by Imani King
I bite my tongue to hold back an angry retort. I mustn’t give any indication that I am Tamara’s mother, or I would lose my chance to get my baby out of the house. “I see. How long will the job last?”
“I’ll be honest with you. We’ve had some trouble keeping help.”
“Why?” I sneak a quick look at Lillian and squirm when I realize I’m being pinned by her dark glare.
“Tamara has a hard time bonding with people.”
I nod and remember the nightmare of finding affordable childcare that was still comfortable for Tami. Finding Clara at Happy’s Day Care had been a miracle. “She seems to like me.”
“Of course she would,” Lillian mutters.
Jackson shoots his mother a puzzled look, and then turns back to me. “I’ll show you to your suite. Later this evening, you can give me reference information, and I’ll run a standard employment and background check.”
I force myself to nod and smile pleasantly, while my hands shake. What have I gotten myself into? As soon as he checks up on me, he will figure out why I’m here. Jackson Reeves will kick me out of his house so fast my head will spin. Actually I notice it is already spinning as I rise to follow Jackson up to my room. Tamara’s eyes are shut and I carefully lay her on her bed of quilts. I hold my breath until I’m certain she won’t awaken.
“You have a magical touch with her.” Jackson didn’t sound exactly happy about that. “Mom, would you mind staying with Tami for a few minutes?”
Lillian nods her head. “I’ll never leave her side.”
I squirm at the look Lillian directs toward me. It is full of suspicion and something else. Her tone holds a note of promise. I shiver as we leave the sitting room and follow Jackson up the carpeted winding staircase. Does his mother suspect who I am?
Once on the landing, Jackson turns to the right. “This house wasn’t equipped with a nursery or nanny quarters, so we converted the main lady’s chamber for Tami’s room. Your room is the old dressing room.” He sounds apologetic as he opens the double French doors, and they step inside.
I gasp as I examine my daughter’s room. Mauve carpet cushions each footstep, before giving way to strawberry molding and pale pink walls. A large maple crib rests in the center of the room, surrounded by neatly stacked piles of toys, shelves of books, and still more shelves with other toys. “Did you buy out a toy store?” I meant the question to sound light, but my clogged throat lends a melancholy tone I hadn’t intended.
He doesn’t seem to pick up on my tone. “Maybe, but not without help. Mom did most of this.”
“It’s lovely.” I follow him through the room, to a door against the wall. It opens into a much smaller room featuring the same mauve carpeting. There is a double bed covered with a mauve comforter, nightstand, and a dresser. Even though a dressing room was to a bedroom it is still larger than my room in the apartment I had shared with Destiny. “This is very nice.”
He nods, looking pleased. “If Tami cooperates, you’re welcome to join us for dinner at seven-thirty. Mom and I are casual unless we have company.”
I mentally shuffle through my wardrobe choices, wondering what he considered casual. My eyes suddenly widen. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
“I left my case in the taxi.”
Jackson groans. “I’ll call the company and have them hold it. While you settle in and get better acquainted with my mother and Tami, I’ll drive into Hood River to retrieve it.”
“Thanks.” There is a silence that lengthens while I begin to wonder what is expected of me. Maybe I should sound interested in my salary. “Um, what are my wages?” My eyes widen at the amount he mentions. If Tamara wasn’t her baby, she would definitely want to work for them. “That’s—”
“And, of course, that’s above room and board. There’s also a clothing allowance for casual clothes to wear during Tami’s activities, so you won’t ruin your nice clothes.”
“Thanks.” My suitcase contains nothing that Tami could ruin. I’m wearing my best outfit today—tight, faded jeans and a burgundy sweater with nary a hole.
Once again, the silence lengthens between them. I watch Jackson run a hand through his dark hair. He scratches his stubbled chin. “Uh...”
“Well, I’ll head into town.” He jerks his eyes from mine and hurries from the room.
I watch him go and sink onto the bed. I hear the main door of the suite close behind him. I look at my luxurious nanny room—well, luxurious to me. Just beyond is even more resplendent room that has been decorated for my five-month-old baby. What would they do for Tamara when she is old enough to choose her own things?
I imagine all the things they could give my daughter, beyond a professionally decorated nursery. Dance and music lessons, the best schools and all the protection and advantage that came with privilege. Tamara could have the riding lessons I had only dreamed of as a child. Tamara would never wake up to strange men in a dingy apartment or have to hear her mother sob for hours living with the Reeves. She wouldn’t have the kind of childhood I had endured. Tamara would be happy and secure.
An anguished cry escapes my throat. I scrub my cheeks in effort to wipe away buried shame and sorrow. How dare I deny my precious daughter all this? But I know I can not live without Tamara in my life. My plans for bundling up my baby in borrowed quilts and stealing away with her in the middle of the night now ring hollow. Would I be able to kiss my dear daughter goodbye, or write a note for her to read when she’s older? How would that make Tamara feel? Wouldn’t she hate me? What if I did take my baby away and later Tamara learned that her life could have turned out differently? How could I explain that loving her would be enough? I realize that Tamara would hate me more for taking her from a loving uncle and grandmother. I cry softly searching for my heart’s answer. I could only hear the judge’s words. It is in the best interests of the child. Perhaps they were right. I was too immature to raise a child. This was the most mature decision I ever would have to make.
8
Shawna
I splash cold water on my face and most of the traces from my crying jag disappear. I join Lillian and Tamara in the sitting room. It is a relief to hear Jackson return with my suitcase. I welcome the break in our tense silence. Lillian’s ever watchful eyes make me nervous. Only the comfort and reassurance of holding Tamara keeps me strong enough from blurting out my confession.
My heart twists painfully when Jackson comes into the room. Tamara reacts immediately by smiling at him and stretching her chubby fingers in his direction. It’s hard work to keep my expression neutral when I hand him my daughter. I remind myself that I would never deny my daughter. But I can’t deny the dart of pain in releasing her to him. Another horrible thought occurs to me. Does Tamara already prefer him to me?
Jackson rocks her gently. “Why don’t you go unpack, Shawna? Once you’re settled in, I’ll bring Tami up so you can finish getting acquainted with her.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and obey. I lift the shabby suitcase off the polished wood floor. I try to keep my envious gaze away from Jackson and Tamara. I freeze when Lillian called out to me. I go rigid and turn around, forcing a smile to my lips.. “Yes?”
“You left your camera again.”
I nod and return for the camera, and hurry up the stairs to the suite I share with Tamara. I don’t bother to unpack anything except a denim skirt and my yellow blouse that fits off the shoulders. I shove the unpacked case beneath my bed, knowing I will be needing it later tonight. Whether I take Tamara as well remains to be seen.
Ten minutes later, I hear Jackson coming up the stairs. I smooth my hand through my black curls before frowning at myself in the small mirror on the wall. I don’t give a wit about the way I look to him, I remind myself sternly after I look into the mirror. It is just reflex. I meet Jackson in the nursery and hold out my hands to take Tamara. She snuggles into my arms and her eyelids drift closed.
“I can’t get over it.” Jackson shakes his head.
&n
“How quickly she bonded with you. She’s hated everyone who’s been in and out of her life these past few weeks.”
“Except you.” I can’t completely hide my bitterness, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
He shrugs. “I lucked out in that she bonded with me immediately. Otherwise, this transition would have been even more difficult for her.” He traced a finger down Tamara’s back. “Tami certainly doesn’t need anymore upsets.”
“Yes, I imagine it was traumatic for her, being ripped from her mother, er, everything she had known. I’m sure it was hard on the mother.” I bite down on her tongue as punishment for my slip.
His brows come together. “I don’t know, to tell you the truth. The way Brad described her, she probably doesn’t even know her baby’s gone.”
Tears and angry words form a sodden ball in my throat, thankfully preventing a retort. I take a deep breath, gently bouncing Shawna. “How could any mother not realize what she had lost? Perhaps you have judged her too harshly?”
Jackson stares at her for a minute, studying her face.
I hold my breath as his expression grows puzzled. Have I said too much and given myself away? Has my big mouth ruined my only chance to get my child back?
The look fades, and he shrugs once more. “Maybe, but my brother did win custody. That says a lot about the mother right there.”
I sigh. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back on the heels of his boots. “So...”
“Yes?”
He runs a hand through his dark hair. “I guess I’ll see you at dinner, if she sleeps through.” He glances at his watch. “She’s a little late for her afternoon nap, so I imagine she’ll sleep at least until eight.”
I nod and then flinch as he lowers his head.
His eyes widen and he freezes. Then very slowly he leans over to kiss the back of Tamara’s head. “If you need me, there’s an intercom system on the wall, with receivers and transmitters in every room of the house. Press the green button to talk into it. When you come down for dinner, flip the switch from Off to On, and you can hear everything in this room. The setup’s the same in all the rooms.”
“Are there intercoms in the bathrooms?”
He nods, looking sheepish. “I might have gone a little overboard.”
I can’t resist a giggle. “Just a tad.”
He heads to the door. “I have work to do.”
“Okay.” As soon as the door closes behind him, I collapse into the nearest chair. It is a large maple rocker, with a thick pink cushion that conforms to the shape of her back. Yet another thing I could never hope to afford. I hold Tamara close to my chest, softly humming Good Riddance by Greenday, a tune she should be familiar with. On my first day home from the hospital, I had sung it to her, since my knowledge of lullabies was in short supply.
Tamara’s breathing grows deep and even, and her tiny chest rises and falls against mine. She snuggles closer, lifting her rump into the air and making a sighing sound every few minutes. I rub her back through the flannel sleeper, wondering how I could stand to leave her behind. Yet, how could I leave her here? A little girl growing up with every advantage except a mother, believing her mother hadn’t loved her? I sigh heavily and try to ignore the decision I will have to make. Just let me enjoy these few moments’ of peace holding my baby.
At seven, I force myself to lay Tamara in the crib and tend to my own needs. I take a quick shower and wash my hair, resisting the urge to linger under the hot water to make up for surviving two days with no facilities. By the time I wind my hair into a braid and return to the nanny’s room, it is six-fifty. I throw on the faded denim skirt and notice there’s patch near the slit in the back. But I don’t have anything nicer to wear. I slip on my yellow blouse, adjusting it below my shoulders and tie the string in front. Then I slip my feet into the same sneakers I wore earlier since I hadn’t thought to bring any other shoes.
I pass the small mirror with resolve. I refuse to look at my shabby state of dress. Jackson had said casual, after all. I pause to check on Tamara and flip on the intercom. Taking a guess, I return to the sitting room and find Lillian and Jackson sitting in silence. I freeze when I see another person in attendance. I squint and recognize the stunning blonde supermodel from the gossip rag. Apparently, she didn’t get the message dress was to be casual, judging from the red sequined evening suit with sequins that bordered the plunging neckline and each leg of her pants.
I move from Anastasia’s burning gaze to meet Lillian’s distrustful one. At least Lillian is dressed more casually, in beige slacks and a black shirt. I look to Jackson, who is wearing an emerald-green silk shirt and black trousers. I stand there awkwardly and pray for Tamara to start screaming.
“Would you like a drink before dinner?” Jackson stands by a liquor cabinet that had been concealed in the wall.
I shake my head.
“Let’s eat.” Anastasia sets her tumbler on the coffee table without bothering to search for a coaster. “I skipped lunch for a shoot and didn’t have time to grab anything during the long drive down here from the airport.” She rises to her full height. “I do wish you would live somewhere nearer civilization, Jackson.”
He comes forward to offer her his arm. “I like it.”
She shudders. “Only because you haven’t lived anywhere else.”
Jackson laughs as they walk from the room, leaving Lillian and Shawna to follow. “I’ve traveled all over the world, Anastasia. I’ve stayed in worse and better places. I’m happy here.”
I raise my eyebrow at their exchange as I follow them down the hallway to the dining room. I pause in the doorway of the dining room. The expansive table is draped with a white tablecloth surrounded by curved back wooden chairs. Once more, I consider how inappropriately I am dressed. Thank goodness this torture ends tonight.
I quietly seat myself at the table. I blush as I see Jackson seat Anastasia and then his mother. He looks at me but doesn’t say anything. Obviously I wouldn’t have stood and waited for Jackson to seat me. Even during my short stint with Brad, I never got accustomed to his attempts to pull out my chair.
To my surprise, Jackson didn’t join them at the table. Instead, he disappeared from the room and reappeared with a double shelf server on wheels. “It’s nothing special,” he says to Anastasia as he places dishes on the table. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” She gives him a brilliant smile, but her eyes seem to say something else. “Imagine my pleasure to find a nanny installed on the premises and the chance to get you to myself for a change.” Anastasia’s pleasant expression turns to strain as she focuses on me. “A nice, young nanny for that baby.”
I slide my eyes from Anastasia’s to Lillian. I am surprised to find her glare directed at Anastasia rather than me.
“It was pure luck,” Jackson says as he sits at the table. “Shawna just stumbled in here and got thrust into the position of caring for Tami.” He grins at me. “She’s handling it all well.”
I drop my eyes to the table and am confused at how my heart is racing. He sounds genuine and his eyes seemed to show approval. I turn my focus on the food and wait until the others have served themselves before selecting a pork chop and a baked potato. My stomach growls at the sight and aroma of the food. Please don’t let them hear that. I haven’t had a full meal like this in a long time.
“You just happened by spontaneously?” Anastasia looks at me with evident disbelief.
I nod. “I had heard the ranch was an excellent subject for pictures.”
“Oh, are you a photojournalist?”
“No, just a hobbyist.”
“Ah.” Anastasia’s expression turns smug. “What aperture did you use for shooting the pictures outside?”
The bite of potato seems to stick in my throat, and I reach for the water glass, bypassing the wine. “Um, I haven’t shot anything yet. There hasn’t been time.”
“Of course. What with bonding with the child.” Anastasia shakes her long blonde curls. “I could never take care of other people’s children for a living.”
“I can’t say I ever gave it thought as a career before either,” I say wryly.
“Yet, here you are.” Her tone and look borders on hostile.
I force my smile to remain bland. “Yes.”
“Well now, at least I’ll have Jackson back. All his attention has been focused on that child.”
“She has a name,” Jackson says, sounding impatient.
Anastasia shrugs, but drops her gaze to her plate. She picks up her fork but simply moves her food around and doesn’t actually touch it—not even her salad. “Personally, I’ll be happy when she’s old enough to go to school.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Three months a year will be often enough for me to play mommy.”
A heavy silence greets Anastasia’s words, but she seems, or pretends to be unaware, of the reaction. Her brilliant smile once more focuses on Jackson. “You know how I like peace and quiet.”
Lillian pushes away her plate and stands up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m finding this painful.” She glares at Jackson when he hastily hides a laugh behind a cough. “The chairs aren’t comfortable this evening. I believe I’ll retire.”
“Good night, Mom.”
She pauses to kiss his cheek, then nods to Shawna and Anastasia before leaving the dining room.
I have a sense of relief that she has gone, relief from looking into those critical eyes. Anastasia continues prattling and I am reminded why Lillian left. I turn my attention to the juicy salty taste of pork. It feels extravagant to add more butter to this potato and soon Anastasia is tuned out. I don’t raise my head until I hear Anastasia say the word nanny. I blink and look up at her.
“Ah, good, you can hear,” Anastasia said with pseudo sweetness. “I asked when you would be leaving?”
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