The Holiday Nanny (10 page)

“I think Silver would love a dollhouse her father built.” Connie smiled.

Not her father. Not since Wade learned from that emailed report that Bella had met her lover before she'd had Silver.

Wade ignored his heart's pinch of pain and studied Connie.

“You're quite something, Miss Ladden,” he said, admiration flooding him. “You've got all of us branching out, learning new ways to deal with each other. I appreciate your help.”

“I haven't done anything special.” Connie kept her head
bent, but her red cheeks told Wade everything he needed to know. “I'm just the nanny.”

“Hardly,” he said as he walked out of his office to find Silver and speak with Amanda.

He realized how true it was. Connie had become an integral part of all their worlds. For the first time in years, Wade liked coming home, knowing she was there with Silver, ready to fill him in on any details he'd missed in a four-almost-five world. Cora seemed happier than he remembered, too. And Hornby couldn't stop singing the praises of the nanny who'd offered to do the weeding in the lowest beds so Hornby could save his arthritic knees. Apparently even Amanda had been able to let down her barriers and confide in Connie.

In fact, in a few short months, Silver's nanny had become necessary to all of them. Connie wasn't just doing her job. She was enriching their lives.

As he paused in the foyer, Wade recalled his father and the many Christmas surprises he'd announced right in this spot. Why couldn't he do something similar, something extra special for Connie, to thank her for making their worlds better? He was fairly certain he could do it without Connie turning into a simpering replica of that other nanny. It would be strictly a business thank-you. Nothing more.

Wade had no idea what his surprise could be. But maybe tonight he'd pay more attention to Connie's discussions with her father's friends.

His heart considerably lighter, Wade took the stairs two at a time. But the closer he got to Amanda's suite of rooms where he could hear Silver talking, the slower his steps. He could find a way to help Connie. That would be simple.

Convincing Amanda to rejoin life, on the other hand, was going to require some heavenly assistance.

 

“Don't you just love pizza, Grandma?” Silver grinned, displaying white teeth in a face plastered with tomato sauce.

“Probably not as much as you,” Amanda grumbled, dabbing at the mess with one corner of her napkin.

“I think we'd better head to the ladies' room and clean up before we—go to the center,” Connie said. She'd been going to say “pick out a Christmas tree” but Wade's shaking head cut off those words. “Come on, Silver.”

“I'll go with you. Just to make sure I don't look like her,” Amanda said. She rose and walked beside Connie while Silver skipped ahead. “Wade seems relaxed tonight.”

“Does he?” Connie tried to be totally focused on her charge.

“Yes, he does. And I think it has to do with you.”

“Me? What do you mean?” Connie helped Silver scrub off most of the mess, pretending she was busier than necessary just to avoid Amanda's scrutiny.

“Did you ask him to invite me along tonight?”

“No! It's none of my business whom he invites to a meal.” Connie frowned and twisted to stare at her. “Why would you think that?”

“He's never asked me to do anything like this since…” Her voice dropped away.

“Amanda, this pizza thing was totally Wade's idea,” Connie assured her, drying her hands on a towel. “Thank goodness. I was supposed to prepare dinner, because Cora wasn't feeling well. I don't cook well.”

“You're kidding? You do everything well,” Amanda said.

“Not cooking. It terrifies me.”

“You know what, Grandma? Daddy said he used to come here when he was little and that his daddy always
ordered olives on his pizza. I hate olives.” Silver grabbed her grandmother's hand and tugged Amanda toward the door while dancing a happy little jig and humming “Silent Night,” accompanied by her ever-present bells.

Connie held her breath.
Please God, don't let anything spoil it. Let tonight be an evening to remember for all them—the first of many.

“It was nice. I haven't had pizza since—in a long time,” Amanda substituted, with a quick look at Connie.

When the child raced over to her father, Amanda paused, her hand on Connie's arm.

“I don't want Wade to pity me,” she said to Connie, sotto voce. “I couldn't stand that.”

“Why would he pity you?”

“Because I'm cranky and grumpy and bawling all the time,” Amanda sputtered. “Oh, fiddle.” She turned and hurried back to the ladies' room while dabbing at her eyes.

“What's wrong?” Wade demanded, rising when Connie reached the table.

“Amanda had something in her eye. She'll be back in a minute.” He frowned, his suspicions obvious. Connie ignored that. “Do you think I could have a little more coffee while we wait? It's delicious.”

By the time they left the restaurant, it was later than Connie had expected. Privately, she couldn't help worrying whether her father's friend would wait for them. Silver picked up on her anxiety and threaded her small fingers into Connie's as they rode to the center.

“Did you eat too much?” she asked sympathetically.

“No, sweetie. I'm fine,” Connie reassured, but Silver seemed to know she was faking.

“Are you sad about your daddy?”

“Not really. Just feeling a little impatient, that's all.
Like you get about Christmas.” Connie caught Wade's glance in the rearview mirror, a glance that shared her uncertainty.

“Not much farther,” he said.

When Amanda demanded to know about the center, Wade filled her in. Connie couldn't speak around the lump in her throat, so she remained silent and clung to Silver's tiny hand.

The place was crowded when they arrived, but as soon as the director spied them enter, he hurried over.

“Connie, I'm so glad you came. Pete says he's only in town tonight. He's got a new job doing long-haul trucking, but he saw your notice and he's very eager to talk to you.”

“The same for me, Ben,” she whispered, suddenly afraid of what she'd hear.

“You go ahead,” Wade murmured. “We'll wait as long as you want.” When it looked as if Amanda would protest, he bent and murmured something in Silver's ear. She grabbed her grandmother's hand and urged her to hurry and meet Kris. “I'll be praying,” Wade said for Connie's ears alone.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” She inhaled deeply before facing the director. “I'm ready,” she told Ben.

Ten minutes later, she wondered why she'd been so afraid.

“So my dad didn't die from the chemotherapy,” she said, heart thrilling at the news.

“It hit him pretty hard, but Max was still kicking when I last saw him. I think it would take a lot more than cancer to get him.” Pete shook his head. “Never saw a man more besotted with his daughter. Showed your picture to everyone. Connie this, Connie that.” His eyes narrowed. “We kinda hoped you'd come to visit.”

“I couldn't. I didn't know where he was.” Connie explained how her father had left her.

“Figured it was something like that,” Pete mused. “Max never did believe the doctors when they said they got all the cancer. And since they took his second leg a few years after they said it, maybe he knew his body better than they did.”

“But if he got through the chemotherapy both times, and was okay, why didn't he come and get me?” She couldn't understand what could have kept her father away.

“Oh, honey, he wasn't okay. Max was a smart man who was used to meeting life head-on. He's the reason I got my GED and was able to get this job.” Pete sighed. “But over a period of five years, Max lost two legs, probably his dignity and a lot of other things folks who haven't been through cancer treatment don't understand.” Pete related a few of his own issues. “Even if they did get all the cancer, and who is ever sure of that? I figure independence is a mighty big thing to a man. Max lost most of his. I heard later that he was having some struggles adjusting to life in his chair.”

“You mean he was depressed?” Pete filled in a lot of blanks for Connie, but he also created many more questions that she needed answered.

“I think so, yeah.” He nodded, his face thoughtful. “Also, another friend, Joey, told me he thought Max's cancer came back, but that might have just been Joey talking. I can't say because I lost track of Max and never saw him again. I kept writing to him, but my letters were returned unopened. He never got them.”

“So either he didn't come back, he was deliberately avoiding you or he died.” Neither of the three was palatable to Connie.

“Guess so.” Pete checked his watch. “I gotta get going,
but if I hear any more I'll send a message to you here. Don't see many of the guys I spent time with here in those days. If you see Max, tell him to keep checking in here. I'll try and meet up with him next time I'm through. You just never know.”

“You never do.” Connie shook his hand. “Thank you for telling me about my father, Pete. I appreciate it.”

“He was a good guy. Proud as a peacock and tough as nails, but that man was gentle as a butterfly. He loved you a whole lot,” Pete said firmly. “Don't ever forget that.”

“I won't.” She reached out and hugged him, reluctant to let go of this tenuous link to her father. But eventually she had to let go and watch him walk away.

“Bad news?” Wade took the chair next to her.

“Good and bad. Dad lost two legs to cancer and apparently survived the treatment, but Pete thinks maybe the cancer recurred. He thinks Dad was depressed. That's all I know.” She looked at him. “That and the fact that my father talked about me a lot.”

“Because he loved you.”

The confidence in Wade's voice surprised Connie. She frowned at him.

“I can understand what he did without condoning it,” he told her.

“Is that because you're going to do the same thing?” Since Silver and Amanda were busy talking to Kris and his mother, Connie faced down Wade.

“I'm not abandoning my daughter,” he argued, his voice harsh, eyes dark with suppressed anger. “I'm trying to restore Silver to her rightful family.”

Connie couldn't stifle her sniff of disgust at his answer. Wade ignored it and continued.

“But if I was fighting cancer and had lost both my legs, I might decide to leave Silver with folks who could take care
of her when I couldn't. I sure wouldn't want her around to watch me.”

“Why?” Connie demanded, infuriated by his logic.

“Because she might cry? Express emotion? Demand to stay?”

“All of those reasons and more.” Wade touched her shoulder with a gentle hand that said he understood her need to lash out. “If it's a battle for his life, Connie. No man wants his sweet little daughter watching him, especially if he thinks he's losing his battle. He wants her to be happy and carefree.”

“Carefree?” she scoffed. “Do you actually believe that can happen?” She glared at him, knowing Wade would infer she was talking about him and Silver as well as herself. But at this point, she didn't care. “You think a child can be happy without her father?”

“You were,” he said very quietly. “Weren't you?”

“He forced me to make a new life for myself,” she said, irritated that Wade would condone her father's actions.

“Exactly.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“And the fact that I loved the life I had with him, or that I would have done anything to be with him—” She paused, frowned. “That doesn't count for anything?”

“I don't believe your father made his decision without a great deal of thought, if that's what you're asking, Connie.” Wade's voice gentled, his eyes almost caressing in their softening. “You are a very special woman. I'm sure he saw that as you were growing up.”

“Special is one of those mean-nothing words, Wade.” Connie couldn't let it go. “I'm no more ‘special' than any other kid who just wants her dad.”

“I'm sure your father wouldn't agree.” He appeared fully in control, but Connie could tell from the tic at the corner of his mouth that Wade was forcing back strong emotions.
“Sometimes as a parent you have to make decisions based on what is best for someone else.”

“Is that what you're doing?” she whispered, then wondered how she dared question him.

His mouth tightened. His eyes narrowed to thin slits.

“Do you think I want to give her up?” he rasped. “Do you think it's easy?”

“I can see that it isn't.” Connie leaned forward. “Because you love her.”

“Sometimes love isn't enough.” Wade rose.

“Sometimes,” she said, rising to meet his hard stare, “love is all God gives us. We have to depend on Him to work out the rest.”

For a moment she thought he wouldn't answer. His gaze moved to Silver. She was laughing with Kris, whose sullenness had completely evaporated. Then Wade's melting chocolate scrutiny returned to settle on her. Connie felt her whole body react to Wade's intense gaze.

“Where does all this faith of yours come from?” he whispered.

She knew that whatever answers she gave Wade wouldn't satisfy him. Faith was something everyone had to work out on their own terms. She relearned that lesson every time she spoke to someone about her father.

“How can you be so certain of God, Connie?”

“Aren't you?” she murmured.

“No,” he said starkly. His chin thrust forward. “I'm not. Even though I've been a Christian for years, I don't have the rock solid confidence you have. I wish I did. How can you just blindly believe?”

Essentially that was the same question Connie had asked her foster mother. The only answer she had was the same one she'd been given.