by Joanne Hill
“I know extra money would help you out. All I’m asking is that you think about it.”
She hesitated. Extra money would help out — more than he knew — especially with all the promotional expenses. She was facing charging them on the credit card as it was and the thought of debt, especially when there were no guarantees her business would succeed, made her skin crawl. She did not take risk lightly. But right now, she needed time. Not three weeks babysitting.
She shook her head, and he looked as if he couldn’t figure out why this suggestion was annoying her so much. He ran his hand through his hair, seemed to rough it up and smooth it down in one motion. “Please think about it. This boy, Eric, is my son. I don’t know him from the kid next door but I damned well want to make sure that when he is here, he’s not looked after by some Nazi child-hater but by someone who cares.” His gaze tapped in to something deep inside her. “And you would care for him.”
He was flattering her, hitting her where it mattered most. Her kids. That she was a good mother. The most important thing in the world to her. Smart move, Jack Fletcher.
“It won’t be twenty-four seven. I’ll spare as much time as I can.” The look on his face said it was the last thing he wanted to do. Jack Fletcher and kids didn’t gel. “But I want someone with him I can trust; somebody who knows how to deal with children.”
He leant over, and suddenly tilted her chin. The touch was unexpected, and it zinged through her, shocked her more than a simple touch should have. As if realizing the intimacy of the gesture, his hand dropped away.
“I want him with somebody he’ll like.”
“Okay.” She swallowed down, and decided she'd at least do him the courtesy of considering it. “I’ll think about it but I am making no promises.”
He felt in his pocket for his car keys and pulled them out. “Thank you. It's all I'm asking.”
He stood and she walked with him, folded her arms across her chest. She bit down on her bottom lip.
“Jack...”
“Yes?”
“Does it bug you that this is so sudden?”
He arched his eyebrows in a way that said the whole thing bugged him but paused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, this is so out of the blue, isn't it? This woman must know you very well to send her only son out to live with you, but it sounds like you barely knew her.”
He gave a shrug. “She said the timing was right, the age was right for him to get know his father. I offered to pay for Val to come out as well but she believes this is the best way. She has a minor surgery and will need a few weeks to recover so it all ties in.”
Ruby came running past and Jack stepped back. Ruby stopped, squinted to stare up at him. “Harry says that you’re going to be our—”
“I’ll think about it,” Robyn said again, hoping Jack hadn’t heard the word boyfriend leak from Ruby’s mouth.
And hoping for everyone’s sake Jack found the right person soon.
Because there was no room for any distractions.
And Jack Fletcher had the potential to be one major distraction in her carefully planned out life.
Robyn’s feet hurt as she carried glasses back to the commercial dishwasher, cleared plates from tables, called a cab for an inebriated customer, and had a plate of butter chicken tipped down her shirt. With each step, she wished she could pull up a chair and stick her feet in a bowl of warm water. Or one of those automatic foot massagers; or even better, have someone massage her feet, slowly and thoroughly. Her respect for shop assistants had gone through the roof once she’d begun this work.
She'd wiped her shirt with paper towels, and in the bathroom with a wet dish rag to get more of the stain out. It wasn’t going to work. The tomato and spices in the sauce stained like the devil. Now she had an orange wet patch down her shirt and there was still hours to go.
She grabbed an apron from the bar to cover most of the stain and quickly made her way back out to the floor of the function center, grabbed a tray and continued clearing.
Her mind flicked to Jack. She'd told him she couldn't be the child minder and she wondered whether he’d found anyone to look after his son. Most likely he had. No doubt he’d found somebody who’d jump at the chance to work for Jack Fletcher.
He'd called her yesterday, the last time they'd spoken, and this time, he'd made a radical suggestion.
He'd suggested she move into his house while Eric was staying. Her and the kids. Pack their bags and move into his house. They'd have a whole floor to themselves, there'd be no commuting, he was going to pay her well, and at the back of her mind, after he'd hung up, she had let herself wonder about it. Maybe this could work.
Then reality had checked in. Living beneath the same roof as Jack? Was she asking for trouble?
She walked quickly out with the glasses, and unloaded them.
It wouldn't work. Living that close to Jack while the spark of attraction was there, was madness. She was just lucky Harriet babysat so cheaply but even that could change soon. If Harriet met a boy, started dating, just decided she had better things to do than be stuck in a house with a couple of preschoolers, then Robyn would have to pay the going rate, not the token she paid Harry. And she’d be paying strangers to look after the twins. She frowned, thought of Jack again. Pictured him as he'd looked straight at her, his eyes blazing with honesty and told her he didn't want strangers looking after his son.
A noise erupted from the bar and Robyn groaned as a couple of men looked as if they were about to take aim at each other with a nervous looking waitress trying to get between them.
Not what you'd figured you'd end up doing with your life, is it, Miss Destined-for-great-and-wonderful-things, a voice taunted as she told a colleague to call security.
She gritted her teeth.
No, it wasn't. And she was the only one who could do anything about it.
And maybe a little financial help would...
Who was she kidding? It wasn't a little financial help he was offering, it was a lot. And there wasn't any maybe about it.
A month maximum.
That’s what he'd said.
Living in his house, his luxury house. Just looking after his son, and he'd offered to help when he could so she could work on her collection.
Only one month. The phrase went round and round in her head as the security guard arrived just in time to see one drunk take a swing at the other.
It was only one month.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two weeks later, Robyn moved into Jack's house. Her, the twins, and several suitcases of clothes.
Jack showed them up to their floor, and stepped aside as Robyn walked into the bedroom that was hers for the next few weeks. She set her case by the bed, and assessed the room with the familiar feeling of tension that sat over her when she'd made the wrong decision. Except it couldn’t be a bad decision. It was only for one month, and she’d negotiated time off with Jack to work on the collection.
Jack set the heavier case down. “Is this room okay?”
“This is seriously lovely.” She'd seen it at night but during the day... Did he ever pinch himself at how far he'd come?
He stopped beside her. “My room is on the floor above.” He inclined his head at the view out to the sea. “There’s a sense of freedom having the sea out there, a sense of not being hemmed in. Safe and sound.”
A reference to the prison that Kopane had become?
He glanced at the pillows and duvet. “Mrs Parker chose your color scheme.”
It was pink and red on an off-white background. He added, “I figured you’d appreciate something less masculine than everything else around here.”
Robyn ran her hand over the smooth cover. In the years she'd been making clothes, she'd learnt to appreciate quality fabric. “Mrs Parker has good taste.”
He grinned. “So she tells me.”
A yell sounded from the next room, Robyn winced, and Jack gestured to the door. “Lead the way.”
Ruby and James had a truck between them and both had a hand on each end of it. They saw Robyn, and started yelling and tugging harder.
“Mum, Ruby stole my truck.”
“It’s my truck.”
“I had it first.”
“I had it before him.”
James suddenly let go and Ruby fell back. He reached for her blanket; she released her grip on the truck with a blood curdling scream, and lunged for the blanket.
She half turned to Jack to gauge his reaction. He watched through apprehensive eyes as Ruby took a seat at the small wooden table, and glared at James as he tipped out a plastic crate of new trucks and cars.
Was Jack having second thoughts about his nice orderly existence being uprooted by children? Two children today, and tomorrow a third child — a stranger — arriving?
She backtracked. Orderly existence? On the surface, maybe, but inside, he had to be still hurting over Charlotte and Brad's betrayal.
She cleared her throat. “This is all new furniture, too?”
He nodded. “Mrs Parker's doing. I want you – and the twins – to feel like this is your home.”
She watched Ruby begin an imaginary conversation while James “vroomed” his trucks all over the floor. This was normal and familiar and for the first time since he'd pulled up into her driveway to pick her and the twins up, she felt her guard come down a little. She murmured, “Looks like they feel at home already.”
Robyn met Mrs Parker the following day as they waited for Eric’s flight to get in. She had the latest tablet on the counter to check the news sites in her breaks.
She set a cup of coffee on the counter for Robyn, eyeing the children with suspicion. “I suppose these two are Mr Fletcher’s as well.”
Robyn nearly choked. “Sorry?”
“They look like him. Similar coloring. Same hair. You sure they’re not his?” She reached into the cupboard for cleaner and rags, and filled a bucket with water. “Who knows what that man is up to, all the comings and goings, the phone calls. The blonde bimbo one minute, a kid on his way, then all these children. I’m having trouble keeping up with the man.”
“How do you find him as an employer?” Robyn asked.
Mrs Parker stopped wiping the sink and fixed her with a stern glare. “I’ve been with him three years. I work Monday to Friday ten to three with a thirty minute lunch break and a couple of tea breaks. He pays me well. I’m not looking to go anywhere else.”
Robyn drank her coffee and watched a woman, twice her age and with more agility, clean cupboards.
“Mrs Parker, are you sure I can’t help?”
“I'm sure.” She began to wipe down the huge pantry door which to Robyn’s eye needed no wiping. “But I appreciate your offer. You just go and do what it is you do. God knows, you’ll be needing your strength with three nippers running around the place. You finish that coffee and I’ll make some scones for you and your offspring. We can talk.” She arched her eyebrows hopefully. “Are you following the Body in the Boot trial?”
The day dragged, punctuated with tea breaks where Mrs Parker presented the details of the defense and the prosecution’s angle, until finally Jack phoned with an approximate time on when they’d arrive home; he’d collected Eric from the arrivals lounge, and they were heading home now.
Robyn helped the children tidy up as James asked, “Is that boy our new brother?”
“No. He’s Jack’s son, so he’s more like a new friend.” She stacked cars in a blue crate. “I’m going to help look after him when Jack’s at work.”
“And Jack’s going to look after us while you’re at work, instead of Harry?” James piped up.
She shook her head. “I’m not doing that job for the next month.”
She took each of their hands. “Let’s go down and be ready when they get here and remember – Eric is from another country so we’ll speak differently to him.”
The garage door opened on the ground floor, and with butterflies in her stomach, she took the children downstairs to the living area. A minute later Jack pushed open the door. He held it open, and Eric walked through.
She saw the resemblance to Jack in a flash. Same dark eyes, the almost aquiline shape of his nose, and right now those dark eyes were wide and curious as he glanced at the twins, then at Robyn.
“Eric,” Jack gestured to Robyn, “this is Robyn, and she’ll be staying with us while you’re here. And these are her two children, Ruby and James.”
He looked at them through hesitant eyes.
“Hey, how are you, Eric?” Robyn bent down, her head nearer his level and held out her hand. He took it warily. His skin was pale coming from a North American winter. “Was the flight on the plane okay?”
He swallowed. “It was long.” He glanced at the twins who both stared, intrigued, back at him.
“Are you tired?” Robyn prompted.
He shook his head firmly. “No. I'm not.”
Behind him, Jack said, in that way of a man pretending he was supremely confident but felt anything but, “Let’s get your bags and I’ll show you to your room.”
“'Kay,” Eric murmured.
Robyn watched them leave, and only just stopped the twins from following. There was plenty of time to get acquainted with the boy when he'd had a chance to settle down and, she was sure, had a rest.
In the kitchen, she began to make coffee and called James and Ruby up to the counter for a drink.
They had plastic mugs now. The glasses they'd used yesterday had ended up back in the cupboard pretty smartly after James had put his glass down too hard on the counter top and cracked it. Jack had promptly driven down to the local mall and come back with sets of plastic bowls and cups.
The absurdity of their domestic situation struck her hard, and she pushed down the plunger with more strength than it needed.
If they managed to stay out of Jack’s way, it would be fine. She could do the job she was getting paid for and he could...Do what? He was hiding, not very successfully, that he had no idea what he was meant to do as the father of a boy he didn’t know, and the more Robyn considered the whole situation, the more confused she became.
Val Wright had sent her only child to stay with a man she hadn't seen in eight years. Who would do that?
Why not bring him out with her, when they could make a real holiday of it, when she could gauge for herself how they were getting on? Why now, and not a year ago, or why not wait for the upcoming northern hemisphere holiday? Jack had remarked the timing was perfect from Val’s point of view so she could have this surgical procedure.
A fashion model and a surgical procedure. Don’t pass judgment, Robyn.
The alternative centered around money but that raised its own set of questions because Robyn was certain Jack would have contributed generously. He would not have let his own child go without; he wouldn’t subject his own flesh and blood to the upbringing he’d had to endure.
But perhaps Val didn’t know that. Which meant she knew very little about him at all.
And you do?
No. She didn’t. She'd barely known Jack ten years ago, and what she did know had mainly been through speculation and rumor. She had no right to judge when there were times her own life wasn't so great. Wasn't that why she was here after all? Jack’s dilemma had turned out to be a massive hand up to her fledgling business.
She was the very last person to pass judgment on another.
The next morning Robyn watched Jack walk warily into the kitchen.
He looked around, saw no one but Robyn, and he exhaled loudly. “Where are the kids?”
“My children are upstairs.” She gestured. “Your child is right behind you.”
He started and glanced behind. Eric stood there, hesitation over his face. He was dressed in jeans and a hockey league t-shirt, his arms hanging at his side.
“Good morning – Eric,” he said “Umm...” He gestured to the blue and white t-shirt. “Is that a team you support?”
Eric stared blankl
y at him and Jack raised his eyebrows helplessly at Robyn.
“Come on, Eric,” she said. “Have breakfast. You get to choose cereal. Or would you rather have toast or eggs?”
“Cereal,” he said.
Robyn put the three unopened boxes of cereal on the counter for him to choose and commented to Jack, “Good on Mrs Parker, thinking of the children like this.”
“Worth every cent I pay her.” He watched Eric uncertainly.
Eric frowned at the boxes and she realized they most likely had different cereals in Canada.
“You can just take a small bit to try it and see if you like it,” she told him.
“It’s okay. We’ve got ones like these at home,” he told her in a small voice. She opened the box for him and said, “You pour your own, in case you’re really hungry.”
With an eye on him, she poured a coffee for Jack. Mrs Parker had told her how he liked everything and it appeared he had become a creature of habit. “Disciplined,” Mrs Parker had marveled. “The most disciplined man you’ll ever meet.”
He suddenly loosened his neck band and glanced at Eric as he poured cereal into his bowl.
She beckoned to the coffee, and he came over, took the stool next to Eric, and watched him out of the corner of his eye as Eric drowned his cereal with milk. His jaw tightened and he reached for the newspaper. She thought she'd heard a noise when it had been barely light, and had figured he'd gone for a run and grabbed the paper on the way in. It intrigued her he still enjoyed reading the print version of the paper in a digital world.
Robyn wandered over to the windows with the view out over the harbor, but kept her hearing tuned on Jack. There were few sounds; the rustling of paper, the odd clearing of the throat. Dead silence from Eric.
She turned around to the grim site of father and son, hunched over the breakfast counter, not talking. Nothing magical going on there. She let her gaze linger a moment - just a moment - on Jack. On his broad shoulders, the cut of his black hair, the musculature of his biceps, evident beneath the snug shirt...She looked quickly away. Remember you’re getting paid to mind his child, Robyn, nothing else.
