The Nanny's Secret Baby. Lee McClain Tobin
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Any day she could see Sammy was a good day. But she was pretty sure Jack was about to turn down her nanny offer. And then she’d have to tell Penny she couldn’t take the apartment, and leave.
The thought of being away from her son after spending precious time with him made her chest ache, and she blinked away unexpected tears as she approached Jack and Sammy.
Sammy didn’t look up at her. He was holding up one finger near his own face, moving it back and forth.
Jack caught his hand. “Say hi, Sammy! Here’s Aunt Arianna.”
Sammy tugged his hands away and continued to move his finger in front of his face.
“Sammy, come on.”
Sammy turned slightly away from his father and refocused on his fingers.
“It’s okay,” Arianna said, because she could see the beginnings of a meltdown. “He doesn’t need to greet me. What’s up?”
“Look,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.
Sammy’s hands moved faster, and he started humming a wordless tune. It was almost as if he could sense the tension between Arianna and Jack.
“It’s okay, Jack,” she said. “I get it. My being your nanny was a crazy idea.” Crazy, but oh, so appealing. She ached to pick Sammy up and hold him, to know that she could spend more time with him, help him learn, get him support for his special needs.
But it wasn’t her right.
“Actually,” he said, “that’s what I wanted to talk about. It does seem sort of crazy, but...I think I’d like to offer you the job.”
She stared at him, her eyes filling. “Oh, Jack,” she said, her voice coming out in a whisper. Had he really just said she could have the job?
Behind her, the rumble and snap of tables being folded and chairs being stacked, the cheerful conversation of parishioners and community people, faded to an indistinguishable murmur.
She was going to be able to be with her son. Every day. She reached out and stroked Sammy’s soft hair, and even though he ignored her touch, her heart nearly melted with the joy of being close to him.
Jack’s brow wrinkled. “On a trial basis,” he said. “Just for the rest of the summer, say.”
Of course. She pulled her hand away from Sammy and drew in a deep breath. She needed to calm down and take things one step at a time. Yes, leaving him at the end of the summer would break her heart ten times more. But even a few weeks with her son was more time than she deserved.
“Would you like to go get a cup of coffee?” he asked. “Nail down the details? I think Penny would be willing to take Sammy for an hour or two.”
Arianna found her voice. “That’s okay,” she said, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt. “We can just talk it over at your house. Or here. Wherever.”
He frowned and cleared his throat. “I’d like to be a little more formal and organized about it,” he said as he started to collect Sammy’s things into his utilitarian gray diaper bag. “Draw up a contract, that sort of thing. We need to hammer out the terms.”
Hammer out the terms. What were the right terms for an aunt to become nanny to her secret son? “Okay, sure, I guess.”
“Meet you at the coffee shop in half an hour?”
“Sure.” Dazed, she turned and headed out to her car.
With God all things are possible. The pastor had said it, and she’d just witnessed its truth. She was being given a job, taking care of her son and had a place to live.
It was a blessing, a huge one. But it came at a cost: she was going to need to conceal the truth from Jack on a daily basis. And given the way her heart was jumping around in her chest, she wondered if she was going to be able to survive this much of God’s blessing.
Jack walked into the coffee shop half an hour later, still in his business-casual church clothes, briefcase in hand. He had a sample contract on a clipboard, a tablet to take notes, his calendar on his phone.
Having all his supplies made him feel slightly more in charge of a situation that seemed to be spiraling out of control.
He felt uneasy and uncomfortable and wrong every time he thought about hiring Arianna as a nanny, even temporarily. Partly, it was what he knew about her being disorganized and messy. More than that was the fact that Chloe had had real issues with her sister and would never have approved of her taking care of Sammy.
And even more than all that, he just felt strangely uncomfortable with his former sister-in-law.
When he thought about Sammy, though, he knew what he had to do, what was right. Sammy liked Arianna, and she was good with him. And they needed to start his treatment now, not when the perfect nanny showed up in six months or a year.
Inside the shop, the deep, rich fragrance of good coffee soothed him. He waved to a few patrons and headed for the counter. He’d order before Arianna got here, get her some coffee, too.
“Jack!” came a sunny voice from the other side of the shop.
He looked up and saw a mass of coppery curls, then Arianna’s wide smile. His muscles tightened, and he felt a strong urge to back out the door. Stronger was the urge to go toward her, even though it felt like he just might be headed for disaster.
She gestured him over, holding up a drink. “I already got you something!” she called over the buzz of the small crowd.
As Jack turned and walked toward her, he was aware of several people watching. Arianna wasn’t quiet.
And she’d gotten him one of those expensive whipped-cream-topped iced coffee drinks he didn’t even like.
“Thanks,” he said as he reached the table and sat down. “You didn’t have to do that. How much was it?” He got out his wallet.
“It’s on me,” she said. “You’ve got to try this. I had one the other day and it’s so good! It’s a mocha java supreme. Of course, I shouldn’t have it, it’s full of calories, but you certainly don’t need to worry about calories.”
“Thanks.” He sat down, feeling concerned, and studied her. She was talking fast, even for Arianna. She was stressed out, too, he realized, as much as or more than he was.
Compassion washed over him then. Arianna was living in that hoarder house with her aunt and uncle and probably very low on cash. She needed this job, and his own worries paled.
He got out his clipboard and notes. “Before we start going through this,” he said, “are you sure you’re interested in the job? It’ll be more responsibility than most nanny jobs, because you’d be supervising some of his therapists and doing the exercises they suggest. You’d have days off, of course, but you wouldn’t be able to pursue a full-time art therapy position.”
“I’m sure,” she said, her eyes shining.
He got tangled up in that gaze for a few seconds, then looked away and cleared his throat. “Okay, then. Most of the sample contracts I looked at—” he pulled out the one he’d printed to show her “—have clauses about what will happen if either party decides to back out early. And we need to nail down an equitable schedule so you don’t get burned-out.” He drew a breath to continue.
She put a hand over his. “Jack. I trust you. Whatever you think is best.”
Her hand on his felt soft and delicate and warm.
He straightened and pulled his hand away. “I