A Nanny In The Family. Catherine Spencer
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slippers on her feet. Her dark brown hair hung around her shoulders in soft waves, and her face was scrubbed clean of what little makeup she’d worn earlier. She was reading a letter and several others lay in her lap. She held a steaming cup in one hand.
Suddenly, she glanced up and did a double take when she found herself being watched. He saw then that she’d been crying.
“Sorry,” he muttered, pushing the door open a little farther. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just got home and wondered how you’d managed with Tom. You seem upset. Did he give you a hard time?”
“No,” she said, making an effort to compose herself. “It’s not that at all. He was as good as gold.”
He shrugged helplessly. He never quite knew what to do with weeping women; they weren’t too common on board a naval destroyer. “Well, if it’s not Tom, then what? Are you having second thoughts about the job?”
“No.” Setting her cup on the table in front of her, she fished a wad of tissues from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. She was silent for so long that he thought the conversation had come to an end when she seemed to reach a decision of some sort and spoke again. “I think, Commander Warner, that there’s something you ought to know.”
“I’m listening,” he said, bracing himself. She had a look about her that spelled trouble.
She plucked a fresh tissue from the box at her elbow and blew her nose. “I haven’t been exactly truthful, I’m afraid.”
It wasn’t exactly the sort of news he appreciated hearing! Pretty direct himself, he hadn’t much use for people who weren’t equally up-front in their dealings. “In what respect, Miss Bennett?”
“Well...” She stopped and chanced a quick glance at him.
He held her gaze relentlessly. “Please continue.”
Her chin wobbled dangerously. “Recently, I... suffered...um...um....”
What? he was tempted to bark at her. A spell in prison for child abuse? A nervous breakdown? A malpractice suit for dereliction of duty?
“Something happened,” she said, and dropped her gaze to the letters in her lap.
Of course! She’d received a Dear John—or was it a Dear Jane for a woman? Either way, he thought he’d figured out what had brought on the tears. He’d seen it happen before enough times to recognize the symptoms. Otherwise fearless men brought to their knees by a one-page letter telling them they were history in some woman’s life.
“So that’s why you left Minnesota,” he said.
She looked up him, her dark brown eyes wide and startled. “What?”
“You wanted to make a fresh start.”
“Yes,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “But I’d already decided to do that before...”
The waterworks were about to start again. “Before he broke your heart,” he finished for her, deciding a quick, clean cut was kinder than letting her linger in misery.
She continued to stare at him as if she thought he was slightly mad. “No. Someone in my family died.”
“Oh,” he said, and then, insensitive clod that he was, added, “I assumed some guy had dumped you.”
She gave a watery laugh at that. “No, nothing quite that simple, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Bennett, I didn’t mean to make light of your loss.”
A fresh load of tears sparkled in her eyes. “My emotions are very close to the surface right now.”
“I fully appreciate that.” Uninvited, he advanced into the room and perched on the windowsill. “What can I do to make things easier for you?”
She shook her head, which was enough to send the tears flying down her cheeks. “Nothing.”
Should he lend a shoulder for her to cry on? Pat her back? Stroke her pretty hair and murmur words of comfort?
The thought stirred him more thoroughly than his earlier bedroom encounter with Louise. Hurriedly, he handed over a fresh tissue and wished he’d waited until the morning to have this conversation. “What’s that you’re drinking?”
“Herbal tea,” she said. “I thought it might help me sleep. I hope you don’t mind that I made myself at home in the kitchen.”
“Not in the least, but how about a shot of brandy instead?”
“No, thank you. I don’t drink much.”
“That’s good,” he said. A closet tippler was the last thing he—or Tom—needed! “It might not be a bad idea to make an exception just this once, though. In fact, I could use a drink myself.”
Before she could raise further objections, he stuffed another tissue in her hand and made his escape. On his way downstairs, he poked his head into Tom’s room. He was fast asleep. From behind her door, Janet’s rhythmic snoring told him all was well on that front, also.
By the time he returned to the nanny’s room, she’d got the tears under control. Even though her eyes had a bruised look about them, she managed to drum up a smile.
“Here,” he said, offering her the snifter. “Down the hatch with this and you’ll sleep like a baby, I promise.”
She took a sip and grimaced. “I do apologize, Commander Warner. I’m not usually such an emotional mess.”
“Why didn’t you say something this afternoon? Did you think I’d reject your application, because you’ve suffered a family bereavement?”
She hesitated before replying and he thought an expression of near-guilt crossed her face, but it was such a fleeting thing that he couldn’t be sure. “Private details don’t belong in interviews,” she said finally.
“They do sometimes, especially if they affect a person’s ability to cope with her duties.”
“Oh, I won’t allow that to happen!” she exclaimed, a flush of alarm tinting her pale face. “I’d never do anything to jeopardize Tommy’s well-being.”
She looked so earnest, and so damned soft and appealing that he was startled to find himself again inclined to draw her into his arms and comfort her. To preclude any such action, he downed the rest of his brandy, stood up to leave, and said, “I believe you, Miss Bennett.”
“Do you? Really?”
“Every word.”
Why didn’t she look reassured at that? What caused her to gnaw uneasily on her lip, as though he’d handed her a gift she didn’t deserve?
“Look,” he said, “I understand only too well the void left behind when someone dies but the only way to get past it is to go forward, because standing still and looking back at what we’ve lost is just too painful.”
She got up from the chair and pressed her hands together. He noticed they were every bit as fine and soft as he’d expected them to be. “You’re right. Thank you, Commander. I swear you won’t regret entrusting Tommy to my care.”
“I don’t expect to. Good night, Miss Bennett.”
He’d turned away and was almost at the door when she stopped him with one last request. “Won’t you please call me Nicole?”
Strange, the effect the request had on him. There was something forlorn in her voice that told him more clearly than anything she’d actually put into words that she was hurting badly and fighting with every ounce of grit she could muster to cope with the pain.
“Nicole,” he echoed, hearing the cadence of her name on his tongue and liking how it sounded.
Embarrassed to find himself staring into her eyes as if he’d been hypnotized, he cleared his throat and said brusquely,