The Holiday Nanny (13 page)

All of that and more Wade poured out to his Heavenly Father.

And wondered how he'd survive if God told him no on both counts.

“T
hese are your work?”

Connie jumped and whirled around. It was past 1:00 a.m. on Wednesday night. She'd hoped no one else would be around at this hour.

“Yes,” she murmured.

Wade examined each of the stockings hanging from the mantel.

“I should have checked with you first,” she apologized, eyeing her work critically, especially the mistakes. “I'll take them down.”

“Why? They're fantastic!” He fingered the tiny bells that formed the letter
S
on Silver's ballet slipper. Then he studied Amanda's stocking, a white high-heeled boot with glittering black buckles and stylish zippers. He moved to examine the one she'd made for him, a black hiking boot with white laces that spanned an intricately stitched bridge.

Connie grew uncomfortable with his silence. It had been a mistake to do this. She'd told herself that a thousand times, but once she'd started the projects, she hadn't been able to stop. Clearly she'd made a mistake. She startled when Wade burst into laughter.

“I have just one question.”

“Oh?” She glanced at him and felt her worries seep away. He liked them.

“Where's yours?”

“Here.” She lifted the old style nanny boot with a drab brown flat sole. She hadn't been able to resist finishing it in red laces.

“Very clever. You know you could make a mint selling these.” Wade chuckled when she hung the garden shoe stocking she'd created for Hornby and the chef's hat stocking for Cora. “Whimsical and apropos,” he said. “Everyone who sees them is going to want one.”

“I'm glad you like them.” She squished the plastic bags in which she'd carried them downstairs, suddenly uncomfortable being alone with him.

Wade looked tired, the fan of lines around his eyes deeper than they had been. His dark hair was mussed and a shadow covered his cheeks and chin, but the five o'clock shadow only made him more handsome. Even the old sweater he wore with patches on its elbows and pulled threads sticking out here and there enhanced his good looks. Connie gulped and rushed into speech to cover her rising heartrate and the flush of yearning that made her wish too much.

“I found something we could all help with,” she blurted.

Wade lifted one eyebrow.

“The center is doing a Christmas carol festival. They'll start with dinner then some songs and end with a little talk by Ben. We can help by going the day before to prepare the food and the tables. If you're still interested,” she added uncertainly.

“When is this?”

“Saturday. We'd need to go tomorrow to help prepare—if
you want. It's all volunteer. But obviously the more volunteers the quicker we'll finish.”

“Tomorrow. So if we do our tree tonight, that would work. I'll take Friday afternoon off—is the afternoon enough?” he asked.

“I think so. Silver and I could go in the morning and help wrap gifts for the kids. The food preparation is in the afternoon. You could meet us there—with Amanda, if she wants to come.” She saw the dubious look flutter across his face.

“I don't know if Amanda would be so good with food prep,” he confided.

“But she would be good with table decorations,” Connie said. “I was going to ask her to work on some with me tomorrow while Silver's at school.”

“I'll say it again. You are a very clever woman.” Wade shared a smile with her. “I can't imagine how Amanda could resist. Is that hot chocolate?” he asked, glancing at the mug she'd left on a side-table.

“Yes. There's still some in the carafe. I'll get you a mug.”

“Don't bother.” He waved a hand. “I'll get one myself. Unless you're going to bed now?”

“I'm afraid I'm too wide awake to sleep,” Connie admitted. She sat down, tucked her legs under herself and picked up her cup, ordering her nerves to quiet. This was nothing more than a discussion between boss and employer. It wasn't like Wade was going to kiss her again.
You wish.

That was the thing. She did wish. And she shouldn't.

“I found these, thought you might like to share them,” he said, returning with a plate of brownies. He held it out for her to take one then sat down on the other end of the loveseat, not a foot away from Connie.

“Thank you.” Connie bit into the brownie and stared into the flickering flames, the few embers of the logs she'd lit earlier dying away. She could think of nothing to break the silence.

Apparently Wade couldn't either. Or perhaps he wasn't as bothered by it as she was. He munched happily, apparently oblivious to her. Connie, however, was not in the least oblivious to him and the effect he had on her senses. She scrounged for a polite way to escape, but before she could voice it, he spoke.

“You've made quite a difference to our lives,” he said, turning so he could face her. “But I'm not sure you've gained as much as we have.”

“I've loved looking after Silver,” she said, surprised by his comment. “And it's been an advantage to be located in Tucson, too.”

“To track down your father, you mean?”

“Yes.” She paused then decided to be honest. “Though I seem to have hit a dead end.” Connie did not want to dump her problems on him. “How is the dollhouse coming?”

“I finished the plans, but I can't seem to find time to build it. I was thinking of asking a friend of mine—actually Hornby's son—to build it for me. Jared and I are chums from long ago, and he has an incredible talent with wood.”

“But you can't!” Connie said, aghast. She swallowed, struggling to contain her irritation. “I thought this was supposed to be Silver's gift from you.”

“It will be.”

“But it won't be personal if you don't make it yourself,” she said. “Don't you know how deeply Silver would value something you created with your own hands, something you made just for her?” Connie had vowed she would not get herself involved in Wade's personal life anymore, but
this—this was too important. “I'm sure Jared Hornby's work is great, but it wouldn't be the same thing.”

“Connie, I haven't got the time.” He sighed at her expression. “Building the structure isn't all there is to it. It would have to be finished, and that would take hours, even if I had a clue how to put together colors and fabrics or could make the time to find the furnishings that should go in it.”

“I can help,” she offered without thinking. “I can do the interior decorating or paint, if you need that done. I might even know where you could order furniture, too.” She told him of the woman she'd met at Silver's prechool who'd spoken of refurbishing a dollhouse. “It's her daughter's dollhouse that Silver envies. Apparently it was a hand-me-down from the child's grandmother.”

“I see.” Wade nodded. “That's a very generous offer you've made.”

Only then did Connie realize she'd committed herself to possibly working with him for hours. Together. Without Silver or Amanda to buffer them. Exactly what she had wanted to avoid. But working with him on something for Silver would be bittersweet.

“We don't have a lot of time,” he mused, selecting another brownie.

“Two weeks,” Connie replied, imagining Silver's face.

“Can I see the drawings?”

“Sure.” He left for his study and returned with a roll of vellum. He spread it out on the coffee table, then sat on the floor. He patted the space beside him. “Sit here. You'll be able to see the details better.”

Heart pounding, Connie sat beside him. When his arm brushed hers, she didn't pull back. And when his face loomed only inches away, she couldn't help but meet his gaze as he told her of all the special details he'd planned.

“It sounds wonderful,” she said when he stopped speaking and looked at her for confirmation. “I have plenty of fabric scraps to make drapes and cushions. It won't take any time to sew them.”

“But you've already done so much,” he said, his voice quiet, his eyes intense as they studied her. “The stockings, the decorations, Silver's party, the work with Amanda. I don't want to take advantage of you. I'll pay you for your help.”

“I won't take it,” she said promptly. “I want to do it for Silver. Please?”

Wade thought about it but finally nodded.

“You're very generous. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” The stiffness she'd felt earlier had now evaporated. Connie felt comfortable sitting there beside him, studying the fire while everyone else slept.

“My father always had a fire going at Christmas. It didn't matter if it was warm outside. He said we had to have the yule log burning.” Wade glanced at her. “I don't think I ever appreciated how much he gave me—not in gifts but in history and memories. It seems especially poignant now.”

“Why?” she asked quietly, wondering at the pensive tone of his voice. “Because you're going to send Silver away?”

“Yes.” He frowned at her then turned away. “I know you think it's wrong, but it's what I have to do, Connie. It's my obligation.”

“Without even ensuring that she isn't your biological daughter?” Connie ignored her brain's warning and touched his face, turning it toward her. “What if you're wrong, Wade?” she whispered. “How will you feel ten years down the road if you learn Silver actually is your child?”

“Devastated.” He turned his cheek into her palm, closed his eyes and sighed. “It's not that I don't want her, Connie, but I have no right to her. She's not mine.” He gulped. “I know that now.”

“How?”

“The man Bella was with when she died.” Shame and pain filled Wade's face. “I had an investigator do some checking. My wife was cheating on me long before she left me, Connie—long before Silver's birth even.” He glanced at her to see if she understood the implications, then quickly looked away.

To see such a proud man bowed with disgrace, to witness dishonor slump his broad shoulders, that was more than Connie could take. She reached out and gathered him into her arms.

“Oh, Wade.”

“I couldn't believe it at first—didn't want to, I suppose.” He made no effort to move away. “But then I looked back over our marriage and had to admit to myself that it was not the idyll life I'd convinced myself of. After the first few months, we began to grow apart. I knew something was wrong. I just didn't want to admit it—to myself or anyone else.”

“Is that why you stayed in South America?”

“Maybe. I might have been able to arrange for someone else to take over earlier,” he admitted finally.

“But Silver was a reminder of everything that hadn't gone right.” Connie pressed him back so she could see his eyes. “It's in the past, Wade. It's over. And even if that man was Silver's father, he's dead. She doesn't recognize anyone but you as her daddy.”

“Maybe not now. But turn your question around, Connie. How will she feel in ten years when she learns we're not related?”

“She'll feel loved, cared for, protected and desperately proud of her daddy,” she whispered.

Wade tried to smile, but fear wouldn't let him.

“I'm not saying that you never tell her,” Connie said softly. “That's a decision you'll have to make. But how can you make any decision when you don't know the truth?” She held a finger across his lips. “You think you know, but can you really disrupt Silver's entire life—not to mention your own—without having all the facts at hand?”

“I'm scared,” he admitted. “I'm desperately scared.

“What if this is what God wants?”

“To destroy a family?” Connie smiled. She couldn't stop herself from reaching up and brushing back the lock of hair that had fallen forward onto his face. “You think God, your heavenly father, who loved each of us enough to allow His son to die, puts people together only to tear them apart?”

“I don't know anymore.”

“But you need to know on both counts. And God has made it possible for you to have a test done and find out the truth.” Connie tightened her grip on his hand. “The truth sets us free, Wade. It allows us to make decisions based on knowledge, not on fear. Truth brings wisdom. Truth takes away the power of fear.”

“And if she's not mine?” he asked, his voice ragged, his fingers locked around hers.

“Will you love her any less?” Connie whispered.

“No.” His eyes widened. “I couldn't love Silver less. She's in my heart. She's always been there, tucked deep inside me from the moment she let out her first cry.” He looked stunned. “Even when I thought I couldn't, no, shouldn't love her, I did.”

Connie smiled.

“Isn't that what a father does for his daughter?” she whispered.

Wade silently studied her for several moments. Then he leaned forward and kissed her, hard and fast.

“Thank you,” he said, his lips a fraction from hers.

“You're welcome.” She struggled to smile, to hide the impact of his kiss as she realized she was moving far beyond mere “feelings” for this man.

“I still don't know what I'm going to do,” he murmured, smoothing one hand over her hair and toying with one of her curls. “If it turns out—”

“You have to trust God, Wade. That's your job, your part. God will take care of the rest.” She suppressed a shiver of delight when he squeezed her shoulder and struggled to speak calmly. “He'll lead you in the right way if you trust Him.”

“I'll try.”

Wade seemed content to sit there, holding her. But Connie had to move. This situation was too familiar; it brought back too many memories of another man, another time her heart had become involved. And of the way he'd let her down.

Wade was grateful, that was all. He'd needed a sounding board, and she was it. He was concerned about his daughter. But there wasn't anything between them. When his situation with Silver was sorted out, Wade would be embarrassed that he'd kissed the nanny. He certainly wouldn't see a future between them.