The Nanny's Plan. Donna Clayton
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to put on the armor that would protect her from her past: carefully applied makeup, hair that was styled, coordinated apparel and a cool, confident air.
She would make herself into what she was not. And no one would be the wiser. So far, her plan had worked like a charm.
However, climbing around on wet rocks wasn’t easy when you didn’t have a pair of rubber-soled shoes handy. Well, that was something she’d just have to deal with. Keeping her professional facade intact was more important than sore feet.
“What’s for breakfast today?” Benjamin asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“What would you like?” She reached out and straightened the collar of his red cotton polo shirt.
“I’d like pancakes!”
“Me, too.”
Amy grinned. “Then pancakes it is.”
The boys cheered and raced from the room.
“Don’t run,” she called after them. But she’d learned that while the boys might want to listen and obey, there was something in their small bodies that urged them to attempt to fly. Everywhere they went.
Hurrying down the steps, she paused in the front hall to answer the ringing phone.
“Dad!” Her heart warmed when she heard her father’s voice. “I’m just fine. Everything is going great. I’m so glad you called.”
They talked for only a couple of minutes before she told him she had to get the boys fed, but she promised to call him for a nice long chat on her day off. She set the telephone receiver into its cradle and headed down the hallway.
The kitchen was empty. In fact, the whole house felt still.
Amy stood in the quiet for the length of several heartbeats. Then anxiety washed over her as her pulse thundered and the fine hair on her arms stood on end.
The bay!
She remembered how panicky she’d been seeing the boys out on the water in the boat the day she’d arrived. She rushed out onto the sunporch, scanning the yard and the shoreline. Seeing the rowboat right where it was supposed to be, she gulped in a relieved breath.
Amy went out into the sunshine and called out the boys’ names. Where could they have gone so quickly?
That’s when she saw that the door to the greenhouse was open.
“Oh, Lord,” she murmured. She hurried across the lawn, knowing without a doubt that the twins had intruded on their uncle’s work.
Had something like this happened when she’d first arrived, she’d have been panic-stricken about how Pierce might react to being interrupted, how he might respond to her falling down on the job and losing sight of his nephews. However, she’d learned a thing or two about the doctor.
He was a bona fide workaholic, yes. But although he often lost himself in his research, he genuinely loved Benjamin and Jeremiah. Whenever he saw them, his face lit up with pleasure. That thought made her smile even now. She’d arrived in this house expecting to face a daunting intellectual who would make her feel totally self-conscious. But Pierce’s tendency toward absentmindedness somehow made him…safe. It took away all reason for her to feel ill at ease. In fact, she’d started experiencing the peculiar sensation of wanting to take care of the man.
Take dinnertime, for instance. That first night they had talked in his study, he had told her that he’d like to join her and the boys for their evening meal. But Pierce apparently had become so wrapped up in his research that he’d worked straight through dinner the following two consecutive nights. So Amy had taken to making him a plate, wrapping it up so it wouldn’t dry out and slipping it into a warm oven so he’d have something to eat whenever he surfaced from his study or his lab or the greenhouse.
She stepped inside the building, cognizant that the air was warmer and more humid than outside. The greenhouse was long and fairly narrow, something you might find in a botanical garden rather than on someone’s personal property.
“Benjamin? Jeremiah?”
The foliage on the plants was thick and glossy and green, and the atmosphere took on a heavy feeling, rich with oxygen, as she made her way down one aisle.
“Over here,” she heard one of the boys call out.
“We’re helping Uncle Pierce,” the other said.
“Come join us, Amy.”
From the tone of Pierce’s voice he didn’t sound at all annoyed that the boys had invaded his space. When she reached them, she saw that the twins were standing on stools at a planting table. Both of them had dirt smeared up to their elbows. Jeremiah was tamping down soil in what looked to be a plastic seedling tray and Benjamin was accepting a palmful of tiny seeds from his uncle.
“These seeds are special, Amy,” Benjamin told her. “Uncle Pierce made ’em with cross-pollimation.”
“Cross-pollination,” Pierce corrected.
“And Uncle Pierce told us that seeds were first made like this,” Benjamin continued, “by a man who lost his mind.”
“Lost his mind? When did I say that?” Bewilderment bit into Pierce’s forehead.
Benjamin said, “You said he was mental.”
“Not mental.” Pierce chuckled as he shook his head. “Mendel. His name was Mendel. Gregor Mendel.”
“Oh.” The child looked momentarily confused. “I thought you were telling us that the guy was crazy to try to, you know…cross-pollimate plants.”
The sigh that issued from Pierce was brimming with good-humored surrender.
Jeremiah reached up and scratched his nose, smudging the bridge of it with soil. “Amy, I betcha didn’t know that there are mommy plants and daddy plants. Just like people. Uncle Pierce was telling us that when they rub on each other, they make seeds ‘steada babies.”
“Yeah,” Benjamin added without lifting his eyes from his work. “Plant sex.”
This completely unexpected detour in the conversation stunned Amy into silence. She lifted her gaze and saw that all the color had drained from Pierce’s handsome face. His lips parted in disbelief. Evidently he was having trouble finding his tongue, too.
What was so mind-blowing was not only what the twins had said, but also how they’d said it. They’d spoken as if the topic was no big deal, honestly detailing in their own words what Pierce had evidently explained to them.
The children didn’t even look up from the task at hand. Benjamin had passed his brother some of the seeds and their fingers were busy carefully sprinkling them over the soil in the seedling tray.
Her eyes locked on Pierce’s mortified green gaze. Heat flushed his face. He forced his jaw closed. He swallowed. Then he moistened his lips.
Finally he whispered, “That wasn’t quite how I put things. I never once mentioned the word sex.”
The situation struck a humorous chord in her all of a sudden, but the menacing look he gave her made it clear that he would not appreciate it if she surrendered to the laughter that bubbled in the back of her throat. So she did all she could to squelch it.
Evidently Benjamin noticed how quiet the adults had become. He lifted his chin, looked from Amy to his uncle.
“Oh, it’s okay, Uncle Pierce,” he said easily. “Me and Jeremiah know all about sex.”
His brother nodded, adding, “Daddy doesn’t know it, but our mommy watches soap operas.”
The candidness expressed by the children tickled Amy’s funny bone all the more. But Pierce didn’t seem to find any humor in the moment. He looked downright horrified.
“All done,” Benjamin announced. “Do we need to water the seeds, Uncle Pierce?”