A Princess Under The Mistletoe. Leanne Banks
a piano.”
Gavin nodded. “You play?”
In concert halls all over the world, she thought, rubbing her hands together. But not very much lately. She shrugged. “A little.”
“I can’t promise it’s been tuned recently,” he warned. “The piano hasn’t been a priority.”
“Of course,” she said, putting her hands behind her to hide her eagerness. Bless Princess Ericka. She had promised to try to provide a piano for her.
“Feel free to play whenever you want,” he said. “I hate to dump all this on you and leave so quickly, but I’ve got to get the palace construction schedule back on target. There’s a cell phone for your use on the kitchen counter and a pad of paper with all the contact numbers, including emergency numbers, you may need. Hopefully you won’t need the emergency numbers, but with young children, you never know.” He paused and glanced first at Adelaide as she rubbed her eyes, and then he glanced down at Sam.
Gavin sighed, and the sweet sadness in all three faces clutched at Sara’s heart.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this? I don’t know what you’ve been told, but we’ve been having a rough time lately.”
“I’ve been briefed,” she assured him. Determination coursed through her. She’d been put here for a reason. She would help this family find happiness and security again. It was her destiny. “I’m quite ready to care for your children. Now, move along to the palace. I’m sure they’re waiting for you.” She opened her arms to take Adelaide.
The baby stared at her suspiciously, but allowed Sara to hold her. “Come along, Sam. We’re going to have juice and cookies. Give your father a big hug so he can have a good day at work. We all have our jobs to do. I’ll need your help with Adelaide.”
Gavin hugged Sam then grabbed a computer bag and headed for the door. “Call if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine. Have a good day,” she called, feeling a bit like the magical nannies she’d watched in old movies while she was growing up. She could do this, she told herself. Children were so sweet.
Suddenly Sara felt Adelaide clamp her teeth onto her collarbone with the force of a mini shark. Pain tore through her, and she couldn’t swallow a surprised shriek. Adelaide pulled back at the sound and began to howl.
Sam kicked her in the shin.
Pain vibrated through her. Sara lost her breath. “Why did you do that?”
“You hurt my sister,” he told her, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I didn’t hurt her,” Sara said over Adelaide’s cries. “She bit me!”
Sam met her gaze for a long moment. “Oh. I think her mouth hurts. Can I have my juice and cookie?”
“First you must apologize for kicking me,” she said as Adelaide’s wails softened to moans.
“I’m sorry,” he said reluctantly. “Can I—”
“Then you must make your request properly. May I please have juice and a cookie?”
He nodded. “Yes. You can.”
Sara sighed. “Repeat after me. May I please have juice and a cookie?”
Sam relented and repeated her word for word.
“Well done,” she said. “I’ll get it for you right now.”
Juggling Adelaide from one arm to the other, Sara served Sam’s snack at the table. Remembering she’d once had a toothache and that ice had seemed to help, she then returned to the refrigerator, pulled out an ice cube, wrapped it in a clean washcloth and offered it to Adelaide.
Silence followed. Five blessed seconds of silence. Sara took a deep breath as she watched Sam cram the cookie into his mouth and Adelaide gnaw on the cold washcloth. Maybe there was hope. But heaven help her, she couldn’t serve juice and cookies all day.
It took far longer than it should have, but Sara crammed Adelaide in a stroller and retied Sam’s shoes so they could go for a walk. She remembered as a child how much she’d craved being outside. Unlike the nannies she’d watched in movies, her nannies had kept her and her siblings inside the gloomy palace, which had always seemed to need repairs.
“Isn’t it a beautiful day?” she said to Sam. “It’s December, but it feels like May.”
Sam just shrugged.
“Don’t you enjoy being outside?” she asked.
He shrugged again. “I guess.”
“I hear you lived in North Dakota. Isn’t it very cold there?”
Sam nodded. “It snowed a lot. There’s no snow here.”
“Do you miss the snow?”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“What else do you miss?” she asked as she pushed the stroller.
A long silence followed. “Mommy,” he finally whispered in a voice so low the wind almost carried it away.
Her heart contracted in sympathy and she squeezed Sam’s shoulder. He immediately stiffened and drew back. Too early for hugs, she thought, making a mental note of it.
Several moments passed. “My dad keeps saying we can go to the beach, but we’ve only been once.” Sam finally said.
Sara couldn’t imagine taking both children to the beach, but perhaps she could enlist the help of someone. “Maybe we can do that soon. Just for a walk. The water may be too cool for a real swim.”
Sam squinted his eyes up at her. “Yeah,” he said skeptically.
Sara felt a ripple of challenge from that skeptical gaze. She frowned. “We’ll go to the beach soon. You’ll see.”
Sam glanced down at the stroller. “Adelaide’s asleep.”
“Oh, heavens. We need to get her back to her crib,” she said as she turned around.
“She’ll wake up as soon as we get home.”
“No. She won’t,” Sara insisted. “I just need to ease her into her crib.”
“She’s gonna wake up,” Sam said, knowingly.
Turned out, Sam was right.
The rest of the day was a blur. Adelaide napped, but not for very long. Sam dozed. Sara served the children an early dinner and they were all half watching television as Gavin walked in the door. Sam immediately snapped to attention.
“How did your first day go with Sara?” Gavin asked.
Adelaide kicked her feet and howled. Sara gave her a washcloth to chew on.
“She took us for a walk,” Sam said. “A long walk.”
“Good,” Gavin said and looked at Sara. “Everything okay?”
She moved her head in a circle because “okay” was relative. “Yes,” she managed. “I figured out that Adelaide is teething.”
Realization crossed his face. “Yeah. You’re so right. I should have figured that out sooner.”
“No problem,” Sara said. “She’ll just be chewing a cold washcloth for the first year of her life. Right, baby?” she said to Adelaide.
The baby frowned and chowed down on the washcloth.
“Good job,” he said, then looked at Sam. “Time for us to go see Mr. Brahn.”
Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t wanna see Mr. Brahn.”
Gavin glanced at Sara. “Mr. Brahn is a therapist. To help with the grief,” he added in a low voice and walked toward Sam.