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Why on earth would it hurt someone to dream? To hope?
He knew why.
Because dreams could die when dashed and shattered hope could slice like shards of broken glass.
And suddenly he recognized the look in her eyes.
Because he’d seen it in the mirror every day for years.
The look of a tempest-tossed person who’d been sloshed overboard by life’s most wretched waves and nearly taken out.
He knew his.
What had been her storm?
And why was he standing here staring as if desperate to draw it out of her? He became fully cognizant of how Sarah shifted beneath his gaze, as if she was growing uncomfortable under the weight of it.
Yet she didn’t look away either.
What on earth was this sea-size magnetic pull?
And would it fade? Remain the same? Or grow strong enough to weather life’s storms?
As if sensing the draw, too, Sarah shifted and stepped back—almost stumbled—until sharp edges of moonlight carved her face into shadows.
With a slightly awkward wave, she turned. Jogged up the steps.
But he remained.
She all but melted into the safety of her open door, yet didn’t close it. Nervous fingers tugging at frayed ends of the multicolored hobo sweater’s sleeves, she faced him again.
He nodded at her and turned to go. And was immediately accosted by a revelation that suggested an old war-torn Army tent never looked so good. Thoughts and images assaulted his every step. Even that bulky, unattractive sweater hadn’t been able to hide her physical beauty, which he felt guilty to find so appealing.
There was something refreshing and attractive about a courageous woman. One who said how she felt and what she thought and didn’t waver on what she wanted. Or feel the need to hide the fact from others.
And just as soon as his mouth caught up to his brain and figured out how to execute speech again, he’d tell Sarah so.
And another thing…Aaron issued himself mental reprimands while crunching across loose gravel. When she’d said she hoped so, his mind took it the wrong way. Clearly, she wanted to be a nanny to his boys. And clearly her statement had nothing to do with her hoping on a personal level that he’d be in touch.
Right?
At his SUV, he turned to wave, and caught the bolts of attraction flashing back and forth between them. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t imagined it. Maybe this fizzing connection did run both ways.
Which could be detrimental to them all. Especially his boys, should they get attached and Sarah bail if something went awry. Aaron eyed the neighborhood, then intently held her gaze.
“It isn’t safe, Sarah. Please lock your doors.”
And those of your heart.
Better for us both that way.
Chapter Four
“I can’t imagine what happened. I never leave it unlocked,” Sarah said of her car to Adorna in the nanny agency’s lobby the following week.
“Was anything taken?” Adorna asked, entering her office and flipping on the light.
Sarah followed and took her usual seat across from the agency owner. “All my CDs. But they’re mostly modern worship, Christian rock or songs with a positive message. So maybe the person who broke into my car and took them will have a change of heart.”
“We can hope.”
“We can also change the subject.” Sarah forced a laugh and stuffed the police report into her purse. “Aaron was right about the bad neighborhood.” What would he think if he knew she’d been robbed after he’d warned her?
“Speaking of, what did you think?” Adorna folded her hands.
“The boys are absolutely adorable.”
Adorna’s brows arched. “And Mr. Petrowski?”
Heat rushed her face when she remembered their last encounter, when he’d dropped off her phone, and the complete weirdness surrounding his departure. Surely it had been the full moon. And nothing more.
“Wasn’t nearly as scary as I feared,” Sarah hedged.
Adorna adjusted her glasses while she opened a manila file. “Then I have good news for you. Mr. Petrowski has requested another session with you.”
Sarah stifled a squeal. After all, she wanted to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “Awesome!”
“In addition to him conducting a more in-depth interview, you’ll need to prepare a list of questions to ask as well. With this moving into the next phase, there’s really only one final step before decision time. Did you read his contract?”
Sarah nodded. “Yes. I’m okay with everything in it.”
“Mr. Petrowski has requested that you spend time with the boys several days this week, starting tomorrow.”
“Sounds great. I’m really excited to see the boys again.”
And the dad.
Stop! She scolded herself. She needed to be all about the job and not about the man whose intense eyes and smile and radio-quality voice could snatch away a woman’s breath.
“I think you’ll be the best thing that’s happened to this family in a long time, Sarah.”
“Thank you for believing in me.”
“Of course. And so you know I mean that, I’m waiving fifty percent of the placement fee when Mr. Petrowski signs you on as his sons’ nanny.”
Sarah laughed. “Don’t you mean ‘if’?”
Adorna shook her head. “Unless something drastic goes wrong, or you’re not what he thinks, I’m ninety-nine percent sure you have this job.”
…not what he thinks…
Again, Sarah’s past tried to pull out in front of oncoming hope to slam her head-on with old guilt, shame and unworthiness.
What I did is not who I am anymore.
Growing up, she’d dreamed of having her own family someday. God would probably try to work that deflected dream back into her deflated heart. But for now, more than anything, she wanted to be there for this family.
Unless you’re not what he thinks.
Aaron didn’t know about her past yet. What about when he discovered it? But she wasn’t that person anymore.
Right?
Then why did cold hands of guilt press sharp fingernails into the shoulders of her resolve as she walked out of the nanny placement agency?
Was she still punishing and not completely forgiving herself?
Or was this feeling God niggling her to tell Aaron about her past before he made his decision? And if so, when?
Help me know.
“Did you know Mina speaks spinach?” Bryce said to Sarah, moments after she arrived for her next visit.
“Sp—” Laughter sputtered past the rest of Sarah’s word. “Spinach?”
“Yeah. Haven’t you ever heard of it?” Bryce blinked.
“Not quite that way,” Sarah said, figuring Bryce meant “Spanish” instead.
Aaron pressed his chin into his knuckles and studied her, as if to discern how she had drawn out the more withdrawn of the two boys. “Bryce has a language all his own. Hardly ever talks, much less to strangers.
“Braden is more outgoing. Definitely the extrovert. He’s usually the first to get in trouble,” Aaron whispered.
“And Bryce is usually first to let us know about it.” Mina waved a kitchen towel as she laughed.
“So, Bryce is the informant,” concluded Sarah.
Aaron grinned. “And Braden is the enforcer.”
The adults shared a laugh as the boys played across the room. Bryce picked up a plastic motorcycle and inched toward Sarah, then changed gears and stuffed himself under Aaron’s arm.
“Bryce is my shy boy.” Aaron pulled the child onto his lap. “And that’s okay, huh, buddy?”
Bryce leaned into Aaron and peeked at her between his fingers. He flashed a beautiful, bashful grin.
It heartened her that a strong military man like Aaron was okay to let his gentler, more sensitive son be himself.
Sarah leaned forward. “So, boys, besides fishing and softball, tell me what you like to do.”
“Lotsa stuff.” Making revving sounds, Braden ran the motorcycle across the air in front of Sarah.
“That’s a nifty bike.” She brushed a finger along his toy then Bryce’s. “I’ve never seen others like them.”
“Uncle Vinny gave ’em to us,” Braden said.
“Vince Reardon is on one of my military teams. Although he tends to want people to think he’s hard-nosed, tough and brooding, he’s crazy about kids and bikes. He had his sister weld those for the boys.” Aaron intercepted the bike as it swerved near a lamp. It amazed Sarah how lightning-fast his hand struck. What was he saying?
“He’s not really their uncle but they call him that.”
“Interesting.”
“Excited to spend more time with them?”
“Yes!” Sarah pulled out her backpack. “I brought coloring books, crayons and cars.”
The boys abandoned the cycles and swooped in on her.
“I want the cars!” Braden zoomed his hand up and jumped.
Bryce eyed the coloring book with reserved interest.
She tugged out some pages and a pack of crayons. “Something tells me you like to draw.” She eyed faded ink marks on Bryce’s arms and legs, which someone had obviously tried to scrub off but couldn’t completely.
Bryce took the pages.
Aaron leaned his chin toward them. “Boys, what do you say?”
“Thank you, Miss Sarah,” Bryce said in a small voice. Then he grinned. Her heart melted. He had his daddy’s slight dimples. She hadn’t noticed that before, since Bryce didn’t often smile.
“Yeah. Thanks very much!” Braden shimmied and bounced in berserk motions, like a barely coiled ball of energy.
Aaron slid Bryce off his lap. “Okay, boys. Hugs. Daddy has a meeting.”
Panic entered Bryce’s eyes. “Can we go?”
“Not this time, buddy. You get to spend time with Miss Sarah. Okay?”
His lips trembled. “Okay.”
Aaron hugged Braden, then Bryce, who clung to his father’s neck. Panic mounted on Bryce’s face and he broke down. Aaron looked torn. Pangs of compassion squeezed Sarah for them both.
Bryce clung to Aaron’s neck. “Daddy, don’t go!”
Poor thing. He was having a hard time with his dad returning to work. And getting to know her, a virtual stranger.
Aaron knelt and gave Bryce another hug. “I know, buddy. It’s hard for me, too.” He closed his eyes and swallowed, offering Sarah a glimpse of a surprisingly vulnerable side. Yet it only served to strengthen his image in her eyes.
How would he extract himself from Bryce’s crawfish grip? She could help. Use distraction.
