by Emily Bishop
It does seem to have that effect on Randall, though I’m pretty sure Carol meant it for the children and not the fathers, which in turn makes me blush.
“I guess you were right, too, when you said you never got off work, huh?” he adds.
I fidget with my skirt. “I work full-time, after all.”
He taps his fingers on his desk. “Then I guess we’ll just have coffee here at home.”
I look at him in surprise. He still wants to have coffee with me?
“Or maybe you hate coffee?”
“No, I don’t.” Oh, what the heck. It’s just coffee. “Sure. I guess we can share a coffee break, if I have one that is.”
“Of course you do. You can take a break whenever you need.”
I can?
“Actually, you can do whatever you want when David is at school.”
“Do I bring him to school?” I ask.
“No. That’s Harry’s job. You just need to get him prepared for school. It starts at eight-fifteen. He leaves the house about half an hour before that.”
I nod, committing that to memory.
“And by getting him prepared for school, I mean that you just need to get his bath ready, his clothes ready and his bag ready. Mrs. Wilson is also the cook so she prepares breakfast. She’ll cook David’s lunch, too, so you just have to put it in his lunch box and in his bag.”
“Okay.”
“When David comes home, he’ll be under your care. You can help him with homework or whatever he’s doing for school. You can play with him. No computer games on weeknights, though. You can watch TV with him. Basically, you just get to keep him company, provide for his needs, and make sure he follows the rules.”
“What rules?”
He counts on his fingers. “No computer games on weeknights. Bedtime at eight-thirty. Do homework. Read one book per day. Do fifty jumping jacks every other day.”
“Fifty jumping jacks?” My eyes grow wide.
“That’s his prescribed exercise routine. It’s actually very mild.”
I guess it would be if one did fifty crunches, squats, push-ups and what-nots a day, which is what I think he does.
“No sweets after dinner on weeknights. No junk food. Brush teeth after breakfast and before bedtime. No cursing. No pranks.” He looks at me. “I hope you got rid of those plastic bugs.”
“I did,” I admit.
No wonder he asked me to do that.
“Also, you’re in charge of cutting his nails, combing his hair, you know, grooming. And making sure he takes his vitamins.”
“Okay.”
“Also, his dog is his responsibility but it’s your job to give him a bath.”
“Right.”
I hope I remember all that.
“Any questions?” Randall asks, sitting back in his chair.
I touch my collar. “What about rules for me?”
“For you?” He looks confused.
“Do you want me to eat with the maids? Do you–”
“You can eat whatever you want from the kitchen with whoever you like whenever you like, though I hope you’ll eat dinner with David and me.”
“If that is what you’d like.”
“I think that’s it.” Randall places his hand on his desk. “Any other questions?”
I can’t think of any at the moment so I shake my head.
“Sabrina.” He leans forward again, his tone slightly more serious.
“Yes?”
Why is it that whenever he calls me by name, my heart skips a beat?
“The most important thing I want you to do is to make David happy,” he tells me. “And help him be a good person.”
I nod. “I understand.”
Any father would want that for his child and as David’s nanny, I want it for him, too.
“Good.” Randall stands up. “Then I guess it’s time for you to get to know him.”
***
“David, do you remember Sabrina?” Randall asks after we enter David’s bedroom.
It’s a big bedroom, more so than the bedroom I had as a child or any child’s bedroom I’ve seen. It looks like two rooms joined into one, in fact, one of them a fortress-inspired playroom with toys scattered on the floor and arranged on the shelves and another the actual bedroom with an army tank bed, a desk that looks like a rocket, a race car-inspired bean bag and a set of drums in the corner.
Not a very cohesive or organized room but it does seem to belong to a boy with a lot of imagination and a sense of adventure.
At once, I get a glimpse of this boy. He may be causing a lot of trouble but he doesn’t mean any harm. It’s all just play to him, all good fun, which means he isn’t so bad.
“Of course I do,” he answers his father with a pout as he sits on his bed. “I just met her, didn’t I?”
I wonder why he’s being so difficult.
“David, I’m warning you.” Randall points a finger at him. “You have to be polite to Sabrina and give her a chance.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so. You’ve already caused enough trouble for this weekend. Any more and you’ll…”
“What? I’m already grounded for the rest of my life, aren’t I?”
Randall crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you not want to use your computer for the rest of your life, too?”
He doesn’t an answer.
Randall sighs, then turns to me. “I guess he’s all yours. If you have any concerns about him, anything at all, you tell me, okay?”
“I will,” I assure him.
“Good luck.” He pats me on the shoulder before leaving the room.
I take a deep breath.
Okay. Where do I start?
Seeing the Labrador at the foot of his bed, I kneel in front of him. Maybe if I can earn the trust of his dog, I can earn his trust, too.
“Hello, there,” I say to the dog.
The dog just looks at me. Well, at least it isn’t growling.
“You’ve got a nice dog. What’s his name?”
David doesn’t answer.
I look at the dog’s collar. “Zombie? That’s a great name.”
“If you touch him, he’ll eat your brain,” David threatens.
I don’t cower. “Is that right, Zombie? Well, guess what, if you’re a good dog, maybe I’ll let you have a teeny bit of my brain.”
David snorts. “That’s crazy. You can’t give some of your brain to someone.”
“Who knows?” I shrug. “Some say we only use a small part of our brain, after all.”
Another snort. “Maybe you do.”
An insult but I refuse to take offense.
“Besides, crazy isn’t always bad. It just means you think differently.”
David creases his eyebrows. “You’re weird.”
“Weird isn’t always bad, either. Sometimes, it can be even fun.”
David says nothing.
I stand up, looking around. “Wow. You’ve got a really cool room, you know. I wish I had a room like this when I was little.”
Still nothing.
“So, what do you want to be when you grow up – a soldier, an astronaut, a race car driver or a drummer?”
“I don’t want to grow up,” he says.
“Ah. I felt the same way. Sometimes, I still wish I was a child. Still, there are things only grown-ups can do.”
“Like?”
“Like eating whatever you want and going where you want to go and staying up as late as you want.”
“Kristine let me stay up when she was my nanny,” David says. “Will you let me do that?”
Tricky question.
“We’ll see,” I tell him.
Why not? Even Mary Poppins bent the rules, I think.
“Maybe if you’re behaved.”
David frowns.
“You don’t like that word, do you? Can you tell me why?”
He keeps quiet.
“I guess the rules can be a bother sometimes. I used to hate them
, too. But I found out they were for my own good. If you follow your father’s rules now then you can make your own rules later on.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?”
“You’re just trying to be nice to me so you can stay in this house and have my dad’s money or my dad.”
I arch my eyebrows. “What?”
Is that the impression the previous nannies left him?
“You don’t have to be nice to me. I don’t care. I don’t need a nanny and I definitely don’t want one, especially not you.”
All right. I guess he’s finally bared his teeth.
That’s good, though. It’s good that he’s told me how he feels.
I clasp my hands together and approach his bed slowly. “Well, I think it’s good that you don’t need a nanny because I don’t want to be your nanny, either.”
He gives me a puzzled look.
“Frankly, I think you’re old enough to not have a nanny.”
“That’s what I told my dad.”
“But I do think you could use a friend and so could I. I’d love to be your friend.”
“Zombie’s my only friend.”
I glance at the dog. “I’m sure Zombie won’t mind sharing you with me.”
“Well, I don’t want to be your friend,” David says, glaring.
“Why not?”
“Just leave me alone, okay?” David gets off his bed and goes to his fortress, hiding inside the tower.
I exhale. All right. So, maybe this isn’t going to be easy but hey, we’ve only just begun.
I just have to keep trying.
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About the Author
Emily Bishop is a breakthrough romance writer from Seattle, Washington. She originally attended University of Washington as a history student but soon found a passion for words and stories. Upon graduating with a degree in creative writing, Emily fell in love and moved away from the hustle and bustle of the city to a quiet little town in Oregon.
She is now a full time writer who loves her job. She enjoys bad horror flicks, hair pulling, lemon pound cake, and spending time with her husband, Charlie, and her dog, Roscoe.
Emily hopes you enjoyed her novel, BACHELOR’S SECRET, and hopes you’ll be back for more.
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