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“Other than giving your full attention to Abby, you won’t have any other duties. The housekeeper, Mrs. Fontenot, comes on Friday. I’d like you to be here early enough to fix breakfast and take Abby to school in the morning and pick her up each day. I’ll be home in time to handle supper, but I’d like you to be available at all times while she’s at school just in case.”
“That’s fine. I have plenty to keep me occupied. I tutor older students online, and I’m moving to Paris in a few months so there’s lots of paperwork involved.”
“France. Sounds interesting. I meant to ask where you live. Is it a long commute to Dover?”
“Not too bad. I live in Brandon, east of Jackson. It takes about forty-five minutes.”
He nodded. “I’d prefer you were closer. But if for some reason you need to stay late or be here early, there’s a mother-in-law suite down the hall from Abby’s room. There’s also a small furnished apartment above the garage you can use.”
“I’ll remember that. But I’m an early riser, so the commute isn’t a problem.”
Montgomery rubbed his jaw, then rested his hands on his hips. “I think that covers everything. I’ll get Abby, and you two can get acquainted.”
Julie kept the smile on her face until Montgomery disappeared into the hallway, then lowered her head into her hands. What had she gotten into? Her fight-or-flight instinct was raging. Heart pounding. Veins burning. Stomach in knots. Her common sense screamed run! But her heart ached to stay and face her fear once and for all. She had to know. Once she had that reassurance to hold on to, she could face the future.
* * *
Gil Montgomery strode down the hallway, puzzling over the new nanny. She was not what he’d expected. At first glance he’d thought she was a teenager in her jeans, loose sweater and big scarf. All that had been missing was a cell phone clutched in her hand. But a closer look revealed a woman near his age, with a rosy complexion and a smile bright enough to light up a room, though he’d seen a hint of anxiety in her big brown eyes. The wind had lifted her hair, sending wavy strands across her cheek, and wrapped him in a faint scent of spring.
Spring was a long way off. Glancing down at his hand, he lightly rubbed his thumb over his palm. Had he imagined that jolt to his system when he’d taken her hand? Judging from her expression, he suspected she’d felt it, too. Odd. It had sparked like static, the way it had when he and his brother used to slide their feet across the carpet then zap each other. Except that they hadn’t crossed any carpet.
Of course, her looks were immaterial. Her credentials were what mattered, and they looked exemplary. He was being overprotective. Hiring a nanny had him on edge. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of a younger and very attractive nanny for Abby. He’d feel better with a more matronly woman, someone who could devote all her attention to his daughter. Unfortunately he didn’t have a choice. Until his mother returned, he’d have to rely on this woman to care for his only child.
At the top of the stairs he stopped at Abby’s door. He wanted to pray, to ask the Lord to help his little girl, but he’d prayed for three years and nothing had changed. That wasn’t God’s fault. That was all on him.
He tapped lightly on the door, then peeked in. Abby was curled up on her bed looking at a book, her ever-present gray-and-pink polka-dot backpack at her side. His heart swelled, pressing against his rib cage. Every part of her was perfect, from her sweet little face with her big brown eyes to the sprinkle of freckles across her button nose.
He finally had her back, and from now on he’d be part of her life. A knot formed in the center of his chest. He’d missed so many of her milestones. It had cost him nearly every penny he possessed to gain custody of her and bring her back home to Dover. He would have spent twice that to have her with him again.
But to Abby, he was a stranger. He was the father who never came to visit, who never called or sent gifts. He had, of course, but interference from his ex-wife and her meddling sister had driven a wedge between him and his daughter. Now she was home, but she was withdrawn and sad and he had no idea how to help her.
He approached the bed, putting a big smile on his face. “Hey, pumpkin.”
She looked over at him, her expression devoid of any emotion. “I’m not a pumpkin.”
She’d started to smile under his mother’s care, but now she’d have to adjust to the nanny. So much change so quickly. “I know you’re not. Your grandpa used to call my sisters pumpkin. It was his special name for his little girls. I want to have a special name for you. Like ladybug or cricket.”
Abby closed her book. “I’m not a bug either.”
The words were spoken with little feeling, sending a shard of pain through his heart. He wanted to fill the void left by her mother’s death, but he had no idea how to do that. He came from a large family, two brothers and two sisters, so he should know what to do, but he’d missed too much of his daughter’s life. She wasn’t a baby now. She was a young girl, almost nine, with a mind of her own, and she wasn’t happy to be here with him.
Discouraged, Gil nodded. “Right, well, the nanny is here. You ready to meet her?”
Abby shrugged and got to her feet, picking up her backpack. When she drew near, he reached out and touched the top of her head, stroking the soft brown hair. She stepped out of his reach, rebuffing his touch and plunging a hot blade into his heart.
Closing his eyes, he offered up a quick prayer. Maybe this time the Lord would hear and take action because he was out of options. Please, Lord, help my little girl find joy again. I don’t know what to do for her.
His thoughts circled back to the new nanny as he followed his daughter downstairs. She was young, pretty and capable. He’d seen a spark in her eyes that intrigued him. Anticipation? As a teacher and a nanny, she obviously liked kids. Maybe having a younger woman in her life would be a good thing for Abby. He wasn’t so sure having her in his home would be good for him. He didn’t like the way he was drawn to her bright smile and sparkling eyes. Or the inappropriate questions that burst into his mind. Like was she involved with anyone?
At the bottom of the stairs he stopped and touched Abby’s shoulder. “Remember. Be polite.” She glared up at him, screwed up her mouth and walked on.
Maybe the nanny could do what he couldn’t—make Abby happy again.
* * *
Julie paced the kitchen, waiting for father and child to return, struggling to keep her professional mask in place against the questions and doubts. Her gaze drifted to the bay window in the breakfast room and the wooden deck overlooking the large backyard, where a swing hung from a branch of an old tree. She bit her bottom lip in delight. She could imagine her little charge swinging once the weather broke. But she wouldn’t be here to see that. Her assignment was only for a week. Five days in which to learn the answers to her questions.
Mr. Montgomery’s deep voice sounded from the hall. Julie braced, her entire body vibrating. Would he see? Would he know? No time for further speculation. They were here. She smiled, her heart in her throat. The moment had arrived, and she had no idea what to expect.
Montgomery rested one hand on his daughter’s shoulder as he stood behind her. “Miss Bishop, this is my daughter, Abby.”
She barely heard him. Her eyes were on her new charge. She was a beautiful child. Long dark brown hair fell below her shoulders, held back with clips on each side, revealing little pink ears and soft rosy cheeks. Big brown eyes stared back at her. “Hello, Abby.”
“Hello.”
The reply was uttered with little enthusiasm. Not surprising. Accepting a new caregiver took a period of adjustment. Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be much time for that. For the next few days she’d merely be a highly paid babysitter. But it would be worth it.
Julie moved forward and extended her hand. “I’m...” She cleared her throat. “I’m happy to meet you.” The little girl clutched the faded backpack, staring up at her with a dull gaze. Julie glanced at the father. He looked worried and a bit sad. She remembered what he’d said about the recent upheavals in her life. “Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk a moment.”
Once they were settled, Julie rested her elbows on the table and peered over at Abby, examining each inch of her. From her heart-shaped face to the sprinkle of freckles across her upturned nose, she was an adorable little girl. Her pretty brown eyes were framed with long thick lashes, but as lovely as her eyes were, they lacked the spark of excitement and curiosity Julie liked to see in a child her age. Abby’s demeanor read sad and uninvolved. Julie’s heart lurched, forcing her to corral her emotions and focus on her assignment. “I’m looking forward to spending time together. Is there something special you like to do?”
Abby shrugged, fingering her backpack.
Julie glanced at the father. Pain and confusion drew his brows downward and caused a muscle to flex at the corner of his mouth. He had the look of a parent who had no idea how to help the child he loved. Something inside Julie softened. She directed her attention to Abby again. “I have some things I like to do with my students, so we’ll try them out and see which ones you like, all right?”
“I’m not a student.”
“That’s true. But I’m a teacher most of the time, so I think of all my children that way.”
She frowned. “You don’t look like a nanny.”
“Abby.” Montgomery gently reprimanded his daughter.
She focused her attention on Abby. “Nannies come in all shapes and sizes. Just like children do. And you look like a very nice young lady.” Julie had been angling for a smile, but all she received was a blink. But in that moment Julie saw emotions she recognized and understood. Abby was feeling disconnected and confused. “Abby is usually short for Abigail. Is that your real name?” The child shrugged again. “My name is Julianna Bishop, but everyone calls me Julie.”
Abby stared back at her, little mouth pressed into a frown. “Mine is Abigail Sarah Montgomery. My mommy said Sarah means ‘princess.’”
Encouraged, Julie continued. “Little girls are always princesses to their mommies...and daddies.” An unexpected stab of pain penetrated her barriers. Like sand washing away with a wave, her foundation began to erode. Blood drained from her face. A surge of light-headedness blurred her vision. She rubbed her forehead, willing herself to calm down. She glanced across the table at the little girl and felt her stomach heave.
Mr. Montgomery’s cell rang again, and she grabbed the opportunity to excuse herself. “Abby, could you point me to the bathroom?”
The child gestured to the hall and Julie tried to walk, not run, from the room. Her fiercely pounding heart sent her blood roaring in her ears. She stepped into the small guest bath, shut the door and leaned against it.
She couldn’t cry. Not now. She wouldn’t be able to explain it. Mr. Montgomery might change his mind and ask her to leave. Or worse, he’d demand an explanation. He’d think she was unfit to care for his daughter.
Trapped in a whirlwind of colliding emotions, she fought to find her footing. Fear. Excitement. Joy. Anger. A million reactions she hadn’t anticipated.
Please, please, Lord, help me. Moving to the sink, she ran cold water over her hands and pressed them to her cheeks to ease the scalding heat. Inhaling a few deep breaths, she forced herself to calm down. Slowly her stomach settled. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and saw a woman facing her worst nightmare. Not the image she wanted to project. She wanted to appear friendly and nurturing. Capable and caring. The way she seemed at school or when working as a nanny. Except this wasn’t a normal assignment. Not by a long shot.
Inhaling one last calming breath, Julie straightened and turned to go. As she grasped the doorknob, the anxiety churned up again, buckling her knees. What would Gil Montgomery say if she told him the truth? That the child he called Abby was the baby girl she gave up for adoption eight years ago?
Chapter Two (#ulink_c571964e-b0af-50e8-98f0-e6ea06f3c38a)
With great effort, Julie managed to regain control and return to the kitchen. Mr. Montgomery looked up as she entered.
“Miss Bishop, I know you weren’t supposed to start work until tomorrow, but I need to run to the office. It’s only a few miles away. I was wondering if you could stay with Abby for a half hour or so. You could get better acquainted while I’m gone. Of course, I’ll understand if you can’t.”
A million possibilities raced through her mind. What she wanted to do was run home, bury herself in bed and sort out all the emotions surging through her heart before she exploded. Yet having the chance to remain here and spend extra time with her child was a blessing she couldn’t pass up, even though the danger and the potential emotional stress would be difficult.
“I’d be happy to stay. Abby can show me around, help me find things I might need.”
Montgomery looked a bit leery, but nodded. “Good. Thank you.” He stooped down beside Abby. “Will you be okay here with the new nanny? I won’t be long.”
Abby shrugged, clutching her backpack a bit closer. Montgomery raised a hand as if to stroke her hair, then let it fall, getting to his feet. The gesture caused a twinge in Julie’s heart and raised a number of questions. Why was Abby so indifferent toward her father and why was he so reluctant to show his affection? Clearly there was a barrier between them. She smiled to cover her concern.
“All right, then. I shouldn’t be long.” He handed Julie a business card with all his numbers. “Don’t hesitate to call me for anything.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” She gave him her most reassuring smile, but the moment the door closed behind Gil Montgomery, Julie began to question her decision. Her only hope to keep from sinking into a pit of emotional quicksand was to don her professional facade, lock it down tightly and move forward. She faced Abby with her most engaging smile. “I’m feeling like a snack, how about you?”
With some assistance from Abby, Julie found plates, glasses and a tin of oatmeal cookies. After pouring two glasses of milk, she settled at the table, watching the little girl eat a cookie and take a sip of her milk. Julie took a bite of her cookie, but it turned to sawdust in her mouth. “These are really good cookies. Did you make them?” The question drew a puzzled frown from the little girl.
“My grandma made them.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a better one.” Even though she couldn’t choke one down, she had to admit they were soft, chewy and very tasty. “She must be a very good cook.”
Abby shrugged again. “She had to go away.”
Hope blossomed in Julie’s heart. At least they were conversing now. For a while she’d feared the only source of communication would be shrugs and nods. But the resigned tone in Abby’s voice bothered her. “I know. You must miss her.”
One corner of the little mouth twitched upward. “Everybody goes away.”
A sharp barb pricked her nerves. “But they come back. Your dad said that as soon as his sister is well, she and your grandma will come home.”
“Mommy won’t come home.”
Julie’s insides twisted at the sadness in the child’s voice. She resisted the urge to scoop her up into a hug. “I’m so sorry about your mom. You must miss her very much. But you’re here with your daddy now, so everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
Abby shoved her plate back and glared. “He doesn’t want me here.”
Julie stared at the little girl a moment, replaying everything she’d seen and heard since arriving at the house. If first impressions counted for anything, then Mr. Montgomery was a devoted father. The relationship between him and his daughter was strained, but she’d seen no indication that he resented his child being here. “Oh, Abby, I don’t think that’s true. I’m sure he loves you very much and he’s happy to have you here with him.”
Abby clammed up. She stared down, backpack clutched tight. Conversation over. Time to change directions. “Well, let me clean up, and then you can show me around so I won’t get lost tomorrow when I come to stay with you.”
“I don’t need a nanny. That’s for babies.”
“Not always. In some countries nannies take care of children until they’re all grown up.”
“That’s silly.”
“I think you might be right. Well, why don’t you think of me as a friend who will watch out for you while your daddy is at work and until your grandma comes home?”
Abby mulled that over, a frown folding her little forehead. “What do I call you?”
“How about Miss Julie? That way it’ll sound more like we’re friends.”
“Okay.”
“Good, because I want us to become friends.” Was that possible? Could she have a relationship with her child beyond that of fill-in nanny? The truth shouted inside her head, burning through her heart. Impossible. She wasn’t even supposed to know who Abby was, let alone be here taking care of her. The truth could never come out. It would be disastrous for everyone involved. The father would be furious. He might bring charges against her or the agency. Agatha Montrose, the owner of the Nanny Connection Agency, was her friend and mentor. She’d never considered what would happen to her, not to mention Julie’s own reputation, should the truth come out. But most important of all, what emotional damage would it do to Abby? A swell of anxiety crashed over her senses. She stood, struggling to hold herself together. She had to calm down. No one knew about Abby except DiDi. Julie’s own parents didn’t know. She’d never told them she was pregnant. Not that it would have mattered one way or the other to them.
Julie gathered up the plates and glasses, taking her time at the sink, rinsing and stacking them on the counter. Doubts about this decision bombarded her from every direction. This had seemed like a gift from God at first. She’d been convinced it was the answer to her long-uplifted prayers. But now... Slowly she wiped her hands on a towel, giving herself time to regroup.
Since the day her baby was born, she’d been plagued with one question. Not, had she done the right thing in giving her up—she’d had no choice in that regard. Alone, penniless with no one to turn to, she’d known the only future she could offer her baby girl was to give her to a couple who could provide a home, brothers and sisters, love and security.
The question that had haunted her all these years was whether or not her child was happy and well cared for. Did her adopted parents love her as much as her birth mother did? That love had been the only way she’d been able to let her go. Julie fingered the small silver heart with the birthstone in the center. The only reminder of the little girl she had given up.
DiDi had somehow managed to get the name of the adoptive parents and given it to her. She’d always known the Montgomerys had taken her child, and that they lived in Mississippi, but she’d never acted upon the knowledge. She’d never looked them up, never tried to find where they lived, believing in her heart that it was best for her baby.
Until the day Gil Montgomery’s name had appeared at the agency, requesting a short-term nanny. The application stated he’d lost his wife a few months ago and he needed a temporary caregiver for his daughter. Julie carefully folded the towel, glancing over at Abby, still sitting quietly at the table. She might have resisted the need to assure herself of her child’s well-being if it hadn’t been for her move to Paris.
The only obstacle to her dream move was her gnawing fear. Stories about adopted children who’d been mistreated, neglected or even given up again never failed to fuel a torrent of doubt and fear in her heart. What if her baby was with a family that didn’t truly love her? If Julie knew her baby was happy, in a loving environment, then she could leave the country secure in the knowledge that it had all been worth it.
Julie closed her eyes, thanking the Lord for allowing her this chance. Five days. Enough time to allay her fears, to get to know her child, to gain peace and perspective before closing the door on this part of her life forever. And this was a blessing from God. It had to be.
She smiled at the little girl. “Okay, I’m ready to see your house. Where do you want to start?”
Begrudgingly, Abby scooted out of her chair, nodding toward the counter. “This is the kitchen.”
She chuckled. “Really?” Abby didn’t laugh with her, but she did move her mouth to one side. Julie followed the little girl through the downstairs rooms, pointing out each area with little fanfare. She noticed the whole house was in need of love and attention. She had a feeling the people who lived here might have that same need. She shook off the worrisome thought. She needed to think with her head, not her heart. Abby had been in Dover only a short while, and her long-term well-being wasn’t her concern. Only her day-to-day care.
Back inside, she followed Abby upstairs.
“This is my room.”
Julie took a quick survey of the large space. There was something odd about the decor. The pink paint was an unusual shade, the bedspread clashed with the pillows, and the curtains were more suited for a nursery. Then it hit her. This room was decorated by a man who had no idea what a little girl’s room should look like. It was not the room an eight-year-old girl would dream about. Julie looked for something positive to say. “This is a really nice room. Look at all the sunlight you get.”
“It’s pink. I hate pink. I like purple. My other room was purple.”
“It’s not hard to paint walls. I’ll bet if you told your daddy that you’d rather have a purple room, he’d change it for you.”
Abby tossed her backpack onto the bed, then climbed up beside it, arms crossed over her little chest. “No, he wouldn’t.”
She sat beside her. “What makes you say that?”
“He doesn’t want to be my daddy. Aunt Pam said so.”
Julie’s concern rose. Was this chip on her shoulder a result of grief and being taken from her home, or was there something more behind her attitude? If this were any other assignment, Julie would just go on about her job. But this wasn’t a normal situation.
“I’m sure your Aunt Pam didn’t mean that. Sometimes when grown-ups are angry at each other, they say things they don’t mean. Your daddy brought you to this nice house and this town so you could be close to your family. Like your grandmother. You like her, don’t you?”
