The Holiday Nanny (11 page)

“It's not blind faith. I have questions as you do. As Silver
has about you,” she said bluntly. “But so far God has never let me down. I have to trust His promise that He will never leave or forsake me, no matter what happens.” She lifted her head, sensing what was coming from the way he stared at her.

“Even if your father doesn't want to see you? Even if he's dead?”

Dead?

Wades's words hit like bird shot in the most tender spot of Connie's heart. Would she still trust God completely if it turned out that her father was gone?

And yet—didn't she have to? Wade was so strong, so competent, so able. But deep down, behind the stringent mask of control he refused to relinquish, he was hurting and afraid to trust.

Connie vacillated. Maybe she should just shut up. But her conscience wouldn't let go. Only this morning she'd read a Bible verse that said faith without works was dead. How could she claim to believe in God and not trust Him to care for her regardless of what she learned about her father?

Connie was at a crossroads. She had to hold firm in her faith if she was going to encourage this hurting man to lay his problems at the feet of the only One who could help.

“Even if he's dead, Wade,” she whispered. “I'll trust Him even then.”

His nod was the only sign that he'd heard her answer. He motioned toward Amanda and Silver. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.” Connie glanced around the room. “I've learned everything I can tonight.”

“I'm guessing you're not in the mood to get a tree.”

“Would you mind if we did it another night?” She forced
a smile to her lips. “Maybe tomorrow? It's late, and Silver is probably tired and—”

“Connie.”

The quiet control in his voice drew her attention. His dark brown eyes transmitted acceptance, understanding and something that made her nerves skitter and her heartrate pick up. She was probably being silly, and yet Connie knew that in that moment, Wade was as aware of the electric connection between them as she was. But he didn't avoid her or make an excuse. Instead he smiled.

“I know hearing what you did has upset you. You need time to think it through. Take all the time you need. I can stay with Silver tomorrow if you want to get away.”

“Thank you.” Connie blinked, surprised by the words.

“But—”

“You're always endlessly giving to everyone else. Maybe it's time you slowed down and refilled your own well.” His wry smile held a hint of self-mocking. “Believe me, I know how easy it is to get stretched so thin that you have to force one foot in front of the other. The tree and everything else can wait.”

So easy—it would be so easy to give in and cry on Wade's shoulder. But in the end, it would only embarrass him and make him think she was like the other nanny, something Connie could not and would not risk. His faith in people was rocky. She would do nothing to increase his distrust.

“It's very generous of you, Wade, and I appreciate the offer, but I think the best thing for me is to keep busy.” Connie picked up her purse and rose. “Would you have time to get the tree tomorrow night?”

“Sure.” He walked with her toward the others. “But could you make time to talk to me tomorrow before dinner? I want to discuss something with you.”

“Sure.” On the ride home, Connie sat in the backseat, cradling Silver's tired head while Amanda questioned Wade about Klara Kramer.

All Connie could think about was what Wade wanted to discuss.

Surely he wouldn't let her go, not now, not before she'd found her father—certainly not before she'd done everything she could to make Wade rethink his decision to send Silver away.

But that wasn't the only reason she didn't want to leave. Her heart pinched as the truth hit Connie. She had feelings for Wade Abbot. She didn't want them, but they were there and were growing.

She was falling for her boss.

F
or the first time since he could remember, Wade spent an entire Tuesday without accomplishing one work-related item.

In the morning, he took his own advice, avoided the office and refilled his own well by sharing a chat with the pastor. Then he spent several hours sitting at a park, reading his Bible and praying for help. By noon, he'd scrounged up enough courage to phone Connie and ask her to pray. Then he phoned Amanda and asked to meet with her when he returned home.

The talk had not begun well, but once he'd reassured her that it was not about business, she'd settled down to listen. Wade did as Connie suggested and apologized with heartfelt sincerity.

“I'm so terribly sorry it happened, Amanda,” he told her with sincerity. “If I could, I'd change things. I'd gladly give up my own life to bring them back.”

“But you can't,” she said bitterly.

“No one can, Amanda. But they are in good hands now.” Her head jerked up, and a fierce anger filled her eyes. “That doesn't mean I'm discounting your pain. I'm not. Actually
I'm not saying anything but that I'm truly sorry Dad and Danny died.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she demanded. “Why now?”

“Because it's time I said it.” He noticed the weary lines around her eyes, the shadows tucked in their depths. Her grief had aged her beyond her years. “I owed you an apology.” It cost to admit that, but in saying it Wade realized how right Connie had been as he felt a heaviness lift. “I wasn't understanding enough. I should have insisted on staying longer to help you through your grief. I sincerely apologize for my thoughtlessness.”

“Thank you.” Her shoulders lifted a fraction as she inhaled. “Thank you for saying that.”

“Can I say something else?” He held his breath and prayed for help.

“I could stop you?” Strangely, Amanda almost smiled.

“You know how Dad loved Christmas. You know the way his celebrations reached out and included so many people.” Wade stopped, waited.

Amanda nodded. Tears welled, but she pushed them back.

“Go on.”

“I want to make this Christmas like he would have,” he said. “As kind of a tribute to Dad and Danny. I want to fill the place with light and joy, the way they did. I want to get a tree and decorate it. I want to hang stockings on the fireplace. I want to invite the carolers in for hot chocolate and have a singsong around the piano. I want all of it.”

“You mean you want it for Silver?” Amanda's voice hardened.

“In a way, yes,” Wade admitted. “She never knew Dad, never heard Danny's laugh, never saw the two of them
dive into the gifts under the tree or sip that eggnog Dad always made. I wish she had.” He stopped, swallowed his memories and regrouped. “But mostly, Amanda, I want it for us, to remind us how fortunate we were to love two such special people. And because I want to carry on the traditions they started.”

Amanda said nothing. She simply watched him. Wade couldn't give up. Not yet.

“I want to keep Christmas as they did,” he continued.

“But not if it's going to hurt you.”

“So you want my permission?” Amanda bent her head so he couldn't read her expression.

“Actually, I want more than that. I want your help.”

She jerked upward, eyes wide. “My help? What brought this on?”

“Actually Connie did. She's been telling Silver about her memories from her foster home, and they are many.” He chuckled. “You've probably heard about them. Connie has this rich legacy filled with joy and laughter, and I realized that Silver doesn't have any memories like that because we never gave her any.”

“You were away,” Amanda murmured.

“And now I'm back, and I want to change things.” Wade refused to be drawn into an argument. “Will you help me?”

“To do what, exactly?”

“Whatever you want. However you want,” he said. “But I want you to be part of our celebrations.”

Silence yawned between them. Connie had warned him to go slowly, not to expect much, so Wade waited for Amanda to absorb what he had said. She studied him for a long time.

“I could help Cora plan the menus. Your nanny won't want to do that.” Amanda chuckled with a secret delight.

“She won't?” Wade didn't get it.

“Connie doesn't like cooking. Didn't she tell you?” Amanda tipped her head to one side. “Apparently that rich legacy of hers didn't include much kitchen work outside of dishwashing and making scrambled eggs. She was terrified the other night when Cora had to go home sick.”

“She was?” And here he thought he knew Connie. Wade frowned. “I didn't know.”

“I think there's probably a lot you don't know about your nanny,” Amanda speculated. She tapped the fingernail against her table. “You might want to find out.”

A hint of knowing in Amanda's voice made Wade glance away.

“Your father always had a ‘trim the tree' party,” she continued, her voice introspective with memories. “I haven't kept up with the old gang, so I don't know who to invite, but you could ask David and Darla.”

And just like that, Wade's Christmas plans took off.

After his conference with Amanda, Wade sought out a tree and arranged for delivery that evening. When Silver and Connie returned from preschool, he coerced them into helping him retrieve decorations from the storage room. Silver mistakenly opened a box brimming with pictures, and Connie could hardly coax her away from them for dinner. Later, Amanda joined them and remained to supervise the selections for tree decorations.

“A theme tree? Amanda, you are so clever.” Connie grinned as she surveyed the array of balls and glittering ornaments sprawled across the coffee table. A few deft movements and she had quickly packed away the discarded decorations. “I've never done a theme tree before.”

“Well, I've never done many things you have either, so I guess we're even.” Though she tried, Amanda couldn't quite hide her flush of pleasure.

Wade sat on the sofa, content to watch the two women work together planning. When Silver crawled onto his lap, he told himself to relax and just enjoy her presence without worrying about tomorrow. Connie would say God would take care of that.

“When can we put things on the tree, Daddy?”

“Mmm, tomorrow night, I guess.” He smiled at Silver's whoop of joy. “David and Darla are coming to help, too.”

“Good.” Silver tipped her blond head to one side. She touched his cheek, traced the faint line of his only remaining scar from the accident. “Can I have a Christmas stocking, Daddy?”

“Of course.” He should have thought of that already, but Silver had never really noticed much about Christmas before. Or maybe
he
hadn't. “We will all have Christmas stockings. But Christmas stockings are very special, you know. You must choose just the right one because you might have it for a long time. What kind would you like?”

“I don't know.” Silver was totally serious. “In the box downstairs I saw that picture of you with a red stocking.”

It hadn't been Wade. It had been Danny. But Silver wouldn't know that.

“Should I have a red stocking?” Silver asked, her face scrunched up in thought.

“Is red your favorite color?” Wade asked her.

“No, that's Connie's.” Silver thought about it for a moment then climbed down and walked over to Connie.

“What kind of a stocking should I have?”

Connie glanced at him and blushed. Wade wasn't sure what caused it; he only knew the additional color in her cheeks rendered her more beautiful than ever, despite the
tinsel hanging from her hair and the garland looped around her arms.

Whoa! Here he was noticing Connie again. That would not do. He reigned in his thoughts.

“I think you should have a silver one,” Connie murmured, “with lots of bells.”

“Yes!” Silver danced up and down and then raced over to Wade. “Can we go shopping for my stocking tomorrow, Daddy? I don't have school. We could go in the morning.”

“Sorry, I have a meeting in the morning.” Wade watched the joy leech out of her. “But maybe in the afternoon I could go.”

“Uh-uh. Klara's orientation, remember?” Amanda shrugged. “You told me to have her start tomorrow when you asked me to offer her the job. Unless you expect me to do the orientation?”

There was a dare in her tone. For thirty seconds, Wade's brain shot out all the reasons his stepmother should not talk to his newest employee and skew her perspective on the company. Then he shut the negative voices down.

“If you could, that would be great,” he said. “Thanks.”

Amanda looked at him with an odd, confused look that said she suspected he was up to something. Wade kept his expression neutral.

“Well, okay. But I haven't done it in a while,” she warned.

“You'll manage.” When Amanda's smile flashed, Wade was irrationally glad he listened to Connie's advice. Irrational because he never took advice from others about his private life.

And yet—so far Connie hadn't steered him wrong.

“I was wondering.” Amanda paused.

“Go ahead.” Wade played with a bit of tinsel.

“Maybe you'd like to invite Klara and her son tomorrow—to help with the tree, and for dinner, I mean. Cora could make some of her delicious lasagna. Everyone likes that.”

“Hey, good idea,” Wade agreed. “Connie, could you talk to Cora about that?”

“Of course. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourselves.” She lifted the box of old decorations. “I'm going to take these back to the storeroom.”

Meaning she wouldn't be here? What was that about? Wade rose and followed her out of the room.

“I'll take these.” He lifted the box out of her arms. “You lead the way.” He deliberately waited until they were in the narrow hallway before he asked the question pressing on his mind. “What did you mean we will enjoy ourselves? You'll be there, too.”

“I'm afraid I won't. Tomorrow is my night off.” Connie opened the door to the storeroom, switched on the light and stepped inside. She pointed to a space on the shelf.

“You can put them there.”

Connie not there? Somehow it didn't compute.

“Can't you take another night?” he asked.

“No.” She didn't bother explaining.

Wade shoved the box onto the shelf and grabbed Connie's arm before she could hurry away. “Why?” he demanded.

“This is a family thing, Wade,” she said. “A time for you, Silver, Amanda and your friends to share. I'm not part of the family. I'm just the nanny.”

There was no hopeful note in the statements, nothing that would lead him to believe that she wanted to be more or expected him to beg her to stay. Connie was simply
stating facts. It wasn't her fault he didn't like the way it sounded.

“For this Christmas you are part of our family,” he said quietly. “I would like it if you could be there. It's not an order, and I don't expect you to work. It's just—I'd like to have you be here.”

Connie studied him for a long time. Finally she murmured, “I'll have to think about it.”

“Good.” Wade couldn't move.

The shadows of the storeroom created an aura of intimacy around Connie's still figure. Her clear, oval face stood out against the brilliant turquoise of her sweater, intensifying the rich silver sheen of her irises. Her slim figure was highlighted against the white shelves, strong yet flexible, gentle yet incredibly powerful in her determination to do what was right for his family.

Connie was everything most men would want in their life.

He leaned forward and kissed her, briefly touching his lips against hers. Connie froze but only for an instant. Then her lips responded to his with a sweet moan of pleasure. Wade deepened the kiss, asking more. And she responded, surprising him with the intensity of her reply.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the kiss was over. Connie stepped away from him, her face white.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “That should never have happened.”

“Perhaps not,” he agreed, still stunned by his wildly careening senses.

“We should get back to the others.” In a flash, Connie had resumed her familiar air of quiet dignity. But she would not look at him.

“Connie.” Wade tucked a mass of curls behind one ear
and slid his finger under her chin so he could look into her eyes. “I'm sorry if I offended you.”

“It's not that,” she murmured. She peeked at him then looked down. “I'm the nanny,” she whispered.

“I know that.” He had to smile at her intensity.

“You're my boss.”

“Uh-huh.” He waited.

“It can't happen again.” She did look at him then.

Wade translated the expressions fleeting through her eyes. Determination. Wistfulness, maybe. Regret?

“If Silver saw us—” Her face flushed a rosy red. “She'd assume things, begin to daydream, plan. I can't allow that. I can't hurt her.” She stepped out of the room and without another word left him standing there.

Wade eventually closed the storeroom door and returned to the others. He refused to dwell on his own response to the nanny, choosing instead to revel in Silver's laughter and Amanda's apparent peace and goodwill, even if it was only temporary. He did look at Connie, but she was ignoring him.

Later, Cora brought cookies and hot chocolate. Hornby came in to sound out Connie on his ideas for exterior decorations. It was all so normal that Wade relaxed.

“What do you want for Christmas, Daddy?” Silver asked.

Like that, Wade's perfect world cracked.

Because what he wanted for Christmas he couldn't have—a daughter who was his in every way. A family to share with. Love?

“Daddy?”

“I don't know.” He played along, tweaked her nose.