by Tiana Cole
“A little info would help. Were the children close to her? That probably has a lot to do with their behavior.”
“Not at all. They hardly saw her, and when they did, she insisted they call her ‘Lynne’ instead of ‘Mommy’. She went along with my plans to hire a surrogate, and I thought everything was fine. She was big into fashion, and I thought she just didn’t want to wreck her body. When we found out her eggs weren’t viable, we found a donor that looked enough like Lynne to make it work, and she didn’t seem to care.”
“So the kids aren’t related to Nichelle at all?”
“No. And they’re not related to Lynne. The only biological relative they have is me. We paid Nichelle extra to nurse the children until they were over a year old. She got implanted with Tanner shortly after Tara’s first birthday, so she stayed here. It was just easier on her and on us. I had no idea that Lynne wasn’t interested in them until after Nichelle weaned Tanner. Once Nichelle had left and Lynne was alone with the children and the nannies she couldn’t take it. She started getting involved in more and more charities and ladies’ clubs until she was never home. Then one day, she accused me of loving the children more than her and I told her of course I did. They’re children. My children. She gave me an ultimatum: Her or the children.” He shook his head. “Like I could just walk away from them like that without a backward glance. I told her she was free to leave.”
“Was Nichelle still here when this happened?”
I felt uncomfortable talking about her when she was in the room, but it was easier to ask Taylor.
“No. She was nice enough to come back when Lynne first left. But she has to leave and I need to move on with my life. We have to get used to our ‘new normal’, no matter how abnormal it seems to anyone else. No one can wrap their heads around a woman walking away from her children, but this is our reality. I can’t change that, so I have to move on and work with what I have.”
He sat back, his face clouded with exhaustion. The reality was stranger than I’d imagined. No wonder the children were out of control. They had more to process than most adults could handle.
Sad eyes locked on mine, and I could see the hurt on his face.
“Can you help me please, Zeya? I just want my family to be happy and healthy. My kids already lost their mother. I don’t want them to grow up to resent me for that. I did everything I could to keep her, but she hated them. I couldn’t choose her over them. There’s no way I could walk away like she did.”
I felt bad for him, and I regretted jumping on him…a little. He should have been honest with me.
“I can’t have you keeping anything else from me,” I said. “I know this is hard, but you have to be honest with me.”
“Done. I’ll do anything.”
I turned to Nichelle.
“When are you leaving?”
“I told Taylor I would give him another month, but I’m ready to leave. I have a life too.”
Taylor looked surprised by her words, but said nothing. Men in his position rarely considered the needs of others, and it was likely that he had never even touched on the possibility of Nichelle having more to do than help him. What an eye-opening moment for him.
“If you’re going to leave anyway, it’s better if you leave now. If we start changing things tomorrow and you leave in a week, the upheaval is going to throw the kids off. Better to do it now. It will make the process easier.”
Taylor spoke low in French to her, and Nichelle smiled.
“I can go?”
“Yes.”
Nichelle stood up.
“I go say goodbye to the children and I go,” she said in broken English.
She hugged me and Taylor and all but skipped out of the room.
“She’s wanted to leave for a long time,” he explained, “but she felt responsible for the children she helped us bring into the world.”
“The kids will be okay. I was going to point out that their bond with their mother was stilted, but since she’s not who I thought she was, it doesn’t matter.”
“I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why I thought you would just know. I hate talking about Lynne. It’s so painful.”
“I understand.”
“So what is the plan?” he asked. “How are we going to fix this?”
“Well, first thing, we have to talk about what you’re doing wrong and what you need to do better.”
“That’s what I signed up for. Don’t pull any punches, I’m ready.”
“For starters, everything that Tanner gets blamed for isn’t his fault.”
“Okay?”
“Tara rolls her food under his chair when you’re not looking, and the glass vase in the downstairs hallway? That was Tara too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Saw her with my own two eyes.”
“Why is she doing that?”
“That’s actually an easy question to answer, for both kids. They do what they do because they want your attention and they need safety.”
“They’re safe here.”
“It’s not that kind of safety. It’s an umbrella term. Kids push boundaries to make sure you’re still taking care of them. When they misbehave and you respond in a calm, clear and consistent manner, you teach them that you are a safe space. They know they can depend on you.”
“How do I do that?”
“Well,” I began, knowing that the changes I was about to put into place were going to be tough. “You have to start by not taking their misbehavior personally. They lash out because they know you love them and you won’t leave. It seems counterintuitive, but that’s just how kids are.”
I stopped, giving him a moment to let it all sink in. He stood and started to walkout of the room. I called out to him, “Where are you going?”
“I need a pen and some paper. I have a feeling you’re just getting started.”
I laughed. Taylor Stephens never ceased to surprise me.
Chapter 5
Taylor
I walked back into the room, pen and paper in hand, and I stopped, dumbstruck by the sight of Zeya sitting there before me. Her hair shown in the sunlight. Curly and soft, the sunlight gave her dark brown locks a reddish tint that accentuated her medium skin tone and flawless complexion. She wore another pair of those leggings that hugged curves that begged to be touched. The bright, geometric shapes drew my eye and were the perfect addition to her effortless good looks. She’d skipped shoes today, choosing to go barefoot in the house. I wasn’t surprised to see that her toes were painted a lively shade of mint green.
Zeya was sitting on the couch where I’d left her, but there was something different about her. She’d been so feisty, standing up to me and putting me in my place like a naughty child. Now she was toned down a little, all business and ready to move forward. I had expected this experience to be emasculating, and for her to attack my parenting mistakes and to make me feel like a complete failure. Instead, she was here, on my side, fighting for my family with me.
I knew that didn’t mean she was going to stop being tough on me, and I was grateful for that. Of course, she was right, I had been so wrapped up in making up for their mother’s lacking that I’d spoiled my kids and let them run amok. I knew that, and I’m sure that the people around me knew that, yet no one had ever stood up to me like that before. And here she was, curvy but a little short, with a softness about her that children were instantly drawn to, yet she refused to back down when challenged. This was a woman who knew what she wanted and how she expected things to go and refused to back down when she was right.
I admired that in her, even if the challenge to my ego was something I wasn’t used to.
She was writing something in that little notebook of hers, completely unaware that I stood in the doorway watching her.
The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating her where she sat. Like an angel sent to save my family, she was hunched over her notes, teeth biting down on her lower lip while she worked out the
best way to approach our problems.
I could see why children loved her. She was approachable and kind, fun and feisty. I shook my head, trying to get myself back in the game. Zeya had a job to do, and I doubted she was one to mix business with pleasure.
“Are you going to sit down, or are you going to stand there staring all day?”
Her words shocked me. She hadn’t even bothered looking up from her notebook. How long had she been aware of my staring?
I cleared my throat, deciding that saying nothing was preferable to stammering over a disingenuous apology. I wasn’t sorry I’d been staring. I was only sorry that she’d caught me.
I took a seat on the sofa across from her, pulling a low coffee table in front of myself so I could write. There was a lot of work to do, and I knew I wasn’t about to get off easy. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t blame my ex for everything. In truth, Lynne hadn’t been home enough to do much of anything with the children, let alone cause the behavior issues they were having. No, this mess was mostly of my doing, and I was the one who had to fix it.
“First,” Zeya said, “we need to start with consistency. You have a lot of hired help here who step in when needed and—”
“I’ll make them stop.”
Dark eyes flashed as she looked up from her notes. Her dark eyes mesmerized me, but her tight lips and flushed skin told me I’d done something wrong.
“Don’t interrupt me, please.”
“I’m sorry.”
Why did I apologize? I’m Taylor Stephens, and she’s my employee. I didn’t need to be sorry for speaking up. Did I?
“If you can’t be courteous and respectful,” she chided, “you can’t expect your children to be either. I will give you a chance to speak. But when I’m speaking, you’re listening. I’m here to help you, not to kiss your ass and tell you you’re doing everything right. If that’s what you’re looking for, find someone else because I’m not that woman and never will be.”
Heat rose in my neck and cheeks, but I pushed the anger down. She was right, though I was loathe to admit it. In this world, she called the shots. I felt completely like I needed to be on the defensive and that, in turn, made me feel weak. Never in my life had anyone ever spoken to me like that.
I took deep breaths, willing my temper to control itself. Not that I thought an outburst would frighten her. On the contrary, I was certain she would rise to the challenge without fear. And she would win. Better to bow out now while I was still ahead.
When I could trust myself to speak, I gave her my most apologetic smile, trying to smooth over my blunder.
“I’m sorry, and you’re absolutely right. Please continue. It won’t happen again.”
I waited while she regarded me, eyes squinting and lips pulled tight. I kept my smile friendly and continued to wait patiently. She finally went back to her notebook and carried on as if the last five minutes hadn’t happened.
“Your hired help steps in when needed. This is a good thing. Children need a village, and having several adults who they can turn to for guidance, help, and love is a wonderful thing. Especially in this kind of situation.”
She paused for a moment, but I had nothing to add. I was trying to wrap my head around what she’d just said. If the hired help stepping in and parenting wasn’t bad, what was I missing?
“The thing that needs to change,” she went on, reading my mind, “is that none of the adults are parenting the same way. Everyone in this house needs to be on the same page at all times. Your maid can’t sneak the kids sweets when they refuse to eat their dinner, and the butler can’t engage them with silly faces while they’re on time out.”
That was hard to hear and something I hadn’t even considered. I was a little embarrassed that something so obvious had completely gone unnoticed. I took a deep breath, the pieces finally falling into place. Of course all the adults had to be on the same page. What kind of mixed signals were the children getting when I laid down the law and someone else came behind me and undid what I’d done?
“But it goes both ways,” Zeya continued. “If you’re going to expect the other adults to step in when necessary, then you can’t come home from work and throw your two cents into the mix without knowing what’s going on. Like you did when you got home today. Nichelle was dealing with a fight between the two children that Tara had started, but you walked in the door, heard fighting and sent Tanner to his room. It was actually Tara who was in the wrong, and Nichelle knew that.”
She let that sit for a moment. The weight of what I’d done was heavier than a ton of bricks. Once again, I’d assumed my daughter was in the right and punished Tanner for Tara’s misbehavior. What did that teach her? That she could do whatever she wanted and someone else would get blamed? I couldn’t do that to her. I’d only be turning her into Lynne by doing that. And I knew all too well what the future would hold for someone like that.
And what was it teaching my son? That I would always side with his sister? I felt like a complete ass.
“Care to share your thoughts?” she asked, her voice soft and reassuring.
“I’m realizing I’ve been going about this all wrong. I’ve been trying to make up for what Tara lost when Lynne walked out. I’ve been coddling her and trying to be the dad I thought she needed, but I’ve been making it worse. And poor Tanner. He’s so rowdy, it was really easy to assume he was the one who broke something, or started a fight, or any number of things. I’ve been teaching Tara that she’s above reproach, and Tanner that he’s always at fault, even when he did nothing wrong.” Shaking my head, I added, “I can’t believe I’ve been so blind to what’s really going on in my own home.”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was so good at business and cutting through the bullshit to find the meat of a problem. But my own home was a disaster and I was to blame.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I felt her hip brush against me as she sat down beside me. The touch was casual, a simple gesture that was automatic for people like Zeya, who were more nurturing. My skin felt hot beneath her touch, but I ignored my reaction to her closeness. She was providing comfort and offering nothing more. My growing attraction to her was my problem.
And what a fool I was to even consider dating when the wound Lynne had ripped into my heart was still so fresh. Now was not the time for another relationship, and I doubted Zeya wanted to be that woman, regardless.
I pulled myself together and patted her hand.
“Thank you. I feel like a complete ass.”
“You’re not. You’ve been through a lot yourself, in addition to the challenges that you and the children face together. It really is hard to see our situations clearly when we’re in the moment. Our emotions cloud things, and what is obvious to others is a complete surprise to us. It doesn’t make you an ass, it makes you human, and that’s a good thing. Children don’t want a perfect dad. They want a dad who is just as imperfect as they are.”
“Of course they do,” I said, but I still felt defeated. “So what do we do now?”
“Now, we figure out what we’re going to do and we create a plan. We stick with the plan and we get everyone in the house onboard. When we are all working together toward a common goal, you’re going to see an amazing improvement.”
“So we’re not beyond help?”
She smiled and shook her head.
“Not even close. I’ve seen so much worse. What I’m seeing is normal reactions to a life that’s been full of upheaval lately. Your children are delightful and they are good children. They’re just acting out because they can’t process their lives right now. With a little consistency and structure, they can start to feel safe enough to share their feelings on the loss of Lynne and Nichelle leaving as well. Once they can voice their sadness, they can start to heal.”
I nodded. I didn’t really know what else to say. Zeya was tough and straightforward, which was perfect. But she was so much more. Her compassion and empathy for my family and our situation was al
most overwhelming. We weren’t just a job to her. I could tell that raising children was a passion for her.
“You’re really good at this,” I said, mentally kicking myself at how trite the words sounded.
“Thank you.”
She stood up, giving my shoulder one final squeeze before she stepped away to sit across from me again.
“You must be a pretty awesome mom to grow up with.”
“I don’t have children.”
I was shocked. How could she not have children? She didn’t say anything else, but something in her posture told me that I’d screwed up. Again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch on a sore subject.”
She shook her head, her smile returning, but it lacked the luster it once had. The pain of being childless ran deeper than just not having any yet. I felt like an ass for bringing up something that obviously caused her so much pain, but it had never occurred to me that New York’s own super nanny would be childless.
“It’s not your fault. A lot of people assume I have children. But I don’t.”
She let out a big sigh, staring at her hands for a moment and lost in thought. I was afraid to say anything, afraid my foot would get lodge so deeply in my mouth that I’d never be able to get it out. So I waited and let her run her internal dialog without interference.
I was surprised when she continued, but I settled in to listen just the same. I guess I wasn’t the only one with baggage to work through.
“I was married once, but it didn’t work out. He hated children and thought that I would always feel complete looking after other people’s children. When I brought up having children of our own, he balked. I confronted him about it, and he admitted that he’d lied about wanting a big family. I was crushed, and eventually our marriage tanked. He lied to get me to marry him and then crushed my dreams of being a mother without so much as an apology. I couldn’t forgive him for that.”
She looked at me, her eyes sad and broken.
“You shouldn’t have to forgive someone for that. He didn’t love you if he thought that lying to you like that was a good way to start a relationship.”