Kiss or Kill Under the Northern Lights

by Susan Johnson

Helen cringed at his sharp words, knowing he was righteous in his anger. What man didn’t consider having his honor questioned the worst thing that could happen to him? She couldn’t think of any reply but sat stiffly, allowing him to vent his feelings. She saw his expression change from anger to calculating—yes, she’d seen that look before, and she braced herself for his next barrage of words.

  “So, I’ve the perfect solution, by way of an apology, and a means for you to assist George in paying off his debt to me.” He looked at her, gaze steady. “I need a nanny. It would go a long way toward an apology for not believing me in the past if you cared for my children until I can find a dependable, sensible nanny.”

  “You…but you said your daughter died along with your wife.”

  “Ah, but not before blessing me with twin boys first who just turned five a week ago.”

  Boys? Other than her younger brother, boys were foreign to her. She taught young women at the college, so girls she understood. Still, the chance to be close to Elliott overrode all commonsense and any arguments she might think of. But then she was asking for punishment and sadness if she worked for him, knowing how his feelings for her had forever changed. After all, his love for her had long ago been replaced by love for his wife.

  “Helen?”

  She looked up, meeting his eyes.

  “What do you think? I figure in three months you’ll have paid off the debt. And it would give me great relief and comfort to know my sons are in capable hands until I can find a suitable replacement.”

  Helen decided her life would be pure torture working for Elliott, being so close to him and knowing they couldn’t be together. Still, she had no recourse but to accept. There was the debt to be repaid. But what about the possibility of her falling in love with him again? Impossible. Too much time had passed. She’d been stupid and full of righteousness, allowing time to slip away instead of apologizing. Her pride had gotten in the way of being sensible.

  “All right,” she said. “Shall we talk business then?”

  He laid out his plan concerning her duties, the pay, and hours of work per day for three months duration. She thought everything was fair until he came to the last item—he expected her to reside in his household.

  She stopped him as humiliation swept through her and she sputtered, “My living in your household you consider business? How dare you!”

  Consumed by anger, it took her a moment to realize all talking and activity in the café had ceased. Now, as she gave a furtive look around she saw the shocked and curious expressions of the other diners, her cheeks blazed in humiliation.

  A chair scraped the wooden floor. She looked up and met Elliott’s scowl when he threw down his napkin.

  “So, I suppose this means we have no deal?” he inquired coolly.

  “Have you no respect for me, Elliott?” she said, rising to her feet, facing him across the table.

  He groaned. “Of course I do. You know I do. But all of the nannies I’ve hired have lived in my home. They’re required to care for my sons twenty-four hours a day when I’m not home due to how often I travel. My cook and housekeeper leave for their own homes at the end of each day but not the nanny. I’m sorry if I offended you. You must know that was never my intention.”

  Somewhat mollified by his explanation, she sank into her chair once more. He took his seat as well. Guilt once again plagued her when she saw his sad expression.

  “I could never live in your house. It would ruin me,” she softly replied.

  His suggestion had surprised her, caught her off guard. She knew Elliott, knew well how he’d always treated her with the utmost respect. But it wouldn’t be proper for her to live with him, especially now that she knew his other employees left at the end of each day. All the while, though, she couldn’t help but think how right it would feel to live in his household. But then only as his wife—not the nanny.

  Five-year-old boys and possibly a succession of nannies caused suspicion to set in. “I get the distinct impression you’ve lost several nannies.”

  He nodded. “It’s true, yes.”

  Helen watched him with a narrow-eyed look. He wouldn’t meet her gaze but stared down at his wine glass.

  She raised one eyebrow. “Now, why do you suppose that is?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “They had their reasons. Personal in nature, guess you’d say.”

  “I see.” What more could she say? She had her misgivings, just because of the things left unsaid by Elliott. Still, she needed the job to help George pay off the gambling debt. And there was the fact she would have an excellent excuse to be close to Elliott again. “Well, here’s what I can do. I’ll drive my own carriage to your house each day. I’ll stay with the boys from seven in the morning until eight each evening, then return home for the night.”

  “That should work, but I’ve a favor,” he said. “Will you agree to stay overnight with the boys if I need you to? Your reputation won’t be ruined or even slightly tarnished since everyone knows how often I leave town on business.”

  She worried her lower lip, then said, “Yes, I think that will work.”

  He gave her the lopsided smile she’d always loved. “So, dare I say we’ve reached a bargain?”

  She smiled in return. “I believe we have.”

  He gave her a relieved sigh, then picked up her hand. Warmth soared through her body when he raised it to his lips and kissed it, his eyes on hers the entire time.

  “How soon can you start working for me?”

  “Whenever you need me, I’m available.”

  Elliott groaned. “I like the sound of that.”

  She swatted his hand and stood up from her seat.

  He laughed and rose, his expression turning serious. “I have newspaper business and need to leave for Minneapolis tomorrow morning. Can you stay with the boys for the next few weeks?”

  Stunned, she stumbled out, “But…but I…won’t the boys feel uncomfortable with me, a stranger staying with them?”

  “Not a bit,” he assured her.

  She nearly declined until she noticed the look on his face. He looked at her as if she was his savior. If there was one thing Helen couldn’t resist in life, it was someone needing her.

  “I’d hoped you would be here until the boys got used to me, but if it can’t be helped, so be it. Yes, I’ll stay at your home while you’re gone.”

  He snatched her up in his arms and whirled her around. Helen smiled at his exuberance. He reacted as if his biggest problems had been lifted from his big shoulders. When he set her down, he gave her a big smacking kiss. The few diners burst into applause. Helen’s cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

  She reached for her cloak, but he got it first.

  In mock sternness, she said, “Why in the world do I put up with you?”

  Grinning, he said, “Because you love me, that’s why.”

  Heat swept through her at his true comment as he draped her woolen cape around her shoulders and escorted her outside. Once he had her settled in the carriage, he climbed in after her. She held her skirts close to her legs and shifted to the opposite side, allowing him space.

  His next words startled her. “You know we were always meant to be together, don’t you?”

  His comment was bold—meant to fluster her. She managed to calmly reply, “We were young, foolish and so in love.” She sighed. “But we had a lovely time while it lasted, didn’t we?”

  He scowled. “To my mind, nothing is final between us. If I’d fought harder for you, we’d likely be married now with several children. I’m sorry I wasn’t more tenacious.”

  “You came several times after I’d left! To me, that qualifies as sincerity and tenacity on your part.”

  “True, but I should have been even more persistent. I shouldn’t have given up.”

  She smiled. “I was very hurt and angry and would never have allowed you in. I regretted my stubbornness later, once I’d learned the truth from George, but by then it was too late.” She gav
e him a curious look. “By the way, how would you have gained entrance?”

  “I should have planted myself on your doorstep until you had no choice but to talk to me. I wouldn’t have left simply because you wanted me to—because you told me to.”

  Helen’s smile slipped as she listened to his words, thinking these were words of a strong man who knew his own mind, not the words of the young unsure man she’d left behind.

  “Yes,” he said slowly, “That’s exactly what I should have done.”

  4

  The very next morning Helen arrived on Elliott’s doorstep in a hired carriage loaded with two large valises.

  His home was located just on the outskirts of St. Louis. It was large—meant for a large family, she decided as she waited in the parlor as the driver unloaded her trunks. Upon Elliott’s instruction, he carried them up the stairs and installed them in a guest bedroom. Returning downstairs, he carried Elliott’s two bags and stowed them in the coach.

  Elliott paid the driver to wait for him, then went back to Helen. Escorting her to the dining room, they came to an abrupt halt at the appearance of two young boys bearing down on them. The boys reached Elliott and clamped their arms around him, one on each side. Elliott tousled their hair and grinned at Helen. “I’d like you to meet my sons, Harry and Tom.”

  Helen smiled a greeting. “How do you do?”

  In unison, the two repeated her greeting.

  Harry, the first-born of the twins, was dark like his father. Tom was fair-haired like their mother, Helen noted, recalling the pictures in the parlor she’d seen of Elliott’s pretty wife, Emily.

  “All right, enough of the formalities,” Elliott said. “Time to eat breakfast.”

  Helen was taken with the boys—until she lifted the silver cover off her breakfast plate. There sat a slimy grayish-green toad atop her eggs, staring up at her. She crashed the cover down on the plate.

  Elliott stared at her in alarm. “Is something wrong?”

  Darting a frown at each boy, she shrugged and serenely met his eyes. “Oh, my eggs aren’t done quite the way I like them.”

  “Cook!” he shouted. “New eggs for Miss Jameson, please.”

  A sweet-looking gray-haired woman appeared in the doorway and wrung her hands. “Is something wrong with the eggs?” she asked, nodding at the covered plate.

  “Oh, I’m really not all that hungry,” Helen explained. “I ate before I left home.”

  Elliott nodded. “All right. As soon as I’m done, I’ll take you on a tour of the house.”

  The house was three stories tall and exquisite. Helen loved it immediately. It was a Georgian-style. It was obvious that his wife, who’d adored her family and home, had resided here. Each room had been decorated with a loving hand.

  All too soon Elliott was heading for the front door. He paused in the doorway and smiled at Helen. “You sure you’ll be okay? I mean, I could try and get my housekeeper’s daughter to help during the day with the boys.”

  She shrugged. Handling two little boys would be far easier than a classroom of fifteen students. “Don’t worry,” she said with a smile. “We’ll be just fine.”

  He hugged Harry and Tom. Each boy clung to his legs and whined for him not to leave.

  Helen saw through their protests, knowing well they were worried about how she’d deal with them for their breakfast prank after their father was gone. Still, she gave them a gentle smile. She’d lived through many such pranks with their father and George. Surely, she’d live through the next two weeks with these two just fine. But first, she planned to give them a taste of her own sweet revenge.

  Elliott leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I’ll send a telegram mid-week.”

  Within twenty-four hours, Helen decided she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. Well…second biggest. Breaking off her engagement to Elliott took precedence. Perhaps if they’d married, their children would have been much less rambunctious. On second consideration of the boy Elliott himself had been, she didn’t imagine a child of his could be any less mischievous and fun-loving.

  On her third day in residence, Helen perused the boys’ daily schedule which had been set up by the previous nanny. She decided they required more outdoor playtime than what was included on the list. She wasn’t too long in the tooth to know how to toss and hit a ball. That was when the mishap—purely accidental—happened. She was pitching a ball to Harry. He’d smacked it with surprising force and the ball hit her in the eye before she had a chance to move or catch it. From there the day worsened, especially when the boys grew cranky at her insistence they take a rest after the mid-day meal. They’d grudgingly retired to their room.

  An hour later, she went to check on them, assuming they would be sleeping. She’d opened the door and her eyes widened in amazement at the disastrous condition of their room. Every toy was out and on the floor. They’d torn apart the covers off their beds and had been in the midst of a pillow fight. Just as she entered, one pillow sailed toward her. She put up an arm. The pillow hit it then burst open. Goose feathers swarmed the air. It had taken all afternoon to make them clean up the mess. She’d sat in a rocking chair and kept an eye on them the entire time, a towel filled with ice she held to her injured eye, which had turned black and blue, eventually encouraging them to finish or the day would be over, and it would then be bedtime. They moved more quickly then.

  Thirteen days later, Elliott arrived home. The first words from his mouth made Helen’s cheeks heat up. “What happened to you?” he said, aghast.

  She knew she looked horrible with the remnants of the bruise colored eye black, blue and yellow. “Just a little mishap playing ball,” she said.

  “Thank God you weren’t hurt,” he murmured as he lightly touched the bruised skin around her eye. He gave her a gentle smile, and she forgot about the discomfort and smiled back.

  Helen was glad he left it at that. After the past two weeks, she was ready for adult companionship. It was quite late when he’d arrived home. He’d insisted she stay the night, not a bit enamored of her traveling home in the late night hours. Helen reluctantly agreed. Elliott was just too tempting to a schoolteacher-spinster who’d only shared a few chaste kisses in her past, from him, her only beau.

  While eating a late supper, Helen felt hot and frazzled from a day chasing after the boys. She set down her glass of wine and glared at Elliott. “Why didn’t you tell me from the start that Harry and Tom are undisciplined little wretches?”

  He shrugged off her accusation. “They’re lively, fun-loving little boys, for sure.”

  “Fun-loving, you say?”

  She saw the discomfort on his face. Lord, as much as she wanted to leave right this moment and never return, the look on his face told her she couldn’t. He needed her.

  Crash.

  Helen darted a quick look up at the ceiling, then glanced at Elliott as he tossed down his napkin. “Excuse me.”

  He started striding from the dining room.

  “Elliott?”

  He paused, staring at her with one eyebrow quirked.

  “Remember now, they’re fun-loving boys,” she said gently.

  “Touché, my dear.” His lips quirked in a parody of a smile before he rushed from the room.

  Rubbing her temples, she heard him bounding up the stairs. Yes, they were just mischievous little boys, but she couldn’t allow this unruly behavior to continue. In nearly two weeks’ time, she’d suffered through more pranks than Elliott and George had ever played on her.

  She left the table, meandering into the hallway to listen. All was quiet. In the parlor, she read the rest of the newspaper restlessly. An hour later, she quietly made her way up the stairs to check on the boys. Heavens, she hoped Elliott hadn’t been too harsh on them.

  The boys’ bedroom door squeaked a bit as she pushed it open. One lamp was still lit. In the dimmed lighting, she saw that their two small beds had been pushed together. The boys lay with Elliott between them. His long legs hung off the bed’s
edge. He still wore his daytime attire with his shirt loosened and tie removed. His arm was around each boy, and they were snuggled one on either side of him. All three were sound asleep.

  She smiled even as tears gathered in her eyes. She knew then that Elliott had spent many a night doing exactly this since his wife’s death, and her heart ached at how stupid she’d been all those years ago. Ached because she’d been too stubborn and blinded by jealousy to believe him. How he’d ever forgiven her she couldn’t say. But now, as she closed the door, she decided she’d be the best nanny he’d ever hired, and she’d stay the duration.

  As Harry and Tom adjusted to Helen’s rules, they grew to depend on her—and seemed to like her well enough. Five-year-old children could be so candid, she mused, thinking about Harry’s hug this morning before he ran out the door to play in the yard. She’d gotten down on her knees, and he’d wound his arms around her neck and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

  Two months had passed and, while harmony in the household was sporadic but not unexpected with two five-year-old boys in residence, Helen was beginning to think of Elliott’s home as her own. She spent far more time with Harry and Tom than with their father, which was unfortunate. Helen had found little time to renew her friendship with Elliott. And the few times she’d tentatively tried, he’d been polite but seemingly uninterested. She’d been hurt but knew she couldn’t blame him. She’d shunned him before, so he didn’t trust her. His reaction made her wonder why he wanted her to work for him and live in his household if it was too painful for him to have her there.

  One Friday evening in November, Elliott arrived home late the third time that week. At the beginning of the week, he’d informed her he’d be late several evenings and asked her to stay overnight. She’d agreed, much too quickly, but then she was in love with the man, so what choice did she have?

  And it seemed she didn’t have to worry about her reputation. All of Elliott’s and her mutual friends, family and acquaintances had readily accepted the fact that she was caring for his sons just as the previous nannies who’d resided in his home. While shopping in town she’d heard no gossip—a great relief to her.