The Nanny’s Temporary Triplets. Noelle Marchand
Everything within him stilled. He swallowed down the instinctive aversion he had for anyone who played fast and loose with fidelity. He’d had more than enough of that from his late wife.
“How stupid can one person be? To be taken in like that? To believe every lie and ignore any sign of the truth?”
All right. She’d been lied to. That didn’t exactly excuse it, but it did explain it. It also made her the injured party here. Her and the man’s wife. He’d been in that situation one too many times not to feel compassion for her.
With a sigh, David settled in the dirt beside the woman and put his arm around her shoulders. He was kind of hoping she’d get all offended and push him away. She leaned slightly into him instead. He gave in to the moment, as crazy as it seemed, and pulled her a bit closer. Her cheek landed on his chest, allowing warm tears to spill onto his shirt. He ran his right hand up and down her arm in a calming, predictable pattern while his left hand rested on his knee in full view of her downturned face, making it clear he wasn’t panning to take advantage of the situation.
Her sobs faded to intermittent shudders. The wet patch on his shirt began to cool. He dug a white handkerchief from his chest pocket and offered it to her. “You can keep this, so don’t be afraid to blow your nose if you need to.”
A small, watery laugh reached his ear as she took his offering. She wiped her face, then blew her nose before whispering, “Thank you, Pastor.”
David’s eyes widened. “I’m not a preacher. I’m a rancher.”
“A rancher?” Dismay filled her voice as she pulled back to look at him with hazel eyes that were an intriguing mix of brown, amber and green.
He tried not to grimace. It figured she’d be one of those women like his wife. The kind that against all odds got even prettier when she cried. Color flushed her cheeks while reddening her nose only slightly. A rich brown tendril came loose over her right eye. It threatened to tangle in the dark lashes that her tears had turned spiky.
He lifted a hand and brushed it back. She froze. Suddenly aware of the intimacy of the moment, he removed his arm from around her and searched for something, anything, to put distance between them. “Something wrong with being a rancher?”
“Of course not. My brother is a rancher. It’s only that being near the church and you being so kind and all, I assumed...” She trailed off with a shrug.
“No. I was just on my way to the parsonage and happened to see you. You say your brother is a rancher? How is it that I’ve never seen you around town before?”
“I haven’t been around town before. Not for several years, that is. I’m visiting my brother. His name is Matthew Murray.”
“I know Matthew. He’s a good friend of mine.” Matthew had mentioned he would be leaving town for a few days to attend his sister’s wedding. The puzzle pieces shifted into place. “And you’re Caroline.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Yes.”
He hesitantly added, “I take it the wedding didn’t go as planned.”
“No.” She glanced toward the church. “It did not.”
That was probably for the best, though he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate him saying so. He kept quiet, watching for any indication she wanted to be alone. She turned to look up at him with curiosity. “I just realized I don’t know your name.”
“David McKay.”
Her lashes lowered toward her cheeks. “Well, David McKay, thank you for listening to my troubles and...”
“Holding you in my arms?” He probably shouldn’t have teased her, but he wanted to see if he could make her smile just once before they parted ways. He wasn’t disappointed.
Her laughing hazel eyes met his, acknowledging the underlying absurdity of the encounter, while her lips tilted into a smile. “That, too.”
Anytime, he wanted to say, but that would be inappropriate. It would also be flirtatious, and David hadn’t tried his hand at flirting since Laura had died five years ago. He wasn’t planning to start now. Especially not with a woman whose heart had just been broken. He knew from experience how long that could take to heal.
Granted, he could use another woman’s influence in Maggie’s life. Preferably it would be someone who could convince his daughter to stop cutting her hair shorter and shorter anytime she got the notion and someone who could teach her that there was nothing wrong with wearing dresses or acting feminine.
Of course, there were the triplets to consider now. The ten-month-old foundlings had been abandoned at the county fair last month. Their mother had left a note explaining that she was widowed, penniless and dying. No longer able to take care of the boys, she’d asked the Lone Star Cowboy League, a group of ranchers known for their compassion and ability to get things done, to take in her boys.
As a member of the league, David had stepped up to do exactly that when the folks originally charged with their care had to give up the babies because of an illness in their house. He’d gone through a lot of trouble to hire a nanny for them and his daughter. Maggie had a tendency to run wild when he wasn’t around. School being out for the summer only exacerbated that. He had a ranch to run, which meant that Ma was Maggie’s main caretaker for most of the day. At seventy-seven, Ma wasn’t as spry as she used to be, and keeping up with Maggie’s ever-increasing energy and mischief was becoming more of a challenge.
Of course, the truth was, even in her younger days Ma never had been able to find it in her heart to discipline her only grandchild. He understood. Maggie’s big blue eyes, honey-colored hair and button nose made her cute as could be. It also gave her an innocent appearance that unfortunately was too often only that—an appearance. Hence, the reason he’d been heading to the parsonage.
First, he needed to do the gentlemanly thing. That did not include leaving his new acquaintance by herself in this state. “Where is your brother?”
“He’s at the café with Emma. I should probably head that way myself.”
She made a motion as though to rise, so he jumped to his feet and caught her arm to help her stand. “May I escort you?”
“Oh, no. That isn’t necessary.” She brushed the dirt from her skirt, lifted her chin and offered one last faint smile. “Thank you again, Mr. McKay.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
He watched to make sure she was headed in the right direction before crossing the field to the parsonage. Brandon Stillwater answered the door with a welcoming grin. “Come in, David. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I need your advice on something.” David removed his hat and stepped inside the foyer.
“Let’s talk in my study. Can I get you anything? Coffee? A cookie? One of those little strudel things Mrs. Hickey is so fond of making?”
“Thank you, but I’m fine.” Entering the study behind Brandon, David paced back and forth on the bright square of light falling from the window onto the floor in front of the well-hewn desk.
Concern furrowed Brandon’s brow as he leaned his hip against the desk. “What’s going on?”
“Maggie put a snake in the nanny’s bed.”
“What?” Brandon asked in alarm.
“I know.” David sank into a nearby chair. “It was dead. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse. Before I could even try to discipline her, my ma stepped in and fired the nanny for being angry at Maggie. It was a formality, really. The nanny was already halfway up the stairs on her way to pack her bags of her own accord.”
“How long have you been without a nanny?”
“Two days. I’ve been racking my brain for a solution, asking around to see if any of the ladies in town would take the position.