Together With You (7 page)

Restless and weighed down by thoughts of Allison, Carly wandered to the fence at the back of the yard. With one hand on a black bar, she stared at the ocean and silently asked God whether she should take the job or run from the risk of personal involvement. The only answer was the scrape of palm fronds high above her head. It was a lonely sound, a rustling like the one deep in her soul. She tried so hard to do the right thing, to be a good person. But what if she failed Penny the way she had failed Allison?

She needed help, a sign like the one God gave to Gideon in the Bible, when He'd answered the man's desperate prayer for assurance by dampening a cloth with dew. The picture of Gideon cowering in a winepress triggered the memory of the berry stains on the seats of the Impala, and she decided to ask for a sign of her own. When she told Dr. Tremaine about the mess, he'd probably try to clean it. If the stains came out, she'd stay. If they didn't, she'd take her guilt and leave.

R
yan listened to Mrs. Howell apologize for the fortieth time and sent her home. Anyone could make a mistake, but she wouldn't be back. If Carly didn't take the job starting tomorrow, he'd cancel his appointments and stay with Penny.

With the house empty, he grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and returned to the backyard where Carly was standing at the fence. The sun was in front of her now, low on the horizon and shooting rays of light through her hair. The brightness turned the blond waves into a mane or a halo, maybe a helmet. She'd done battle with Denise today and won. Ryan couldn't remember the last time someone had fought for him instead of against him.

“It's a beautiful view,” he called out as he approached. “On a clear day, you can see a couple of the Channel Islands.”

Carly turned to him with a faraway smile. “I've never been on an island.”

“Really?” He handed her the water.

“Kentucky has rivers and lakes. No islands.” She took a swig from the bottle, then turned back to the view of the Pacific dotted
with whitecaps. “I have to tell you more about finding Penny. You're not going to like it.”

“Have at it. I'm used to criticism.”

“It's not criticism.”

“What is it?”

“Penny tracked berry juice all over the seats of the Impala. The upholstery's a mess.”

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for a scowl or at least a sigh. He cared, of course. The Impala was worth a small fortune, and it held a thousand memories: restoring it with his father, visiting car shows, driving it for the first time down the Pacific Coast Highway. He treasured the old car, but his stomach burned with other memories: his father becoming churlish over a gum wrapper left in the ashtray, polishing chrome that already gleamed.

Ryan aimed his chin toward the garage. “Let's take a look. We can talk salary and hours while I clean it up.”

“I haven't taken the job yet,” she reminded him.

“No, but I hope you do.”

As they headed toward the gate, he raised his hand to touch the small of her back but stopped. He had no business touching her, and he wouldn't have reacted that way with Mrs. Howell. Annoyed with himself, he strode past her to the garage and used the keypad.

Carly pointed at the concrete walk. “She went in through the side door.”

“Kyle keeps his baseball gear out here. He must have forgotten to lock up.” As responsible as Kyle was, he was still fifteen, though he'd be sixteen soon.

When the metal door was halfway up, Carly leaned down to peer at the back end of the car. “What year is it?”

“1962. It's a Chevy Impala SS. A family heirloom.”

“My grandpa owned an Impala. It wasn't a convertible, though. Yours is amazing.”

“I enjoy it.” He wished his sons shared his interest, but even Kyle glazed over when Ryan mentioned taking the car out for a spin.

When the big door locked into place, he entered the stuffy garage and hit the switch for the overhead light. Hands on his hips, he peered down at a collage of purple footprints and groaned.

Carly stayed outside in the sun, her hands hooked in her pockets and a worried expression on her face. “How bad is it?”

“Bad.”

“Penny was oblivious, I'm sure.”

“Completely.” He sensed she was interviewing him again, so he stopped the inspection and faced her. “This is one of those can't/won't times you mentioned. Penny doesn't think ahead or imagine consequences. I see the berries and make the connection to stains. Penny can't do that.”

“So you're not angry with her.” It was half a question, half a statement.

“Angry at Penny? No.” Ryan reserved his anger for himself. “It's frustrating, of course. And I've been known to raise my voice, but the best solution is to tell the gardener to pull out the berry bush.” He wished he'd done it sooner.

“You have a good understanding of her.”

“We've been in counseling for three months now. My first lesson from Miss Monica—she's the therapist—is that I have a choice. I can either accommodate Penny's special needs, or I can frustrate us both with expectations she can't meet.”

“Exactly. My own view is that it's up to us as adults to adapt to kids with FASD, because they can't adapt to us. We wouldn't ask a blind man to see.”

“No.”

A hint of battle flashed in her eyes. “But we
would
do everything possible to enable the blind man to function as best as he can, and we'd teach him to read in ways he could understand—like Braille instead of print on a page. From what I've seen, Penny doesn't
have any of the physical indicators, except she's small for her age. That suggests Fetal Alcohol Effects rather than full blown FAS.”

FAE was the least of the evils on the fetal alcohol spectrum but still significant, damaging, and frequently undetected. Without a clear diagnosis, FAE kids and parents like Ryan were often confused and frustrated by a lack of understanding.

Carly stepped into the garage and looked down at the stain on the seat. “Do you think it'll come out?”

“Maybe.”

She waited for more, her head tipped and her brows slightly arched. “Maybe you should try now. The longer it sets, the worse it gets.”

Kentucky practicality rang in her voice. “Sure, why not?” He wasn't optimistic, but he lifted a rag and a can of upholstery cleaner off the workbench, squirted a test spot, and set the can down. “It needs to soak. We might as well finish the interview.”

Carly scooted onto a tall stool at the workbench behind her and laced her hands in her lap. “Tell me more about Penny.”

“Her intelligence is in the 110 range on the Wechsler Intelligence Scale.”

“Normal.”

“Yes.” Though in the Tremaine family, anything less than a gifted IQ was considered subpar.

“How was she diagnosed?”

“Her mother drank during the pregnancy.” Ryan knew for a fact, because he had purchased the gin they consumed in a vain effort to drown their guilt over the affair.

“Is she on medication?”

“No, but I haven't ruled it out.”

“She's still young.” Carly glanced down at the test spot, then back at him. “I don't mean to be nosy, but I'd like to understand your relationship with Penny's mother.”

“Does this mean you'll take the job?”

“I'm still deciding.”

Ryan hated telling the story, but he'd bare his soul if it would convince Carly to be Penny's nanny, even for the summer. He stood straight and faced her, the car, and the stain between them, the rag dangling from his hand.

“I had an affair. No excuses. I hurt a lot of people, and I'm sorry.”

Carly said nothing, her expression tighter than before but carefully blank. If he'd just torpedoed himself with her, so be it. His campaign to be a better father meant telling the truth. “I broke it off before I knew Penny had been conceived. She was an accident.” He hated thinking of her in that way, but it was true. “Her mother told me about six months into the pregnancy. I promised to pay child support, saw an attorney, and that was that.” Except for the guilt made even worse by Jenna's mercy.
“Save your marriage, Ryan. Save your family. This baby and
I will be just fine.”

Instead of easing his conscience, her generosity had shamed him even more. So did the horror on Heather's face when he told her about the affair. Looking at Carly now, Ryan wished for the millionth time that he'd been a better man. “Heather and I tried to work things out but couldn't. We've been divorced four years now. It's hard on the boys.”

“Shared custody?”

“Yes, but I have them for the summer. Heather's on some sort of mission trip with her church.”

Carly's face lit up. “Where did she go?”

“Haiti.”

“My father's a minister. I have a lot of respect for mission trips.”

To Ryan, a summer in Haiti sounded like a bad vacation. He tried to blank his face, but he let out a snort. Carly drew back, a sign she'd judged his attitude correctly. Hoping she wouldn't hold it against him, he dabbed at the stain with the rag. “That's the whole ugly story. If I could change it, I would. Especially what happened
to Penny. People blame the mother for FASD, but I'm as responsible as Jenna. I bought the liquor, drank it with her—”

“Dr. Tremaine?”

His hand clenched the soiled folds of the rag. Dreading criticism, he lifted his head and faced her.

Carly stared at him with enough fervor to melt the asphalt driveway. “I don't judge anyone. You made a mistake, a bad one. I've made mistakes, too. As my daddy says, ‘We're all beggars at the King's table, sinners in need of grace.'”

The music of the Bluegrass slipped into Carly's voice, but the sentiment was Christian claptrap, the same foolishness he'd heard from Heather a year ago when she told him she was a Christian now and had forgiven him. He appreciated the gesture, but he couldn't forgive himself and never would. When it came to his own life, Ryan was judge and jury, and he was guilty as charged. “I appreciate the sentiment, but the facts stand. Penny's brain is damaged because of what her parents did to her. She'll always have certain challenges.”

“Just like the blind man.” Carly popped off the stool and looked down at the stain. “It's gone.”

“I'm surprised.” He glanced at the can and made a note to buy more. “This is good stuff. I'll work on the rest of the seat over the weekend.”

Carly smiled at him. “I'll help.”

Ryan's brows lifted. “Did you just accept the job?”

“Yes.”

He set the cleaning supplies on the workbench and put his hands on his hips, ready for more negotiation. “Name your salary.”

She gave a figure that was almost exactly what he had agreed to pay Mrs. Howell. “Perfect. Live in or live out?”

“Out,” she replied.

He preferred the nanny to live in for the convenience, but Penny's prior nannies weren't in their twenties, pretty, and impressive grad students with long blond hair. It was easy to imagine talking with
Carly and sharing tidbits from the day, something he couldn't do with an employee, or any woman, until he finished the SOS list and made things right with his sons.

“That's fine,” he said about her living out. “When can you start?”

“I have to give notice at the Animal Factory, but I'm off for the next three days. How about tomorrow?”

“Perfect.”

“What time?”

“Seven a.m.?”

“I'll be here.” She glanced at the driveway where long shadows stretched like fingers across the asphalt. “I should go.”

After hiring four nannies, Ryan followed a routine that included paper work, giving her keys to the house and van, exchanging phone numbers, and showing her the nanny quarters. Even if she didn't live in, she could use the room during the day. “Can you stay a little longer? I'd like to show you around, give you the tax forms, that sort of thing.”

“Could we do it in the morning?”

“Sure.”

He wondered if she had a date tonight or maybe a serious boyfriend. For all he knew, she was living with some guy. Not that it mattered to Ryan. Carly's love life was her own business.

She waited while he closed the door with the keypad; then they walked to the house where she picked up her purse but left the manila envelope with her CV. After shepherding her down the hall, he followed her across the street to her car, an old red Cavalier. At the sight of the worn tires, he almost told her to wait while he fetched the keys to the van, a fairly new model with all the bells and whistles.

She unlocked the car door, then faced him. “By the way, does Penny know how to swim?”

“Enough to dog paddle across the pool. She started lessons a few months ago, but it didn't go well. Too much noise and splashing.”

“I'll work with her.”

“Thanks. She'll enjoy that.”

“About the boys . . . How much supervision do they need?”

“Kyle's almost sixteen. He's pretty self sufficient.” Pride filled Ryan's chest, though his ex-wife deserved most of the credit. “He'll need a ride now and then, a sandwich or two. Eric . . . Eric's a bit of a mystery to me.”

“He's what? Thirteen?”

“Barely. His birthday was last month.” Ryan wished he had bought a gift instead of stuffing cash in a funny card, but he didn't know what to buy.

“That's a hard age for anyone,” Carly said. “Plus he's the middle child with a brand-new special-needs sister.”

Her analysis impressed him. “He's been having a rough time for a while.”

“Does he have friends?”

“A few.”

“Good. I'll help any way I can.”

Ryan couldn't remember the last time someone offered to help. With Carly, he even believed she could make a difference. “The boys already met you at the Animal Factory, but I'll make official introductions in the morning.”

“Let's make it fun,” she suggested. “If they're anything like my older brother, they like to eat. I'll pick up something from a bakery.”

“Perfect.” He opened his wallet and handed her cash.

She slipped the money into her pocket, then gave a shake of her head. “This has been the strangest job interview of my life.”

“Same here.”

“This is a change for me, but taking the job feels right.” Her voice pitched a little lower, as if the decision had as much gravity for her as it did for him.

Ryan didn't live by his feelings. They were wild things that ran amuck and led to mistakes. Instead, he focused on the practicalities
and took his phone out of his pocket. “You should have my cell. What's yours? I'll call you.”

She recited the number, and he punched it in. When the call completed, birds chirped inside her purse. It took him a second to figure out the chirping was her ringtone. Things like that usually annoyed him, especially when a patient's phone went off in the middle of an exam, but with Carly the playfulness struck him as sweet. “Clever.”