by Joanne Hill
He’d even said hello to a little kid out on the road. The boy had turned with a wail and buried his face in his mother’s skirt. Any optimism he’d dredged up on the drive to his Newmarket office had died a rapid death.
He switched on his computer and consulted his calendar. He’d phoned Val again last night. She was scheduled for surgery in a few weeks and would be out of action recovering from the operation. The timing, she’d decided, was right for the father to get to know the son.
Jack opened his email to see if the documents she'd promised to scan had arrived. He’d been checking email on his cellphone religiously but there'd been nothing when he left home this morning. His heart gave a jolt when he saw her name in the inbox.
The moment of truth.
He opened the attachments.
The first was a scan of Eric’s birth certificate. Jack had done the math on the dates, and they fitted. He skimmed health records, realized they shared the same blood type. She even sent DNA test results which were just gibberish to him. But he’d get himself tested, and confirm it.
Then he opened the photograph of the boy and for a moment, the world stood still.
He enlarged the photo on screen, and stared as every ounce of air in his lungs dissipated, as everything around him faded into a blur.
A boy stared back at him, a grinning, black haired boy with dark brown eyes. A version of himself. A happier version.
Jack leant back and clasped his hands behind his head, but couldn't shift his gaze away from the crystal clear image of the boy.
His son.
He didn’t need DNA tests to prove it. He'd still get them done but any lingering doubt had just been dealt a death. Eric Wright was his flesh and blood.
He had a son.
How had he not known? Wasn't there some primitive wavelength, some supernatural bond between father and son?
There'd been nothing.
He pushed himself away from his desk, strode over to the window and stared out blankly. At the back of his mind it should have registered that something like this had happened to Val. After all, she had left her homeland for fame and fortune, had ended up in New Zealand, and found neither.
Jack buried his head in his hands.
She had given up her career to raise a child. His child.
He buzzed through to Collette and absently rubbed his chest. It had developed an alarming number of twinges the past forty-eight hours.
Collette Van Camp came in, shut the door behind her and took a seat. Pen in hand, she faced Jack squarely.
“You look terrible,” she commented.
“Thank you.”
“It's my pleasure.”
He tapped his fingers on his desk top. “I need to hire a nanny.”
Her eyebrows rose alarmingly high. She shook her head. Her perfect blonde hair barely moved. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”
“A nanny.”
“A nanny,” she repeated.
He reached for a pen, began to doodle. “There’s a seven-year-old boy coming out from Toronto in a couple of weeks and he’ll be staying with me.” He pursed his lips and tried to remember what else Val had said. She had booked a surgical procedure, claimed it was the perfect time to do it, that it wouldn’t hurt Eric to miss some school. Was the procedure cosmetic? He began tapping the pen. Was she thinking of resuming her modeling career?
“It’ll be for two or three weeks. I’m not sure.” Three weeks. An eternity.
Collette scribbled shorthand in her notebook. She was probably the only PA on the planet who did shorthand. “Would you consider your housekeeper for the role?”
“Mrs Parker? Jeez, no.” For all he respected his housekeeper, she was not child friendly. “She’d scare the poor kid to death. Scares the hell out of me half the time.” He massaged his forehead. “She’s become a death hag.”
Collette balked. “A what?”
Before she’d left yesterday, Mrs Parker had regaled him with the details of her current obsession. “A death hag is apparently a nut job who follows murder trials. There's some Body in the Bag case going on at the moment.” He backtracked. “Not that I’m in any way implying she’s a nut job.”
“You’re not implying anything,” Collette murmured. “But clearly she's unsuitable. The best option may be to use an agency.”
An agency. The boy wasn’t an I.T. problem or a staff shortage. He was a living, breathing little person.
“I suppose,” he grimaced, “that would be the best idea.”
Oh man. He was dealing with a kid who didn’t know a soul, whose own father was attempting to fob him off on to a stranger. That was bad. So what were the other options? Take a few weeks off work and entertain this child? The thought sent nerves skittering down his spine.
“Should I schedule interviews?” Collette glanced up. “Will you be conducting them yourself?”
He rubbed his hands roughly over his face, at the same time the jitters in his stomach descended further. He didn’t want to interview people. That's what HR was paid to do.
She said, “Or I can take over the process. The agency can email the short listed applicants straight to me.”
He glanced uneasily out the window and didn't see a thing.
“It’s just...” He swung back around, inexplicably edgy. “Hiring a complete stranger to look after the boy, it seems...” The boy was flying across the Pacific Ocean to meet a dad he’d never laid eyes on. What sort of greeting was “Hi, kid, here’s your sitter.”
“Unless you’ll be taking care of the child yourself,” Collette began, “or you know someone personally who would be suitable, I suggest we schedule interviews straight away.”
Unless you know someone suitable.
He narrowed his eyes as he gazed unseeing out the window and her name jumped out of him so strong he jerked forward in his seat. Robyn.
No. He got a grip on reality. She had a full life with her kids and her job and whatever else was going on, and she didn’t need to play nanny to another child.
“Jack?” Collette frowned, puzzled. “What is it exactly you’d like me to do? I know of a very good agency with British trained staff. Or have you thought of someone?”
He sighed. The thing was, Robyn Taylor would be good. There was a subtle quality about her that made you trust her. Made you like her. She'd never struck him as the 'momsy' type at school, but after spending just five minutes in her house with her kids, he knew she’d be good at looking after his son. He knew it. His gut instinct had been honed over a lifetime, and yes, it had failed him miserably over Charlotte but... He frowned. Or had it?
He pushed the distraction of Charlotte aside. On most matters, his instinct was well honed. “I think so,” he said finally.
“If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look terribly enthusiastic about it.”
“It’s complicated.” That phrase again. “But you’ve given me the idea. You are, as usual, worth your weight in gold. Take the afternoon off.”
She eyed him warily. “Have you been on the scotch because your ex girlfriend is making this the week from hell? I won’t get out of here until after eight with all the calls I'm taking for you. But feel free to order me in an early dinner. Something Italian with a nice merlot.”
“Deal,” Jack said but his mind went straight back to Robyn.
She could still turn him down. She had a life. She had kids, friends, a job.
But the last thing he wanted or needed was to become a full time father even for a few weeks.
He’d try Robyn Taylor. And hope with everything he had, he could make her at least consider it.
“Is that man your new boyfriend?”
Robyn stopped in the middle of tying back her hair, and wondered briefly if she should read anything in to Ruby's phase. Her ‘new’ boyfriend. She didn’t even have an ‘old’ one. Edwin had been pretty much it with a few embarrassing interludes before that. She caught herself before she began her own “poor me” pity party, and told Ruby
, “No, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a—um...”
A what? A friend? An acquaintance?
“A friend,” she said. She heard the smooth rumble of Jack’s car and finally admitted she’d been deluding herself that she was calm over this. She held up her hand. It was actually trembling. Jack had rung her, asked her in that deep voice of his if he could talk to her and she’d agreed.
“What does he want?” Ruby asked. She wore one of Robyn’s new designs, a dark green cotton pinafore with a barely-there plaid imprint. Her pink blanky was draped around her shoulders like a shawl. Note to self: accessorize with pink. Add a couple of pink pockets. Thank you, Rubes.
“I’m not sure.” Robyn squared her shoulders, exhaled on a bundle of nerves. It was going to be something to do with Charlotte. What, she didn’t know, but it had to be.
“Is he your boyfriend?” Ruby pressed her hand into Robyn’s. “Harry said he’s a good boyfriend because he’s got lots of money. Has he got some money?”
Robyn shot her a curious stare. “Harriet told you all this?”
Ruby nodded. “Is he your boyfriend, Mom?”
“No.” She said it too loudly. Almost shouted it. “No,” she said again, calmly. “Like I said, Jack is a friend. Just a normal friend like Antony at playgroup.”
“Do you want him to be our boyfriend?” Ruby asked.
Knocks sounded at the door, Ruby gasped, and bolted away to pull open the door before Robyn could stop her.
She swung it open, and stared up at Jack.
Stunned, he stared down at her.
“Hello,” he said finally
“Hi,” Ruby said, not moving.
Jack looked up, met Robyn’s gaze. The strangest mix of panic, relief and...nerves?
Jack Fletcher had never, ever struck her as the nervous type.
“Come on in,” she said. She stood back, and as he walked past, she inhaled his fragrance. Gorgeously masculine and rich, the same fragrance he’d worn on the weekend.
“I appreciate you seeing me, Robyn,” he commented. “You said you were busy today?”
She was borrowing Sage’s van to go on a fabric hunt in South Auckland. “I have made some plans.” She gestured to a chair. He pulled one out from the dining table, lowered himself into it, and stretched out his legs.
Ruby climbed on to a chair and sat staring at him.
Jack looked at her, managed a smile. “Ah, hi. Again.” The smile had a hint of panic about it. “How are you. Ruby, isn’t it?”
“Harry said that you’re going to be our—”
“Would you like a drink, Ruby,” Robyn interjected
“Harriet? I remember. The babysitter.” Jack relaxed a little and stared at Ruby. “I didn’t realize little kids could speak so well.”
Robyn poured her a drink. “She is four. She’s been speaking since she was two.”
“Is that normal for a child of that age?”
She stared at him. “You really haven’t had much to do with children, have you?”
His face suddenly took on an unreadable look. He cleared his throat. “No, I haven't.”
“What about your sister’s children? Sharon's got two, hasn't she?”
“Three,” he corrected. He glanced back at Ruby. “Where is your other child?”
“James is just over at a friend's house for the day.”
“Right.” He nodded. “I'll get to the point.”
“Mom, can we sit outside?” Ruby said, jumping up from her seat. Robyn grabbed her drink just in time as she ran to the door and said to Jack, “It is nice out. Do you mind?”
“I’d prefer it.” He rose to his feet. “Let’s go.”
When they were sitting down, the sun still high enough to beam down some warmth, she said, “You mentioned on the phone there was a problem.” She added in sympathy. “I’ve seen all the news about Charlotte and Brad.”
His mouth twisted. “It's been hard to miss.”
“I could tell something was up on Saturday. It must have been — hideous.”
“That’s a good way of putting it. Thankfully it's died down.”
“Then that's not the reason you’re here?”
“No.” He leaned forward on the chair, clasped his hands between his knees. “There is a child — a boy —coming out to stay with me. He's from Canada. He'll be here for a few weeks, and my dilemma is that I need someone to look after him.”
“Is he a relative?”
“No, he’s...” He stared over her head at the pigeons congregating on her neighbor’s roof.
Ruby suddenly came charging up to Robyn and Robyn pulled her up on her lap with a grunt, and put her arms around her waist. Jack’s gaze slipped to Ruby for a second. Slowly, he said, “I was going to say he isn’t a relative, in answer to your question. But in fact he is related.” He looked straight at Robyn and there was a mark of desperation in his eyes. “Robyn, the boy is my son.”
“Your — son?” Ruby wriggled to be let down and Robyn let her as a rush of thoughts — disbelief, surprise, confusion — flooded her brain. Jack has a son. She stared at him. He is a father? Who on earth was the mother?
“I had no idea you had a child,” she murmured.
His mouth twisted. “That makes two of us.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t know you had a child?”
He shook his head. “I found out twenty-four hours ago.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No.”
She pressed her lips together. “How old is he?”
“Seven.”
She was silent, processing this.
“This whole time — all these years — and you had no idea?”
“Valerie – his mother – was a brief friendship.”
“A bit more than a friendship,” she muttered.
He came close to what looked like rolling his eyes but said, “We kept in touch briefly after she left Auckland. She mentioned nothing about having a baby.” He made a gesture of finality with his hands. “Nothing.”
Robyn was silent a moment longer, her forehead furrowed. Jack had a son.
She let out a long breath. “I guess it’s fair to say it’s been a rough time for you lately. What with Charlotte. Brad. Now this.”
He rubbed his hand up and down his face in a gesture that spoke a million words.
“But I am confused,” she went on. ”Why exactly are you telling me this?”
“Because I need to ask a favor of you. A big favor.” He laced his hands together. “Even though Eric will be staying with me, he'll need somebody to look after him.”
Of course. She nodded. “Do you want me to recommend somebody?”
“No. I could go through an agency for that and I could interview a dozen candidates searching for that right person to look after the boy.”
“There are really good agencies out here.” She’d looked into them for James and Ruby but the good ones had charged the kind of money even she didn’t make.
“I know. My PA has researched it for me.” He let out a long sigh. “But it wouldn’t feel right. It wouldn’t feel fair to this boy. I need someone to look after him while I’m at work, to make sure the time he has here is at least some fun, especially since he's flying half way around the world without his mother.” He held her gaze, and she noticed his eyes had flecks of gold. They were very distracting.
“Robyn. Will you?”
She focused back on what he was saying. “Will I what?”
“Mind him. I want you to be the one looking after him while he’s here.”
Her eyes snapped. “Me?”
“Yes. You. It would be a job. I’d pay you well.”
“I already have a job.”
“You wouldn’t need to work that job. You told me you’re hired on a casual basis anyway.”
“A casual contract that guarantees me regular work. It’s how I pay my bills.”
“I understand. But I need someone to look after him during the day while I’m at wo
rk. I’ll pay you well and cover all your costs on top of that.”
“And why can’t you go through an agency?”
“I don’t want just anyone taking care of him when I’m not around.”
She raised her arms in disbelief at the obvious. “But Jack, aren’t I just ‘anyone’?”
“No, you’re not just anyone. And you’d be great. I mean, look at your children. Child,” he rephrased. He gestured to Ruby, standing, staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the scrutiny. “Your twins are well behaved and I haven’t had a lot to do with little kids but I didn’t think they could be so well behaved. Looking at Ruby tells me you’re a great mother.”
She couldn't deny his words pleased her. Immensely. She sat back in her chair and regarded him. His mouth was firm, her eyes clear. He knew what he wanted.
She knew what she wanted, too. She glanced over as Ruby began to run in circles, trailing her blanket behind her. Pressure began to mount in her chest. There was so much to do. She shook her head. “Jack, I’m sorry, I can’t do it. I’m not in a position to right now.”
He looked unfazed. “I’ve only just hit you with it. You need time to think.”
“I don’t need time. I can’t do it. I have my own children, and my job. And if I do start turning down work from the function center, they could take me off their staffing lists. Not to mention...” She hadn’t told him about the clothes and the fashion expo, had just alluded to a venture but there was no reason not to mention it. “There’s something I have to prepare for in a few weeks. It’s to do with kids fashion. There's a lot of work involved, sewing and promotion and I can’t afford to get snowed under.” Or succumb to the pressure. It was all self-inflicted but she had to do well at that show. There was a lot to prove, a lot riding on it. She took a deep breath. “I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize it.”
“I’ll make it as easy as I can for you. And I will pay you very well.”
“You don’t know my life. I have commitments, just like you, and I can not just go and flick them off.”
