The Nanny's Secret Child. Lorraine Beatty
closed her book. “I’m not a bug either.”
The words were spoken with little feeling, sending a shard of pain through his heart. He wanted to fill the void left by her mother’s death, but he had no idea how to do that. He came from a large family, two brothers and two sisters, so he should know what to do, but he’d missed too much of his daughter’s life. She wasn’t a baby now. She was a young girl, almost nine, with a mind of her own, and she wasn’t happy to be here with him.
Discouraged, Gil nodded. “Right, well, the nanny is here. You ready to meet her?”
Abby shrugged and got to her feet, picking up her backpack. When she drew near, he reached out and touched the top of her head, stroking the soft brown hair. She stepped out of his reach, rebuffing his touch and plunging a hot blade into his heart.
Closing his eyes, he offered up a quick prayer. Maybe this time the Lord would hear and take action because he was out of options. Please, Lord, help my little girl find joy again. I don’t know what to do for her.
His thoughts circled back to the new nanny as he followed his daughter downstairs. She was young, pretty and capable. He’d seen a spark in her eyes that intrigued him. Anticipation? As a teacher and a nanny, she obviously liked kids. Maybe having a younger woman in her life would be a good thing for Abby. He wasn’t so sure having her in his home would be good for him. He didn’t like the way he was drawn to her bright smile and sparkling eyes. Or the inappropriate questions that burst into his mind. Like was she involved with anyone?
At the bottom of the stairs he stopped and touched Abby’s shoulder. “Remember. Be polite.” She glared up at him, screwed up her mouth and walked on.
Maybe the nanny could do what he couldn’t—make Abby happy again.
* * *
Julie paced the kitchen, waiting for father and child to return, struggling to keep her professional mask in place against the questions and doubts. Her gaze drifted to the bay window in the breakfast room and the wooden deck overlooking the large backyard, where a swing hung from a branch of an old tree. She bit her bottom lip in delight. She could imagine her little charge swinging once the weather broke. But she wouldn’t be here to see that. Her assignment was only for a week. Five days in which to learn the answers to her questions.
Mr. Montgomery’s deep voice sounded from the hall. Julie braced, her entire body vibrating. Would he see? Would he know? No time for further speculation. They were here. She smiled, her heart in her throat. The moment had arrived, and she had no idea what to expect.
Montgomery rested one hand on his daughter’s shoulder as he stood behind her. “Miss Bishop, this is my daughter, Abby.”
She barely heard him. Her eyes were on her new charge. She was a beautiful child. Long dark brown hair fell below her shoulders, held back with clips on each side, revealing little pink ears and soft rosy cheeks. Big brown eyes stared back at her. “Hello, Abby.”
“Hello.”
The reply was uttered with little enthusiasm. Not surprising. Accepting a new caregiver took a period of adjustment. Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be much time for that. For the next few days she’d merely be a highly paid babysitter. But it would be worth it.
Julie moved forward and extended her hand. “I’m...” She cleared her throat. “I’m happy to meet you.” The little girl clutched the faded backpack, staring up at her with a dull gaze. Julie glanced at the father. He looked worried and a bit sad. She remembered what he’d said about the recent upheavals in her life. “Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk a moment.”
Once they were settled, Julie rested her elbows on the table and peered over at Abby, examining each inch of her. From her heart-shaped face to the sprinkle of freckles across her upturned nose, she was an adorable little girl. Her pretty brown eyes were framed with long thick lashes, but as lovely as her eyes were, they lacked the spark of excitement and curiosity Julie liked to see in a child her age. Abby’s demeanor read sad and uninvolved. Julie’s heart lurched, forcing her to corral her emotions and focus on her assignment. “I’m looking forward to spending time together. Is there something special you like to do?”
Abby shrugged, fingering her backpack.
Julie glanced at the father. Pain and confusion drew his brows downward and caused a muscle to flex at the corner of his mouth. He had the look of a parent who had no idea how to help the child he loved. Something inside Julie softened. She directed her attention to Abby again. “I have some things I like to do with my students, so we’ll try them out and see which ones you like, all right?”
“I’m not a student.”
“That’s true. But I’m a teacher most of the time, so I think of all my children that way.”
She frowned. “You don’t look like a nanny.”
“Abby.” Montgomery gently reprimanded his daughter.
She focused her attention on Abby. “Nannies come in all shapes and sizes. Just like children do. And you look like a very nice young lady.” Julie had been angling for a smile, but all she received was a blink. But in that moment Julie saw emotions she recognized and understood. Abby was feeling disconnected and confused. “Abby is usually short for Abigail. Is that your real name?” The child shrugged again. “My name is Julianna Bishop, but everyone calls me Julie.”
Abby stared back at her, little mouth pressed into a frown. “Mine is Abigail Sarah Montgomery. My mommy said Sarah means ‘princess.’”
Encouraged, Julie continued. “Little girls are always princesses to their mommies...and daddies.” An unexpected stab of pain penetrated her barriers. Like sand washing away with a wave, her foundation began to erode. Blood drained from her face. A surge of light-headedness blurred her vision. She rubbed her forehead, willing herself to calm down. She glanced across the table at the little girl and felt her stomach heave.
Mr. Montgomery’s cell rang again, and she grabbed the opportunity to excuse herself. “Abby, could you point me to the bathroom?”
The child gestured to the hall and Julie tried to walk, not run, from the room. Her fiercely pounding heart sent her blood roaring in her ears. She stepped into the small guest bath, shut the door and leaned against it.
She couldn’t cry. Not now. She wouldn’t be able to explain it. Mr. Montgomery might change his mind and ask her to leave. Or worse, he’d demand an explanation. He’d think she was unfit to care for his daughter.
Trapped in a whirlwind of colliding emotions, she fought to find her footing. Fear. Excitement. Joy. Anger. A million reactions she hadn’t anticipated.
Please, please, Lord, help me. Moving to the sink, she ran cold water over her hands and pressed them to her cheeks to ease the scalding heat. Inhaling a few deep breaths, she forced herself to calm down. Slowly her stomach settled. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and saw a woman facing her worst nightmare. Not the image she wanted to project. She wanted to appear friendly and nurturing. Capable and caring. The way she seemed at school or when working as a nanny. Except this wasn’t a normal assignment. Not by a long shot.
Inhaling one last calming breath, Julie straightened and turned to go. As she grasped the doorknob, the anxiety churned up again, buckling her knees. What would Gil Montgomery say if she told him the truth? That the child he called Abby was the baby girl she gave up for adoption eight years ago?
With great effort, Julie managed to regain control and return to the kitchen. Mr. Montgomery looked up as she entered.
“Miss Bishop, I know you weren’t supposed to start work until tomorrow, but I need to run to the office. It’s only a few miles away. I was wondering if you could stay with Abby for a half hour or so. You could get better acquainted while I’m gone. Of course, I’ll understand if you