The Holiday Nanny (7 page)

“Did you find out what you need to?” he asked, ignoring her question.

“All I could, for now.” She kept studying him, unnerving
him with that steady scrutiny that asked questions Wade didn't want to answer.

“Then let's go. After all, we don't want Silver to stay up too late.” It was a cop out, and Wade knew she knew it.

Connie simply rose and waited while he moved toward Silver.

“Time to go, kiddo.”

“Okay. This is Kris. That's his mom playing the piano,” Silver explained. “Isn't she pretty?”

“Very.” He glanced at the woman and frowned. At this angle she looked oddly familiar. “What's your mom's name, son?”

The kid looked as if he'd like to tell Wade that he wasn't his son. But he restrained the urge and muttered, “Klara.”

“Klara Kramer?” Wade asked in surprise.

“Kramer was my grandparents' name,” the boy said.

“They died.”

“My grandpa died, too,” Silver said. “But it was before I was borned.” She tilted her head up to look at Wade.

“Kris's dad died. His mom hasn't got a job. They come here lots so she can find one.”

Silver babbled away, but Wade lost the rest of what she said. Klara Kramer was a well-known draftswoman. Or she had been.

“Wade?” Connie touched his arm. “Is anything wrong?”

“No.” Wade took one last look at the woman at the piano. An idea began taking shape in his brain.

“Daddy?” Silver tugged on his arm.

“We should go now, Silver.” He'd have to think about this later. “You better say goodbye.”

“Okay. But can we come again, Daddy?”

“We'll see,” he said, employing the age-old noncommittal response his own father had often used on him.

“Kris was telling me about his school. It sounds so fun.” Silver bid the boy a sweet goodbye then skipped between him and Connie toward the door. “I can hardly wait to go to real school.”

Once in the car, Connie made sure Silver was buckled in. She would have sat in the back beside her, but Silver insisted she wanted Connie to sit in the front seat.

“In case I get tired,” she said.

Surprised, Wade checked his rearview mirror. Silver admitting to tiredness? Not hardly. But she was happily humming to herself, glancing from left to right as if checking the view, so he let it go. Anyway, he wanted to find out what Connie had learned about her father. It seemed important to know how her search was going, though Wade didn't understand why that should matter to him.

But he didn't press her because one, it was none of his business, and two, he wasn't sure if Silver should hear it or not. So instead, he answered Connie's questions about the festival of lights.

“A Tucson resident named CB Richards was the founder of Winterhaven Water and Development Company. He visited Beverly Hills in the 1930s, and after seeing their light displays, he wanted to create the same at home. He purchased the first set of lights in 1949 and donated them to the community. After that, he bought allepo pines from a local nursery that was going out of business and had them planted at regular intervals where he also had electrical connections hooked up.”

“Quite a farsighted thinker,” Connie murmured.

“Oh, yes. He personally judged the first festival contests where the winner was awarded one hundred dollars,” Wade explained, dredging up details his father had told him. He'd
almost forgotten his father's love of this festival. “Years later, after Richards moved to San Diego, he continued to visit Winterhaven for the festival. The contest has run every year, except for once in the 1970s during an energy crisis when residents voted to stay dark.”

“Is there an admission fee?” she wondered.

“No. You're supposed to bring nonperishable food or donations, which go to the local food bank.” Wade pointed.

“See the food bank volunteers stationed at the entrances? They collect donations.”

“I'm not carrying much cash,” Connie murmured, pulling her wallet from her purse. “But I do want to contribute.”

“I have some stuff Cora sent along,” Wade told her, but Connie insisted on handing the volunteer money while he and Silver toted their gifts of food to the huge box wrapped with a red bow.

“Thank you and enjoy,” the volunteers said.

“It's massive,” Connie whispered peering out the windshield. “Look at those houses!”

“Stop, Daddy. I want to see.”

“We're going to see it all, Silver, after I park. This isn't a drive-thru night, so we can't go in the car. We'll take a carriage instead. This spot looks good.” He parked and shut off the engine. “We'll wait over there for our ride to come.”

Wade locked the car then retrieved the blanket he'd stowed in the trunk.

“In case it gets cool,” he told Connie.

“Wow, you really think ahead.” She grinned.

Wade shrugged.

“I always carry it. Everyone thinks of the desert as hot. And it is, in the summer. But the nights can get really cool, especially in winter.” He motioned. “Hence the fire.”

He led them to a group of people sitting on hay bales around a campfire. Some chattered, and some were silently staring into the flames. In the background, a group sang carols. Wade heard the clop of horses' hooves approaching and pointed them out to Silver.

“Are those our horsies, Daddy?” She squeezed his hand tight, her excitement palpable.

“I don't know. We'll have to see if they have room.”

“You shouldn't have waited for me,” Connie said, her forehead pleated in a frown. “I delayed you.”

“It's no big deal. We'll take whatever transport is available. Sunday night is popular, but we're early in the season.”

“Couldn't we walk?” Connie asked, darting a glance at the glittering arrays twinkling ahead.

“Yes, there are many people who walk it. You might want to do that another night,” Wade said, inclining his head toward Silver.

Connie nodded her understanding.

As it happened, the hayride wagons bulged with kids' groups who'd reserved them. But Wade saw a carriage standing empty, off to one side.

“Stay here,” he told Connie. “I'll be right back.”

The driver's clients were over half an hour late, so he readily agreed to Wade's terms and pulled his horses into the lineup.

“This one's ours,” Wade said, smiling as Silver's eyes swelled.

“Your horses are lovely,” Connie said. She patted the neck of the nearest animal and whispered something. It whinnied and threw back its head. “What a pretty girl,” she murmured as she brushed its nose.

Wade felt Silver's hand creep into his and squeeze very tight.

“Don't be afraid,” he told her as he lifted her into his arms.

“Mistletoe and Holly are special horses,” the driver told her as he dismounted. “They love showing off our fancy lights. They especially love little girls.” He pulled an apple out of his carriage. “Would you like to feed them, missy?”

“Horses eat apples?” Silver asked, her voice shocked.

“They love them. Here.” He placed the apple in her hand. Quick as a flash, the horse nearest her leaned over and carefully plucked the apple from her hand. After thoroughly chewing it, he bent and rubbed his ear against Silver's shoulder.

“He touched me,” the little girl squealed in delight. Very slowly, with great precision, she reached out and touched a finger to the horse's nose. “Which one is he?”

“She. That's Holly. She can sneak a carrot out of your pocket if you're not looking.” The driver gave her another apple for Mistletoe.

As Wade walked around to the other side, still holding Silver, he caught Connie studying them. For a moment, he thought he saw a tear glimmer on the end of her lashes but decided it was the light when Silver begged him to let her down. When she'd fed the other horse her apple, they all climbed aboard the carriage, Silver seated between him and Connie, wiggling constantly to see everything.

They'd only progressed about two blocks when the driver stopped and turned around.

“Would the little girl like to sit up here and help me drive the horses?”

“I don't think—” Wade began as fear gripped his throat.

Silver drowned him out.

“Please, Daddy? Please can I? I'll be very good. I won't scare them or anything.”

“There's a seat 'specially made for kids up here,” the driver told them. “It has a seat belt with a special locking mechanism so kids can't wiggle out. It's very safe.”

Silver kept begging. Even Connie added her encouragement. But Wade couldn't get rid of his dread. What if something happened? What if the carriage tipped or the horses stumbled? He glanced at Connie. She shifted Silver so she could lean near him.

“Sometimes you just have to let go and trust God to take care of the thing you love most,” she whispered.

Trust God?

He'd trusted God—and his father and Danny had died.

He'd trusted God with Bella and—

“Please, Daddy?” Silver's pink nose was an inch from his. Then she pressed her soft, sweet lips against his cheek.

“Please?”

Wade squeezed his eyes closed, sucked in a breath of courage and sighed.

“Let me see that seat,” he said.

A short while later, they were again clopping down the street. Silver sat still as a mouse in her seat in front, her eyes huge as she divided her attention between the lights and the horses. Wade sat forward in his seat. Though no one could tell, he had a firm hold on Silver's sweater.

Correction—Connie could tell. But there was understanding in her gray eyes when she smiled at him. As if she knew how very afraid he was of losing the last thing he had left, the thing that gave his world meaning, the child he would one day lose.

“She's fine, Wade. Silver's perfectly fine.” Connie's sotto-voiced words carried on the night zephyr and some
how helped him relax. “'For I, the Lord your God, will hold your right hand, saying unto you, Fear not, I will help you.'” She smiled. “That's Isaiah 41:13, my foster mother's favorite verse. You might want to look it up.”

He decided he might just do that, if it would help him gain the assurance that Connie had.

“This house is my special favorite,” the driver said, turning so they could all hear him. “It seems the most Christmassy to me.”

Wade agreed.

The perfectly lit scene showcased a figure—a father beside his fireplace, a child on his knee as he read from a big book while the flames flickered merrily beside him. Words were spelled out on the lawn.

Be not afraid. I bring you good tidings of great joy.

An angel hovered over the scene.

“An angel, Daddy. Just like I'm going to be.”

Not yet, God,
Wade's heart begged.
Not for a long, long time. I promise I'll do the right thing for Silver. I'll give her up. Only don't let her be hurt.

The rest of the ride through Winterhaven seemed long to Wade. He was glad when they returned home, glad when he finally hugged Silver good-night, glad when she left with Connie and he was alone.

Then and only then did he retreat to his study. He pulled out his Bible and found the words Connie had quoted.
Fear not, I will help you.

He was going to need help, because tonight had finally hammered home the truth. It was time to stop pretending he was a father and make things right for Silver.

He flicked on his computer to begin the search for his daughter's real family.

T
he telephone call Connie had just received about her father made no sense. He couldn't be dead.

But she had no time to mull it over. With Silver's party in full swing, it took every ounce of Connie's ingenuity to keep the children busy and involved, especially since Wade had not yet appeared.

“He's probably too busy with a new girlfriend to bother with Silver,” Amanda offered in a snarky tone as she popped one of the balloons Connie had painstakingly hung around the newly refurbished fort.

“He wasn't too busy to get this fort fixed up,” Connie replied and then wished she hadn't stooped to arguing with Wade's stepmother.

“Of course he did. Covering his liabilities,” Amanda sneered. She shrugged. “He's got to protect himself.”

The wail of a child who'd just skinned his knee cut across her words. Connie's frustration peaked.

“Amanda, can't you, just once, say something nice about the man?”

“He isn't here.” Amanda pouted. “I think that's nice.”

“Not what I meant and you know it.” Now a second child was wailing. “Is it possible that you could be a help today
instead of a hindrance?” Connie demanded, exasperated by the woman's negativity. Without waiting for an answer, she hurried away to soothe and treat the wounded limb.

Even with Hornby, Cora and cranky Amanda's help, Connie had her hands full with the party. Not the least because of Silver's constant question.

“Is Daddy here yet?”

Every time Silver received a negative answer, her face dropped a little more. It became harder to engage her in any activity. When tears appeared, Connie's tolerance for the absentee father evaporated.

“Okay, children. It's time for our lunch. Everyone look for your name at the table.” While they raced around, Connie grabbed the phone, hid behind a shrub and dialed Wade's office. “I need to speak to him immediately,” she told his secretary.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Abbot is unavailable—”

“Make him available,” Connie said. “This is urgent.”

“Just a moment.”

Seconds later, Wade's voice came on the line.

“Yes, Connie?”

“There's a little girl here whom you promised would see you at her party,” she snapped. “It's half over, and she's still waiting.”

“I'm very busy—” he began.

Too irritated for caution, Connie spoke from her heart.

“You're too chicken,” she said bitterly. “I should have known you'd wimp out on your daughter. It's getting easier, isn't it? Because you've done it for so long. Forget it.” She hung up on Wade's silence.

“Was that Daddy?” Silver asked, hope barely sparking in her sad blue eyes.

“Yes, it was. He's trying to get here, sweetheart.” Which
was true, Connie reasoned. Wade was fighting an internal battle to rid himself of his fears and embrace Silver. And she was probably out of a job. “Let's eat our hot dogs.”

Connie left the other adults in charge while she quickly hid the treasure hunt items. As she did, she prayed nonstop that Wade would show up before she had to start the game, because when it was finished, the kids would go home.

“Okay, it's time for our Christmas birthday cake,” she said when the hot dog stack had diminished to almost nothing.

“It's not my birthday,” Silver said, blinking her surprise.

“No. Christmas is Jesus' birthday. So I thought we should have a cake.” Connie motioned to Cora who emerged proudly bearing a beautifully iced cake with red and green candles burning around a baby lying in a manger. In the corner of the cake, an angel hovered.

“An angel, just like I'm going to be,” Silver breathed.

Each child stared in wonder as Cora set the huge cake on the table. Minutes later, they eagerly joined in singing “Happy Birthday.” Everyone blew on the candles. Then Cora cut the cake, Hornby handed it around and the adults watched it being devoured. After sticky fingers had been washed, Wade was still not present.

She could delay no longer. Connie explained the rules of the treasure hunt.

“Okay, there are four leaders. Cora, Hornby, Amanda and—”

“And me,” said a low voice behind her.

Thank You, God.

“Daddy!” Silver raced up to him and squeezed his legs. Then she turned to a little boy named Reggie, who'd been bugging her all afternoon. “See, I do so have a daddy,” she said.

Wade's face offered visible proof of how deeply those words affected him. Connie tried to express her appreciation with her eyes but remained silent. While Wade worked at disguising his emotions, she explained to the children how the game would work.

“Everything you need is in the yard,” she said. “You don't have to look inside the house at all. But you do have to work as teams. Your leader will give you a clue. When you find the answer, you all bring it back and put it in your bucket. Then your leader will tell you the next clue. Okay?”

There were many questions, of course, but eventually Wade drew names and the children were divided into their teams. Connie sent each leader to one corner of the yard. Then the fun began. Silver and Reggie, who'd been her nemesis, were both on Wade's team, which meant Wade spent several moments settling arguments between them. Finally they reached a compromise, Connie blew the whistle and the game began. The children dashed about the yard, laughing, cheering and generally causing mayhem.

“This is what was so important for me to attend?” Wade grumbled when Connie paused to check his team's efforts.

“This is what it's all about,” she told him with a grin.

“Besides, you promised Silver you'd be here.”

“I
was
coming,” he claimed, but he quickly gave up that argument when she simply stared at him.

The completion of the game was a close finish, which Connie declared a four-way tie.

“That's not fair,” Silver complained. “We got all our things before the others did. We're the only winners.”

“Are you sure?” Connie asked each team leader to empty their contents on the table. The children gath
ered around, watching as she chose one thing from each team's pile.

“She's making a kite,” one child exclaimed.

“Yes, I am,” Connie agreed. “But I couldn't make it unless everyone finished. I need all the parts. That's why you're all winners, because you each found something we need. It doesn't matter who finished first, does it?”

Heads nodded their agreement.

“So we had to work together to get what we all need to make a kite,” Reggie mused, eyes wide at her creation.

“Exactly.” Connie smiled.

Cooperation blossomed as the children happily helped each other form the struts and wings on the simple box kites. Then they tried to get the contraptions airborne on the afternoon's light teasing winds.

“Very clever,” Wade murmured from behind her.

“Thank you, but I got the idea off the internet.”

“You use the internet a lot, don't you?” he asked.

“Why not?” Sensing a rebuke, Connie frowned. “It's a good resource.”

“I guess.” The doorbell rang, and he went to answer it.

Amanda disappeared the moment the game was over, so Wade and Silver greeted the parents and sent the children off with loot bags while Connie helped Cora and Hornby clear the mess. When the cleanup was finished, she thanked them for their help. Order was completely restored to the yard by the time Wade and Silver returned, except for a few wayward balloons on the fort. Connie decided to leave them when Silver flung her arms around her.

“Thank you for the bestest party in the whole world.”

“You're welcome, sweetie.” Connie hugged her tightly, set her down and watched the little girl turn to her father.

“Thank you for coming, Daddy. Reggie said he won't tease me about my daddy anymore.”

“Oh?” Wade frowned. “Why not?”

“'Cause now he knows you're real.” Smiling, Silver carried her kite across the yard and sat down on a sunny patch of grass to play with it.

Wade turned to leave, but Connie stopped him. His eyes followed her hand, and she self-consciously let it drop away from his arm.

“I owe you an apology.”

“Because?” He looked puzzled, not angry.

“I shouldn't have said what I did on the phone. It was rude and not my place.”

Wade kept watching her. Growing more uncomfortable by the second, Connie shifted under his stare and kept her head downcast, eyes on the ground. A moment later, she heard a burst of laughter and glanced up.

“That apology must have cost you dearly,” he chuckled.

“Well, I didn't expect you to laugh at me,” she said, indignant that he would mock her.

“I'm not. Well, not really,” Wade said, still grinning.

“Connie, do you think I don't know that where Silver is concerned you're like a mother bear protecting her cub from anyone who would hurt her?”

“That's my job.” Connie met his gaze and held it, fully aware of the electricity sizzling between them and the moment their interaction turned personal.

Wade knew it, too. His smile dropped away, leaving only his dark brown eyes intently peering into hers, searching for—something.

“That is what you hired me to do, isn't it?” she said quietly. When he didn't speak, she decided to tell him
everything that lay on her heart. “Not that I think you'd deliberately hurt Silver.”

“Thank you for that at least.” He studied her then finally asked, “What
do
you think?”

“That you're afraid of the power she has over you,” Connie said boldly. His eyes widened at the impact of her words, but she couldn't stop. “You're afraid that if you let yourself love her too much, you won't be able to let her go. And you're determined to let her go. Aren't you?”

Wade shifted, glancing over one shoulder to see if Silver was listening. But the little girl, worn out by the afternoon's events, had curled up in a chair and was now fast asleep.

“Why are you so afraid?” It was the one thing Connie didn't understand.

“I'm not her father,” he said very quietly, anger coloring the edges of his voice. “She belongs with her true family.”

“Who is that?”

“I don't know—yet,” he admitted. “But I'll find them.”

“And how will they be her true family?” Connie asked, keeping her voice low enough that even if Silver awakened, she wouldn't be able to hear. “Does she know any of them as she knows you, has known you all her life?”

“She'll learn to know them, to love them.” His body shifted, his shoulders hunched forward in a defensive state, though he was probably unaware of it. “Children are adaptable.”

“Silver has a great capacity for love, yes,” Connie agreed.

“But that also leaves her terribly vulnerable to being hurt by those she cares most about. You,” she added.

“I won't ever hurt her” was Wade's fierce response. Then his voice altered, evidencing his frustration. “I'll just tell her that I'm not really her father, that there was a mistake.”

“In what world would that make it better for Silver?” Disgust, frustration and anger spilled together and spurted inside Connie's heart like a geyser of pure acid. “To Silver you are her father. To be rejected—”

“I'm not rejecting her!” Wade spat out angrily.

Connie grasped his arm and drew him to the far side of the yard, so they wouldn't disturb the child. Wade followed her lead, but he clearly was not happy.

“You insist on attributing the worst possible motives to me. I don't
want
to send her to someone else,” he insisted.

“Don't you?” Connie wasn't ready to let him off the hook. “Wouldn't that make it easier for you?”

“No!” He glared at her. “How could that be easier?”

“Because you wouldn't have to risk losing her once you'd let yourself love her.”

“I—” The words seemed to shock him into silence. Or else Wade was so furious that he couldn't speak. Either way, he let his angry gaze do the talking.

“I know you think it's none of my business, but I care about her.”

“It
is
none of your business,” Wade gritted.

“It is because Silver trusts me. I don't want to see her get hurt.” She studied him for a moment. “My former fiancé was a lot like you.”

“Really? The lawyer?” He was deliberately goading her now.

Connie ignored his tone.

“Yes.”

“How?” Wade challenged.

“He said all the right things, did all the right things. He seemed like he would be the perfect husband, just like you seem the perfect father. You give Silver lovely gifts, nice clothes, expensive schooling.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing.” She wouldn't release his gaze from hers.

“Then?” Wade sounded totally exasperated.

“My fiancé offered material things, too. A beautiful diamond ring, a lovely home, fancy places we were supposed to travel to.” She smiled at him. “Except the real man showed himself, and his pretend love was nothing but a sham. It became obvious that he never really loved me at all.”

“I don't think the comparison is valid, but do go on,” Wade ordered tersely.

“His concern that I not wear myself out caring for Billy?” She shook her head. “That was really concern that he wouldn't get all my attention and that I wouldn't be there, free to do whatever he wanted when he wanted.”

“You make him sound selfish.” Wade crossed his arms over his chest.

“I don't make him sound that way. He was.” Connie shrugged. “His loss, because what he couldn't see was that Billy would have enriched his life far beyond the precious few moments he cost. He would have gained infinitely more if he'd stopped being afraid.”