The bathroom counter was a beautiful marble and the walk-in shower had misters to turn the entire thing into a steam room. There was a jetted tub in the corner near a window that looked out into the backyard. A beautiful view of the rolling hills and the patches of grass that looked like failed gardens.
That would be my passion project for his home.
Tending to those gardens and growing them into something the children could help me with.
I took care of the cooking and cleaning while Miss Gertrude spent her last two weeks with the children. She’d been their nanny for years, and I knew they were going to miss her. In my spare time, I read up on children and grief. How to help them transition from one major change to the next. I never approached them the first week unless they specifically asked for me, and when they did ask for me I made sure to listen to whatever they had to say.
But during the nighttime hours, I could see why Jace wanted a live-in nanny.
“Miss Caffy?”
I heard the intercom in my room going off and it caused me to groan.
“Miss Caffy? You up?”
That voice sounded a lot like Michaela’s. She was the youngest. Jace and his ex-wife’s three-year old surprise daughter. The house was sit up with an intercom system we could all use to talk with one another around the massive home. But when I looked over that the clock, I saw that it was only two in the morning.
I slid from my bed and walked over to the wall, then pressed the button that led my voice straight into Michaela’s room.
“I am, sweetie. Are you okay?” I asked.
“Can I see you?” she asked.
“Of course you can. Want me to come to you?”
“Pwease.”
I reached for my robe and wrapped it tightly around my body. I walked through the living room and bypassed the kitchen, then took the steps as quietly as I could. I didn’t want to wake the boys. Or Jace. I didn’t want anyone to worry because it didn’t sound like Michaela was in trouble or hurt.
It simply sounded like she couldn’t sleep.
“Knock knock,” I said with a whisper.
Michaela was huddled underneath the covers of her bed.
Uh oh.
I knew what this was.
“Did you have a nightmare?” I asked as I walked into the room.
I saw her small head peak out from underneath the covers before she nodded.
“Sweep with me?” Michaela asked.
And without another word, I went and slipped into her cramped little bed with her. I held her close to me and felt her snuggle as deep as she could. I ran my hand through her thick head of dark curls, sighing as she wrapped her arms around me. Michaela was warming up to me the quickest, and that got me thinking. Was this the reason why he wanted a live-in nanny?
I made a mental note to ask Jace how long this had been going on.
“So I hear you had a slumber party last night.”
I looked over at Miss Gertrude and saw her grinning from ear to ear.
“How long has Michaela been having nightmares?” I asked.
“For a few weeks now. I haven’t been able to pinpoint why, either.”
“It’s a common stage for three-year old’s to go through,” I said. “I’m already working on ways to help her out with that.”
“You know what my mother did with me?” she asked.
“What?”
“Monster spray. Hah! Nothing but a bottle of water and some lemon drops, but to me it was monster repellant.”
“That was actually one of my ideas. Though I thought Michaela might be more of a vanilla-scented girl.”
“It’s odd, though. I took weeks for Michaela to open up to me.”
“Really? Weeks?”
“Oh yes. The boys are open to just about everyone. As you’ve witnessed firsthand.”
“They came and jumped on my bed to wake me up a few days ago. So yes,” I said with a giggle, “I know what you’re talking about.”
“But Michaela? She’s always so serious and reserved. But she’s really taken a liking to you. I think you’ll do just fine.”
“That means a lot coming from you, Miss Gertrude.”
“If I could pass on one piece of advice, it would be this. Have patience with Anya.”
“Their mother?” I asked.
“Yes. I always try to be sympathetic towards the mothers, no matter what light is shed on them. There’s a biological imperative that comes with being a mother, and even though she has her trials and tribulations, that biological imperative is still surging through her veins. Despite her struggles and how the media portrays her, she’s a woman who gave birth. A woman who grew a child.”
“Maybe one day I’ll know what that’s like,” I said.
“Do you want children?”
“Always have. I’ve always wanted to try and raise them better than I was raised.”
“All parents have their good parts and their bad parts.”
“Yeah, well. Mostly bad parts for mine,” I said.
“Patience, child. Patience is something we could all use a little more of. That and understanding.”
“So where will you go after you’re done here?” I asked. “You’ve been here for, what? Five years? Six years?”
“Six years, yes. I’m retiring, actually. Friday’s my last day nannying period.”
“Oh, wow. Have you been doing it all your life?” I asked.
“Ever since I was a little girl taking care of my younger siblings. My mother was an interesting woman. Drank a little too much and used her body to bring in what little money we had.”
“Wait, are you serious?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. She was a hardened woman. Strong in all the wrong ways. I can remember her in her older years. She always had a cigarette hanging from her lips and a glass of putrid wine in her hand. She raised seven children on the measly money she pulled in from being the town’s stress release. And we all knew it. But once I looked past what my mother did for money, I realized something.”
“What?” I asked.
“She did it to feed us,” I said. “She owned up to the risks of her choice of career. Seven children by seven different fathers, and not once did she consider abortion an option. Maybe because she couldn't afford it, or maybe she didn’t want to live with it. I don’t know. But the bottom line was, she did what she did so we could eat. Have clothes. They weren’t the best, but we never went without because of her. That’s why I always tell people to have patience and understanding. Because the motives for someone’s actions aren’t always selfish.”
I learned as much as I could from that woman in the two weeks we were together. And not a day went by where she didn’t try to teach me some sort of lesson. I could see why the children would miss her. I would miss her and I’d only known her twelve days. The children were slowly transitioning over to me. Asking me to do things while Gertrude stayed in the background cooking and cleaning.
But then, an odd request came from Jace the last day Gertrude was there.
“Could I ask you for one last favor, Miss Gertrude?”
“Of course you can, Mr. Logan.”
“Six years and I never once got you to call me by my name. Why is that?” he asked.
“Is that your favor?”
“No, no. I’m just curious,” he said.
“Where I come from, it’s a term of respect. I’m Miss Gertrude because you respect me, and you’re Mr. Logan because I respect you. Nothing more, nothing less,” she said.
“Well, Miss Gertrude, would you mind watching the children for one last night?”
“I can watch them,” I said. “That’s not an issue. I know I don’t start full-time technically until in the morning, but it’s really not a big deal.”
“No, you have plans tonight,” Jace said.
“I do?” I asked.
“Miss Gertrude, could you watch the kids so I can take Catherine to the theater? Tonight is opening night of the Broadway tour. I figur
ed she might like it.”
I looked over at Gertrude and I could see the shock on her face. She looked back at me and I shrugged my shoulders. It was all I could do. Why did Jace want to take me to the theater? Was that some sort of initiation into the family or something?
“Well, I suppose that depends on whether Catherine wants to go to the theater,” Miss Gertrude said. “Catherine?”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Are you going to the theater tonight with Mr. Logan?”
My eyes panned over to his and I took him in. Tall. Lean. Broad shoulders that tapered into a slim but strong waist. He still had that fire behind his eyes. The fire all actors have on the silver screen. His amber eyes and thick brown hair reminded me of where his daughter got her features. He had a strong jawline. One that expressed a dominance that was accented underneath the shadows of his home. His hands were large, stuffed into the tailored pants of the suit he donned. Perfectly cropped to his body and not a line out of place.
“I guess so,” I said. “If you can watch the children, that is.”
“I’d be more than happy to,” Miss Gertrude said with a grin. “Now go get cleaned up. I’ve been to that theater once or twice. You’re going to want to wear something nice.”
Seven
Jace
‘Nice’ didn’t even begin to describe the outfit Catherine put on. Her wispy brown hair was curled to perfection and hung just past her shoulders. She had this thin band around her head that sat right behind her ears. The band was the color of her hair, but the daisies that studded all around it were a bright white with a golden yellow center. The dress she put on was sleeveless and the collar came up close to her neck, but the bright yellow fabric fell along her curves in ways that made me want to see more. The yellow fabric broke around her hips and spiraled out into all kinds of colors. Light greens and soft blues and pale pinks. Her dress reminded me of a garden.
Of all the failed gardens I’d attempted to cultivate in my backyard.
Those had been gardens Anya and I had attempted to create back when we were still married. Back when drugs weren’t an issue and we were still happy together. It was something she wanted to make for the boys. A backyard paradise of life they could walk through and experience the thrill of nature without being hounded by cameras. It was why I’d purchased such a large estate. Forty-two acres of land, and not a bit of it could be touched by the paparazzi. I’d had grand plans for the entire thing, but it all started with cultivating those gardens.
And we never could get them to grow, no matter what we did.
“Ready?” Catherine asked.
Her soft voice ripped me from my trance.
“You look lovely,” I said as I offered her my arm.
She looked down at it quizzically before looking over at Gertrude.
I was glad when the woman ushered for her to take it.
She slipped her arm within mine and I led her to my car. I’d watched her from afar for the first two weeks. I’d eavesdropped on some of the conversation she’d had with Gertrude. It wasn’t nice of me to do so, but I didn’t want to ruin the transition time they were building with the children. I did, however, want to know more about Catherine. More about those questions she wouldn't answer in my presence.
More about why she was the way she was.
I’d come to figure out a few things about her. She didn’t eat meat, for one. Learned that the hard way when I offered her a slice of four-meat pizza. And she really meant what she said about the television. She didn’t enjoy watching them one bit. In fact, she didn’t use much technology at all. I knew she had a laptop, but I hadn’t seen her touch it once. It was refreshing, and a great fit for our family since I tried to keep my children away from technology as well.
“Have you ever seen a Broadway show?” I asked.
“No. I can’t ever afford the tickets,” Catherine said.
“Well then, tonight’s on me.”
“Why?” she asked.
I parked the car in the ‘owner’ parking space before I turned and looked at her.
“Why what?” I asked.
“Why are you taking me to the theater?”
“Do you not like the theater?”
“I’ve never been. But…”
I could tell there was something she wanted to ask. A question she wanted clarification on. I unbuckled my seat belt and turned fully towards her. I wanted her to ask. I wanted her to open up to me. I wanted to take this time we had together and make the most of it.
Because I knew she would be the children’s come morning time.
“You look really nice in that suit,” she said before she shoved herself out of my car.
I sighed and let myself out before I walked around towards her. I offered her my arm again and we walked inside. People were dressed in their finest outfits and donning their most expensive jewelry. Champagne was moving around the floor, bussed by waiters holding silver trays. I plucked a couple off a moving tray and handed one to Catherine, and I watched as she gawked around the room.
“Wow,” she said.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“Are all theaters like this?”
“No,” I said. “Which is why I want mine to be like this.”
She looked over at me with a light in her eyes that made my chest surge with pride. This was what I’d missed. Giving people experiences they would never forget. It was why I bought the theater. I wanted to give the people of California an immersive experience that would keep them coming back time after time. And by the look on Catherine’s face, I could tell I was giving her just that. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the beauty of the theater I’d tried so hard to preserve.
“To a wonderful night out,” I said as I held up my glass.
“And to making new memories,” Catherine said.
I bumped my glass against hers, then the two of us headed up to the balcony.
It was the best seat in the house, reserved only for myself. I sat down with Catherine as we sipped our champagne and gazed down at the stage below us. She crossed one long leg over the other and I watched her dress part against her thigh. The slit fell farther and farther open, baring to me that milky skin my fingers wanted to dance against. Catherine was a beautiful woman. A free soul not meant for the decade we were in. My eyes scanned up her body and I watched her lips wrap around the edge of the champagne flute.
The veins in my pelvis lurched to life as I watched the movement carefully.
“So what made you want to buy the theater?” she asked.
I forced my gaze up to her eyes when she looked over at me.
“It was an investment I made when Anya and I got married,” I said.
“Why?”
“Our schedules clashed so much and I knew how much her career meant to her. She was at the top of her game and my career had just blossomed. I knew she wanted to adopt and I wanted a family, so I knew one of us would have to be stationary.”
“You gave up your acting career to be a stationary businessman?”
“I did. And in retrospect, it was the right move. I enjoy traveling, but not for business. For pleasure. Going to all those places for three months just to spend it on two acres of land filming scene after scene? It’s no way to experience the world. I was able to use the reputation I’d built up to breathe life back into this place, and I’m all the better for it.”
“So you don’t miss acting at all?”
“I do sometimes. I’m lucky that the movies I did make seem to transcend time. Like Pulp Fiction or the Rocky movies.”
“I have no idea what any of those are.”
I chuckled and shook my head as I finished off my drink.
“You really are a different kind of woman, Catherine.”
“No sense in being like everyone else,” she said. “Why be a carbon copy when I can be the original?”
Her hand draped over the arm of her chair in a nonchalant fashion. Her fingers were long and slender, and
they called to me. Made me want to reach out for her hand. I felt my heart slamming against my chest. I heard the blood rushing through my ears. I felt like I was back in high school, playing the pinky game with a girl in a movie theater. I took her glass from her and passed it off to a man standing in the corner, then the lights in the theater dimmed.
Just in time for the performance.
The music was spectacular, but all of it faded to the back of my mind. All I could think about was how close our hands were. The heat from her skin radiating against mine. So few words spoken between us still, and yet I was drawn to her. Pulled into her orbit and helpless to relieve myself of it. I reached my pinky out and knocked it against hers. A small motion to gauge what she would do. Such a teenaged game, and yet it was the only thing I could think to do.
The only thing I could think of that got me closer to her.
I expected her to pull away. To place her hands in her lap and clear her throat. But instead, she moved her pinky back out towards mine. The smallest gesture that opened up the whole of her to me. I looked down with my eyes, careful to not move my head. I didn’t want to startle her. I didn’t want her to flinch or make her feel like she’d done something wrong.
I didn’t want to spoil the moment.
I locked my finger around hers. Two pinkies tangled up in one another. The smallest connection that held the largest admission both of us wouldn’t speak of. I heard her draw in a deep breath. I felt her hand trembling. She was nervous. I was nervous.
Neither of us were paying attention to the show any longer.
With each song, our hands got closer. Our fingers intertwined. Our palms connected. Soon, my wrist was settled on top of hers and I could feel her pulse through my skin. The racing beat in time with my own as my heart thundered against my chest. I feared she could hear it. I was scared she could feel mine, too. Feel how nervous she made me. Feel how weak she made my knees.
I was a powerful man in this theater.
But in her grasp, I was helpless.
“I had a great time tonight. That show was incredible,” Catherine said.
I walked her up to the porch of my home, our fingers laced tightly together.
7+Us Makes Nine: A Nanny Single Dad Romance (Baby Makes Three) Page 4