The Nanny's Secret Baby. Lee McClain Tobin
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she could live rent-free...
It was another long shot, but at least it was worth trying. For the chance to live near her son, it was definitely worth a try. None of her attempts to put the past behind her and get on with her life had worked, so she hoped being near Sammy would help to settle her soul. That was the real reason she’d come back to Colorado.
Although, if Jack found out the truth, he’d be furious. Understandably so. She and Chloe should never have kept something so important from him.
What if he got angry enough to keep her away from Sammy? Could he do that? Would he?
And what about Sammy, when he got old enough to wonder about his adoption and his birth parents?
She shook her head to try to shake off the circling thoughts and tuned back in to the world around her.
“That poor little thing,” a woman was saying. She was on a bench behind Arianna, facing the playground. “They have no idea where he came from.”
Idly, Arianna turned to see who the ladies were talking about.
And then she sucked in a breath. There was Sammy on the playground, just a few feet away from the women, toddling from the slide to the climbing structure, where a set of chimes was available for the kids to bang on.
“Turns out he has autism,” the same woman said to a younger mom seated beside her, who was nursing a baby. “And now that I think about it, look how he just stands there banging on one thing over and over. I should have guessed.”
“What’s Dr. Jack gonna do? He’s a widower, right?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not as young as I used to be. And I didn’t bargain for babysitting an autistic kid.”
Arianna didn’t know how she got to Sammy, but she found herself beside him, facing the two women on the bench. “Look,” she said to the white-haired one, who’d been talking, “he’s a child first. And he might not like to have his condition broadcast to everyone in the park.”
“Who are you?” the white-haired woman asked.
That made Arianna pause, because she couldn’t tell the whole truth, obviously. “I’m his aunt.”
The woman pursed her lips. “I wasn’t expecting to be eavesdropped on and criticized when I took this job,” she said. “I’ve been planning to tell Dr. Jack I’m through. Maybe I’ll just do it today. I don’t need this.”
Arianna studied her and saw tears behind the angry expression. “Look, maybe I spoke too harshly. I just feel like a child’s medical condition is private.”
“No, you’re right, I’m a terrible babysitter.” She sighed and held out a hand toward Sammy, who looked at her and then turned back to the chimes. “I talk too much, don’t I, sugar? And you don’t talk at all.”
The other woman finished nursing her baby, packed up and hurried away with her little one.
“I shouldn’t have said anything, maybe,” Arianna said to Sammy’s babysitter. “I just... Well, I was thinking, it’s not other people’s business what condition little Sammy has. Strangers, I mean. Like her.” She gestured toward the rapidly departing young mother.
“I suppose,” the woman said. “But honestly, I have to talk to someone. I can’t deal with all the things this child is going to need. Dr. Jack is lovely, but he brought up supervising therapists and having people come to the home to work with him each day... I didn’t sign up for that. I’m retired. We didn’t even have autism when I was growing up.”
Well, they’d had it, they just hadn’t diagnosed it, but whatever. “I’m sure it can all be worked out. Jack and Sammy really need the help.”
“I’m overwhelmed,” the woman admitted. “I’m also a grandma, and I’m not sure whether my grandkids should be around him. Oh, not that he’ll hurt them or anything, but they might be too rough or tease him. It’s just all so complicated.”
“I’m sure Jack will help,” she said soothingly, watching Sammy. Did he really act autistic? Was he banging for an unusually long time on those chimes?
Maybe he was exhibiting musical talent. How could you even tell the difference?
Just then Sammy saw them watching and toddled over, arms extended toward Arianna.
“See, and he never comes to me. And he doesn’t speak. He’s a difficult child to work with.”
Arianna picked Sammy up and held him loosely against her. “Do you have one of his toys?”
The woman fumbled through her bag, but she was obviously more intent on venting her feelings as she absentmindedly handed Arianna a cloth block that jingled when shaken. “I don’t think he likes me,” she said.
“He might just not be very expressive,” Arianna said, feeling defensive for Sammy. “Kids with autism don’t always smile a lot.” How had this turned into a coaching session for a woman more than twice her age?
And what if the coaching didn’t work and the woman decided to quit?
“To think, I’m sitting here in the park and getting in trouble for a chat I have with an acquaintance.” The woman waved off in the direction of the woman who’d left with her baby. “You know what? I’ve had enough. You’re his aunt, you say?”
Arianna nodded. She was getting a very bad feeling.
“He obviously knows and likes you. Better than he likes me.” The woman stood and plunked the diaper bag into Arianna’s lap. “Here,” she said. “You take care of him. His father will be here in half an hour. Tell him he can mail me my last paycheck.”
“But...but...”
It was no use. The woman left, and there was Arianna, literally left holding the bag.
The bag, and her secret son.
Jack’s last Saturday appointment was with a longtime patient: Mr. McCrady’s Irish setter, Cider. He ran his fingers over the dog’s hunched haunches and manipulated her legs, noticing when the stoic creature gave a little flinch. “Her arthritis is bothering her more?”
“Hers and mine, both.” Mr. McCrady’s forehead wrinkled as he stroked his dog’s ears. “She has trouble getting out of her bed some mornings. Can we get her on pain meds?”
“Absolutely.” Jack finished the exam and then scratched Cider’s chest, glad to note that her plume of a tail wagged. “There are risks to her kidneys that come with that type of medication, so we’ll want to keep up with her bloodwork. But I think she’s earned some pain relief.”
“That she has,” Mr. McCrady said. “She’s been my best friend since my wife died. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
The dog panted, seeming to smile up at her owner. Her white face and warm brown eyes communicated pure, uncomplicated love. Jack had really come to appreciate senior dogs since he’d been working at Redemption Ranch.
He got Mr. McCrady and Cider set with a prescription and an appointment for a follow-up visit and then stepped into his office to check messages.
He skimmed past seven he could handle later, and then his fingers froze.
Why was Arianna messaging him?
Problem with your sitter. I have Sammy and he’s fine. Come to my aunt’s house, 30 Maple Ave. ASAP
A problem with his sitter? He scrolled on through but didn’t see a message from Mrs. Jennings.
“Gotta run,” he said to his receptionist, who was gathering up her things. “There’s an issue with Sammy.