by Brea Viragh
“Yes. Four. At least I think she’s four. I don’t remember her birthday. The lawyer told me at some point, I’m sure. Or it’s in the papers somewhere...”
Then he remembered the few details she’d given over the phone. The girl—Renee—did not belong to Olympia by birth. Something about a cousin and a tragic accident. It was some sort of guardianship deal, very sudden and unexpected. No wonder she was overwhelmed. As the nearest family member, she’d been thrust into motherhood without a chance to acclimate to the idea or have anyone help her along the way.
His decision to do all he could for this family strengthened, bolstered by an underlying desire to ease the lines of stress fanning away from her mouth.
She released a sigh that was closer to a sob. “I have a full-time job, you see, and preschools in the area have already started their school terms. Not to mention most of them have a waitlist. She isn’t old enough yet for any other type of school, and daycare around here can be positively unreasonable.”
“So I’m told.”
Olympia pressed her fingertips to the bridge of her nose. “I...I was out of options. I can’t take any more time away from my job. I work for the art gallery in town and we have a giant fundraiser coming up in another month. I’m in charge of it, and if I don’t show up, then it’s all going to go to hell in a hand basket. Someone else will be brought in to take over if I can’t handle the new responsibilities and I’ll lose everything I’ve worked so hard for.” Her hands lifted helplessly before falling to her sides once more. Her chin trembled, her eyes closed, and a tear slipped out. “I don’t know how to be a mom. I don’t know how to do this.”
“Look, I can help,” Harlan said softly, moving to his leather messenger bag and pausing to shoot Renee a smile. She screamed harder in response. He resisted the urge to cover his ears. “I have a few papers I need you to sign for me. Then, if you don’t mind, we can get out of your way, let you do whatever you need to do, and I can get acquainted with this little girl.”
Olympia watched as he pulled some documents from his bag. His face was smooth, thin and angular in a boyish way. Dark blond hair fell in untidy bits around his face, too long and too shaggy to do anything but hang over his ears. He pushed it out of the way with his fingers and tried to go for a professional I-have-everything-covered grin. His eyes, a dark clear hazel, never wavered as he turned back to stare at her expectantly, holding the papers out for her.
“You have a baby face,” she commented. “Exactly how old are you?”
Harlan glanced up from the papers, eyes wide. “I’m thirty-one.”
She gulped. Yikes! “Wow, yeah, you’re young.”
“Not really. I think the cut off for young is twenty-two.”
While Renee kicked and fought against the holder keeping her from tipping out of her chair, he finally broke the staring match with Olympia and glanced down at his watch, noticed that only five minutes had passed. It felt like a lifetime. He looked back at her and didn’t have time to open his mouth before she was sighing and rushing toward the baby.
“It was signing papers that threw my life into a tailspin in the first place.”
She could only mean the legal estate documents, he thought in a rush, and wondered how it would feel to be thrown to the wolves, in a manner of speaking. He’d seen enough of the house to know that this was not a woman accustomed to messes, at least not the physical kind. Kids were nothing if not a mess on two legs. The Victorian was immaculate, with antiques in every room and expensive draperies and rugs. The pieces each looked picked out particularly to go with the era of the home. Everything in its place. And valuable to boot.
Sympathy rising and mouth dry, Harlan said, “Be that as it may, if we want this to be a legitimate arrangement, I need you to sign these releasing me from any liability when it comes to Renee. It’s standard procedure to protect both myself and you if something happens—which I’m not saying it will, I just like to be prepared. Then I want you to go sit on the couch. You need to kick your feet up. Relax.”
Olympia shook her head, balking at the idea of being told what to do. “Sorry, I don’t have time to sit. I need to give Renee her dinner, clean the floor in the living room where she broke my favorite candy dish, and then do the laundry so she has something to wear. Her luggage just arrived and I haven’t had the time to wash the whole lot, let alone go out and buy anything new for her.” She raised a hand to her throat and her pulse thudding there. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I thought—I hoped—I would be able to get the hang of this but nothing feels natural. She won’t stop crying and I’m afraid I’m making it worse. I still have to finalize her adoption and...” Her voice broke and she ducked her head to hide whatever expression she didn’t want him to see. “Wow, I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.”
“Because you need someone to talk to or you’ll go out of your mind. I understand.” He glanced over at Renee again. Judging the situation by what he’d seen, it could have been much, much worse. Sure, the little girl was in tears, but she was clean and fed if the plate in front of her was any indication.
However, she’d just lost her parents and the only life she’d known. There was bound to be a rough transition period. Well, rough may be an understatement.
He turned to Olympia again and studied her for any signs of shock. “Please, Mrs.—Olympia, let me take care of this. I know my way around babies. I just need your signature.”
With something very much like defeat, she turned around and searched for a pen before finding one in a drawer. “I suppose I have no choice. You’d think I’d be a little more apprehensive about letting a grown man take charge of her. I’m going to go with my gut and trust you.”
“Thank you.” He tried to smile at her.
“Yeah, sure.”
He took the bitten-off words in stride as he placed the newly signed papers in a folder, tucking it away in his bag. Her face, hard and tight with stress, at last began to relax.
The deep breaths she’d been taking must have gone a long way toward steadying her.
“Look, we can talk about logistics later. How you want me to work my schedule around yours, what days you need help, et cetera. I live about fifteen minutes away so I won’t need to move in here. That has to make you feel better. Right now, I want you to go into the living room, take a seat on the couch, and maybe close your eyes. If only for a little bit. And yes, I know what you’re going to say before you say it.” He had his hands on her shoulders before he realized what he was doing, pushing her back toward the hall and the cozy room he’d seen from a glance when he first walked in. “You’re going to say you have a lot of things to do. Not at the moment, you don’t. Take a second to center yourself. I’ll handle Renee.”
“She won’t like you,” Olympia insisted. “She doesn’t like anyone. Why won’t she stop screaming?”
Frowning, Harlan turned the corner and pushed her down the hallway, onto the couch. The sun was shining orange and gold with twilight and the street outside was quiet. At once he felt like he was in a different world, if he ignored Renee’s screaming. Which his gut was telling him needed to be addressed now.
“The best I can do is try to talk to her,” he said.
“Well, good luck with that.” There was a smidgen of graciousness in her tone and nothing more. It was a good thing he hadn’t expected any out of her. If Olympia was frustrated and impatient and sleep-deprived on top of it, she was entitled to her attitude.
And Harlan knew how to handle parents.
“I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes,” he said, watching her get comfortable and dig into the cushions like a mole.
“Whatever.” She moved her shoulders, and he could see she was fully aware of being rude.
It didn’t bother him. Much.
Making his way back into the kitchen, Harlan thought about the intricacies of this job. From this point on, he would have to feel his way, based on the child and her individual needs. It helped that he co
nsidered himself extremely empathetic.
Beside him on the kitchen counter, an electronic device was doling out melodies designed to keep toddlers interested. He promptly switched it off. It always amazed him that people could handle meetings, luncheons, and a daily barrage of business-related...well, business, but a kid throwing a temper tantrum sent them over the edge.
Maybe it was human nature, he mused. Always running away from strife and hiding their insecurities in a different, more manageable kind of conflict.
He preferred children, at least in terms of conflict, if one had to have it in one’s life. Children were innocent, their desires and requirements simple. If he had to go to work every day and handle a nine to five then he would want to bury his head in the sand for at least six months and not come out.“Hey there, little miss.” He bent down, balancing on the balls of his feet until he was eye to eye with her. “How are you doing today? My name is Harlan and I’m going to take care of you for a little bit.”
It might have been the change from a female caretaker to a male. It might have been the tone. He wasn’t sure. Her screaming ended on a hiccup and she raised little fists to wipe her eyes. “No.” Her voice held the hint of a French accent.
He blinked at her. “No, you don’t want me to take care of you?”
“No!”
“Are you still hungry?”
She took her plate and threw it at him.
Harlan took this in stride too, reaching toward the table and the tea towel Olympia had dropped there. His cheek stung. “As I thought. We have a lot of work to do.”
Chapter 3
He was the cheapest option she could find, Olympia told herself again, indulging in a long hot shower where there wasn’t a four-year-old screeching into her ear about how much she was hated.
She’d thought she had wanted children. She’d thought she had wanted a huge family with at least two or three of the little buggers and had often pictured herself and Dan and their children seated around the dining room table she never used, having large dinners with everyone invited and lots of laughter and food and fun. It was the perfect Normal Rockwell scene. At least in her head. Reality was way different.
Running her hands through her hair, she remembered the first few days after she’d brought Renee home. Not only did the little girl not want to speak to her in anything but monosyllabic howls, but she was incorrigible and refused to sleep throughout the night, which meant Olympia’s sleep was disturbed and not restful.
Which also meant she was able to gracefully handle less and less when she was running on fumes.
She was no stranger to stress, but this was something altogether new and threatened to burn a hole beneath her sternum. Under the heat of the spray from the showerhead, Olympia forced herself to relax. The poor baby had just lost her parents. She deserved a little slack. After all, a week was hardly long enough to adjust to a new life with a person she’d never met and in completely new surroundings.
Still, the sleepless nights were starting to take a toll on Olympia. She was a zombie, forcing herself to get through the day without a bit of rest. Thankfully, she had taken a few days off from work, although that presented a whole new mess of problems. She was on the phone with Ashleigh for three, four hours at a time, trying to juggle Renee and hear what Ashleigh was saying through the screams. Carl was not happy with her absence and delivered an ultimatum. A full day of work...or else. She didn’t want to think about what “or else” meant.
She could ask Mrs. Nunez to come over for a couple of hours a day, just to give her time to cook, but the woman was old. She couldn’t handle the upset any more than Olympia could.
Thank God for Harlan. He’d arrived right in the nick of time, saving her from getting in her car and driving away without looking back.
No, she thought vehemently. She wasn’t the type of person to abandon a baby in need. Not when it came down to the heart of the matter. But it was a nice thought when she was inches away from tearing her hair out.
Harlan had a good voice, she mused, resting her head on the cool shower tiles. Not loud by any means, but it was deep and rumbled in his chest. The kind of voice designed to put people at ease, yet it reverberated through her bones until her insides thrummed. Or it might have been the stress causing some kind of mini pulmonary episode.
With a sigh, she flipped the shower off and stood in the swirling mist, taking a breath and holding it deep in her lungs. The act was supposed to be calming. Lately, it just made her lightheaded.
Harlan had spent the last two hours with Renee, and Olympia was pleased beyond measure when the screaming finally stopped. Like a television switched off. She wasn’t used to the silence anymore.
Hopefully, now she could focus on her work for what felt like the first time this week. Not that she wanted to work. She wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Maybe her dreams would have more insight as to what her future held. Because at the moment she could see only two possible choices: One, she could use most of her retirement money to keep Harlan on staff until Renee was old enough to go to school. Olympia would have the family she’d always wanted and contentment at following through on her cousin’s last wishes. Or—and the second choice made her feel sick to her stomach—she could give Renee up for adoption, call it quits, and have more time to focus on her career and potential promotion.
Even thinking about number two made her feel like a horrible person.
Olympia dressed hurriedly in a pair of slacks and a red button-up shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves. It was almost dinnertime, and although she hadn’t had time to discuss duties with Harlan, she was sure preparing dinner wasn’t among them. Which meant she’d have to scramble through the pantry for something suitable for a man and a child to eat. Her macaroni and cheese was surely an overcooked mess at this point. She’d left the pot on the stove too long.
She paused in the hallway, staring at herself in the mirror. The dark lushness of her hair was shot through with silver. Normal, she knew, as she chose to forgo dying her hair. But did she only imagine more gray than yesterday? The lines around her eyes and mouth were more pronounced than usual, brought on by lack of sleep no doubt, to which she might also attribute the bruise-like bags above her cheekbones.
Great, she thought. My youth is gone in a week.
She knew thirty-six wasn’t technically old. It was far from geriatric. Still, the moment she caught sight of herself, her tentative morale shot into the floor and there was a pain in her hips that hadn’t been there moments ago.
She hobbled her way downstairs and mentally steeled herself for another argument or something. Something, surely, because the couple of hours of quiet were like a gift and she wasn’t sure what she’d come down to find.
Fear clenching in her chest, she turned the corner into the kitchen...and found Harlan at the stove, stirring a pot of aromatic chicken soup.
He turned and shot her a smile over his shoulder. One of those lazy grins that took her by surprise because it was so genuine and unexpected. “Hey there. You look much better.”
“I was that bad before?” she replied testily.
“No, you weren’t. You are a beautiful woman. Surely you know that.”
Which took her by surprise. And the way he was grinning at her made her feel like an idiot. “Do you need a hand? Let me help you.”
“Thank you, but no,” he said. “I have everything under control for the moment. I set up a small area in the den, I hope you don’t mind, and I put Renee in there to take a nap.”
The words, simple words, went straight through her and settled in her heart. “You...got her to nap?”
“Yeah. Just a quickie, because I’m sure bedtime is coming soon, but from the looks of both of you, she needed it.”
Olympia didn’t know how to deal with children, that much was clear at this point. There must be a magic button you pressed that got kids to sleep without a fuss. Afraid the tentative peace would shatter at any moment, she took a firm grip on the ta
ble and settled herself on a chair to watch Harlan work.
“It just occurred to me,” she said as he continued to cook, “I know nothing about you. I mean, I checked your references of course, but other than that I’m not sure who you are or where you come from, and now I’ve let you into my house and signed my life away. How do I know you aren’t going to murder us in our sleep?” She clenched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Sorry if I’m being terse. If I was in my right mind I would have asked before I hired you.”
“I can take the time to assure you I’m not a murderer, but I know it won’t mean a thing to you.” He glanced back at her again. “I’m originally from Connecticut, but my dad moved the family here when I was very young. Not quite a straight A student, but I managed to make it through school with little fanfare. Got my teaching certificate. Tried to do high school classes for a while and found it wasn’t to my liking. I missed the personal connection that came from smaller classes. I wasn’t confident enough in my abilities to handle opening my own pre-school, so nannying and tutoring were natural choices. Although it’s been more difficult than I’d thought to get jobs here.”
She grunted a response as he poured rice into a pot. She wanted to argue with him about dinner—her pride, at least, wanted to argue and tell him to get out of her kitchen—but in reality, she had very little energy. The scent of the chicken broth was rich and invited her to eat, relax. Salivate a little.
Harlan continued, his voice sure and strong, working through her and unknotting kinks she hadn’t realized were there. “I’m a middle child, three older and two younger siblings. Most of us still live around here, but my oldest sister is in Toronto teaching at a medical school. You could say I know my way around kids because I have a huge family and we were always taking care of one another.”
“You don’t think it’s kind of...creepy?” she asked. “How you like kids so much?”