The Holiday Nanny (12 page)

“New socks?”

“Connie said you'd say that,” Silver shouted gleefully. She high-fived the nanny.

Wade glanced at Connie. She met his look with that solemn, steady scrutiny.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really.” She smiled.

“You mean I'm predictable?”

“Sometimes.” She stayed near him when Silver went to examine the crèche scene Amanda was uncovering. Her voice dropped. “About the stocking for Silver?”

“Yes?”

“I could make her one,” Connie offered. “I have fabric left from her angel costume.”

“You don't have to do that. It's a lot of work,” he said softly so as not to interrupt the others.

“Actually, I've already started.” She shook her head.

“But that doesn't mean you have to use it down here. I was going to hang it in her room.”

Because she thought he wouldn't remember that kids liked Christmas stockings? It irked Wade that she thought so little of his fathering ability, and yet, why wouldn't she? He hadn't done much that was fatherly for most of Silver's life.

“Of course it should hang down here.” The clock chimed. Silver's bedtime. Wade rose. “Could I talk to you, Connie? Privately, I mean. After you put her to bed?”

“Certainly.” She frowned, her uneasiness evident. But she didn't ask questions, didn't hesitate or make a fuss. Instead, after Silver had hugged him tightly and whispered, “I love you, Daddy,” Connie quietly shepherded the child upstairs, chatting about the things they had yet to do for the holidays.

Wade was grateful for that. He didn't want to explain his idea to anyone else if Connie thought it was a dumb one. But when he turned, he noticed Amanda sitting in
a shadowed corner of the room. Then he saw the tears dribbling down her face.

“What's wrong?” he asked, wishing God had made women simpler to understand.

Amanda didn't say a word, simply held up the bright red stocking with Danny's name etched in glitter along the top. He remembered it had been a project the two of them had shared. They'd made one for him and his dad, also.

Wade knelt in front of her, unsure of how to proceed, yet determined he would not give up on his project to draw Amanda back into life, into Christmas—at least not yet.

“Do you want to hang it up?” he asked gently, aware of the careful way her fingers traced the letters over and over.

“No.” She sniffed, swallowed. “It's just—I see something like this and all of a sudden it's back.”

“What is?”

“The pain. The loss. And then I see you and Silver and I wonder why my child had to die.” Tears flowed freely now.

“I feel so empty. What's the point of pretending to carry on, to celebrate Christmas? I've lost everything.” With a little cry, she rose and fled up the stairs.

Amanda had made his young life so much better. She'd never tried to take his mother's place. Instead, she'd let him figure out their relationship in his own mind. And she'd always been there. He wanted to help Amanda, but how could he if she wouldn't let go of the past?

Turning the problem over in his mind, Wade walked to the French doors and let himself out into the courtyard. The tranquility there was one of the best things about the house and one of the things he enjoyed most about being back home. He often sat out under the stars. Somehow it made him feel a little nearer to God, a little less alone. Now he prayed for illumination but found no solace.

“You wanted to speak to me?” Connie stood by the hedge, hands knotted in front of her.

Only now did he notice that her jeans were rumpled, her sweater decorated with globs of white. Glue, he thought. Her hair was mussed, as if Silver had run her fingers through the tumble of curls and sent them sprawling every which way. Connie's beauty struck him anew.

Wade motioned to a chaise and waited for her to sit. Connie's hair dipped and curled around her face, accenting the angle of her cheekbones and the width of her mouth, the one he'd kissed not long ago. Wade forced out the images.
Keep it businesslike.
He chose a chaise several feet away from her.

“About Amanda—I appreciate your suggestions, but it doesn't seem to have helped,” he said. “I apologized, and for a while I thought she was all right. But Amanda just rushed out of the room in tears. It's obvious she still blames me.”

“Be patient,” Connie advised. “It will take time for her to let go of the past. She's clung to her grief for a long time. It's become familiar. If we could get her more involved with Silver, perhaps she'd start to see new reasons to get involved in life.”

“Sounds good.” Why hadn't he thought of that? Despite his best intentions to treat Connie as the nanny, Wade marveled all over again at the wisdom of this woman. “So how do I do that?”

“Well, what are some things Amanda used to enjoy?” Connie sat with her hands folded in her lap and patiently waited.

“Anything she did with Danny,” he said immediately. Obviously that wasn't going to work. He dredged up the past and locked in on several memories. “Shopping.”

“Ah.” Connie leaned back on the chaise, lifted her feet up and stretched them out. She closed her eyes.

Wade watched the expressions chase across her lovely face. A frown, a twitch of her eyelids. Then she sat up.

“I have an idea. Perhaps Amanda should take Silver to buy a new dress for Christmas. Something fancy, a bit over the top,” Connie suggested.

Wade made a face. “Do I have to go?”

“I don't see why.” She chuckled at his show of relief.

A moment later, Wade joined her laughter, glad they'd shed the awkwardness of that kiss and returned to their give-and-take relationship. He felt lighter. Somehow with Connie, things seemed possible again. Life regained its fun. Why was that?

“I was wondering how we'd ever get Silver to change out of her angel costume after the pageant,” Connie mused.

“But a pretty dress to wear afterward just might do it. And Amanda has such a sense of style that she'll know exactly how to find one.”

Connie never had a bad word to say about anyone. She also never discounted his ideas. Connie was the kind of person who found a way to get something done. Wade greatly admired that trait. Actually he greatly admired a lot about Silver's nanny.

Stop it!

“Silver's had her first few ballet lessons, I think. How's it going?” he asked.

“Oh, Wade, if you could see her.” Connie burst into a fit of the giggles that chased away the last hint of reserve he'd sensed when she arrived. “Wait—you can.” She pulled out her phone and moved nearer so he could watch the video she'd recorded.

When he adjusted the angle of the phone, his fingers
brushed hers. Connie didn't seem to notice, but Wade did. And he thought how nice it was to share something.

Then his brain reminded him not to get too close to the nanny.

“Oh.” He closed the phone and handed it to her, keeping his expression bland. “Um—”

“Exactly.” Connie laughed and tucked her phone into her pocket. “Let's just say I don't think you have to worry about ballet as a career for her.”

“Good.” Wade winked. “I can't fathom having to sit through endless ballet recitals for the next twelve years anyway.”

She giggled at that. Then her face suddenly sobered, and Wade remembered that he wouldn't have to worry about that. He wasn't going to be with Silver in the future.

“You're still intent on sending her away?” Connie whispered, making no effort to distance herself. Instead she seemed intent on his answer.

“More than ever.” Something in her face—disappointment?—was too painful to watch so Wade didn't look at her as he explained. “I received information on who might be her Brazilian family. She has a lot of relatives, mostly children. They're near her age. She'll be happy.”

“Uh huh.” Connie favored him with a dubious look.

“Have you done a blood test?”

“I don't need to.”

Connie's glare shafted straight to his heart. “You mean you're afraid to?”

Yes! Wade kept himself from blurting out the confession. Lord knew he hadn't been the brother he should have been with Danny. These past few weeks at home had only confirmed his suspicions that he didn't have what it took to be a parent. Even if he was Silver's. Which he wasn't. Connie—now she knew what parenting was all about.

There went his silly brain again. Wade straightened.

“I didn't ask you out here to talk about this.”

“I'm sorry.” Connie rose, took one step away as she shook her head. “I apologize. I have no business questioning you or your decisions.”

“Then why do you?” he asked, irritated by her simplistic view of life.

“I guess I'm trying to understand why you feel you have to let Silver go.” She frowned at him, brushing the curls off her forehead and out of her eyes, as if seeing him more clearly would help her to understand his decision.

“I would not make a good parent,” Wade insisted.

“Sorry?” She flinched at his glare. “I mean, you already are one. Have been for quite some time. What's changed?”

“Silver's getting older, for one thing. She needs a mother figure.” As soon as the words emerged, he jerked upright, staring at Connie to see if she thought he was implying anything. Which he wasn't. No way. He didn't need a wife in his life any more than he needed the responsibility of a daughter.

Liar.

“Lots of kids don't have mothers,” Connie said. “Or siblings.”

“I know. But I want that for her.”
I don't want her to depend on me alone, because I know I'll fail her.
“I had a very rich childhood. I'd like Silver to experience the same.” Wade shook his head. “Look I don't want to get into this discussion with you again. I am going to do what's right for Silver, and I think she'll appreciate it when she meets her family.”

Connie continued to stare at him, her face troubled.

“I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate what you've
been doing to make things more Christmassy. I know you've gone far beyond your job description.”

Connie shrugged, inclined her head and waited for him to continue.

“I've never done this before, but I thought it might be nice if we—Amanda, you, Silver and me—volunteered together to do something special for someone else. The thing is…” Wade stopped, embarrassed now that he had to put the plan into words.

“It's a good idea,” she said, resuming her seat opposite him. “Please go on.”

He took a moment to appreciate Connie's willingness. He'd asked a lot of her—more than most nannies would do. He was hoping that she wouldn't refuse him this time.

“I don't know any place like that,” he admitted. “I thought maybe you could ask someone at the center, get suggestions about something we could all do together. If you're willing, that is.”

“Of course.” Connie smiled. “I'll talk to Ben and let you know. It's a great idea. Christmas is always better when you share.”

“I hope so.” The night's darkness did a lot to enhance his reactions to her. At least that's what Wade blamed his spiraling heart rate on. “Have you learned anything more about your father?”

“No.” Her shoulders drooped, her expressive mouth tipped down. “Deadends, that's all I've hit. Lots of dead ends. It's as if he's disappeared.”

“I'm sorry.” It was inadequate, of course. But that was all Wade could think of to say. He'd hoped there would be some clue he could follow up to help her locate the man, but that seemed less likely now. “Did you ever consider that maybe God doesn't want you to find him?”

Connie had been studying the pool and the flickering
lights that created shadows on the bottom. Now her head jerked up, and she stared at him.

“No,” she said clearly. “I don't believe that.”

“Because?” He hated causing her pain, but the possibility was there and it would be better for Connie if she accepted that. Maybe then she wouldn't be so badly hurt.

“Because I don't believe God would bring me this far, give me the leads I've had and then leave me to flounder. That isn't the nature of God.”

“Are you sure?” The question popped out of him without thinking.

“You're an architect, Wade.” Connie waved a hand.

“Amanda told me that your father planned this house.”

“He did.” Where was she going with this?

“And you design bridges.” She waited for his nod. “How would you like it if partway through the construction, your workers abandoned the project because they couldn't see how on earth you could possibly create the bridge you'd drawn?”

“It's not the same.”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “God is the great designer. He promises that all things work together for good for those who love Him. That means that whatever happens, whether I find my dad or whether I don't, He will work it out to my benefit. I trust his plan, Wade. That's called faith. I'm not going to start doubting Him now.”

With a murmured good-night, Connie left, her footsteps diminishing until only the gentle lap of the water against the tiles sounded in the night.

Wade lay back and studied the sky.

“What is your plan for me?” he asked silently.

He'd told himself he'd made up his mind about Silver. But the question still lurked in the recesses of his mind, a tiny flicker of—hope? For the first time, he fanned that
flame, let it grow. Was it possible he could keep Silver, raise her as his own, pretend that other family didn't exist?

And what about Connie? He couldn't imagine this house without her. But how could she stay? Could he keep pretending that what he felt for her was nothing more than a silly crush that would wither and die in time? Could he dare trust his heart to another again?