by Holly Rayner
Amia nodded miserably, and Alex suppressed a smile. Every person was always older than they had ever been, and everyone had lived a lifetime. Perspective was her key to communicating with children and adults alike, and it worked like magic.
“I was playing hide-and-seek with Bassam,” Amia explained. “I liked that car, so I hid in it. Papa came home, and I forgot I was hiding, and I jumped up to surprise him. He got mad. He took me out of the car and told me to never, ever go back in it, ever, ever again.”
“Did he tell you why?” Alex asked with a frown.
Amia shook her head. “But I heard Bassam shout at him later. He said he was being insane. I don’t think he was insane. His hair wasn’t crazy and his eyes weren’t all…” she drew spirals in the air in front of her eyeballs, and Alex laughed softly.
“Insane people only look that way in movies,” she told her. “But I think you’re right. I don’t think your papa was insane then, and I don’t think he’s angry at you now. I think there’s something about that car that makes his feelings hurt.”
“How can a car hurt your feelings?” Amia asked incredulously.
“That, my dear, is an excellent question. But I don’t think he’s ready to answer it just yet.”
“He should throw it away if it hurts his feelings,” Amia said seriously. “It’s just a car. We have more.”
“People keep funny things for silly reasons,” Alex told her. “Are you ready to go swimming?”
Amia nodded, but she didn’t seem very excited about it.
“We could organize your room instead. I can talk to Rashad some other day.”
“No,” Amia sighed. “Let’s go swimming.”
Alex nearly collided with Zaiman as she stepped into the hallway.
“Oh! I’m sorry, excuse me,” she said in a rush.
“No, no, excuse me. Ah…I must apologize for my behavior in the garage. You are welcome to use that car whenever you are not on duty.”
“Thank you,” Alex said hesitantly, trying to read his face. He was closed-off to her, completely stoic. He softened when he turned to Amia, who was half-hiding behind Alex.
“Hello, darling. I’m sorry I didn’t give you your hug when I came in. Am I forgiven?”
“Papa…” Amia paused, shifting from foot to foot.
“What’s troubling you, my love?” he asked, crouching down to her eye level.
“Why does that car hurt your feelings?” she blurted out in a rush.
Alex’s face burned hot with the fear that she had misread his reactions, and was now exposed. But the flash of pain across Zaiman’s features confirmed what she had suspected.
“That is a long and complicated story,” he told her softly. “Too big for your little ears, I’m afraid.”
“My ears are big!” Amia objected. “I’m almost seven, Papa!”
“Yes, you’re growing up very quickly,” he said affectionately, touching her cheek. “But I’m afraid that is a story best told to grown-ups.”
“Then will you tell Alex?” she pressed.
Zaiman glanced up at Alex, who didn’t know what to do.
“Maybe someday,” he said. “But for now, I would be happier to forget it.”
“Okay,” Amia sighed. “I won’t forget it, though. I’m going to ask you when I’m growed up.”
“And when you are all grown up, I will be happy to tell you,” he said with a gentle smile. “Go and do whatever it is your nanny needs you to do, now, all right?”
“Okay.”
Zaiman left with a polite nod to Alex, leaving her more flustered and confused than she had been before. She was fairly certain that her job was safe, though, which was a relief. She got Amia changed quickly, taking note of the condition of the room as they walked through it, making a mental plan of attack to get it sorted out.
The pools were absolutely breathtaking. A perfect circle of shallow water hovered above a teardrop-shaped deep pool, and below that was a stylized V-shaped row of fountains splashing into a polished stone basin. Broad-leafed trees spread over the pools, casting them in gentle shade.
Rashad was waiting for them on a lounge chair, relaxing in sunglasses and a hat in his tutoring clothes.
“Ah, Miss Alex! How has your day treated you?” he asked as he rose, offering her his hand.
“Very well, thank you,” she told him, clasping his hand. “I did some shopping, which was positively wonderful.”
“We do have some gloriously quirky shops,” Rashad said with a gleaming grin.
Amia jumped into the pool, and Alex spun around, her nanny-senses on high alert.
“She’s a very competent swimmer,” Rashad told her. “Watch, but don’t worry.”
“All right,” Alex said, taking a hesitant seat.
After a moment of watching Amia, she was able to relax. The little girl swam like a mermaid, darting back and forth across the big pool with as much confidence as if she were running down a hallway.
“How are you taking to your duties so far?” Rashad asked.
“Like a fish to water,” Alex answered, gesturing to Amia in amusement. “She seems like a pretty easy kid.”
“She is a very easy child to like,” Rashad said slowly. “She is intelligent and humorous, and of course very spirited.”
“But…?” Alex prompted.
“But I believe she is sorely lacking socialization with children her age. She banters like an adult, but has the emotional control of a younger child than she is. My suggestions to date have fallen on deaf ears; I admit, I am hoping that you will be able to convince the Sheikh where I was unable to.”
“What were your suggestions?” Alex asked, thinking of a few of her own right away.
“I have a colleague who tutors five children at a time. Before I began working for the Sheikh, I was part of his group, and did the same for my clients. The Sheikh offered me six times my asking salary for a single child, and with grandchildren and my eventual retirement to think about, I could hardly turn it down.”
He sighed, stroking his beard.
“I told Zaiman my concerns when I began, two years ago. I offered to bring her into a group of children of her age and status, who would offer her the social interaction she requires without compromising her education. He turned me down flatly.”
“Why?” Alex asked.
“He did not offer a reason. I broached the subject again the following year, and once again, he said no. The third time I asked, six months ago, he threatened my job if I ever brought it up again.”
“Really?” Alex said in disbelief. “He doesn’t seem that unreasonable.”
“That was my thinking as well. I believe that he and I have inadvertently entered into a sort of power struggle. I am hoping that a softer, more feminine touch will yield better results.”
“I’ll try,” Alex said. “At the very least, she should be in some sort of extracurricular class. Dancing or soccer or something.”
“It would be good for her,” Rashad said. “She is growing old, I fear.”
Late for another appointment, Rashad bid Alex farewell. Alex spent the next hour mulling over what he had revealed to her as she watched Amia swim. It was only when Amia exited the pool and told her she was finished that Alex realized she hadn’t even gotten her own bathing suit wet.
Chapter 6
Alex
“All right, kiddo. Let’s go organize some toys!”
Amia was in a better mood after her lessons the following day, but she still drooped dramatically at Alex’s overly-enthusiastic words.
“Are you going to make me throw things away?” Amia asked.
“Only if they’re broken beyond repair…or they make your feelings hurt,” Alex promised, recalling the conversation about the car. “Come on.”
They began in the sitting room, which was cluttered with papers, books, and all the crafting stuff a kid could ask for. Bins were already in place and labeled, so it was just a matter of throwing away anything useless and placi
ng the rest back in their boxes. It only took them a few minutes, much to Amia’s surprise.
“That was easy!” she looked up at the shelves behind her, beaming at them. “It looks so pretty now!”
“It sure does. Now, before we go into the playroom, I’m going to teach you something. Do you know there’s a trick you can use so that you never, ever have to clean this room again?”
Amia eyed her suspiciously. “That sounds like magic.”
“It’s kind of like magic,” Alex told her. “You see those bins? If you line them up at the top of your desk while you’re working on something, then, you can pull out exactly what you need and put it right back the second you’re done, just like you’re setting it back on the table. Then, when you’re finished, all you have to do is put the lids on and put them back on their shelves!”
Amia’s eyes widened. “I could have thought of that!”
“Sometimes the simplest solutions are the hardest ones to see,” Alex said, completely understanding. “Now, let’s go tackle that playroom.”
Amia seemed nervous and almost ashamed as they stepped into the larger room. Large plush animals, toy chests, and the impressive dollhouse stood well away from the walls, leaving a clear space about four feet wide from door to door. These toys obscured the mess, but they could not hide it from Alex’s perceptive eyes.
“We’ll start over here,” she said, pointing to the side of the room which displayed the dollhouse. “Let’s pull everything out so we can look at it.”
“Everything?” Amia asked in a small voice.
“Everything,” Alex said firmly.
They spent the rest of the day dragging toys out from the recesses of the room and lining them up in the center. After the first layer had been cleared, Amia began to exclaim over beloved toys she had given up for lost, and soon, they were surrounded by a vast army of toys, small and large, well-worn and untouched.
“Keeping in mind that I promised I wouldn’t force you to throw anything away, I have a very serious, important, grown-up question for you.”
“Uh-oh,” Amia said, eying her warily.
“Uh-huh. Here it comes, brace yourself. Amia…do you really need all these toys?”
“Yes!” Amia said at once.
Alex didn’t respond. She stood, waiting, watching Amia look back and forth over the sea of toys, then glance around the room at the number of shelves and toy chests. Alex could see the calculations spinning in Amia’s mind.
“Maybe not,” she sighed finally. “But I don’t want to throw them away! It’ll hurt their feelings!”
Alex felt that childish fear deep in the pit of her stomach. She never had quite outgrown the belief that inanimate, beloved things understood that they were loved.
“Well then, we won’t throw anything away,” she said. “How do you feel about giving some of them up for adoption, to be loved by another kid who doesn’t have as many?”
Amia thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “I think that would be okay.”
“Great! So here’s what we’re going to do. You are going to find one toy in this room that you absolutely never want to give up, the one you will remember forever.”
“Just one?!” Amia cried.
“We’re starting with one,” Alex said firmly. “This is called prioritizing. You need to know how you feel about each one of these toys. The important ones stay, and the less important ones get to be the most important ones for someone else. This way, every toy gets to be somebody’s favorite.”
Amia smiled at that, and was suddenly inspired. They spent the rest of the day talking about her toys, the memories they held for her, and what their futures would be. The whole thing felt very cleansing, and Alex was thrilled that she had this chance to get to know Amia better.
From the doorway, Zaiman watched her work her magic, and without quite knowing it, fell under her spell.
Chapter 7
Zaiman
A now-familiar peal of laughter tugged Zaiman from a dream, and he lay in his bed smiling sleepily at the ceiling. It had only taken Alex a few days to fully integrate herself into the household, and Amia seemed to be absolutely smitten with her new nanny.
She wasn’t the only one, if Zaiman were being honest with himself. He found Alex to be an absolute delight, and had been finding it more and more difficult to avoid hovering in the shadows, watching her play with his daughter. She was so vibrant, so full of life and joy and humor—so different from the other nannies he had employed.
As he lay in bed, reluctant to move from his cocoon, his mind wandered into forbidden territory and he indulged the fantasy. He knew her laughter, he knew her voice as she spoke; his mind played with them, wondering what other sweet sounds could sing from her throat with the proper encouragement. In his mind’s eye, he danced with her under the moonlight, sliding over the dunes on wings of magic.
His reverie was interrupted by his alarm clock, and he couldn’t put off getting out of bed any longer. He took his time, deliberately marching through every step of his routine, spending an extra few minutes styling his thick, glossy curls. He had seen Alex’s gaze linger there once or twice, and he felt compelled to draw more of her attention.
“Stupid,” he muttered to himself as he swept a brush through his hair. “Acting like a sweaty-palmed schoolboy.”
He grinned at himself. That was how he felt, after all—like a child experiencing his first infatuation, like a teenager with a crush. Something he thought had died in him had been reborn under the warmth of her vibrant light, unfurling into something gloriously real. It couldn’t go anywhere—he knew that—but it didn’t stop him from making sure that she would like what she saw when she looked at him.
Fresh and dressed, Zaiman crept through the hallway and into Amia’s sitting room. Peeking through the doorway, he watched as she and Alex played.
“Okay, we have fifteen minutes until we have to go down to breakfast, and we have made a terrible mess,” Alex laughed, looking around the room at the scattered toys.
There were fewer of them now than there had been before, but the ones that were left seemed to be getting more use. He had asked Bassam to donate the rest of them anonymously, as it would cause a stir if he were to do such a thing himself.
“You mean a terrific mess!” Amia giggled, flinging her arms wide.
“A glorious mess!” Alex said, mimicking her gesture.
“A magnificent mess!”
“That’s a big word! Where did you pick that up?”
“From the Pony Princess,” Amia said matter-of-factly. “She lives in the Magnificent Majestic Manor.”
“Ah, I see! Better vocabulary through movies, I can get behind that. Tell me, how would the Pony Princess handle this mess?” Alex tapped a finger to her lips with an exaggerated furrow of her brow.
“She would spin!” Amia said, demonstrating. “And magically put everything back where it goes.”
“That’s an amazing idea! Let’s try it.”
Alex propped herself up on her knees, picked up two dolls, and began to spin. Amia giggled and followed her example, twirling through the room on her tiptoes. Like whirling dervishes, they whipped through the room, until they both collapsed, dizzy and breathless, on Amia’s giant stuffed elephant.
“Maybe it works better in the movies,” Alex gasped through her laughter.
“Maybe it only works for magic ponies,” Amia said, wrinkling her little nose.
“I think you might be right. But I’ll tell you what: I’ll race you! I’ll take this side, you take that side, and whoever finishes first wins!”
“I never lose races,” Amia said with a grin.
“Never say never,” Alex teased. “Ready, set, go!”
Zaiman chuckled as he watched them zoom around the room. Alex moved quickly but inefficiently, putting pressure on Amia’s natural competitive nature without taking advantage of her age and size. She timed it perfectly so that they were finished at the same time—all except for one te
ddy bear smack dab in the center of the room.
They saw the bear at the same time. They locked eyes, and as if by some unspoken command, they rushed for the bear at the same time, Amia’s little hand reaching it just as Alex’s did. Amia snatched the bear away with a triumphant “Ha-ha!”
“You beat me!” Alex said in almost-convincing surprise. “I’m going to have to go faster next time.”
“You need rocket boots to beat me,” Amia said with a grin.
“You’re absolutely right. Where would I find rocket boots in my size?”
“Um…from a cartoon store?”
“Good thinking!”
They were walking toward him, but hadn’t seen him yet. Not wanting to make them feel spied on (though he admitted to himself that he was doing exactly that), Zaiman strode into the playroom.
“Good morning, ladies!”
“Papa! I won the race!” Amia exclaimed triumphantly. She jumped into his arms and he squeezed her, inhaling the sweet scent of peaches emanating from her hair.
“Good job! You hungry?”
“Starving,” Amia said, clutching her little belly dramatically.
“Come on, then, I’ll race you to the dining room.”
“You’ll never catch me!”
Amia took off like a shot, and Zaiman followed at a more reasonable pace.
“You know she’ll notice that you aren’t even trying,” Alex said, her green eyes twinkling like the sea.
“Someday,” Zaiman admitted with a smile. “But until then, she will feel like the fastest child in the whole world.”
Alex laughed, and the musical sound echoed in the stairway. He caught himself wishing he could hear her laugh always, and quickly stifled the thought. It would do him no favors to get caught up with an American woman; a reality he was intimately and painfully aware of.
As they sat down to eat, Amia tossed her black curls haughtily. “You didn’t even run, Papa!”
“I’m sorry, darling,” he said, pasting a cringe on his face and holding a hand to his hip. “Bad back this morning. Your dad’s getting old.”
