A Nanny Under the Mistletoe: A Nanny Under the Mistletoe / Single Father, Surprise Prince!. Teresa Southwick
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ghosts and other costumed characters to commemorate the upcoming event. When Halloween was over next week, she wanted to go right into projects for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
As she thumbed through material for ideas, several caught her eye. Paper plates and brown construction-paper feathers to fashion a turkey. If everything was cut out and ready, the kids would have fun pasting it all together. There was another one that used small magazines with the pages folded to form the turkey body, then a pattern to cut out the long neck and head.
It would make a great centerpiece for the dinner table on the big day but would require a lot of supervision, a higher adult-to-child ratio than normal. Mental note: ask for parent volunteers. There were enough involved parents this year to make it a fun exercise for everyone.
Christmas would be next, a time rich in project material from trees and ornaments to Santa and presents, as well as the spiritual side of the season. She wanted this holiday to be special for Morgan, the first without her parents.
The thought made Libby’s heart heavy. Her own holiday memories were filled with Charity, and then Ben. Some of them included Jess, because he was their friend, too. A vision of him popped into her mind followed by a familiar yearning that lately had turned into an empty ache. Her seeing-him-every-day plan to crush out her crush didn’t seem to be working all that well. Not much had changed from the days when their paths crossed because of mutual friends.
In all fairness, it wasn’t Jess’s fault that she had the hots for him but left him so cold he couldn’t remember her name. She knew that and in spite of it, her longing for him was still an issue even though no one would ever accuse him of being a parent, let alone one she could count on.
The intercom on her phone buzzed and she picked up. “This is Libby.”
“Hi, Lib, it’s Mary in the office.”
“Hey.” The receptionist’s tone was normally upbeat and cheery. It took Libby a couple of seconds to realize that wasn’t the case now. “What’s wrong?”
“Morgan is here. She had a little accident—”
“I’ll be right there.”
Libby ran out of her classroom and to the administration offices, which were in another building. There was a small room just off the reception area where the kids went with minor scrapes and bumps, where first aid was handled. The door was open and she heard whimpering. The knot in her chest squeezed against her heart as she braced herself and walked in.
“Hey kiddo. You have a boo-boo?”
The little girl was sitting on a chair, her right hand wrapped in a towel. There was blood on her pink sweater, jeans and white sneakers. It was more shocking because, for some stupid reason, she hadn’t expected to see blood.
She looked at Sophia Green, the Nooks and Nannies director, who was sitting beside Morgan, an arm around her shoulders.
“What happened?” Libby asked.
Sophia’s gray eyes were serious as she tucked a strand of reddish-brown hair behind her ear. “She cut her hand.”
“How?” Libby knew that question bordered on dense because it didn’t matter. But in that heart-stopping moment, it was all she could think to say.
“The kids were at outside playtime. Morgan was by herself near the perimeter fence. She reached through and picked up a piece of glass.”
Libby dropped to her knees beside the little girl. “Oh, baby—”
“I didn’t know it was sharp, Aunt Libby.” Tears welled in her brown eyes.
Words of censure fueled by her own fear were on the tip of her tongue, but somehow Libby held back. This wasn’t the time for a safety lesson.
“Okay, sweetie. We’ll put a Band-Aid on it and fix you right up.”
“About that, Libby—”
If she’d been thinking more clearly, she’d have realized there would already be a bandage on the boo-boo and Morgan would be showing it off. Because that wasn’t the case she knew it was more serious.
“What?” she asked Sophia.
“It’s a little deep,” the other woman said gently. “I think she needs stitches.”
“Okay.”
Libby was doing her best imitation of calm even though her hand shook as she brushed the hair off Morgan’s forehead. “I’ll call the pediatrician.”
“Lib, it will probably be faster to take her to Mercy Medical Center. The emergency room has a pediatric trauma specialist available twenty-four hours a day.”
Libby glanced up at the little girl’s pale face and frightened eyes. “You don’t think that would be scarier?”
Sophia shook her head. “They’re specially trained for things like this. Not that I think it’s that serious, but the staff knows how to put their littlest patients at ease in these circumstances.”
She trusted implicitly her friend’s judgment. Sophia had been with the Clark County department of family services before job burnout sent her to Nooks and Nannies. The woman had seen trauma. If anyone knew how to deal with it, Sophia did.
“Okay. We’ll go to Mercy Medical Center.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“Thanks.”
That way she could call Jess to meet them there, then she could concentrate on keeping Morgan calm.
A couple of hours later Libby was sitting alone with Morgan in one of the emergency room’s trauma bays. When they’d been called back she’d insisted Sophia didn’t have to stay. That was before she’d known how long they’d be waiting. She still hadn’t spoken to Jess. His cell phone went straight to voice mail, which was now full due to all the messages she’d left. Unable to reach him directly, she’d tried his secretary, who’d informed her he was in a meeting and had left strict orders that he wasn’t to be disturbed. The problem was that Morgan couldn’t be treated until he authorized it.
That wasn’t the only problem, just the most pressing. Somewhere deep down inside, Libby knew she wanted him there for herself. She was scared, too, and could really use his support, a strong shoulder to lean on, someone to talk to. Not just anyone. Him.
At that moment the privacy curtain moved and she expected to see the nurse who had been checking in on them whenever possible for the last couple of hours. Instead, Jess stood there. She hated how glad she was to see him, how badly she wanted to throw herself in his arms and have him hold her.
“I got here as soon as I could,” he said, stopping on the other side of the bed.
Right. Not soon enough, she thought.
Her resentment and anger were out of proportion to the situation and she wasn’t sure why. But this wasn’t the time to call him on it any more than scolding Morgan after the fact would have been.
“How is she?”
Why do you care? she wanted to ask. But part of her knew that was just taking all her fear and frustration out on him.
She blew out a long breath. “Worn out. We’ve been here a long time. You got my messages?”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Yeah. I need to give permission for treatment.”
She nodded. “You could have done it over the phone.”
“I’ve never handled something like this. It seemed better to show up.”
“The pediatric trauma specialist—Dr. Tenney—looked at her hand and said no nerves or tendons or anything that would permanently affect her fine motor coordination were compromised.”
“That’s good,” he said.
“It is, but she needs stitches,