The Woodsman's Nanny - A Single Daddy Romance

by Emerson Rose

  Gage is already outside. I can hear him shoveling. I go to the window to watch, and I gasp. The snow is so deep! Gage is digging around a small structure outside where the generator is housed, and the snow is up to his waist. It’s taken him a while to walk the few steps around the house shoveling as he goes.

  He is going to need help. I waste no time getting into my snow gear and boots. When I’m about to go outside, I notice my phone on the coffee table and curiosity about what time it is takes me to it, but as I suspected, it’s dead.

  There’s an analog clock in the hall under the stairs, and I go to check it. Eleven o’clock in the morning! Oh my God, I haven’t slept in this late in years not to mention Adley never sleeps past eight o’clock. I should feel refreshed, but we didn’t go to sleep until at least four in the morning. Every muscle in my body aches in the best way, and it feels good to move around and remind them how to flex and stretch. He wanted me sore, and he got what he wanted.

  Outside, I follow his snow path and find him frowning at the generator. “What’s wrong?” I ask. He looks up surprised to see me outside.

  “It looks like someone was out here.”

  “What, in this shed?”

  “Yeah, normally the generator is tripped when the power shuts down, but it’s been disconnected, and I know it wasn’t like this a week ago. I check it regularly in the winter.”

  “Do you think it was the guy from last night?” I ask shifting my weight from one foot to another in the snow trying to keep warm. Even through all of my clothes and snow gear, I feel the chill of the winter up my spine. The wind is ruthless biting at the exposed parts of my face, and the snow is still coming down making it difficult to see.

  “I don’t know. I thought he was pretty shaken up when I told him I was gonna shoot him, but maybe he was trying to get the power to shut off thinking it would bring me outside for a picture.”

  “Maybe.” God, I hope not. “Can you fix it?”

  “Oh yeah, it’s no big deal. I just don’t like that somebody’s been trespassing and tampering with my shit.” He flips a switch, the generator begins to hum, and he closes the door to the shed. “What are you doing outside?”

  “Adley’s asleep in her bed, and I figured you could use some help shoveling.”

  “I’m going to wait until the snow slows down a little. I need to get some wood from the woodshed, though. You can help me carry it inside if you want.”

  “Sure, lead the way.” He takes my hand and places it on the edge of a pocket on the side of his coat.

  “Hold on here, so we stay together. I have to shovel a path to the woodshed as we go.”

  I nod and hold his pocket like a kid while he scoops the heavy, wet snow out of our way. He’s already made a path from the house, so we load our arms with two stacks of wood, his much larger than mine, and trudge toward the house.

  Inside, it’s still freezing. I leave my coat and snow pants on and help him stack the wood in a neat pile next to the fireplace. He goes about starting the fire, and I head to the door to get more wood. It’s going to take a huge fire and constant running heat to warm this big house up.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks when I slide my foot back into one of my boots.

  “To get more wood. It’s artic in here.”

  “No. I don’t want you outside alone. I’ll go in a minute.”

  “Okay, but why?”

  “I don’t like the idea of you being out there alone when somebody’s been creeping around the house. And it’s snowing so hard that you can’t see your hand in front of your face. You might get turned around.”

  “What can I do then?” I want to be helpful and moving around keeps me warm.

  “Do you have cell service?”

  “Nope, it’s dead.”

  “This storm wasn’t supposed to be this bad. I need a weather forecast. In the pantry, there’s a battery-operated weather radio on the top shelf. Can you grab it so we can see what we’re dealing with?”

  “Yeah. I think I should go upstairs and make sure Adley is dressed warmer, too.”

  “Good idea. I can’t believe she’s sleeping this late.”

  “I wonder when she went to her room. I hope she didn’t hear anything last night.”

  “Me, too. She must have been really cold to wake up and take herself to bed.”

  “You don’t think she tried to come into your room, do you?” I ask suddenly concerned that she may have caught her father and me in a compromising position that traumatized her innocence.

  “No, she knows she is supposed to sleep in her own bed no matter what. There was a time when she used to sleep with me every night. Then I read that it will stunt her development, and I kicked her out. I figured she’s already going to be lacking in social skills, and she doesn’t need to add co-dependent sleeping to her problems.”

  “I was thinking…” He looks up and understanding washes over his face.

  “I locked the door unless she knows how to get in another way. She could never have seen us.”

  “Good, that’s a relief. I’ll be right back.” I say climbing the stairs and enjoying the warmth the activity provides me when I reach the top. Maybe I’ll run up and down the steps when I’m done waking her up.

  Quietly, I pad across her room and sit on the edge of her bed. “Adley, honey, it’s time to wake up.”

  “I’m awake,”

  “You are? Why didn’t you come downstairs?”

  “It’s too cold, and I was scared.”

  Her back is to me, and she has the comforter pulled up over her head. I lift it and scoot in to spoon behind her. “Why were you scared, honey?”

  “I woke up downstairs alone. I was so cold, I was going to get into bed with you, but you were gone. I went to Daddy’s room, and his door was locked, so I came in here.”

  Shit. She didn’t see us, but she felt scared and alone—two things her father never wanted her to feel after being left alone in the hospital at birth. It’s an irrational guilt, of course. She was an infant in the NICU, and she had no idea she was alone.

  Gage wouldn’t see it that way, though. “You were scared because you couldn’t find us?”

  “Uh huh. Daddy never locks his door at night.”

  “You know what, Adley?”

  “What?”

  “I’m a big believer in honesty, so I’m going to tell you what happened so you will understand, okay?” She nods. “Last night you looked so comfortable and sweet, your daddy didn’t want to disturb you, and he wanted to talk to me. We went upstairs to his bedroom, and he locked the door so we would have some privacy. We fell asleep, and he forgot to unlock the door. When we woke up, it was freezing in the house because the storm knocked out the power. I’m very sorry, we should have put you in your bed, and your daddy should have unlocked the door in case there was an emergency.”

  She turns onto her back and looks at me. “Were you and daddy kissing?”

  “Yes, a little.”

  “You’re not leaving?”

  “No, of course not. Is that what you thought, that I left?”

  “Uh huh. I love you, Clover. I don’t want you to go even if some stupid man took Daddy’s picture.”

  I smile down at her beautiful little face full of Gage’s expressions. I wonder what her mother looked like, and then I wonder if she knows what her mother looked like.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” I squeeze her, and she smiles.

  “Hey, I have a question for you.”

  “What?”

  “Do you have a picture of your mom?”

  “Yeah, in a picture book. Daddy doesn’t like me to keep it in a frame. I think it makes his heart hurt too much.”

  Another tiny piece of my heart breaks for this little girl who has lost so much in her life. “Can I see it?” I ask, and her eyes light up.

  “Yes, I’ll get it.” She jumps out of bed and crouches down to open the bottom drawer of her dresser. She pu
lls out a huge white photo album and lugs it to the bed flopping it onto the mattress. She crawls up and burrows under the covers with me to look at it.

  Inside the first page is her mother’s senior photo from high school. She’s beautiful with her long, blonde hair, big ocean-blue eyes, and flawless skin. She’s dressed in a bright red sweater that accents her fair complexion as well as her ruby red lips.

  “She was very beautiful. You look just like her.”

  “I do? Daddy says I look like him, but I don’t wanna look like a boy.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t mean you look like a boy. He means you have his expressions and some parts of you resemble him but in a feminine way, you know, like a girl.”

  “But you think I look like my mommy?”

  “I do.” We spend some time flipping through the photo album. Toward the end, there are more and more pictures of Gage with Constance. Someone, I’m not sure if it was him or her, documented their whole relationship from dating to their wedding to her pregnancy, and then it suddenly ends.

  “That’s me inside my mommy’s belly in this picture,” she says pointing at a picture of a very pregnant Constance standing outside an arena surrounded by people moving heavy equipment, guys smoking cigarettes, and groupies in a dirty, cold parking lot. She looks beautiful, but tired and uncomfortable. I can see why Gage feels guilty about dragging his wife around the world in her condition.

  It couldn’t have been fun, but she did it for him because she loved him.

  “Ladies, are you coming down for breakfast?” Gage calls up the stairs.

  “Are you warm enough to go downstairs for breakfast?” I ask her.

  “Yeah, I think so. We can take my comforter with us.”

  “Okay, come on.” Downstairs, Gage is in the kitchen attempting to make breakfast without using the power and opening up the refrigerator as little as possible. Occasionally, he gives the coffeepot a longing glance while he pours two bowls of cereal and slides them across the granite to us.

  It’s a little warmer, the fire is roaring, and I can’t feel the cold wood of the floor through my socks anymore. “I was going to make you pancakes, but I think we should let the generator make the house warm before we start doing other things.”

  “That’s okay, Daddy, I like cereal.” Adley digs in stuffing a huge bite into her mouth.

  “Me, too. This is fine.” I’m not very hungry anyway. The guilt of that photographer is wreaking havoc in my stomach.

  “Me and Clover looked at pictures of Mommy,” Adley says chewing her giant mouthful of cereal. “She says I look just like Mommy. How come you say I look like you, Daddy?”

  “Well, I believe I said you have your mommy’s features and my expressions.”

  “That’s what I told her, too.”

  “Uh huh, so when I smile like this…” she pauses her chewing to smile a toothy, fruity pebble smile. “I look like you. And when I get my picture taken, I look like Mommy.”

  He pauses to look at her seeing his beloved wife as he must every time he looks into her eyes. Adley senses this and swallows her food. “Daddy, does it make you sad to see me?”

  An instant frown wrinkles his brow, and he rounds the island placing his hands on her shoulders to look her straight in the eyes. “I feel only joy and happiness when I look at you, baby. Nothing else, just joy and happiness, do you understand?”

  She nods her head, and I can tell he is fighting back tears.

  “Hey, what do you say we work on your project today since we can’t do anything else?” I ask in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  “I have the lyrics for that figured out. You want to hear them?”

  “Yeah, right now, sing it, Daddy, sing it!” Adley says bouncing up and down in her seat.

  “Finish your breakfast first.” He gives the coffee pot another look. “I don’t think I can wait until the house warms up for coffee. You want a cup?” he asks me.

  “Yes,” I let out a relieved breath. “I thought you’d never ask. I can’t work on a fire safety report with no caffeine in my system.”

  I watch him walk across the kitchen and prepare a pot of very strong coffee. He turns and leans his hips against the counter watching me eat while the coffee brews. I take a spoonful of cereal and chew. He smiles suggestively, and I wonder what he’s up to.

  “What?” I ask not expecting an answer from the look in his eyes.

  “Nothing, just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “My song,” Adley says butting in.

  “Yes, her song,” he says. “What did you think?” He smirks, and it’s as sexy as it is irritating. There should be a word for that, sexitating. Yes. I like it. His smirk is extremely sexitating.

  The aroma of coffee fills the kitchen, and my stomach growls even though it’s full of cereal. It wants coffee as bad as my poor brain does. When it’s done, he pours us both a cup and slides one across the island to me.

  We drink our coffee, and when Adley is finished with her cereal, she drops her spoon into her bowl with a loud clank. “I’m done, let’s sing!”

  “Okay,” I laugh. “Let’s go.”

  Gage rinses our bowls and leads the way to the music room where he selects an acoustic guitar off the wall where all of his guitars are mounted. He sits down on a stool.

  “Okay, I didn’t have to change the lyrics much. Just a few words here and there. It’s the perfect song for this. I’ll sing Aretha’s lyrics, and you two come in and give me some back-up on the just a little bit parts, okay?”

  “Yes, got it.”

  “Just a little bit, I can do that,” Adley says with confidence. He looks at me for confirmation.

  “Got it, no problem.”

  “All right, it goes like this,” he says beginning to play Aretha Franklin’s anthem for women, Respect, changing the words to advocate fire safety.

  When our part comes up, he points at us, and we sing, “Just a little bit,” as he told us to.

  He sings a quick line and points at us again. “Just a little bit,” we sing again and giggle when he makes a goofy face. He continues to play the song strumming along with his guitar until we have a pretty good rendition for her project.

  Actually, it’s a lot better than pretty good, it’s great. Smokey the Bear should use it in a forest fire safety campaign to ward off the crazy pyromaniacs who set forest fires.

  “Now we need to make the giant match!”

  “Yep, let’s get on it.”

  “I’m going out to clear some of the snow around the house. Work on your backup singing, and we can record that rendition tonight.”

  “What’s rendition, Daddy?”

  “It’s like our version. We didn’t write an original song, we just changed the words around a little bit.”

  “Oh, like Kidz Bop?”

  “Yes, just like that.” Gage looks at me with a you see expression, and I shrug. I never said she wasn’t perceptive.

  “Okay, why don’t you show me where that cardboard box is at in the garage so we can make the match.”

  “It’s on the workbench, come on,” she says taking my hand and dragging me through the house to the garage door. Gage uses the garage to store snowmobiles, a boat, and a truck that I’ve never seen him drive. He must keep it for an emergency and for towing the fishing boat to the water in the spring.

  She flips the light switch, and we walk around the truck when I hear a whimper. I reach out and rest my hand on her shoulder keeping her from going any further. “Did you hear that?” I ask.

  “Uh huh, it sounded like an animal.”

  “Do you ever get animals in the garage?”

  “We had a raccoon one time. Daddy had to get it out with a shovel.”

  Shit. Raccoons? They can be nasty if they’re in a bad mood. “We better go inside and wait for your dad. Raccoons can be aggressive if they feel threatened.” I take a step backward and hear the sound again along with clicks of claws on the concrete coming in our direction. “Hurry, I thi
nk it’s coming our way.” I put her in front of me and start herding her toward the door that leads into the house.

  When we reach the door, I turn around to take one last glance at the raccoon and stop in my tracks. “Wait, hang on.” I grab her hand. “It’s a dog.”

  The dog is staring at us with giant sad eyes. He’s filthy and a little on the skinny side, but he’s wearing a blue collar with a tag on it. “Looks like a stray. How did you get way up here, boy?” I ask easing toward the trembling dog. It lowers its head to the ground looking up at me as if to ask for help. “Daddy says don’t touch animals you don’t know cuz they bite and have diseases.”

  “He’s right, but this isn’t a wild animal, and he’s stuck in your garage. He has a collar, and I think he has a tag.” I offer my hand to the dog to smell, and he gives it a once-over before he belly crawls to me. I scratch the top of his dirty head briefly and turn his collar to see his name on the tag.

  “Ollie,” I read. “Is that your name, boy?” His ears perk up.

  “That’s it, his name is Ollie. How’d he get in here?” Adley asks.

  “I have no idea. There’s no phone number on this collar. No phone number on a dog ID tag is stupid. It kind of defeats the whole purpose.”

  “I’m gonna go get Daddy,” Adley says leaving me alone with Ollie.

  “Did you get lost, boy? Couldn’t find your way home, so you’re hiding out in here?” He whines again, and I give his head another pat. A few minutes later, she returns with Gage.

  “Shit, how’d he get in here?” he says when he sees the poor dog.

  “Do you know who he belongs to?” I ask.

  “No, but it’s a domestic dog, and I don’t know anybody with a dog that lives around here.”

  “Maybe he was dumped off and made his way up here?”

  “Is that a collar?”

  “Yes, his name is Ollie, but there is no contact information.”

  “I can’t see dumping a dog and leaving his collar on.”

  “True, that would be weird.”

  “Is he injured?”

  “I don’t know. Do you want me to see if he will come inside?” I don’t know if he wants the dirty mutt in his house. I don’t even know if he’s an animal lover or not.