Abigail Always

by Linda Poitevin

  And, once again, Abby found herself fleeing.

  Chapter 16

  Abby's second week in the Abrams household was a replica of the first: getting the girls off to school in the mornings, followed by more cleaning and organizing while they were gone. With the main living spaces under control, she turned to the hidden ones: closets, basement storage, and even (with some trepidation) the garage workshop, so that she could park the SUV inside and still open all its doors. Halloween decorations were separated from the Christmas ones and given their own containers, camping gear was pulled out from under the workbench, sports equipment found a home in a bin, and so on. The afternoons found her picking up Kiana at three o'clock, supervising homework and snacks, and preparing dinner.

  Mitch was as good as his word, arriving home in time to eat with them each evening, to the great delight of his children. Through sheer determination, Abby got through the dinners without having to leave the table, reminding herself again and again that it was part of her job, and it didn't mean she was pushing aside memories of her own daughter if she smiled at one of Mitch's.

  Even if she still couldn't remember Olivia's laugh.

  Each night after dinner, Mitch recruited the girls to help him clean the kitchen and supervised bedtime, leaving Abby free to curl up on the loveseat in the living room with her book again—and to reflect that, at this rate, the family wouldn't need her for the full three months after all. That begged the question of what in heck she'd do next and led, in turn, to more stressing than reading—but not as much stress as Mitch's habit of bringing her tea did.

  He started on Monday, holding out a mug to her with a smile. “Chamomile,” he said. “You didn't look very enthused about the hot chocolate the other night. Eve used to say this helped her sleep.”

  Abby curled her fingers around the book she'd been staring at but not reading. “Thank you, but—”

  “I think,” he said, “you're supposed to stop after thank you.”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  Mitch raised an eyebrow, still holding out the mug.

  Abby snapped her mouth closed and took the steaming mug from him. “Thank you.”

  “That's better. And you're welcome. I have to go back out for a couple of hours, but I'll be back before midnight. You okay with watching the kids?”

  “Of course.”

  She settled back to listen to the sounds of his departure, a little nugget of warmth at her core that had nothing to do with the heat of the mug she cradled.

  Well, not directly, anyway.

  On Tuesday night, it was peppermint.

  “You really don't need to do this, you know.”

  “Thank you, Mitch,” he coached.

  She blushed. “I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. I just—”

  “You're just not very good at letting other people do things for you.”

  With a tiny shock, she realized he was right. With a much greater shock, she realized it was because she hadn't had a lot of experience at it. For all his lavish gift-giving and jetting her around the world, William hadn't been a thoughtful man—or a generous one, for that matter. At least, not in the everyday sense. And she'd never seen it until now. To cover her discomfiture, Abby set her book down on the coffee table and accepted the mug from Mitch. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  “You're welcome. And I really hope that wasn't as painful as it sounded.”

  His words surprised a smile from her. “No, it wasn't painful. And I meant it. Thank you.”

  Mitch smiled in return. “Much better. And you're welcome.” He hitched up the pant legs on his jeans and dropped with a sigh into the armchair opposite.

  Abby noted that he had a glass containing ice and an amber liquid. “Long day?” she asked.

  “Long few days.” He sipped from the glass, then frowned. “I'm sorry, I should have asked you if you'd prefer something stronger than tea.”

  “Thank you, but no. I'm a bit of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. It's best if I avoid it when I need to get up early.”

  His green gaze turned assessing. “All work and no play? I've heard that's not good for you.”

  “Said the pot, calling the kettle black.”

  “Touché.” He tipped the glass toward her in a small salute. “So. Your second week with us. How are you finding things? Not too much trouble getting the girls off to school in the mornings? Kiana can be a bit...”

  “Delicate?” Abby suggested, and he chuckled.

  “That's as good a word as any,” he agreed, with a wry twist of his mouth. “I probably should have warned you that she doesn't like to be rushed. Any problems?”

  Abby shook her head and took a sip of the peppermint tea, which happened to be one of her favorites. “Not really. My—” Her throat closed against what she had been about to say, and she swallowed. “I've had experience with another girl like her. I give her lots of lead time. It helps.”

  “I have to say, I'm a little surprised at how easily you've settled in here.” Mitch swirled the liquid in his glass as he regarded her. “In one week, you've done more to organize this house and my family than I've seen anyone accomplish in more than a year, including my mother. The girls are happy, and—”

  “Well, maybe not all of them,” Abby said, partly to correct him, but mostly to divert him from where she thought he might be going with this. Because she wasn't going to change her mind. Couldn't change her mind.

  He smiled. “True. But the majority rules, and Kiana and Brittany are more relaxed than I've seen them in a long time. Are you sure you won't—”

  “I can't. We agreed on three months, Mitch. I can't stay longer, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn't ask again. Please.”

  In the long silence that ensued, she darted a quick look in his direction and found him watching her, the index finger of his free hand tracing the fullness of his bottom lip. She wrenched her gaze away again.

  “I'd venture to guess that you have quite a story behind that request,” he said at last, “but all right. I won't ask again.” He levered himself up from the chair and, glass still in hand, strolled toward the hallway, pausing in the doorway. “If you ever want to talk, however, I've been told I'm a decent listener. Goodnight, Abigail Jamieson.”

  Abby didn't even try to respond.

  Chapter 17

  On Wednesday evening, despite the turn the previous night had taken, she found herself unable to focus on reading as she waited for Mitch and the tea she had begun to expect after the girls had gone to bed. When half an hour slipped by after he’d come back downstairs from saying goodnight to them, and there was still no sign of him, she leaned forward to peer down the hall at his office door. It was solidly closed. Had he forgotten? Decided she was more drama than he cared to deal with anymore?

  Abby sat back again, staring at her open book without seeing it. She'd spent the better part of the day working on her defenses—again—so that she wouldn't have another semi-meltdown, and now she wanted the opportunity to test her newly forged determination to carry on a normal conversation. She and Mitch were the only adults in the household—heck, he was the only adult in her life at the moment—and, as the girls' father, he deserved to be able to talk to his nanny without feeling as if he was treading on eggshells.

  Setting her mouth in determination, Abby put the book on the coffee table, stood, and draped the blanket over the back of the loveseat. Then she tiptoed past Mitch's office to the kitchen, where she made tea for both of them and tried hard to convince herself she could handle this. Because if she couldn't, how on earth was she going to manage the next ten weeks?

  She straightened her spine, left her own cup on the counter, and marched down the hall to Mitch's office with his. There, she tapped on the door and waited.

  Mitch's voice, sounding distracted, called, “Come in.”

  Abby turned the knob and stepped inside, and he looked up from the avalanche of papers across his desk. A look of dismay crossed his face when he saw the cup in
her hands.

  “I forgot your tea. I'm so sorry—I lost track of the time.”

  Abby waved away his apology. “I don't expect you to bring me tea every night,” she lied. “Besides, I figured you must be busy.”

  He leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. “So you were expecting me.”

  “That's not what I—I just thought I—” She bit down on her jumble of words, gathered herself, and crossed the floor to his desk, sidestepping a stack of books and a giant roll of blueprints. She set the mug down on his desk with a thump that didn't quite send the liquid spilling from it. “I made you some instead.”

  “Wait.” Mitch stood and reached out and caught her wrist when she turned to leave. An unexpected electric tingle shot up her arm, and she caught her breath. Mitch went still for an instant and then released her with a muttered, “Sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

  Abby sidled a few steps away as the tingle spread across her chest and made her breath hitch. The silence between them grew awkward. She contemplated outright flight as an alternative if he didn't speak soon, because she sure as heck couldn't think of anything to say.

  Mitch rubbed the back of one hand over his neatly trimmed beard. “I wasn't trying to guilt you. I was just teasing. Making you a cup of tea in the evening is the least I can do when you're putting in fourteen hours a day, six days a week around here. I enjoy doing it, otherwise I wouldn't. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “And I'm sorry I grabbed you like that,” he added, his gaze serious. “I wasn't thinking. It won't happen again.”

  Abby squashed a ripple of disappointment—because she wasn’t supposed to react to his touch at all, let alone want him to touch her again—and tried not to want to disappear into the floor. Could she be any more gauche? “It was nothing,” she squeaked. Squeaked? Dear Lord, Abigail, you need to do better than that. “I know it was just a reflex.”

  Nope. Husky voice wasn't any better than squeaky. Time to leave.

  “Well. Goodnight, then.” Giving in to the urge to flee, she turned and promptly tripped over the stack of blueprints, sprawling face first on the floor. Mitch was at her side before she'd even registered the impact—or the whoosh of air from her lungs.

  “God, Abby, are you okay?” Strong hands scooped her off the hardwood and set her on her feet, then remained on her shoulders to steady her.

  Abby opened her mouth, but no response emerged—not even a sound. Then she realized she couldn't draw a breath, and panic set in. Her fingers clutched at Mitch's shirtfront. His hands left her shoulders and curled around hers.

  “It's all right,” he said. “You've just knocked the wind out of yourself. Give it a minute, and your diaphragm will relax again. Just keep trying to breathe.”

  Diaphragm. Her brain zeroed in on the paralyzed body part, suddenly aware of the intense, taut pain centered there. For long seconds, the just keep trying to breathe part of Mitch's instructions remained impossible, but little by little, the muscle relaxed again, and air returned to her lungs. At last she was able to suck in the deep, albeit shaky, breath her body craved... and then her brain found other things to zero in on.

  Such as how Mitch's breath feathered against her face. And how dark and warm his hands were against her own skin. And how she was leaning into his taut, muscled strength and the pale green of his eyes seemed to be deepening and—

  Cheeks burning, she pulled away and stepped back, stumbling over the blueprints again but managing to stay upright this time. A new jumble of words piled up on her tongue, spilling out in random order. “I'm so sorry. I haven't knocked the wind out of myself since I was a kid. Thank you. The last time I did that was when I jumped off the garage roof. I'm not usually that clumsy. I—”

  “You jumped off a garage roof?” Mitch interrupted. He'd slid his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans and watched her with equal parts amusement and something Abby couldn't—no, didn't want—to identify. “Why on earth would you jump off a garage roof?”

  He was changing the topic, Abby thought with relief. Well, not exactly the topic, but at least the direction of their conversation. Not that they'd been talking about anything in particular, and certainly not about whatever that had been between them just now, but—she slapped brakes on her runaway brain.

  “We were trying to parachute,” she said. “With bedsheets. I was the youngest, so I got to go first.”

  Mitch laughed. “Sounds about right,” he said. “My older brother made me try the toboggan jump he made when I was six. I ended up with a broken collar bone. My mother was not pleased.”

  Abby managed a smile in return, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to try leaning into his strength again, how warm his hands had been, and how wrong her thoughts were. “Well,” she said. “I should let you get back to work. Goodnight.”

  Mitch's goodnight followed her out the door as she made good her escape, this time without incident. She didn't bother returning to the kitchen for the cooling tea in which she'd lost all interest.

  Chapter 18

  Sleep eluded Abby for a good part of the night, and morning found her tired, groggy, and unfocused. Which was how she found herself staring down at Kiana in full meltdown mode after she took away the girl's unfinished breakfast in an effort to hurry her along. It didn't matter that Abby had offered her a muffin and banana to eat on the walk to school instead. It mattered only that she had moved too quickly for the five-year-old, and now Kiana sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees and her face tucked out of sight, rocking back and forth and humming to herself.

  “Now you've done it,” Rachel observed, leaving her plate on the table and walking past Abby on the way to the hall. “She'll never make it out the door today. Awesome job, nanny.”

  Abby glared daggers after the teen's retreating back, but she didn't respond. Rachel was right, she'd messed up, and poor Kiana was paying the price. But in her defense, what the heck had that been last night with Mitch? She'd spent most of her sleepless night trying to convince herself she'd been mistaken about that spark between them, about the look in his eye, but she wasn’t that naive. Mitch Abrams had looked at her as something more than his employee last night, and he'd liked what he'd seen, and she had responded, and oh hell, but she didn't need this.

  Taking a deep breath, Abby crouched at Kiana's side. “Kiana, sweetie...”

  The humming intensified. Abby stared down at the crooked black puffs held in place by fuzzy purple ponytail holders decorated with unicorns. When Mitch had asked how things were going with Kiana, she'd responded that she'd had experience with another girl like his daughter—and she was beginning to wonder just how much truth was in that statement. Was it possible...?

  “Here.” Brittany shoved Kiana's beloved stuffed bunny into Abby's face. “This helps sometimes.”

  Abby took the plush toy. “Thank you, sweetie. Anything else I should know that helps?”

  “Not really. Except don't try talking to her or touching her. She'll snap out of it on her own. But Rachel's right. There's no way she's going to school today.”

  “That's all right,” Abby said, with another regretful look at the problem she'd created just because she hadn't had the patience to wait for an extra few minutes. “We'll bake cookies instead.”

  “Chocolate chip and oatmeal?” Brittany's dark eyes lit up.

  “Why not? But for now, we need to get you ready to go. Ms. Perkins will be here any minute.” Abby set the rabbit on the floor, tucking it against Kiana's leg. Then she stood, because if her suspicions were right, hovering over the little girl would just make matters worse. “Got your lunch?” she asked, turning her attention to Britt. “And your homework?”

  “All packed.” Britt hefted her bulging knapsack as evidence, then stooped and planted a kiss atop Kiana's head. “Bye, Kia. Be good. And remember, chocolate chip and oatmeal.”

  Kiana continued humming and rocking.

  Rachel and Brittany were
all of two minutes behind schedule, but when Abby opened the front door for them to leave, she found Perky Perkins on the other side with her hand raised to knock. Perky flashed her a bright smile and then a look of concern.

  “You look like you’re having a rough morning, my friend. Everything okay?”

  “It’s fine, thank you. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Probably because you’re exhausted, the way Mitch has you working six days a week like that. I’ll have a word with him. If he really needs the extra time for the business, I can come help out on Saturdays so you get a break.”

  Abby couldn’t imagine anything less helpful, at least from Mitch’s perspective. Still, it was a nice offer, and so she summoned a ghost of a smile through the headache nagging at her temples. “Thank you, but I’m honestly doing fine,” she said. “Today is just a bit of an anomaly.”

  The not-very-charitable part of her wondered what Perky would think of the reasons behind that anomaly. She filed the thought away with the others that had plagued her since the encounter in Mitch’s office, because she didn’t want to be thinking any of them. Shouldn’t be thinking them.

  “Are you sure? Because I really don’t mind.”

  I’ll just bet you don’t.

  Abby sighed at herself. “I’ll call if I need help,” she promised.

  “Please do. And in the meantime, remember it’s just for a few more weeks, right?”

  “How—”

  “Rachel mentioned it. It wasn’t a secret, was it?”

  “I’m just not sure Mitch would like her discussing family concerns that way.” Abby flashed a narrow look at Rachel, but the girl brushed past her and headed down the sidewalk to the waiting vehicle. If she’d heard, she wasn’t letting on.

  Perky snorted. “Oh, pooh,” she said. “We’re friends. He wouldn’t mind. Well, I have to get these three off to school. I hope your day gets better!” With her trademark cheery wave, Perky jogged down the stairs and along the walkway to her car.