Small-Town Nanny (15 page)

Twenty minutes after they'd paid for their purchases, they were back at Sam's house, sneaking their bundles past the pool where Sam, Mindy and Mindy's grandparents were setting up for the birthday party that would occur later that day.

“Now, take the time to wrap these nicely,” Susan's mother urged as she poured them both sodas. “You know, you really ought to get some decent dishes. You're an adult woman.”

“Mindy will rip through this paper in two seconds. It doesn't matter how it looks.”

“A nice package, as nice as the other guests bring, will impress Sam, though,” Mom said. “You know, you just might get him to marry you. He's got that look in his eye.”

“Mom!”

“He's a great catch,” her mother said, coming over to kneel beside the box of wrapping paper Susan was rummaging through. “Look how wealthy and how generous with his money. A good father. You should consider it, sweetie.”

Susan felt as if she was choking. “I don't want to do what you did! Look how that turned out!”

Susan's mother's face went sad. “Oh, Susie, it was so complicated between your father and me. You're not going to have the same situation—”

“I don't want to have a marriage that explodes and causes all that pain. I made a decision to stay single, and I'm sticking to it.” She was, too. No doubt about it. What had happened between her and Sam, that night of their date, had been temporary insanity.

“Don't be stubborn. You're just like your father in that regard. Just...” Her mother looked off out the window and sighed. “Just choose the right man, the man who truly loves you, who looks at you like you're made of precious gems.” She stroked Susan's hair. “And then communicate with him. Don't lose yourself like I did.”

“So can I wrap the gift the way I want to?” Susan asked in exasperation.

“It doesn't hurt to show your softer side. You do have one.”

So they wrapped the gifts in pink paper, elegantly, to rival Rescue River's finest. And then her mother brushed Susan's hair for her and put a little braid in it.

“You were always the best with my hair, Mom,” Susan said, leaning back against her mother's stomach. “I'm so glad you came.”

“I'm glad, too.” Her mother placed a kiss on top of her head. “And now I'm going to the airport. My van is coming...” She consulted her phone. “Oh my, they're out front now.”

“You're leaving already? So soon?”

Her mother clasped her by her shoulders. “You're on your own, you're on your way. You don't need me.”

“But I don't want you to go,” Susan said, feeling unexpectedly teary.

Sun slanted through the windows. Outside, car doors slammed and excited kids' voices rang out. It sounded as if a lot of people were coming to Mindy's party, and Susan wondered when Sam had planned it. And how he'd managed without her.

Her mother pulled her to her feet. “You have a party to get ready for. Go do that. And come for a visit soon, okay?”

“I will,” Susan said. “Let me help carry your bags.”

Her mother waved the offer aside. “I only have one bag, and I left it downstairs. Go get ready for your party.”

Susan opened her arms, and her mother came to her in a fierce hug that made them both cry a little. And then her mother gave a jaunty wave and hurried down the stairs.

Party noise drifted through the screen door, and all of a sudden, Susan didn't want to be out of the action anymore. She needed to be a part of this important day in Sam and Mindy's life.

She changed into shorts and a sleeveless blouse, and hurried down the stairs, and immediately understood how Sam had gotten the party planned so fast.

Helen was greeting the well-dressed parents and children, and Ralph was directing a truck containing two ponies to an appropriate unloading spot—the pad behind the garage, where Susan kept her car.

Susan walked slowly toward the gathering, holding her nicely wrapped gift, which suddenly seemed cheap. Uncertainty clawed at her, and then she saw Mindy.

Mindy spotted her at the same time and started running. What could Susan do but kneel down and open her arms?

“There you are! I knew you'd come back in time!” she crowed, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Grandma and Daddy said you might not, but I knew you would!”

“I wouldn't miss it, sweetheart,” Susan said, burying her nose in the sweaty, baby-shampoo scent of Mindy's hair.

“Guess what! I got my new little dog! Only,” Mindy said frowning, “Uncle Troy said we had to shut her upstairs in her crate cuz the party's too much excitement for her. But that's only while she's a new dog.”

So he'd gotten her a dog.
Good job, Sam.
“I can't wait to see her! Maybe after the party.”

“You know what?” Mindy said in a serious voice, as if she was figuring something out. “You know what I really want for my birthday?”

The intensity of Mindy's voice had most of the others quieting down to hear.

“What, honey?” Susan asked.

Mindy put a hand on her hip and touched Susan's face with her half arm. “I want
you
to be my new mommy!”

Chapter Eleven

S
am heard his daughter's words ring out, clear as a bell.
I want you to be my new mommy.
So, apparently, did everyone else at the party, because a hush fell over the yard.

He knew who his daughter was talking to without even looking. Susan.

The silence was replaced by the buzz of adult conversation that seemed to include a fair share of gossip and curious glances.

He looked toward where he'd heard Mindy's voice and saw that Susan had squatted down in front of her, talking quickly, smiling and laughing, redirecting Mindy's attention to the modest gift in her hand, to the clown who was setting up shop in the driveway.

We have a clown? Sam thought blankly.

Mindy was smiling and laughing as Susan talked to her, so that was all right. Mindy's words had to have been embarrassing to Susan, since everyone had heard, but as usual, her focus had gone immediately to Mindy and making sure she was okay and handling it.

In the direction of the pool area, he heard the sound of sniffling and turned to see his mother-in-law fumbling for a napkin and wiping her eyes. She wasn't one to break down, especially when she had a party to run, but Mindy's words had obviously struck a nerve.

They'd struck a nerve in him, too. Trust a little kid to lay out everything so baldly and clearly. She wanted a new mommy. And she'd decided she wanted Susan.

Which had to go totally against Helen's grain. He strode over to see what he could do for his grieving mother-in-law.

Former mother-in-law.

As he bent to put an arm around Helen, he caught Susan studying him, her eyes thoughtful.

Sam blew out a breath. Everything was coming to a head now. Mindy, Helen, Susan. It was an emotional triangle he couldn't figure out how to manage, couldn't fix. He, who could easily run a complex business, had no idea what to do, no idea how to arrange his personal life.

“Helen, you don't want to make a scene in front of all of these folks,” said Ralph, patting his wife's arm and looking every bit as confused as Sam felt.

“You get those ponies set up,” Helen snapped at her husband. “I have to talk to Sam.”

After making sure that everyone had access to food and drink, and that Lou Ann Miller was supervising any kids who wanted to swim, Sam led Helen to the shelter beside the pool house. Bushes blocked it from the rest of the house and there was some privacy.

“Hey,” he said once he'd got her seated on a picnic bench and found her a can of soda and a napkin to blow her nose. “You're going to be okay.” He was terrible at this, terrible at comforting. He remembered all the times he'd tried and failed to comfort Marie. The one thing he'd been able to do to make her feel better, at the end of her life, was the promise. The promise that now dragged at his soul.

“You promised!” It was as if Helen read his mind. “Sam, you promised you'd marry someone like her, someone who would fulfill her legacy. And instead you've come up with...that woman.”

“I don't know where the relationship with Susan is going,” Sam said truthfully, all of a sudden realizing that he did, in fact, have a relationship with her.

“That woman can't cook, she wants to work rather than staying home, and she says the wrong thing all the time. She's so...different.”

“That's for sure,” Sam agreed. “Susan is different.”

“Marie would hate her!”

Sam thought about it and decided that, yes, it was probably true. Marie would at least be made very insecure by Susan. But Marie
was
insecure, and that was what had made her such a perfectionist. And her insecurity had everything to do with her mother's demanding standards.

He didn't want to raise Mindy like that.

“She'd be a horrible mother. And you promised you'd marry someone like Marie.”

Sam sighed heavily. “It's true. If I want to keep my promise to Marie, I...I can't marry Susan.” As he said it, he felt trapped in a cage made of his own beliefs, the beliefs he'd always held about what made a good marriage, a good home, a good life.

Desperate for freedom, he lifted his head from his hands...and saw Susan and Mindy standing in the shelter's gateway.

And from the look on Susan's face, she'd overheard every word.

She squatted down and whispered something to Mindy. As Mindy ran toward him and Helen, Susan turned and left, almost at a run.

“Come on, Daddy, the kids all want to ride ponies and swim and nobody knows what to do!”

He had to take control of his child's party. He stood and walked out, feeling dazed, looking for Susan. But she was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Susan's world spun as she thought about what she'd overheard.
I can't marry Susan.

Marie would hate her.

She fell backward on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, eyes dry, stomach cold. She lay there for a long time while the sounds of the ongoing party drifted up to her.

It's fine
, she told herself. It wasn't as if he'd proposed.

But if he'd made some kind of promise about what kind of woman to marry—and who made that kind of promise, anyway?—then what was he doing kissing her?

It was like her dad, saying one thing and doing another. Men were so unreliable.

And what of what Helen had said, about how bad she was at household duties? Hadn't she proven that to be true?

Just like her ex-fiancé, Sam didn't want a woman like her.

Her foolish dreams crashed down around her and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. She was a strong woman, and she would survive this. After just a little period of mourning.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Daisy.
Where are you?

Susan ignored it. Clicked off her phone.

The ache in her chest was huge, as if someone had dug a hole there with a blunt shovel. It hurt so much that she couldn't move, couldn't think.
God, help
, she prayed, unable to find more words.

In response, she felt a small soothing rush of love.

She'd always gone to church, read her Bible when there was a study group to push her, talked over her questions with friends like Daisy. She'd felt God's call for her vocation as a teacher. She knew she was saved.

But she'd never thought much about being loved by God. She'd never
felt
it, not deep inside. Now, the small soothing trickle grew to a warm glow.

Her father had only loved her conditionally, and he'd abandoned her. They spoke rarely by phone, and only at his instigation. Never when she needed him.

Her heavenly Father was different. He was here, waiting for her to reach out.
Rest in me
, He seemed to say.

Her hurt about Sam didn't evaporate. In fact, knowing God loved her seemed to unfreeze the tears, and they trickled down the sides of her face and into her hair. She'd never have a future with Sam and Mindy, and the cold truth of that stabbed into her like an icicle, letting her know that somewhere inside, she'd been nursing a dream to life.

Now that dream was pierced, deflated, gone.

Finally, a long while later, she dragged herself out of bed and looked out the window. Most of the kids were inside, no doubt eating birthday cake. The clown was packing up to go. He'd removed his red wig and rubbery nose, but his smile was still painted on.

She watched him pack his clown supplies into his rusty car trunk. He looked tired.

Could she keep a smile pasted on in the face of what she'd heard?

No.

She pulled out her suitcase and hauled a couple of boxes out of the closet. She opened the suitcase on her bed.

She'd started to dream, to hope. Crazy, stupid hope.

And a little girl would suffer because of it. “I want you to be my new mommy,” Mindy had said earlier today, and the words, and the notion, had thrilled Susan way too much.

But she could never, ever be Mindy's new mommy. Because Sam had made a promise.

She opened her dresser drawers and started throwing clothes randomly into the suitcase, blinking against the tears that kept blurring her vision. From the open window, she heard car doors slamming, adults calling to one another. The parents were starting to arrive. The party was almost over.

She heard steps coming up the porch stairs, double time. “There you are!” Mindy said, rushing in. “Come see all my presents!” Then she seemed to notice something on Susan's face. She stopped still and looked around the room. “Whatcha doing?”

Susan's heart was breaking. Rip the bandage off quickly, she told herself. “I have to go away,” she said.

“But you just got back from a trip.”

“No, I mean...I can't stay here anymore.”

“Why not?”

Why not indeed, when she loved this little girl almost as much as she loved her difficult, obstinate father? “It's just not working out. But I'll still see you lots, honey. I'll see you at school.”

“I don't want you to go.”

Susan couldn't help it; she knelt to hug the little girl. “I'm sorry, honey. I don't want to go either, but it's for the best.”

Mindy's shoulders shook a little, but she didn't sob out loud. So she was starting to learn self-control. Growing up more each day.

Susan hugged the child tighter, but she struggled out of Susan's arms and ran down the stairs without looking back.

“Whoa there!” came Sam's voice, drifting up through the windows. “C'mere, sweetie. What's wrong?”

Panic rose in Susan at the thought of facing Sam. She needed to get this done fast. She'd just take a few things for now and send for the rest, because staying to pack and move would be too painful. Maybe this way, she could avoid seeing Sam or upsetting Mindy again.

She didn't even have an idea of where to go. Maybe to the little motel in outside of town, until she could figure something else out. Maybe she could go spend the rest of the summer with her mom, drop in unexpectedly just as Mom had done on her.

Heavy steps climbed the wooden stairs, and there was a knock on the open screen door. “Susan?”

She sucked in a breath. Sam. She'd moved too slowly, lost her chance of easy escape. “Come in,” she said, feeling as if she was made of stone.

“What's going on here?” he asked, stopping at the door of her bedroom.

“I'm leaving.”

“Why?”

What could she say? Because I've fallen in love with you and staying will break my heart? And Mindy's heart, too, because it can't be permanent?

Men were not dependable. She'd always known it, but for a while, Sam had seemed to defy the norm. But he'd proven, too, that he couldn't be trusted, that she'd be better off alone.

“It's just not working out,” she said, and found the strength from somewhere to snap her suitcase closed.

He stood in the doorway as if he was frozen there.

She had to leave now or she'd never be able to. “Excuse me,” she said, and slipped sideways past him. She trotted out the door and down the stairs.

* * *

Sam didn't know how long he stood there after Susan left. But finally standing got to be too much of an effort and he sank down onto her bed. Collapsed down to rest his head on her pillow. Inhaled her scent of honeysuckle, and his throat tightened.

Why had she gone? Was it just that she was flighty, transient, easily bored? Had his and Mindy's life proven too dull for her? Now that she'd earned enough money to send her brother to camp and make things up with her mom, had she gotten everything she could out of him?

But that
wasn't
it. Or at least, it wasn't all. She'd overheard what he'd said to Helen, and it had hurt her.

Having her gone had been bad enough when it was just for a week, but the expression on her face when she'd left had suggested that this time, it was permanent. She'd left for good.

Maybe she was oversensitive. Maybe he'd been right: he needed to stick to his kind of woman. Someone solid and stable and from his background. Someone who valued home and family over excitement. Someone who was in it for the long haul.

But the idea of finding someone else, a clone of the stable, boring blondes he'd dated over the past year, made him squeeze his eyes shut in despair.

He didn't want that. But he'd made a promise.

He was well and truly trapped.

“Hey, Sam!” He heard voices calling outside the window at the same time his cell phone buzzed.

He didn't have the energy to pick it up, but his wretched sense of duty made him look at the screen. Daisy. He texted back a question mark, having no heart for more.

Is Mindy with you?
she texted.

He hit the call button, and Daisy answered immediately. “Do you have Mindy?”

“No. She was down on the driveway a few minutes ago.”

“Well, everyone's gone, and I don't see her anywhere.”

Sam stood and strode to the window. He scanned the yard. He didn't see her, either.

He did see Susan's car. Susan and Daisy were standing by it together. So she hadn't left yet.

“I'm on my way down,” he said, and clicked off the phone.

* * *

Susan followed Daisy back into the house she'd thought she was leaving forever.

“Maybe she just fell asleep somewhere,” Daisy was saying. “Or maybe Troy and Angelica took her home? Would they do that? I'll call them.”

She was starting to place the call when Susan put a hand on her friend's arm. “I think I know why she's missing,” she said. “It's my fault.”

“What?”

So she filled Daisy in on the skeleton details of how she'd been packing and Mindy had found her and gotten upset.

“I'm going to want to hear more about this later,” Daisy said, “but for now, let's find Mindy.”

A quick survey of the house revealed nothing. They'd already checked the pool, of course, but they went back to look around the pool house. The place where Susan had heard about Sam's promise. Where he'd broken her heart. But there was no time for self-indulgence now.