Baby On Her Doorstep. Rhonda Gibson
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shook her head. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Murphy. Please feel free to call me Laura.”
“Mrs. Lee, if the wee one isn’t yours, whose is she?” Confusion pulled at the skin between Mrs. Murphy’s eyes.
Laura was very aware that Mrs. Murphy wasn’t pleased with Clint’s choice of nanny. The sharpness in her tone and the way her gaze moved over Laura as if evaluating her spoke volumes of her displeasure. What had the older woman expected?
“Mrs. Murphy, don’t you think that is a bit personal?” Clint asked, walking back to them. He carried another bag and what appeared to be a box of kitchen supplies.
She huffed. “Not if she’s going to be living here. She could have stolen the child for all I know.”
Laura felt a rush of irritation at the woman’s rude behavior. She pulled her shoulders back and held her head high. “No, I most certainly did not steal Hope. I have a letter stating she is in my care.” She picked up Hope. The little girl snuggled her face into Laura’s neck.
Clint walked around the women and continued inside. “I’ll show Mrs. Lee and Hope to their rooms.”
Laura set a wiggling Hope back down and picked up the bags she’d discarded earlier. Then she followed Mrs. Murphy and the girls inside.
Mrs. Murphy’s voice stopped him. “You’ll do no such thing.”
He turned to face her. “Mrs. Murphy, she’s staying.”
“Perhaps so, but it isn’t proper for you to be in her room.” The Irishwoman’s green eyes dared him to argue with her.
What kind of relationship did these two people have? Was Mrs. Murphy hired help? Or a part of the family? Laura watched as the two stared at each other. The muscles worked in Clint’s jaw. His eyes never left Mrs. Murphy’s as he said, “Then you show her to her room, and I’ll finish unloading the wagon.”
Mrs. Murphy nodded curtly and then turned to Laura. “If you will follow me.” She didn’t wait for Laura to agree. Her skirt swished as she walked briskly down a hall. “Your rooms are behind the kitchen. I told Clint he didn’t have to give up his room, but he insisted. It will be warm for the children come winter.”
If he’d given up his room, where was Clint staying? Not that it should matter to her, but Laura couldn’t help but wonder why he’d give up his room for the hired help.
“I don’t intend to be here that long,” Laura answered.
Mrs. Murphy stopped so fast that it took all Laura could do not to run over her. “What’s this you say?”
“Hope and I will only be here a few months, then I’ll be returning to my job in town.” Laura shifted the bags in her arms.
“Your job in town?” She crossed her arms and waited for Laura to answer.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m the schoolteacher.”
Mrs. Murphy nodded and then continued down the hall. She stopped in front of a closed door. “These are your rooms.” Ice seemed to drip from her voice. She opened the door and took a step back.
Who was the woman angry at? Her? Or Clint for hiring someone who wasn’t going to be permanent?
Laura followed Grace and Hope into the room. It was larger than she’d expected and felt warm and inviting. A large bed rested against the far wall. Other pieces of furniture filled the room. But it was obvious from the lack of lacy curtains, pretty rugs and of any type of feminine touch that this was a man’s room.
“Lunch will be in a few minutes.” Mrs. Murphy spun around and headed back down the hallway.
Grace and Hope toddled about the room. Hope seemed to take in each and every new item that Grace appeared to be showing her. Laura walked to the window and looked outside. A tall tree stood beside the window, offering shade and the potential of cool summer breezes. She turned back to the room and noticed another door to the side.
Hadn’t Mrs. Murphy said “rooms?” Laura walked across the hardwood floor and opened the door. She was pleasantly surprised to find a small dressing room with a big chair and bookshelf inside. The room also contained a child-sized bed. A chest rested at the foot of the bed, and dolls and stuffed animals sat on its top. It was obvious that this was Grace’s room.
Grace followed and babbled off something. Pretending as if she understood her, Laura answered, “I like your room, too, Grace. But I’m thinking it might be nice if Hope shared your room with you. Would that be all right with you?”
The little girl nodded and babbled away to Hope. She hurried across the room and picked up a small stuffed dog and brought it back to Hope.
Hope smiled at Grace and hugged the toy to her chest. Laura grinned. If Grace was a normal two-year-old, and Laura knew that she was, she’d be demanding her doggie back soon enough. While the girls played, Laura quickly unpacked the bags she’d brought inside. The top two drawers were empty, and her and Hope’s few belongings fit nicely.
Just as she turned to gather the girls up to go get another bag and her box of books, Mrs. Murphy arrived with both. She set the crate of books inside the door and placed Hope’s small bag on top, then turned without speaking and left. That book box was heavy, but evidently Mrs. Murphy was stronger than she’d first appeared.
As a schoolteacher, Laura occasionally dealt with unhappy parents and decided to treat Mrs. Murphy as one. The older woman made it more than obvious that she wasn’t happy with Clint’s choice in nannies. But what choice had he had? It wasn’t like there were a slew of unmarried women about who needed a job out in the middle of nowhere. Laura put away the remaining few belongings she’d purchased earlier for Hope.
Taking a deep breath, she picked up Hope and grabbed Grace’s hand. “Let’s go have lunch, ladies.”
Grace chattered as they walked back to the front of the house. Laura wished she could understand the little girl, but since she couldn’t she simply smiled and nodded a lot. Hope giggled down at Grace.
The smell of frying ham greeted her as she rounded the corner to the kitchen. Mrs. Murphy stood at the stove, turning the meat over with a long fork. She frowned as Laura and the girls entered the room.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” Laura asked as she sat Hope down on one of the chairs that surrounded an oblong table.
Her Irish accent filled the kitchen with authority. “No, my job is to cook. Yours is to take care of Grace.”
Laura nodded. “Yes, but I don’t mind helping out.”
Mrs. Murphy turned from the stove. She shook the fork at her. “If you want to help, keep the children out of my kitchen until you are called.”
So that was how it was going to be. Laura tilted her head to the side and studied the older woman. Why was she so unhappy? Had she hoped Clint couldn’t find a nanny? If so, why not? Or, was she simply worried Laura would become even more important to Clint and Grace and she wouldn’t be needed? Or, as she’d thought earlier, was she angry that Clint had hired a temporary nanny and not a full-time one?
Mrs. Murphy dropped her eyes and returned to the sizzling ham.
“Come along, girls.” If Mrs. Murphy didn’t want her in the kitchen, Laura vowed not to return until asked. As stubborn as the woman seemed, Laura had a feeling that would be the last time she saw the interior of the kitchen for the remainder of her stay.
Grace and Hope each took one of her hands and they left the warmth of the room. Laura hated that she wouldn’t be allowed to cook or help out while she was here. It shouldn’t matter to her. Her job was to care for Grace. But it did matter. For some reason, it mattered a lot.
Clint sighed