The Nanny's Double Trouble. Christine Rimmer
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Gretchen’s blue eyes twinkled. “You know it’s true. Ingrid makes her own rules and sets her own schedule. Trying to change her at this late date? Never going to happen.”
Keely picked up a cooling cookie, took a bite and groaned in appreciation. “You shouldn’t be up making cookies. But these are so good.”
“I made lunch, too. It’s in the fridge. Don’t ruin your appetite.”
“No chance of that. Not when it’s your cooking—and were you on your feet to make the lunch?”
“Don’t nag, sweetheart. Nagging is not attractive.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
“Finish your cookie, get the rest of them in the oven—and then serve us both the amazing crab salad and crusty rolls I threw together.”
* * *
Keely got back to the Bravo house at a quarter of two, and Grace left for Portland a few minutes later. As usual, Daniel had stuff to do at the office. He promised to be back by dinnertime.
She stood on the porch, one twin on either side of her, waving as Daniel headed off down the driveway. The sun had made an afternoon appearance, so for a while she took the kids out back, where there was a big wooden playset that had been there for as long as she could remember. They played in the sandbox, slid down the slide and she swung them on the toddler-friendly swings.
Back inside, she gave them a snack and took them upstairs for diaper changes and nap time. They went down like little angels, reaching for kisses, settling right in and closing their eyes.
She got a full hour in her new studio, bent over her precious Bernina before Frannie started crying. When Keely went to check on her, she had a fever again.
* * *
That night, poor little Frannie didn’t sleep much. Neither did Keely or Daniel. Or Jake, for that matter. Frannie’s ear hurt, and nothing seemed to make it feel better.
The next day, one of the ladies from Gretchen’s church came by to watch Jake so that Keely could take Frannie to the pediatrician. Diagnosis: ear infection. Keely picked up the antibiotic and eardrop prescriptions on the way home.
Frannie had another bad night. All day Tuesday, she fussed and cried. Tuesday night, though, she only woke up crying twice.
“I think she’s better,” Keely whispered to Daniel when they tiptoed from the kids’ room for the second time that night.
“I hope so.” He had dark circles under his eyes. “We could all use a good night’s sleep.”
Wednesday morning, Frannie woke up smiling.
When Keely said, “I think you feel better, honey,” the little angel replied, “I fine, Keewee. I goo.”
And she really did seem fully recovered. After breakfast, Keely took both kids to see Gretchen, who still had no idea when Keely’s mom would be showing up. But Auntie G was all smiles to get to spend an afternoon with her beloved babies. She held them on her lap and sang the nursery songs she used to sing to Keely when she was little and staying with the Snows.
On Thursday, Jake got sick.
It was some weird flu bug. There was vomiting and a lot of mucus. Keely called the pediatrician, who suggested a humidifier, cool baths, cough medicine and Tylenol for fever. No need to bring Jake in, the doctor had said, unless his fever hit 104 or he wasn’t better within a week.
The next three nights were hell. Jake woke up crying and that woke Frannie. Keely and Daniel took turns looking in on them. The weekend went by somehow, not that Keely even cared what day it was. Making art with her sewing machine? Not even happening. And as for the original plan that she might go back and forth between the Bravo house and her cottage?
She never once made it home. In fact, she had to call a neighbor to water her plants.
She was exhausted, run ragged—and she found herself beginning to seriously admire Daniel. He worked all day and then stayed up with her all night to help with the kids. So what if he wasn’t the happiest dad on the planet? The man was dedicated to the well-being of his children. He mopped up vomit and changed diapers with the best of them.
By late Sunday, Jake had weathered the worst of it. He coughed less frequently and the mucus factory seemed to be shutting down. The sweet little guy was definitely on the mend. Sunday night, Keely actually slept straight through. The kids didn’t wake once, from bedtime until six the next morning.
Monday, Daniel woke her with a tap on her door.
“Ugh?” She blinked and yawned. “It’s open.”
He peeked in the door, looking almost rested for once. “Sorry to wake you.”
She yawned again. “It was bound to happen sometime. What’s up?”
“I’ll get them up and downstairs if you’ll start the breakfast.”
“Deal.”
She was at the stove when he came down with the little ones. She glanced over her shoulder to see him wiping Frannie’s streaming nose. They stared at each other across the gorgeous expanse of the soapstone island. “Oh, no,” she whispered, as though if she didn’t say it too loudly, Frannie wouldn’t be getting the bug Jake had just recovered from.
“No fever,” Daniel said. He didn’t add yet, but it seemed to her the unspoken word hung in the air between them.
By that afternoon, Frannie’s nose ran nonstop. By dinnertime, she’d thrown up twice and a persistent cough seemed to rattle her little bones. By then, she also had a fever. It hovered at around 101.
Keely and Daniel spent another night taking turns waking up to soothe a sick baby. Really, they were getting the nighttime nursing care down to a science, as though they had radar for whose turn it was. Keely barely stirred when it was his turn, and the master bedroom door remained shut when it was hers.
Once that night, she woke when it was his turn.
“This one’s mine,” he mumbled when she stuck her head out into the hall.
“Unh,” she replied and went back to bed.
On Wednesday, a week and a half into the endless string of illnesses the twins had been suffering, Daniel had a timber owner he had to go meet with. It was a small grove of Douglas firs ready to harvest, and Daniel would walk the grove with the landowner, explaining how Valentine Logging would maximize each tree to its full potential. The landowner wanted to meet at eight in the morning and Daniel wanted the contract, so at a quarter after seven he staggered out of the house, bleary-eyed, armed with a giant travel mug of coffee.
Keely spent the morning alone trying to keep her eye on Jake while doing what she could to ease poor Frannie’s misery. She dosed the little girl with over-the-counter meds, kept the humidifier running and gave Frannie cold-water sponge baths at regular intervals.
The day never seemed to end.
Finally, at around two in the afternoon, she got both kids down for a nap. To the soft hissing of the humidifier, she tiptoed from their room with Maisey at her heels. Across the hall, both of her doors were open. She cast a despairing glance toward her studio room. As if.
Right now, her beloved Bernina was the last thing she wanted to cuddle up with. The bed in the other room, though...
Nothing had ever looked so beautiful.
She dragged her tired body in there and fell gratefully across the mattress as Maisey flopped down on the rug right beside her. Blessed sleep settled over her.
She dreamed of walking the foggy beach not far from her back door—with Daniel of all people. They didn’t talk, just strolled along the wet sand, side by side but not touching, the waves sliding in, foaming around their bare feet.
“Keewee!