The Nanny's Little Matchmakers (Love Inspired Historical)

by Favorite, Danica

  Though Louisa had already apprised Polly of that fact, it didn’t make the ache in her heart any less than the first time she’d heard it. Not just for poor little Isabella, who was the sweetest child imaginable, but also for Louisa, who’d had to search for creative ways to protect her siblings.

  “I’m sorry,” Mitch said quietly. “I didn’t know. I wish you’d told me sooner.”

  He looked at Polly, then at Louisa, his face long and drawn. “I understand why you were afraid to tell me about the things your previous nannies did, but from now on, when something bad happens, you have to tell me right away. I won’t tolerate any of you suffering further mistreatment.”

  Clearing his throat, he brought his attention to Polly. “No offense to you, of course. I’m sure you’d never mistreat my children, but I want them to feel safe in coming to me.”

  Before Polly could answer, Clara piped up. “Of course Polly wouldn’t do anything to hurt us. That’s why we want her to be our mother. Papa, you’d better marry her before someone else figures out what a great catch she is and snatches her away from us.”

  Polly clamped her free hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. A muffled sound escaped through her nose, but fortunately, the children were more focused on their father’s response than hers.

  “Yeah, Papa, you hafta marry Polly. Why, if you don’t marry her, when I grow up, I will.” Rory turned and gave Polly a huge grin and a wink.

  After a refreshing deep breath, Polly smiled at her charges. “That’s very sweet, and I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t want to get married.”

  “But Papa needs a wife, and we need a mother,” Clara stated, squaring off with her hands on her hips.

  Oh, dear. Clara, Rory and Thomas looked indignant that they were offering Polly the opportunity of a lifetime and she wasn’t interested. Louisa remained silent, but she stared at Polly with those intense, dark eyes, enough that she knew the girl was very interested in Polly’s response to the question.

  “Your father isn’t even out of mourning yet,” Polly said carefully. “And as I’ve told you before, I’ll always be here for you. I don’t need to be your mother to love and care for you.”

  Clara’s eyes flashed. “What happens when you do get married and have your own children? Then you won’t love us anymore, now will you?”

  Jealousy and possessiveness were good signs. They meant that the children were bonding to Polly and cared for her. Having not learned how to properly deal with emotions, it was understandable that they’d feel insecure. But that wasn’t an explanation they’d understand.

  “I will always love you,” Polly said, pressing a kiss to the top of a still-sleeping Isabella’s head. “As for my getting married and having children, I don’t want to get married—ever. I promise you’ll always have me here.”

  The back door opened, and Maddie entered, Polly’s mother in tow.

  “Is it time to bake cookies?” Rory asked, his stomach taking precedence over his heart.

  “It certainly is,” Maddie told him. “Now go wash up. All of you.”

  Then she looked at Polly. “Except you, of course. Seems to me you have a little one to put down for her nap. You take care of your business, and I’ll deal with the children.”

  “Thank you.” Polly stood, carefully balancing Isabella so she wouldn’t wake. She cast a look over at Mitch to see how he was handling the children’s desire for them to marry, but Thomas was already tugging at his hand to take him out back to the pump so they could wash.

  It was just as well. They had the children to take care of, not their relationship to sort out. Even though the children had a marked interest in how things went, they would have to figure out together how to handle it, to put on a united front. Perhaps tonight, after the children went to bed.

  Polly left the kitchen and started up the stairs.

  “Polly?”

  She turned to see that her mother had followed her.

  “Yes?”

  Ma wore a concerned expression. “I’m worried that you keep saying you’re never going to get married. Your heartbreak—”

  “Has nothing to do with my decision.” Polly shifted the sleeping child in her arms. “I know you all mean well, but the truth is, I’d decided not to marry long ago. For a moment, I found a beau who turned my head, yes, but he merely served to prove all the reasons why I didn’t want to get married in the first place.”

  “What are you talking about? There are plenty of reasons for you to marry.”

  Polly sighed. “I’ve seen too many things go wrong in marriage for me to ever want that for myself.”

  Ma’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Like what?”

  Like all the things Polly didn’t want to say to her mother and hurt her feelings.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She shifted Isabella’s weight again. “I need to put her down.”

  But Ma followed her up the stairs, waiting outside her bedroom door until Polly had put Isabella down. Polly’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want to have this conversation with her mother.

  “It does matter,” Ma said quietly. “I’ve let you rant about how you think men are worthless, and I’ve heard your comments about not respecting men and I’ve let them go, thinking you were speaking out of a broken heart. I’d hoped that you only needed some time to heal your wounds. So if that’s not what’s going on, then I’d like some answers. Because I did not raise you this way.”

  “Yes you did.” Polly kept her voice low. “I’ve seen how Pa treated you. The whiskey on his breath, the perfume from cavorting with other women. And the women in camp, as well as the ones we’ve helped over the years. What tales do they have to tell? The same woe over and over. Men who drink, cheat and do all sorts of horrible things. I learned that men can’t be trusted, and while there may be a few honorable men out there, it’s a sin to gamble. I won’t be risking my heart only to find several years later that he’s just like all the rest.”

  Tears ran down her mother’s cheeks. “Is that what you think of me, then?”

  Polly shook her head. “Not you. You have been honorable and faithful and loving, even when he didn’t deserve it. I respect that. But I will not find myself saddled with a man who is not honorable, faithful and loving to me.”

  “You don’t understand... I never said a word against your father. Why would you think...”

  “The walls are thin at camp. You don’t think you and Pa woke us up at night with your arguing? And even when you didn’t argue, I could smell him just as well as you. You didn’t have to say a word to me. I already knew.”

  The ache in her heart deepened as she realized that her mother and Mitch probably had a lot in common. Both had remained silent about their suffering for years because they hadn’t wanted to hurt their children.

  “Oh, Polly...” More tears ran down her mother’s face. “I wish you had told me. There’s so much you don’t understand.”

  “I understand plenty.”

  “No, you don’t.” Her mother shook her head, then dabbed at her face with her handkerchief.

  “Yes, your father did have a drinking problem. But over the past few years, Frank has guided him in overcoming it with the Lord’s help.” Ma let out a long sigh. “And yes, your father strayed. It was the most difficult thing I’d ever experienced. I’m sorry you heard us fighting about it.”

  Ma’s voice quivered, and Polly hated herself for even bringing it up. She’d been avoiding this topic precisely for that reason. She hadn’t wanted to hurt her mother.

  “As your father dealt with his problems, and as he let the Lord work in his heart, he repented of his sins. And we repaired our marriage. Caitlin was the result.”

  She smiled softly as she looked at Polly. “Didn’t it ever occur to you as being odd that she was born so late in our marriage? So long
after Angus? Things were better, and Caitlin came along.”

  Polly tried to look back and see the happiness that her mother alluded to, but there were still pieces of the story that didn’t make sense. “He still came home reeking of perfume and drink. Why, he’s even been fired for being drunk since Caitlin’s birth.”

  She hated to call her mother a liar, but she also couldn’t understand why her mother would cling to this fantasy.

  “True, true,” her mother said, sighing. “Your father has always fought his biggest battles against the bottle. But he’s stayed sober the past couple of years, and for that I’m grateful.”

  Then her mother smiled. “As for the perfume, your father would go to places of ill repute, not for the sake of partaking in the services, but because he, along with Frank, was trying to help the women find a way out. And, I think, to help the men see that there was a better way.”

  She gave a shrug, but concern still filled her face. “I wish you’d just talked to me about all of this. Your father would be terribly hurt to know you thought so little of him. He’s made his mistakes, true, but he’s also doing everything he can to help other men avoid them.”

  Polly found she couldn’t even process her mother’s words. She’d been wrong, all this time?

  “How could I have not known?” she said slowly.

  “You were young. Having fun with Annabelle. And then Catherine died, and things weren’t the same. You were so caught up in your own world that you didn’t notice all the other things happening around you.”

  Then her mother sighed again. “And to be honest, I was so busy taking care of things, and I didn’t realize that’s what you thought. I just assumed...”

  Green eyes stared at Polly. “I suppose we both assumed a lot of things, and that we knew each other’s minds and what was going on, when we should have talked about it. I’m sorry. But I hope, now that we’ve cleared things up, that you will rethink some of the vows you’ve made based on faulty information.”

  She hated the way it felt like her mother could see into her. Could tell how deeply Polly struggled with the knowledge that everything she’d believed to be true wasn’t. Worse, she hated that the deeper kinship she felt with the Taylor children was all based on the same thing. They’d tried so desperately to protect a loved one but had only ended up hurting them instead.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Polly said quietly. “I truly never meant to hurt anyone.”

  “It seems you’ve mostly just hurt yourself.” Ma paused, looking deep in thought for a few moments.

  “But I think it would do you some good to spend some time getting to know your pa. He’s a good man, and you’ve vilified him long enough in your own mind that I don’t think you see it. He’s not perfect, but then, none of us are. Still, despite all the bad times, all the sorrows, I’m glad that I married him.”

  Ma’s words tore Polly’s heart in two. She’d seen how the Taylor children had suffered, and she’d been able to relate. And yet, the situation was so different. Because now that Polly had found the courage to discuss the issues that had been bothering her, she’d found that she’d been wrong about her father all along. She’d fought for the Taylor children to have a strong relationship with their father because she’d wished she could have had a father she could have a relationship with.

  The trouble was, it was Polly’s own fault that it hadn’t happened.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Polly’s day off dawned the way the previous day had: realizing, with a start, that she’d slept later than she’d intended. Only today, there was no rush to tend the children. Which felt strangely empty.

  Odd, since she’d spent a good portion of the night crying, praying and reading her Bible. Her mother’s revelations had shaken Polly’s entire foundation, and yet, when she read her Bible, she found it shaken even more. All this time, she’d been trusting herself and her instincts to guide her in life, and she hadn’t bothered to trust in the Lord. Oh, she trusted Him in all sorts of other things, but in following the direction of her life, and in finding her life’s calling, she’d boldly gone forward, figuring she knew best.

  Only she hadn’t known at all.

  The bedroom door opened, and the sound of giggles greeted her before she saw their smiling faces.

  “Good morning, Polly,” Clara chimed, as the children walked in.

  Louisa carried a tray with breakfast on it, and Isabella and the boys each held flowers.

  “We wanted to do something special for you on your day off, so you knew how much we appreciated you,” Louisa said.

  “Papa suggested we bring you breakfast.” Rory grinned as he handed her the flowers.

  Thomas gave a gap-toothed smile as he handed her another bouquet. “He didn’t come up because he said it wouldn’t be ’propriate.”

  “Thomas! You’ve lost a tooth!” Polly ruffled his hair as she accepted his gift.

  “Rory helped me pull it out.”

  Polly couldn’t help but smile as she imagined how that would have happened.

  Isabella climbed onto the bed and snuggled against her, still holding tight to her flowers.

  “Isabella,” Clara said. “You’re supposed to give those to Polly.”

  Isabella gave Clara a cross look.

  “It’s all right,” Polly said, squeezing Isabella to her. “I have plenty. Let Isabella enjoy these.”

  Louisa set the tray in front of her. Simple fare, eggs, toast and a cup of tea, but it looked delicious.

  “Thank you so much, everyone. And please thank your father for the lovely idea.”

  “Oh, but there’s more,” Clara said, pointing to an envelope on the tray. “You have a note.”

  Polly picked up the note and read it. Join me for a picnic this afternoon. Maddie will watch the children.

  She closed her eyes. Mitch. A picnic. Alone. It was easy to tell herself that Mitch only wanted to discuss the children. But the hopeful looks in their eyes told her that it wasn’t going to be so simple.

  And how could it be simple? Yesterday she’d had good reasons for not giving in to the feelings she felt for Mitch. She’d told herself that happiness wouldn’t last, and that men ultimately showed their true colors, and...

  Grief filled her chest once more.

  How could she possibly begin to make up for all that she’d lost? All she’d missed out on?

  Was she even ready to give in to her feelings, knowing how they’d already led her so far astray?

  “Please say you’re going,” Clara said, earnest eyes staring brightly at her.

  Lord, please help me. Of all the things Polly had learned over the past day, she was finished with relying on herself and trying to do it on her own.

  What was the right thing to do in this situation?

  “Papa will be terribly disappointed if you don’t,” Louisa said. She looked so poised and so much more than her twelve years would have indicated. Polly looked at her, wondering how her twelve-year-old self would have handled the situation.

  If her pa had died, leaving her ma alone, would Polly have pushed her mother toward a more honorable man?

  The difference was that Louisa’s mother was everything Louisa had thought her to be, and more. Polly’s father?

  Polly sighed. At twelve, she’d thought it terribly unfair that her father would be gone for days on end, come home smelling of women and drink, and they’d been stuck in that tiny cabin with a fussy Caitlin.

  And she’d been wrong, horribly wrong.

  As she searched Louisa’s face, Polly couldn’t help but wonder what Louisa was thinking in all of this. How much was based in the maturity of life and how much in her own imagination?

  “Please, Polly!” Now the boys had taken to begging.

  The children wanted so desperately for her to
become their new mother, but they barely knew her. And, it seemed, she barely knew herself.

  Four pairs of earnest eyes stared at her, and if Polly looked down, she’d find a fifth.

  It was just a picnic, she reminded herself.

  Picnics didn’t lead to marriage.

  Nor did she have to decide her entire life based on one outing.

  “Of course I’ll go,” she said slowly, hoping it was the right decision. Why couldn’t God have written the answer in the note for her?

  “Wonderful!” Louisa said, walking over to Polly’s closet. “We must find you something beautiful to wear. Papa loves yellow, but I think it would be a dreadful color on you, but pink suits you. Where is that dress you wore to church on Sunday? I’m sure it will be suitable.”

  Clara and Louisa rifled through Polly’s closet. The boys had already gotten bored and wandered off. It seemed all they’d needed for reassurance was Polly’s agreement in the matter.

  “Girls,” Polly said slowly. “Your father and I aren’t courting. It’s lovely for you to think that I would make a good mother, but he and I haven’t even discussed it. There’s nothing romantic between us.”

  “But there could be,” Louisa told her firmly as she held out Polly’s new Sunday dress. “Wear this. If I learned anything from my mother, it’s how to be irresistible to a man.”

  Polly shook her head. “I don’t want to be irresistible to your father. He’s a nice man, but he’s also my employer. I’m sure this picnic is nothing more than him wanting to catch me up on things without little ears to hear.”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. We used to go to the theater with our mother for her to show us off, and men would fall all over themselves to be near my mother. That’s how Papa looks at you.”

  Clara made an exasperated noise. “No he doesn’t. He looks at her like she’s chocolate cake. And everyone knows how much Papa loves chocolate cake.”