The Holiday Nanny (8 page)

“So I'm afraid?”

Connie met his gaze and nodded.

“Of what?” he demanded.

“That you might get hurt,” she said very quietly. “You lost your father and Danny and in a way, Amanda. Your family is broken. Only Silver is left, and if you let yourself be her father and someone claims her, or worse, she finds out about her history and leaves, you're afraid of what will happen to you.”

Wade kept mute, but his pained dark gaze never left hers.

“The thing is, Wade,” Connie said, touching his arm
as she spoke the hurtful words, “no matter whether you let yourself love her or not, Silver
will
leave you one day. Nobody stays forever. The only constant any of us have in our lives is God.”

“And how do you propose I deal with that?” he demanded, his tone stinging her heart with its oozing pain.

“You enjoy today. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow is an unknown. All you can guarantee with Silver is right now,” she insisted softly. “God is here with you, waiting for you to embrace her and enjoy each second of the life He gives you together.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he raged.

Connie shook her head.

“It's not easy. It's terribly hard to live in the moment.” She swallowed. “Harder still to do the right thing even though you know it will break your heart,” she whispered, thinking of her father and whatever had prompted him to abandon her.

“So now you're saying I should find her family?”

“You are Silver's family,” Connie insisted. “And no matter what happens, that will never change. Unless you change it.”

Wade pursed his lips.

“But if it will ease your mind, or if you feel it will enrich her life to know others she's related to, why not seek them out? Not now because you need time to build a relationship with her yourself. But someday you could ask them to be part of her world on your terms,” Connie coaxed. “Not because you want to give her up, but because you want to make her life fuller, because you want to give your daughter every opportunity.”

He still said nothing, but his eyes had darkened to almost black.

“Including the choice of whether or not to leave you,” she whispered.

He reared back, rage boiling in his eyes.

Connie longed to reach out and rub away the deep grooves beside his eyes, to put her hands on his shoulders and massage away the fear so he could see the truth.

“Someone who truly loves another wants whatever is best for the other, no matter what the cost to them. That's the very definition of love.”

Some inner prompting told her to stop there, to let Wade think in peace. So Connie walked away from him, gathered Silver in her arms and carried the sleeping girl upstairs.

Back in her own room, she sat on her window seat and noticed that Wade had left the backyard. To think about what she'd said?

Connie squeezed her eyes closed. In her mind, she replayed the message with which that voice on the telephone had blown up her hopes and dreams.

If I remember correctly, your father had cancer. He received treatment but it returned and progressed so far his legs were amputated. I doubt he survived.

Eleven years Connie had spent searching for this man, hoping to hear the exact same words Silver yearned to hear. “I love you, daughter of mine.”

Wade wouldn't say it, and now it seemed as if her father couldn't.

Casting all your cares on Him, because He cares for you.

“I'm really good at giving advice, Lord,” Connie whispered as tears stung her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

“But I'm not very good at taking it. Please help me.”

“A
manda, can we please cease and desist from these constant wars?” On this Sunday morning, Wade dragged a hand through his hair, wearied by her harping.

“Constant?” she fumed.

“It seems like it. I'm not trying to be nasty, but you're wearing me down. Every day you have some new demand.”

“I don't think my expectation of functioning accommodation is a demand,” Amanda said in a huffy tone, her eyes spewing her disgust at him.

“I didn't mean that,” he said quietly. “Of course I'll have the plumbing in your bathroom checked. But the way you ask—” He saw her stiffen as if preparing for battle and sighed. “Never mind. I'll have the plumber come tomorrow morning, I promise. And I'll ask Cora to cut down on the salt in your food. Anything else?”

“Plenty. But those two are the most troublesome.” She tugged at the hem of her suit jacket then threw her shoulders back. “Also, I would like to know your plans for Christmas.”

“My plans?” He sensed something big was about to break. “What do you mean?”

“You must be planning something with all that's been going on around here.”

“Nothing unusual that I know of.” Where was this leading?

“Then—?”

Following the wave of her hand, Wade glanced around the room. It brimmed with festive decor. Lopsided angels balanced on coffee tables. Strings of popcorn and paper chains of colored paper dipped and bowed across walls and windows.

“I would prefer it if you would instruct that nanny of yours to stop polluting this house with her inferior decorations.” Amanda's scathing gaze rested on a particularly unround wreath propped against a wall.

“Uh,” Wade gulped. He could imagine telling Connie to stop planning Christmas about as well as he could imagine Amanda enjoying the festive season.

“You can hardly find even a doorknob that isn't adorned.” Amanda's exasperation grew. “It's not as if they're well-done decorations either. They're handmade.” She spat out the words as if they carried a bad odor.

“By Silver,” he said. “Who is only four.”

“Almost five. She'll soon be going off to school. She should know what's proper for an Abbot.”

“Proper? I did the same thing when I was her age,” he said with a smile.

“And look how you turned out.” Amanda sniffed in disgust. “I do hope you're not planning some maudlin singsong around the fireplace on Christmas Eve.”

“No, I'm not planning that.” But Connie might be.

All at once, her eyes widened. “You're not going to put up a tree, are you?”

“Why not?” he asked stupidly, then wished he hadn't.

“Because they make a mess, drop sap onto the floors
and smell up the house. It's all silly and sentimental nonsense anyway.” Her voice had grown progressively more harsh.

“Amanda.” The time had come to stand his ground. Wade tried reasoning with her. “I know it's a difficult time for you, and I empathize, truly. But Silver is a child. Every child looks forward to Christmas. Danny did,” he said quietly.

“Don't you dare speak his name!” Amanda's beautiful face hardened. “Not when you're the reason he isn't here.” With a shudder, her harsh mask dissolved, and a grieving mother slipped into its place.

Wade wanted to comfort her, but when she stormed out of the room he let her go, staring into the empty fireplace and wondering if he should plan on celebrating Christmas somewhere else.

“Am I interrupting?” Connie hesitated in the doorway.

“It's fine.” Wade sank on the arm of the nearest sofa.

“Is something wrong?”

“Just that I can't seem to say the right thing where Amanda is concerned.” He sighed, then noticed how well dressed she was. “Where are you off to?”

“Silver and I are going to church. I wondered if you'd care to join us?” She waited still as a church mouse while he thought it over.

Her hair, a mass of shining curls this morning, was pushed off her face with a wide red band that perfectly matched the sash of her ivory dress. Connie seldom wore makeup, and today was no exception. But then, she didn't need it because her skin glowed with health.

“Is this the day of her angel thing?” he asked, only then realizing he'd never really nailed down the date.

“No, that's on Christmas Eve.” Connie moved into the study.

Wade noticed her slim legs, emphasized by the pretty red sandals she wore.

“But there will be a practice after church today, so I'm taking along a lunch.” She smiled. “Would you like to join us?”

Why not? What good would it do to sit here and stew about the information he hadn't yet been able to unearth—information about Bella's male friend, Silver's father?

“I'd like to go,” Wade said and felt immediate relief about his decision. “David's been nagging me about how long it's been since I've been to church. I need to get back in the groove.”

“Good.” Connie smiled, and suddenly Wade's day seemed a whole lot brighter. “Ten minutes?”

“Sure. I'll meet you at the front door,” he promised.

She waved a hand at him and left. A few moments later, her voice was followed by Silver's excited squeals echoing down the staircase.

Wade wasn't going to bother Connie about Amanda's concerns regarding decorations. The nanny was already doing everything he'd hoped she would to enrich Silver's life. He'd watched her blossom under Connie's tutelage, shedding the quiet reticent nature he'd noted on his last visit home. Silver was growing more confident in herself and the crookedly cut green trees, wobbling angels and garish garlands that hung throughout the house were helping her express herself. Wade had no intention of stopping that.

He made up his mind. This year, there would be Christmas in this house. A rich experience, as happy as Connie could make it. For Silver.

Amanda would just have to deal with it.

Wade pushed away the whispering inner voice that reminded him that if he found the information he sought, this might be the last Christmas he shared with Silver.

 

“God's love isn't like ours. He doesn't get angry and give up when we don't respond the way He wants.” The minister's words pinged a resonance within Connie's heart.

“This first Sunday in Advent, we talk about the hope of God's gift to us, the birth of Christ and its meaning for us.”

Connie sneaked a glance at Wade. He seemed focused on the minister.

“The hopes of those who knew what God had planned was reinforced by the prophets. But most folks wouldn't or couldn't understand that God would send his son as a tiny helpless baby. That was not the answer they wanted.”

A missing father was not the answer Connie wanted either. But nothing she'd learned so far suggested her father had stayed in the Tucson area after receiving his treatments for the cancer that had racked his body. Yet no one seemed to know his whereabouts. It was unthinkable that he might have passed away. Connie was getting frustrated with her search.

Why, God?

“As the nation of Israel suffered and waited for their Messiah, they must have asked God ‘why' many times. And God's answer—wait.”

So perhaps that was her answer, too. There seemed little she could do but wait and hope that God would show her another path that would take her to her father. Mariah Martens, her foster mother, had given good advice.

“You won't get anywhere in understanding God, Connie, unless you embrace His promises and continue to believe that one day you will have answers to your years
of questions.” Mariah's voice softened to that tenderness Connie loved to hear. “You have to believe that God had a reason for letting it all happen, no matter what you learn.”

Which meant Connie had to trust that leaving her without a home or a father wasn't just a cruel joke or a twist of fate. Not an easy feat when her search was continually frustrated by dead ends.

She focused back on the sermon and the reminder that God had not sent the promised Messiah until many years had passed after the prophecies. But He had kept His promise.

When the closing notes of a familiar carol faded away, Silver had not yet returned from the children's program. Connie rose, feeling awkward as Wade rose, too. She wasn't sure how he'd been impacted by the sermon and didn't want to spoil it if he needed time to mull things over. Thankfully David and his sister Darla came over to talk.

“Davy's taking me out to lunch,” Darla told her, face beaming with happiness. “Do you want to come, Connie?”

“That's very nice of you, Darla,” Connie said, squeezing the hand that had grasped hers. She remembered Silver's talk about a skiing accident. Obviously it had left Darla with brain damage. A conversation with Darla was almost like talking to Silver. “We can't today. Silver has a practice for the Christmas Eve service.”

“I know. I'm going to sing,” Darla said, her grin huge.

“She sings good,” Silver said, bells on her belt tinkling as she slipped into place beside Connie. They walked out of the sanctuary. “She sings
well,
” Connie corrected.

They were quickly surrounded by a throng of people who welcomed Wade back to church.

Silver fell into conversation with Darla.

Connie noticed that Wade smiled, shook hands and accepted good wishes but made few comments, his usual reserve firmly in place.

What would Wade Abbot be like without that guard?

None of your business.

Connie blushed at her own thoughts. These little side trips of curiosity about her boss were happening far too often. She was here to work, not to daydream about her employer like the other silly girl he'd hired.

Connie grasped Silver's hand after the three of them waved goodbye to David and his sister. Then she pointed.

“I thought we could sit under that red pistache tree. With the leaves gone, we'll still get some sunshine,” she said.

“Okay.” Wade fetched their cooler, picnic basket and a thick blanket from the car. “Not a lot of people know its name,” he said, leaning back to look into the tree. “You must be studying up.”

“Connie knows about hummingbirds,” Silver said. “She put up feeders. We fill them lots.”

“I hope you don't mind,” she said, embarrassed that she hadn't asked permission before hanging the feeders.

“Why would I? Who could dislike a hummingbird?” he wondered.

“I like to learn about the area where I'm living,” she said, forcing herself not to look at him as she unpacked their lunch. “Especially hummingbirds in winter. Everything here is so different from up north.”

“Including the lack of snow at Christmas, I'm sure.” He smiled. “Do you miss it?”

Connie deliberated over her answer while she settled Silver with a sandwich and some juice.

“I talked to my mother last night. They've just received
three feet of snow and are in the process of digging out,” she said. “Dad got stuck and had to walk home to get the tractor.”

“Ugh.”

“Snow isn't all bad.” She grinned. “We used to have lots of fun when we got snowed in and couldn't go to school. Dad always made those times so great.”

Wade ate for a few moments, obviously deep in thought. But his glance kept returning to her.

“Why don't you just go ahead and ask whatever it is that's bothering you?” Connie murmured, struggling to quiet the rapid beat of her heart.

“I don't want to be rude, and it's really none of my business.”

“That never stopped
me.
” She ignored his gurgle of laughter, wiped Silver's hands and face and handed her a cookie. “Go ahead, ask.”

“Does he mind?” Wade waited to ask the question until Silver had risen and wandered over to peer at the broad-billed hummingbird hovering over a nearby bush.

“Dad, you mean?” Connie set down the rest of her sandwich and studied her boss. “Mind what?”

“That you're here, looking for your birth father.” The words spilled out in a rush. Wade looked sheepish.

“Actually, he's the one who encouraged me to come. He said I'd always wonder if I didn't at least try to find out the truth.” She smiled, remembering the conversation. “In the eleven years I stayed with my foster parents, he laid down a good foundation of what a father should be. I hope my dad is like that. That's how I remember him anyway.”

“And your foster father doesn't care that you still love your birth father?” he probed.

At first Connie couldn't understand why he kept ask
ing. But then she realized that Wade was comparing her situation to his with Silver.

“No. But then my foster father is a very unusual man. He genuinely loves every kid who comes to their home, regardless of how they respond to him.” She offered him a cookie before pouring two cups of steaming coffee. “I asked him about that once. He said he knew what it was like to need unconditional love, and he knew what it was to get it. He was once a foster child himself, you see.”

“Um.” Wade crunched on his cookie, waited for her to continue.

“Dad says love is the one thing that is both the easiest and most difficult to receive.” Wade kept looking at her. His pensive stare unnerved her, but she couldn't stop now. “The thing about love is that you determine how it affects you. By accepting it, you become indebted to the one who loves you. By reciprocating, you create a bond between the two of you. By rejecting it, you throw away a chance to grow a relationship that could enrich both of you, and maybe you forfeit future relationships. Whatever your choice, love has consequences.”

Wade didn't say anything, but his eyes had narrowed to mere slits.

“At least that's how my birth father sees it.” She sipped her coffee and waited.

“Will you still call him Dad—your birth father? When you find him, I mean?” Wade's inscrutable gaze sought and held hers.