“All right,” Callie said slowly, “I can see that.”
"As for the other part of your question," Finn continued, a wistful look coming into his eyes that she couldn't remember having seen there before, "that's got nothing to do with clowns. There's one reason I love the rodeo above all else, and nothing can hold a candle to it."
"What's that?" Callie asked, suddenly breathless at this impending new revelation. She was pretty sure she had learned more about what actually made Finn tick in the last couple hours than she’d ever expected to know in a lifetime, and she found herself slightly dizzy with the knowledge.
"Freedom," he said, his voice adopting the reverential tone one was most likely to hear in church. "The wide-open world. That's what my old man gave me when he gave me rodeo. I saw more things in the time it took me to grow up than most people will see in a lifetime. There's something about that kind of freedom that gets under your skin. It gets its hooks in you, makes it so you don't ever want to give it up again. I'm probably not making any sense—"
“No,” she interrupted quickly, blushing at the sound of her own enthusiasm but forging ahead nevertheless, “I think it makes perfect sense. When you put it that way, it’s hard to believe more people don’t run off and join the rodeo.”
Finn rolled his eyes and reached out to ruffle her hair. She could tell he thought she was joking, and she was content to let him go right on thinking it. In her heart of hearts, though, she was shaken, and badly. She had spent more time than she liked to admit reminding herself that she couldn’t have both her desires for her future and a life with Finn. For the first time, though, she was starting to think that her vision for her life and what Finn wanted for his own weren’t so far apart from each other after all. The notion should have had her doing an internal happy dance. Instead, she was so terrified, she was almost sick. Because, for the first time, it seemed possible that what she was doing with Finn might actually be real.
Seventeen
"Hey there, honey, what've you got cooking? You and my little girl gonna go and find some trouble while I finally get some work done?"
“Sure are,” Callie said with a smile, glancing over her shoulder at Finn, who was watching her backside appreciatively as she finished up the last of the breakfast dishes.
She certainly didn't mind him taking in the view, much as she might pretend to if he were to ask. She was more bothered by the way he brought up finally having a chance to work as if having them underfoot was getting in the way of him tackling what needed doing. She had half a mind to remind him that, as of late, he had been the one coming up with the distractions. Instead, she only smiled at him, biting back any of the more pointed things she might be tempted to say. In the end, there was no need for them to argue. He had the whole day planned out so that he could go back to the rodeo and show the managers some of the skills he'd spent his free time honing. As for Callie and Wendy, it was Thursday, also known as their new favorite day of the week.
“So?” he asked, snapping a dish towel at her playfully, then ducking out of the way when she lobbed a sponge in retaliation. “Lay it on me, sister. What are you and my little sweet pea going to get up to?”
“I’ll give you a hint,” she said, looking at him through narrowed, contemplative eyes. “It’s Thursday.”
“It is,” he said slowly, “which is Thor’s day. I’ve got it! You’re going to get her started on the Marvel movies?”
"What?" she scoffed, feigning exasperation. "No! She's way too young for that nonsense."
“Whoa,” he said, holding up both hands in a warding-off gesture, “you be careful what you call nonsense. Those are my boys we’re talking about.”
"Well, then, by all means, apologize for me next time you see them. In the meantime, I'll be taking your little girl to story hour at the library."
“That’s right,” Finn laughed, braving her next sponge throw to pull her in for a kiss. He had been getting increasingly reckless with that kind of thing as of late, almost as if he didn’t care whether Wendy was around to see or not. She liked his attention, she would have been lying to herself if she’d said she didn’t, but she only allowed him to hold on to her for a second before gently pulling away. Wendy had only recently started to seem content with the way things were with her father. The last thing the child needed was somebody throwing a wrench into things and making them more confusing.
“It really is the best story time,” Callie said, smoothing down her hair and trying not to see the hungry glint in Finn’s eye when he looked at her. “It’s seriously our favorite part of the week. I’m not sure which of us would be more depressed if we missed it, Wendy or me.”
“All right, all right,” Finn sighed, his hands sliding into his pockets, “I can take a hint. You two go on, get yourselves ready for the stories. I’ve got work of my own to tackle. Can’t let my head get turned every time a pretty girl crosses my path, else I’ll never get anything done.”
“Wiser words were never spoken,” Callie said dryly.
He waggled his eyebrows at her in return, then sauntered out of the kitchen and headed toward the barn.
Callie tried not to think about that last comment as she got Wendy dressed and buckled into the car. Try as she might, she couldn't figure out where Finn was coming from. Each time she saw him lately, he seemed happier than the last, that brooding, guarded version of himself from their end-of-the year conference all but gone. Even so, it seemed as if he was also making little comments about the distraction she posed with greater frequency, even as he made it clear that he could hardly keep his hands off her. She sighed, turning the thing over and over again in her head as she pulled the car into one of the last open parking spots at the library and put it in park. Women may have had a reputation for being hard to figure out, but in Callie's humble opinion, men were every bit as bad.
“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered to herself, checking her lip gloss in the rearview mirror before climbing out of the car to unbuckle Wendy from her safety seat. “Shake it off.”
“What are we shaking?” Wendy giggled, squirming with story-hour excitement. “I wanna shake!”
"And shake you shall, bug," Callie smiled. "I'll put some music on when we drive back, and we can both shake all the way home. But first, story time, okay?"
"Okay!" Wendy shouted, pumping her little fists in the air enthusiastically. Callie caught the eye of one of the mothers walking her child in for the same story hour, and the two adults smiled the conspiratorial smile of parents secretly delighting in their child's strangeness. Callie felt a pang deep inside when she remembered that Wendy wasn't actually hers, but she determined to shake that off, too. She still had plenty of time with the little girl, certainly enough to make it count. There was no point in getting emotional about her departure before it was absolutely necessary. Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was put a damper on their Thursday ritual. First, story hour, and if they were feeling particularly adventurous, maybe a stop at the snow cone stand on the way back home. For the moment, life was good.
Callie ushered Wendy through the local library's double front doors, the two of them falling into line behind a group of squirmy, excited kids. The woman who read to the children on Thursdays was not only new, she was truly excellent at capturing and keeping the kids' attention, and her reputation had spread. Callie was lucky to find a spot for them toward the back of the room, sitting cross-legged amid a sea of small, expectant faces. She slipped her cell phone out of her purse, feeling a little excited herself. Today, the children's librarian was reading Where the Wild Things Are. It had always been a particular favorite of Callie’s when she was a little girl and she hoped Wendy would feel the same way.
“Shoot,” she muttered, looking at her phone’s screen. Her new job’s number waited there, a blinking missed call that brought her impending departure all too clearly into focus. She frowned and glanced up to scan the crowd for anyone she knew well enough to watch Wendy for a moment while she stepped ou
tside.
"Shoot what?" Wendy asked from her place in Callie's lap, lounging backward as if she were sitting in a recliner and not on another human being. "What's shooting?"
“Nothing, sweetie,” Callie answered, careful to keep her voice lighthearted despite the way her heart was thundering unpleasantly in her chest. “I just need to return a phone call really quickly.”
“I can keep an eye on her,” a woman named Dolores said, leaning over and speaking in hushed tones. “Lord knows, you’ve done it for me enough times when I needed a little breather.”
"Thanks," Callie answered gratefully, already rising onto legs that felt a little too wobbly for comfort. "I'll be back in a jiffy. It's just a work thing."
Wendy slid off her lap, shooting her a curious, almost too-knowing look, but Callie pretended not to see. She eased herself out of the reading room and back out into the harsh sun, her hands shaking as she hit the button to return the call.
“Don’t be silly,” she chastised herself, jumping at the sound of the first ring. “It’s probably nothing. I bet they need me to fill out some kind of a form, that’s all. They—”
"Hello?" A woman's voice sprang to life, blaring through the phone's speaker so loudly that Callie almost dropped the phone. "Hello, this is Catherine DeBeers from the Hawthorne School in New York. How may I help you?"
“Ah, yes,” Callie stammered, wanting to kick herself for sounding so unprofessional. She didn’t know what she had been expecting when she hit the call return, but it certainly hadn’t been to find herself connected with her new school’s director after only the second ring. “Yes, hello, this is Callie Winter. I’m returning a call?”
“Ah, yes!” Mrs. DeBeer cried happily, her voice so full of feeling that Callie could practically see her smile across the distance that lay between them. “Thank you so much for the prompt callback. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time.”
“Sure,” Callie said, her voice full of a brightness she didn’t feel. Truth be told, talking to Mrs. DeBeere was about the last thing she wanted to do right now, but she couldn’t exactly say that to her future boss. She had a pretty good idea that begging off in favor of a children’s story hour would be a primetime example of how to start off on the wrong foot with a new employer.
“Wonderful,” Mrs. DeBeere exclaimed, her voice loud and full of an excitement Callie couldn’t hope to match, “then I’ll just dive right in, shall I?”
“Sure,” Callie answered hesitantly, trying very hard to fight off the feeling she’d landed herself in a previously unaired episode of The Twilight Zone.
“I’m calling because I’ve got a proposal for you, one that I hope you will find as exciting as I do. And please keep in mind from the outset that you will be appropriately compensated for any extra trouble this may cause you, should you choose to take me up on my idea.”
“All right,” Callie said slowly. “Thank you.”
"Right," Mrs. DeBeere said matter-of-factly, her tone shifting to let Callie know that it was time to get down to business, "here it is. I've been thinking, and I would very much like it if you could come to New York a little earlier than we’d first discussed."
“Earlier?” Callie repeated, feeling foolish but unsure of what else to do. “How much earlier?”
"A full month, actually, if I have my way. You should know that I usually do, too. Have my way, that is."
“A month,” Callie said in a choked voice. “Wow, that’s definitely earlier.”
"It is," Mrs. DeBeere agreed, "but I honestly think it's for the best. I have the feeling you're going to fit in perfectly with the different direction I have envisioned for the school, and I would like you here right from the start when the rest of us are sitting around having our planning sessions. An extra month would mean that you could really hit the ground running, you see? It's imperative that you understand the structure of our institution before the children ever walk into your classroom. Assimilation is key, and that takes time."
“Right,” Callie said, groping for words. “I certainly see what you’re saying. Unfortunately, I won’t have a place to live lined up in time to do a thing like that, and I can’t really afford to live in a hotel for a month.”
"Well, no." Callie's future boss laughed merrily as if this were the funniest thing she had ever heard. "I would think not, what with a teacher's salary and all. But please know, I've taken your living arrangements into consideration. We've got some really lovely housing near the campus, and for a wonder, we've actually got some available. All I would require from you is a check sent in good faith. You will receive the housing at a discount, and we can see to it that compensation is not expected until you start receiving your paycheck. Let it never be said that we are not flexible, Ms. Winter."
Callie could only nod in reply, although Mrs. DeBeere couldn't see the motion through the phone. Her head was absolutely spinning. Somewhere across town was a man she might very well be falling for who was relying on her to see things through until the end of the summer as she had promised. Inside the library, Wendy waited for her to return, trusting that she would be there, trusting that she could be relied upon. Callie liked to think of herself as a calm, steady person, but the mere thought of being pulled in so many different directions made her feel that she was coming apart at the seams. Her chest felt too tight, and it occurred to her that she might finally have been pushed to her breaking point.
“Ms. Winter?” Mrs. DeBeere squawked into the phone line, heedless of the turmoil roiling inside of Callie as she spoke. “Ms. Winter, are you still there?”
“Yes,” Callie answered weakly, “I’m still here. I’m just trying to think everything through. May I have a day or two to think it over? I have some commitments here that I’ll need to look into wrapping up before I can think about moving early.”
“Of course,” Mrs. DeBeere answered abruptly, a good portion of her former cheeriness flying right out the window. “That’s understandable, I suppose. If I may offer a word of advice though. Don’t think for too long. It’s the people who spend too much time thinking and not enough time doing that wake up one day to find that life has passed them by.”
Callie might have laughed if she hadn’t felt so much like crying. Mrs. DeBeere had hit the nail on the head. Life, passing her by while she wasn’t paying attention, was exactly what she was afraid of.
Eighteen
"Are we shaking yet?" Wendy yelled from the back seat, her feet kicking exuberantly as she bopped up and down. "You said we were shaking on the way home!"
“That’s right,” Callie agreed, glancing distractedly into her rearview mirror and giving Wendy a half-hearted smile, “we absolutely did. What do you feel like shaking to?”
"Taylor Swift!" Wendy shouted back without a moment's hesitation.
Callie rolled her eyes, but she was more than happy to pull up the album on her phone. She was willing to do just about anything to make Wendy happy—within reason, of course—and if that meant Taylor Swift, then so be it. She wanted Wendy happy, holding onto her latest treasure from the library tightly, but she also wanted to be allowed to be quiet. After the conversation she'd just had with Mrs. DeBeere, she wasn't sure she was going to be able to muster up the kind of enthusiasm Wendy was looking for.
The pop music was enough to keep Wendy occupied for the whole ride back to the ranch, a fortunate surprise that made Callie count herself lucky. Guiding the car down the bumpy road to the house, she was surprised to find that her luck hadn’t stopped with the power of the Swift.
“Will you look at that, Wendy?” she asked, throwing the car into park and trying to ignore the way her heart fluttered at the mere sight of Finn’s beat-up old truck. “Seems we’ve got another treat in store today.”
“Daddy!” Wendy shrieked, her voice reaching a pitch that verged on eardrum-shattering. “Daddy’s home today!”
“He is,” Callie answered, wrinkling her nose and wondering exactly why that might be. “Why don’t w
e go inside and see what that’s about?”
“Okie-dokie,” Wendy said with a shrug, swinging her legs wildly while she waited to be set free from the car. “Maybe he’ll read to me, do you think?”
“That’s a good question, kiddo,” Callie answered thoughtfully, opening Wendy’s car door and helping her out of her booster seat. “Would you like him to?”
“Yup,” Wendy answered without any hesitation, “Daddy never reads to me. It would be fun!”
“Well, why don’t we ask him, then?” Callie asked with a smile. “He might think it would be fun, too.”
Callie held on to that positive attitude right up until she ushered Wendy through the front door. Even in the foyer, Callie could sense that something was amiss. The house had an air of tension, making her want to turn around and head right back out the door again. Only a moment earlier, she had been over-the-moon excited about having Finn unexpectedly home. She had seen it as a way to get a little time to herself to think, not to mention an opportunity for Finn to spend some extra much-needed time with his little girl. Now, she wasn't so sure his being there was a good thing, and she hadn't even seen him yet.
She took a deep breath, listening to the sounds of objects being moved around hurriedly in one of the other rooms, accompanied by a string of cuss words spoken in an undertone. She glanced down at Wendy and was instantly relieved to see that the child didn't seem to feel the tension, or else it didn’t bother her if she did feel it. Callie couldn't help envying the simplicity of a young child's experience of the world. As for her own little piece of the universe, it seemed to be getting increasingly complicated with each passing day.
“Daddy?” Wendy called out, skipping into the living room and twirling in a little circle so that her dress billowed out in a flurry of fabric. “Daddy, we’re home! Come and see what I got!”
“I’m coming, sweet pea,” Finn called back quickly, although there was an edge to his voice that Callie didn’t much care for. “Hold your horses just a minute.”
The Rancher’s Unexpected Nanny Page 14