by J. Lea
Copyright © 2018 by J. Lea
Gray Publishing Services Edition
COPYRIGHT © 2018
Cover Designer: Shanoff Designs
Translator: Tanja Kunej
Editor: Anja Pfister of Hourglass Editing
Formatting: Gray Publishing Services
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, or other status is entirely coincidental.
eBooks are not transferrable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever known, not known or hereafter invented, or stored in any storage or retrieval system, is forbidden and punishable by the fullest extent of the law without written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Other Books by J. Lea
About J. Lea
I blow-dry my long hair, then run a brush through it to tame any unruly strands. When I’m happy with the results, I reach for the cabinet over the bathroom sink, pushing things aside to get to my make-up kit. I’m not a make-up artist, but a little bit of mascara and a sweep of blush across my cheeks makes my complexion look less tired. With big blue eyes and blonde hair, I always got a lot of attention. There’s a small birthmark just above my lips, which drives me crazy, but I’ve learned to live with it. Just like I’ve had to accept that my breasts aren’t going to get any bigger than a B cup. Like every woman, I have cellulite and bad hair days, but I’m okay with that. I can hide the imperfections and emphasize the attributes when needed. Maybe that’s the reason I never lacked male attention back in high school and college. I was a class president, and helped organize major school events. Back then, I liked being in the spotlight. But now that I’m all grown up, I prefer peace and quiet.
I shove thoughts about my past away. I have an important job interview in a few hours, and I need to make myself look presentable. A gentle touch of dark-red lipstick and some gloss over it makes my lips look softer. I hurry back to my room, wrapped only in a towel. On the bed, an outfit is already laid out, consisting of lacy black underwear no one will see but makes me feel sexy and confident, a pencil skirt with black and white swirls reaching my knees with a modest slit on the side, and a black, sleeveless, turtle-neck blouse. Elegant and classy. My look will exude professionalism and softness. The necklace I never take off is safely tucked underneath my blouse, and a wide leather bracelet clasps my wrist. I assess my appearance in front of my full-length mirror, running a hand through my freshly washed hair.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble. A shiny gloss stain is mocking me from the collar. “Freaking perfect,” I sigh, rolling my eyes at my reflection. I really don’t have time for this. Gritting my teeth, I take a deep breath to calm my agitation. Moving back to the bathroom to grab a makeup wipe, I start scrubbing the stain, but it only makes it worse. “Well done, Ev,” I shake my head in disbelief. Rushing back to my closet while not looking where I’m going, my knee bumps into my bed frame. A sharp pain surges through my leg, making me gasp for air. “So not my day.” With my teeth clenched, I take off the blouse and pull the other one I own out of the closet. “You’ll have to do,” I address the article of clothing, and pull it over my head more careful this time. When a pair of black strappy heels are secured on my feet, I grab my purse and hurry out the door.
Almost two hours later, I stop my car in front of a big, modern looking, two-story house surrounded by a steel fence. Parking beside a beat-up, black VW Golf, I take in my surroundings. The house is beautiful with a greyish facade and big white windows. The front yard is mostly paved, except for the neatly mowed grass area to my right, which is clearly a kid’s playground. It features a small, very colorful, wooden house with a slide in the shape of a giant oak tree, along with a swing set and a small, rounded sandbox. It feels pretty cozy and nice. Just as I’m about to ring the doorbell the front door swings open, causing me to jump to the side as two older women walk out.
“Thanks for your time. I’ll let you know our decision.” The woman with an elegant French twist up-do, probably the house owner, says to her companion.
“Thank you. Have a nice day,” the other one replies, and heads to the Golf.
The woman with the French twist turns to me, offering me a polite smile. “How may I help you? Are you here to see Connor?” Her hand grips the doorframe.
“Connor?” I blink at her. “Is this the right address?” I show her the piece of paper I doodled the address from the ad on.
“Yes, this is us.” She nods.
“I’m here for the caregiver job interview. My name is Everly Johnson.” I reach out to shake her hand with a smile on my face.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were Connor’s friend. I’m Mrs. Dolores Ruiz, the one you’re having the interview with.” Her handshake is strong, determined. “Please, come in.” Stepping to the side so I can enter, she walks me down the elegant hallway to the living room. Massive built-in bookcases catch my attention right away. There must be hundreds of books on these shelves; a heavenly sight for a bookworm like me. My eyes roam over the titles, trying to see if I have read any.
“Do you like to read?” Mrs. Ruiz’s voice pulls me out of my bookish heaven.
“Oh.” I blink and close my mouth, slightly embarrassed I’ve completely spaced out. “Yes, I love books. Quite a collection you have here. Have you read all these?”
“Most of them, but it’s been a while since I was able to sit down and just read. Can I offer you something to drink before we get started? Coffee, water, maybe soda?”
“No, thank you,” I reply with a shy smile and shift my weight from one leg to the other.
She asks me to sit, and settles on the couch beside me, crossing her legs. Her hands shake a little when she reaches for a notebook from a coffee table, as if she’s nervous. That makes two of us. She places the notebook on her lap. Wrinkles are etched across her face. Her warm, brown eyes look tired as if she spent most nights awake, but she hides the dark circles well with make-up. Despite her eyes being tired, they are looking at me with kindness.
“I’m sorry, I had a long day. I’m too old for job interviews,” Mrs. Ruiz explains with an apologetic smile that causes the wrinkles around her eyes to deepen. “But it doesn’t matter.” She waves her hand in the air. “Tell me, Ms. Johnson, are you familiar with the job requirements?” She pats her forehead with a tissue she pulled out of the box from a coffee table.
“Yes.” I’ve read everything in the ad she posted.
While I wait for Mrs. Ruiz to find my CV and recommendations, I look around. Th
ere’s not one thing out of place except for a few children’s toys scattered in the room.
“You do have a lot of experience despite your youth. I’m really impressed; your recommendations are stellar. Why have you decided to switch from working in a hospital to becoming a caregiver? I’m sure the salary you got at the hospital was much better.”
For the last few years, I worked as a pediatric nurse. The fast pace and challenges of the job suited me and helped me get experience and confidence. But then my life has taken a sudden turn, demanding some sacrifices. One of them was quitting the job at the hospital.
“Personal reasons. You’re right, the job was better paid, but money isn’t everything in life. If you can’t spend it on your loved ones, it’s only a means for survival.” That’s one thing I know for a fact.
Since I was a little girl, I knew I wanted to take care of people in one way or another when I grew up. It was my dream. The only thing I didn’t know was where this dream would take me.
Her eyes sparkle. “You’re absolutely right. There’s so much passion and dedication in your voice. I really like that.” She jots something down in her notebook. “As you know, my husband’s condition is getting worse. I can’t take care of him by myself anymore. He’s getting too heavy for me to lift. My son-in-law helps me a lot, but he has his own life, and I can’t expect him to constantly be around the house to help us, it wouldn’t be fair to him. And Carlos is…” She clasps her hands together in her lap and shifts in her seat. “Ever since our daughter died Carlos has become so detached. I believe his health deteriorated with her death. If it weren’t for our granddaughter and son-in-law, I don’t know if he would’ve…” She trails off, helplessness and a hint of anger is felt in her voice. Mrs. Ruiz closes her eyes, covering her mouth with her hand, and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to become so emotional. I blame the long day I’ve had.”
“I’m really sorry for your loss. I understand what you’re going through. Believe me.” Leaning over, I place my hand gently on her arm. “I promise I can help take the burden off your shoulders if you give me a chance.”
“I can tell you’re really passionate about your work. If I do decide to hire you when can you start? I see you’re currently unemployed?” She lifts my CV to indicate it.
“Yes. I can start whenever you want.”
“That’s good. Would it bother you if you had to move?”
“No, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. It would take me too much time to drive back and forth every day. I’ll find an apartment in the area if you hire me.”
“Oh, no. That’s not what I meant.” She laughs awkwardly, shaking her head. “It came out wrong. You’d live here, in this house, with us. I know this wasn’t in the job description; we made this decision later after I had a long talk with my son-in-law. I hope this won’t discourage you from accepting the job.” She regards me intently.
I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting this. With my mouth open, I try to take in the bombshell she just dropped.
Mrs. Ruiz shakes her head. “How inconsiderate of me. You don’t have to answer right away. Like I told the caregivers before you, just think about it, okay? It’s not easy for me to let a complete stranger move into our house. You never know what could happen. But it would be much easier for me to have help twenty-four hours a day. I still run my own notary’s office in town, just a year away from retiring. I’d sleep much better if I knew I had someone qualified and capable under the same roof to keep an eye on Carlos in case something happens. And if we decide to hire you, I promise you’d have more than enough time for yourself.”
I’m still speechless. I have no idea what to say. I really don’t. On the one hand, I desperately need this job, but on the other, I’d be living with total strangers, with a family that’s not mine. To be honest, I hate drastic and sudden changes in my life. I really need to think this through.
Swallowing hard, I nod. “Okay.” I muster up a genuine smile.
“Good.” Happy with my answer, she scribbles something in her notebook.
Mrs. Ruiz asks me several more questions. She’s interested in my work approach, explains her expectations, and explains what my duties would entail. After we finish the interview, she nods with a satisfied smile on her face, and stands up. She leads me to Carlos’ room for a quick introduction, but he’s already dozing off so we don’t get a chance to exchange more than a few words. As she escorts me outside, she runs her hands down her skirt, smoothing the wrinkles from the fabric, and offers me a warm smile. “Thank you for your time. I hope I didn’t scare you off.” She smiles brightly.
“No, not at all,” I assure her. “Thank you for your time. Have a nice day.”
“You, too.”
“A va, that’s enough.” She is really trying my patience here. “Eat your food.” Scowling, I lean against the counter and wait for her to grab a fork. I rarely raise my voice at her, but sometimes she just doesn’t listen. Instead of eating while the food is still warm, my daughter’s sitting at the table, playing with her dolls.
Ava is your typical four-year-old – cheeky, curious, and easily distracted. I swear if I wasn’t constantly reminding her to eat, she’d live off air and fairy dust. Like she’s not already stick-thin. With her dark-brown, curly hair she is the spitting image of her mother. Like the hair, she also got her full lips and a button nose from her mother. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and I’m so proud to call her my daughter. I really couldn’t wish for a better child. There are moments when she doesn’t do as I say, or she just ignores my request, but what four-year-old does exactly as they are told?
“Yes, Daddy, I’m eating.” She rolls her eyes dramatically and starts braiding her doll’s hair, creating a knotted mess on her head.
“If you don’t finish your meal there won’t be any ice cream.” A warning usually helps.
Ava’s big brown eyes finally shift to me. “What? But you promised.” Her shoulders sink, and she starts to sulk.
“I said you’ll get ice cream after you eat your lunch. It looks like you haven’t even touched anything on the plate yet.”
“Fine.” Ava puts her doll to the side and starts eating. Finally.
While I’m doing the dishes, she manages to empty half the plate. “What would you like to do today? I’m off this afternoon, but I have to work tonight.”
Having just stuffed the last bite of a now lukewarm lunch into her mouth, she manages to mumble “Gazoo!” before she even swallows. That means the zoo in a land of mouthful.
“Don’t talk if there’s food in your mouth.”
“Okay, I won’t, promise. Can we go to the zoo?”
“You sure?” Lately, the only place we’ve been visiting is the local animal park. I swear my little bug is obsessed with animals. Not a day goes by without her bringing some sort of animal in the house – from ladybugs, to other bugs, to spiders, she even wanted to adopt a neighbor’s cat once.
“Yes, Daddy. Can we get ice cream there?”
Like I could ever tell her no. I chuckle, shaking my head. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Go wash up while I wrap up here, and then we’ll go.” I don’t have to say it twice; she’s already half way to the bathroom.
“Daddy, can you take a picture with me and the giraffe?” Ava does her model pose and shows me her pearly whites. “Let’s take a picture together,” she squeals right after. Even though I don’t like getting photographed, I do as she says. I’d do anything for her. A few seconds later, our goofy faces are grinning at us from the screen, eyes bulging and faces twisted. “Dad,” she giggles, “you look like a choking monkey.”
“Monkey, huh?” I ruffle her curls.
“Yes!” She nods gingerly, giggling. “Look at your eyes. Funny.”
“Well, you look like the prettiest butterfly in the whole world.” I press a kiss to her forehead.
“I’m too big to be a butterfly. Can’t you see?” She extends her arms, spinning on her ballet
shoes. “I’m a big girl.”
I couldn’t agree more. Time flies by so fast. Not long ago, she was a baby. Before I know it, she’ll start dating, get married, and leave me. She won’t need me anymore. The thought drives me crazy. Swallowing, I push my thoughts aside. I really don’t need to think about that now.
“Yes, you are a big girl. My big girl. I love you, pumpkin.”
“I love you more, Daddy.” There’s nothing better than hearing her tell me she loves me. It’s an amazing feeling I’ll never get tired of.
After three hours in the zoo, we finally head home. As soon as we step through the front door, Ava kicks off her shoes, washes her hands, and runs to her grandparents to tell them all about our little trip.
At bedtime, I help Ava into her PJs, brush her teeth, and then I tuck her into bed.
“Did you have fun today?” She doesn’t look tired at all, but I know she has to be.
“Uh-huh.” She yawns, squeezing Charlie tight. Charlie is the teddy bear she got when she was born. “Too bad Grandma and Grandpa couldn’t come with us.”
“You know Grandpa had to go see a doctor. He must get checked regularly if we want him to get better.” She knows Grandpa Carlos is sick, she just doesn’t understand why he isn’t healthy yet.
“What if he doesn’t get better? Will he die like Mommy?”
My chest squeezes painfully at her sad little voice; the mention of Anabel, her mother, breaks my heart. Ava is very attached to Carlos, and I have a feeling his condition is worse than Dolores lets on, but I’m telling myself he’s going to get better eventually.
“Grandpa’s a fighter, sweetie,” I gently reassure her. Ava nods, squeezing Charlie tighter. Dolores patched up the teddy bear too many times to count, from re-attaching an amputated leg to sewing a big gap at the bear’s neck, but Ava can’t live without the plushy toy. Grabbing the first children’s book I see, I start reading her a bedtime story. After the princesses are saved and the dragons slayed I close the book and kiss her goodnight. “Love you, pumpkin.”