to be living with him, the overwhelming dread inside Jane had grown and swelled. He was being truthful. She wanted to believe he was lying, but the honesty shining in his clear forest-green eyes—in his handsome face—was unmistakable. Heck, her own intuition had been confirmation enough. His body language had been easy and open. Nothing at all what she’d have expected from a man who was fabricating a fantastic story.
Besides, what would have motivated him to lie to her? He didn’t know who she was. He didn’t know she had any ties to his child other than acting as Joy’s nanny.
Sure, he might have wanted to make himself out as the one who had been wronged rather than looking like a bad guy, but he’d actually seemed regretful that he hadn’t known about Joy until last week. And now it seemed he was going to see a lawyer about garnering custody. That act didn’t fit with someone who had a cavalier attitude about parenthood. And neither did the tender and caring behavior Jane had seen Greg exhibit toward Joy. The man cherished his daughter. He loved her. Deeply. That much was evident.
All these facts left her a slim hand from which to draw conclusions, she realized as dread churned like dark, slimy waters in her gut. And every single conclusion had an extremely narrow focus: Pricilla.
Her body rigid with tension as she lay there in the dark, Jane realized she had been lied to. Not by Greg, but by Pricilla. Her sister. Her own flesh and blood.
For months and months during Pricilla’s pregnancy, Jane had worked like a madwoman in the restaurant, taking on all the extra hours she could get from the other waitresses just so her sister could take it easy, take care of herself and the new baby growing inside her. Pricilla had always been a high-strung young woman, and during her pregnancy she’d needed a great deal of counsel, which Jane had provided as best she could in her role of big sister.
And once Joy had arrived, Jane had continued to work extra hours in order to give her sister time to heal, time to bond with her baby. However, the bonding never did seem to take place. And after recuperating a month or so, Pricilla had been determined to go back to her party life. Jane tried hard to be patient with her sister. As long as they watched their pennies, and Pricilla was there to watch Joy while Jane worked, the three of them survived fairly well on Jane’s salary.
Yes, they had survived. But there had been so many things they had all done without…well, at least Jane and Joy had done without. Pricilla always seemed to find some man or other to take her to dinner or buy her an expensive haircut or tanning session or whatever other frivolity she thought she had to have.
To think that Joy had gone months without a high chair and a baby swing and all those other wonderful contraptions meant to make life simpler for parents. But those were luxuries Jane’s budget simply couldn’t afford. However, if Pricilla had gone to Greg, maybe Joy wouldn’t have had to do without for so darned long.
Oh, Pricilla had said she’d gone to Greg. She said that Greg wanted absolutely nothing to do with the baby unless he could have the child, lock, stock and barrel. Jane’s head had been filled with awful stories about the baby’s father—stories she was now discovering were all lies.
The state would force the baby’s father to pay support, Jane had told her sister, and she’d urged Pricilla to see someone at Social Services. But Pricilla always had some excuse or other about why she hadn’t gone. Jane had finally come to the conclusion that Greg Hamilton was such a tyrant that Pricilla had been too afraid to face him in court.
Now Jane couldn’t help but realize that Pricilla had lied about everything. She’d never gone to Greg for help. She’d never even told him he was going to be a father.
Why?
It hurt Jane terribly to think how hard she’d worked to keep a roof over Pricilla’s head, food in her and her baby’s stomachs, clothes on her child’s back.
Oh, Jane didn’t regret her efforts. Not one bit. She loved her family—with all her heart and soul. She’d have worked her fingers to the bone to provide for Joy. But her feelings had been battered and bruised by Pricilla for so long…ever since her sister had announced her pregnancy. And Jane hadn’t even known the beating—in the guise of deceit—was going on.
Now she knew. And her heart ached with the knowledge. Her stomach filled with a lump of emotion, and that burning emotion slowly rose to fill her throat, burn her eyes with scalding tears.
The first sob that escaped her lips had been silent, and Jane snatched at the box of tissues on her night-stand, covering her mouth with one. But the more her brain churned over Pricilla’s lies, the more she thought of how her sister had allowed her to work so hard, how she’d received little-to-no help with the bills or keeping the house…it was all too much.
Before she could stop them, tears were flowing freely, her heart broken in what felt like a million razor-sharp shards that sliced and gouged her. Her breathing came in racking heaves. She tried hard to stay quiet, but the depth of her anguish was more than she could bear.
How? How could Pricilla just pack up and leave? How, after all Jane had done, could her sister just take Joy away with no word of where she had gone or when she had planned to come back?
Because she hadn’t planned to return.
The whispery thought caused a shock wave of pain and desolation to roll through her, chilling her to the very marrow in her bones. A low moan surged from deep in her throat, as unstoppable as a tremulant earthquake.
Clutching the pillow to her chest, she tried in vain to squelch the agony that ripped at her heart. Why? Why? Why would her sister want to hurt her so badly? Why would she disappear with Joy when Jane did nothing but work hard to keep their small family together? Hot tears burned her cheeks. It just didn’t make sense.
The soft knock on the bedroom door startled a gasp from her and she unwittingly pushed herself into a sitting position, stiff and straight, on the mattress.
“Jane?”
Greg’s voice was gentle, questioning.
“Jane, it’s me,” he said. “Are you okay?”
When she didn’t answer, he continued, “Can I come in?”
“No!” Blindly, she reached for more tissues, hauling in deep breaths in an attempt to get herself under control. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”
The last thing she wanted was for Greg to see her in this state. He’d expect an explanation, and she simply wasn’t up to concocting any more lies. She felt bad enough as it was, having swallowed as truth all the bad things about him that Pricilla had fed her over the months.
Swiping the wad of tissues under her eyes and nose, Jane peered through the moonlight. Oh, how she wished she’d thought to lock the door before she’d gone to bed.
“But—”
She heard his hesitation, obvious concern turning his tone warm and low. The murmuring resonance of his voice made her muscles go weak and liquid. The feeling was surprising…and pleasant. In her everyday life, she was the one who usually did the worrying about others.
“—I heard you crying. Please. Let me come in.”
The unexpected pleasure vanished in a flash when she saw the doorknob turning. Instantly, her eyes widened, her shoulders froze as rigid as steel, her limbs stiffened as she started through the darkness at the door.
He was coming in.
Chapter Five
Her first thought was to bury her head in the covers. At least then he wouldn’t see her blotchy, tear-streaked face. She didn’t need to turn on the light or stand in front of a mirror to know she looked a wreck.
The door inched open, and Greg’s head and upper body appeared. Moonlight from the window gleamed on his mahogany hair. The darkness kept her from actually detecting the green of his
eyes, but she did see the deep concern biting into his brow.
“You’re not sick, are you?” he asked softly.
“No. I’m not sick.”
Her inhalation was shaky. Desperate to control her emotions, she grasped the cotton blanket in her fists and held on tight. No matter how hurt she felt, she must not allow her torment to show in front of him. If she did, if she yielded to the tears burning the backs of her eyelids, if she accepted any consolation from him, the whole truth about her, about how and why she came to be in his home, would surely come tumbling from her lips. She just knew it. Yes, it was true that she’d figured out some things about Greg tonight—that he’d been just as wronged by Pricilla as she herself had been—however, Jane still didn’t know this man well enough to gauge how he would react to the lies she’d told him. She had to protect herself. She had to protect her place here with Joy.
Smile. Make him believe you’re okay. Even if you’re not. And above all, don’t cry. You must keep your wits about you.
“Tell me what’s wrong. What has you so upset?”
Her heart melted at his whisper-soft request. He looked worried. And she took an odd comfort in the fact that his concern was focused directly on her.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
It never even entered her head to latch onto this excuse. She’d have loved to explain away her tears so easily, but he didn’t deserve to hear any more lies. She might feel unable to reveal the truth just yet, but she didn’t have to invent any more stories, either. This scheme of hers was complicated enough.
Jane shook her head in a silent, negative answer.
He approached the bed, coming close enough that she could smell the luscious woodsy scent of him, see the way his T-shirt pulled taut and sexy across his broad chest. Lord, why did her body betray her every single time she was in his presence?
“Honey,” he began, but then he paused.
After a moment of evident indecision, he eased himself down on the very edge of the mattress beside her.
“You’ve helped me so much with Joy,” he said, “and with the house. Please let me help you now. Talk to me.”
The Nanny Proposal Page 6
