by Jenny Hale
Then, after a long while, when the silence was finally wearing out its welcome, he said, “You seem to be getting along well with my family. They treating you okay?”
Here it comes, she thought. She’d orchestrated this little supper, thought she was getting somewhere, and it was about to backfire. She picked up her glass of tea and took a swallow to alleviate her drying mouth. As much as she was hoping that Adam was just making friendly conversation, the fear that he would spin it into a reprimand kept creeping in. When she thought about it, the situation was quite ridiculous. Why was she even here? Then panic shot through her. Would he let her go, tell her she wasn’t needed? Different scenarios were playing in her head so much that she’d almost forgotten to answer his question. “They’re wonderful,” she said finally.
Adam nodded. “My family wants the best for everyone, but they don’t always know what’s best.” He pushed around some casserole on his plate. “They don’t understand me.”
Carrie couldn’t believe it. In his usual quiet way, Adam hadn’t said much, but he’d just admitted yet another very personal thing to her. She hadn’t expected him to be so honest right off the bat. Truthfully, she’d expected a bit more small talk before he jumped into such a serious conversation, but then again, he hadn’t been the small talk type. The fact that he told her what he was feeling caused a tiny flicker of hope. She set down her fork and looked him straight in the eye. He was opening up, and she wanted to ask him a hundred questions all at once, but instead she asked gently, “What don’t they understand?”
“They don’t know how hard it is to run a business. They think they do, but they don’t. If something has to get done, it’s me who has to do it—no one else can. They don’t get that.”
“I think they get it.”
His mouth opened as if he were going to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, the skin between his eyes wrinkled, and he looked at her with utter confusion on his face.
“They know how hard you work and what you have to do, I think. What they don’t understand is how you can let it get in the way of your family. Think about when we painted your hands. You got your work done, but you got something else done too—you had a bonding moment with your children. You shouldn’t miss those moments because, once they’re gone, you can’t get them back. That’s what your parents don’t understand.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m building a business here. It takes a lot of work. I don’t want to screw it up by messing around.”
Carrie’s pulse quickened at his comment, but then, she relaxed a little when she realized that obviously he didn’t understand how his words could be misconstrued. It was the same principle that she used to comprehend why children said things like, “I don’t like your sweater. The stripes are funny.” They don’t know enough about the world to grasp how that would hurt a person’s feelings. They had to be taught. Even though Adam was a very bright man, he, too, had to be taught. He clearly didn’t realize what he’d implied by his words. Playing with his children and eating meals with his family certainly wasn’t “messing around.” By spending those moments with his children, he’d be creating the people they would become by giving them moments, memories, a picture of what life should be.
“Do you want your children to believe that you don’t have time to love and that they aren’t worth love?”
“Of course not.” He was looking at her as if she’d just said the most preposterous thing in the world, which made her feel better still. He wasn’t heartless; he just didn’t understand this part of his life the way she did. He clearly didn’t realize the implications of his actions. It was time for her to teach him how he needed to act around his children. She felt a calmness about being there, across from him, that she hadn’t felt before. Talking to him was easier than she’d imagined, and, every time she did it, she felt fantastic.
“I want to help you show them what you’re like as a person, what life with you is like,” she said, careful not to point fingers. “I know you’re busy, but would there be any way that you could work from home at least a few more days so you can be with the children? It would give them a chance to get to know you.”
The uncertainty was there in his face, but it was as if the feeling irritated him. He clenched his jaw and he drew in a deep breath through his nose. She’d hit that nerve that Joyce had found, and she realized by his reaction that staying home and having to spend time with his children scared him as much as being with him had scared her at first. He was out of his comfort zone. The guilt of loving a job that caused him to not have time for his own children was clear. Perhaps he felt awkward around his kids, and he wasn’t used to feeling that way. He was used to being in complete control of his life. His marriage was gone, his kids didn’t know him, and his family was upset by his behavior. These were all things that probably made him feel out of control.
“I’m not trying to be combative, but I do have work to do. That’s why I’ve employed you. I’d prefer to stick to the work I have because, at the moment, things are a bit busy.”
“But David and Olivia need you.”
“Look, I’m working on a major business expansion. I have to do the work because no one else can do it. However, when it comes to watching the children, there is someone else who can do that job, so I’d like you to do it and stop worrying about me.”
She could feel the splotches return, but she didn’t care if he saw them. She knew what Adam was really saying. He was saying that anyone can watch children, but only he can run his business. With that one statement, he’d just undermined the job that she cared so much about, that she’d given up her entire life for. He’d just told her that what she did for a living was less important than what he did. It took all the energy she had to get the words to come out in a calm manner.
“I don’t want you to watch the children, Adam. I want you to be a father to them.” She knew that statement was daring, and she knew quite well what she meant by it: She was saying that, by working all the time, Adam wasn’t being an adequate father, which was exactly what his family had said. The last thing she wanted to do was to attack him, because she knew that he felt he’d been attacked by his family downstairs. She’d just wanted to help.
“I don’t like what you’re implying,” he said quietly, but his irritation was evident in the way he said the words—each one annunciated perfectly.
“I’m not implying anything. I’m telling you. I think the children need you to make some different decisions in your life.”
“Look, I didn’t get where I am by exercising poor judgment. You’ve been with our family a matter of days. Days. What do you know about us? You think you know. I think it would be best if you leave my life choices to me and you stick to what you really do know, which is how to care for my children.”
“I’m trying to care for them, Adam,” she pushed, “but it’s not just about finger paints and bedtimes. It’s about teaching them to be healthy, well-rounded adults. Some children don’t have the luxury of having a family, but yours do, and I’m just trying to let them see what a great father they have.”
He didn’t answer. Carrie wondered if she’d gotten through to him at all.
“You sound like Sharon.”
“I’m sure she feels the same as I do.”
“I thought it was just her being irrational,” he said slightly more calmly. “I thought it was because of her… problems.”
Carrie didn’t want to meddle in Sharon’s business. The Fletcher children were her concern, and that made her feel like she had some leeway with Adam and his business, but she had no right to even ask about Sharon’s. She could feel herself asking him to explain with her eyes, even though she didn’t want to. The concern for Sharon was overwhelming her reasoning. She knew she didn’t need to know, but she wanted to know.
“It’s a bit of a touchy subject…” He seemed to understand her even without words, and she’d never ha
d anyone else who could do that, but she ignored the thought because she needed to hear about Sharon. She wanted to know. “She’s had a very hard time getting pregnant. When she finally did, she miscarried, and getting pregnant had taken a ton of time, money, and effort. They’d tried to go through the doctors, hoping that would increase their success. It didn’t work. They used every single bit of their savings.”
How terrible, Carrie thought. All the pieces were starting to gel, and she was getting a picture now of Sharon and why she broke down like she did.
“But why is she so angry at you?” she asked, her thoughts coming out more easily due to Adam’s openness.
“She and I had a disagreement.”
“About?”
“She battles depression, and the baby issue isn’t helping things. One night she and I really went at it because she told me that I didn’t deserve my own children. She said that David and Olivia ought to have parents who spend—what did she say?—every moment with them without regard to anything else.” He looked at a spot on the wall as if something were there. “I shouldn’t have given in to the argument, knowing her state, but I did, and it got heated.”
“I’m sorry,” Carrie said. And she was. She was so sorry to hear about Sharon, and she was sorry that their disagreement had escalated into something that still lingered between them. In a way, Carrie and Sharon were similar: they both desperately wanted their own families, and they both feared that the Fletcher children, whom they loved so much, wouldn’t get the attention that they knew they could provide if just given the opportunity.
“I thought she was just unleashing her anger at not having success with getting pregnant. I thought she was being irrational, and I hired you because I worried that Sharon’s depression would require Mom’s attention, pulling her away from the kids. My mother spent many nights over at their house helping Eric—especially right after they’d miscarried. It took a lot of her energy. When she said that Sharon would be coming I didn’t want to take any chances with the kids’ needs being neglected.” Adam’s shoulders were tense, his forearms resting on the desk in a rigid way. “What I hadn’t anticipated was hearing the same thing basically from you, just in a more polite fashion.” He leaned back and pushed his food around on his plate with his fork.
Her first inclination was to feel saddened by his statement. He’d been confronted by his family about the way he’d chosen to live his life, and, clearly, he felt attacked. He was defensive. Now, here she was, a stranger, able to pick out the same issue after only a few days’ time. Certainly, that would make him feel awful. But, the more she contemplated it, the less guilty she became, because she knew that she’d been right. She knew, not just what the children needed, but what Adam needed, and the fact that his own family felt the same only made her feel stronger in her intuition.
“You, Sharon, my parents—you don’t understand because you aren’t in my line of work. It’s frustrating to me to have to repeat it every time I’m hit with it. I don’t have any answers for you. I have to work.”
If only she could get him to see it. Then it occurred to her that he felt the same way. “Help me to see your side,” she said. He didn’t answer, but he seemed to be thinking about it, so she left it at that.
Chapter Fifteen
Happiness is achieved by doing what you love. Carrie knew exactly what she loved, so she decided to focus on that today.
Rose, the housekeeper, changed the sheets on every bed in the house on Thursdays. This Thursday, Carrie had asked her to leave the kids’ sheets and blankets in a pile in the playroom. Rose wasn’t keen on the idea, but Carrie assured her that she’d get them washed and put away.
“Why are our blankets in here?” David asked as they entered the playroom.
“We’re going to build a fort,” Carrie explained.
“How?” Olivia picked up a sheet and tried to fluff it out, but her body was too close to the ground and the sheet fell with a plop.
“Well, let’s get all the chairs first, and I’m going to drag the art table into the middle of the room.
David’s eyes widened. “Are you allowed to do that?”
“Yes, I think it’s fine as long as I put it back.”
Olivia grabbed the ends of a sheet and started running around the room, holding her hands over her head. The sheet—pink with tiny, green katydids on it—trailed behind her. She ran as fast as she could, as if she were trying to fly a kite on a day with no wind. “I’m a flying princess,” she said with a giggle.
“Princesses don’t fly,” David corrected her.
“Well, I am a princess, and I’m flying right now!” Olivia ran one more lap around the room before tiring out and dropping the sheet. By that time, Carrie had managed to get the art table into the center of the room. She draped one of the sheets on top of it, the fabric cascading over each side and puddling at the ground. Olivia crawled inside.
David scooted one of the chairs next to the table and pulled the corresponding side of the sheet over the chair, extending the length of the fort. Carrie helped, moving chairs over, stacking bins, anchoring sheets and blankets onto the shelves with heavy items, until they had constructed an enormous fort.
“Come in, David!” Olivia called, peeking her head out from one of the blankets.
David grabbed his flashlight and spy goggles from the toy box and headed inside. “Whoa!” he said once he’d seen the under the blankets.
As Carrie crawled in after him, Olivia laughed. “Carrie! What are you doing coming into the fort?” Olivia was sitting cross-legged, her hands on her knees, her tiny pink fingernails like candy sprinkles.
“Am I not allowed in?” Carrie asked.
“You’re a grown-up! Grown-ups don’t get in. They do grown-up things.”
“Well, I don’t. I get into forts because I like to play just as much as you do.”
“Why do you like to play with us?” Olivia asked, getting down on her hands and knees and pushing a piece of blanket further out to allow more space inside. She turned around and sat back down, her head cocked to the side, waiting for an answer. “Most grown-ups don’t like to play,” she added.
How could Carrie answer her question? Many adults didn’t do what she did for a living and simply didn’t have the time. Natalie, the last nanny, hadn’t seemed like the type. Was Carrie the first person who’d played with them? “I like to play with you because I have so much fun with you and you have the most amazing ideas. I only put the sheet on the table, but it was David who thought to add the blankets to the chairs. Look how much bigger the fort is now. And! What would I do if I sat outside the fort?”
“I suppose you could do some work. Do you have anything to do on the computer? That’s what Daddy does,” David said. He was always matter-of-fact with his answers, and she wondered if Adam, too, had been like that.
“Shall we show your daddy this fort?”
Olivia grabbed the sheet and ripped it up to allow herself a space to exit. When she did, it jostled the other blankets. “Careful, Olivia!” David scolded. “We want Daddy to see!”
“I know!” she said in return. “That’s why I’m getting out. Let’s show him! And Grandma Joyce and Grandpa Bruce! Let’s show everyone!”
“Shall we round them up?” Carrie said.
As David carefully crawled out from under the sheets and blankets, Olivia grabbed Carrie’s hand. The first child Carrie ever cared for as a nanny had been only a little older than Olivia and David. Her name was Claire. She was six. Claire held Carrie’s hand everywhere she went. She was a wisp of a girl with long, brown hair and bright blue eyes. Carrie had completely fallen for that little girl—she did everything for her. She even went to their house some evenings to watch Claire free of charge after Claire’s mother had decided to stay home full time with her.
This year, Claire had turned sixteen. She was in high school now, she drove a car. The last time Carrie spoke to her, Claire was telling her about the courses she was taking to prepare her for
college admissions. That little girl with the bright eyes and brown hair wasn’t little anymore, yet Carrie didn’t feel a bit older than she had when she’d watched Claire. As she looked down at Olivia, her tiny pink fingernails and her petite fingers, she thought about how fast time goes, and, suddenly, she couldn’t get to Adam’s office quickly enough. She felt as if time were speeding up, as if there were a clock ticking behind her. She couldn’t wait to get Adam involved with the children again. She just hoped that he was at a place where he could stop working for a minute. Gingerly, she pushed the office door open, the hinges making a creaking sound.
“No, no, no. I wouldn’t do that,” he said into the phone. He looked up, his eyebrows raised, an expectant look on his face. Olivia hid behind the door.
“Can you come with us?” she mouthed while waving her hand toward herself in the come-here gesture. To her surprise, he leaned forward like he was about to stand up. But just as she felt the excitement rise, her hopes slammed back down when his face became serious and he shook his head “no.”
She held up her hand in the number five and mouthed, “Five minutes?”
He put out his hand and shook his head as if to say, I don’t know. His jaw was starting to clench like it had the other night, and she feared that she’d come at a bad time. She was interrupting him, and he clearly wasn’t in the mood.
Olivia, who had been peeking around the corner, shrank back, her shoulders slumped. Carrie knew what Olivia was thinking: she was thinking how her daddy was always too busy. She could hardly bear to see Olivia’s disappointment. It made her chest feel tight, an ache forming there.
“Olivia,” she whispered. “You and David go get your Grandma and everyone. I’ll get your daddy since he’s on the phone.”
“He won’t come,” she whispered.
“Yes, he will.” Carrie was cognizant of the fact that she’d just made a promise to Olivia, and she never went back on her promises. She wasn’t sure how, but she was going to get Adam off that phone, no matter what work he had to do. “Go get them. I’ll meet you in the playroom with your dad.”