Together With You (8 page)

He opened the car door and held it wide. After climbing in, Carly tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. “Good night, Dr. Tremaine. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Carly.” He moved to close the door but stopped with it still open. “You probably noticed. Penny calls me Dr. Tremaine.”

She peered up at him, the streetlight bright on her face. “Do you know why?”

“No, and I hate it.” Staring into her eyes, he saw a friend instead of an employee. “Call me Ryan. It might help Penny see me differently.”

Carly glanced through the windshield, then faced him again and shrugged. “Okay. Ryan it is.”

He nodded crisply, closed the door, and stepped back, watching as she steered down the quiet street. The taillights beamed a steady red, flashed brighter when she braked, then disappeared when she turned the corner. Hopeful his nanny problems were solved at last, he made a beeline for his office, slipped the SOS list out from under the desk mat, and crossed off
Find a nanny for Penny.

Instead of going straight home, Carly drove to the Animal Factory. Her boss was there, so Carly gave notice and asked if the customary two weeks' notice could be shortened. The newest clerk wanted more hours, so Carly was able to quit immediately.

After hugging her coworkers good-bye, she bought little gifts for Penny and Eric, then popped into a sporting goods store for something for Kyle.

By the time she left the mall, the sky was black except for streetlights and a handful of faded stars. She didn't like getting home after dark, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. The alley, poorly lit, seemed even murkier than usual, and she immediately saw why. Two of the lights in the carport were burned out. She considered parking on the street, but it was late and a good spot would be hard to find.

Choosing the lesser of two evils, she pulled into the space next to Bette's old sedan, clutched her pepper spray, and hurried through the gate to the courtyard. Night-blooming jasmine filled her nose with a hint of exotic islands, and she inhaled deeply. The scent was one of the consolations of dusk, a touch of paradise before the neighborhood exploded with noisy cars, sirens, and the chop of a police helicopter circling overhead.

With the home invasion fresh on her mind, she skipped a stop at her mailbox, hurried to Bette's door, and knocked. Bette knew about today's interview and was waiting for news.

In just a few seconds, she peeked through the side window, turned the deadbolt, and ushered Carly inside. ”How did it go?”

“I took the job.” She dropped her purse on a chair, a relic from the 1990s and a remnant from Bette's marriage. Tom Cat leapt off the sofa and landed with a plop. “Days only, so I'll be around. But what an interview. Penny got lost, her aunt showed up with a stuffed kangaroo, and I saw a fully restored 1962 Chevy Impala.”

Bette's eyes crinkled with laughter. “You sure know how to spin a tale, Carly Jo.”

Carly Jo.
Bette did that now and then. Battling a wave of homesickness, Carly reached down and stroked Tom's silky black fur.

“The kettle's boiling for tea,” Bette said. “Want some?”

“Just one cup.”

Carly followed her to the kitchen, fetched her favorite mug, and selected something lemony from the boxes jammed on the narrow shelf. As she removed a tea bag, Tom rubbed against her ankles to demand another scratch. Carly obliged, then carried her cup to the table and sat. “I feel good about the decision, but I have to admit I'm a little nervous about it.”

“Why?”

“When you work in a family setting, things get personal fast.” She blinked and recalled Dr. Tremaine—now Ryan—standing under the streetlight, the five o'clock shadow evident on his strong jaw, and his business shirt tailored to his lean body. She couldn't help noticing him in a physical way, but the attraction didn't mean anything. It couldn't. He was her employer now. As the recipient of a broken heart in college, she knew better than to fall in love with the wrong person.

Bette poured boiling water into Carly's cup. The steam rose in a cloud between them and filled the air with the scent of lemons. Bette's bracelet—a Southwest style made of chunky turquoise—rattled on her wrist as she set down the pot. Carly dipped the bag, gave it a squeeze, and added sugar. Back home, she drank sweet tea all summer long, strong with lots of ice, but folks in California didn't know how to make it.

Bette broke into her thoughts. “Being a nanny won't be like working at the Animal Factory, that's for sure.”

“No.” Carly dipped the tea bag a few times. “At the Animal Factory, kids come and go. It's easy and fun.”

“It's like me at the bakery.” Bette lowered her plump body down to the chair. “I know the regulars, some of them surprisingly well because they blurt their troubles, but no one asks about me. It's funny how that goes.”

Carly often thought about the way people in Los Angeles talked so openly to strangers about the most personal things—divorces, problems with kids, plastic surgery. It happened in line at stores,
in waiting rooms, anywhere. People in Boomer County talked, too, but they knew one another.

Bette blew on her tea to cool it, risked a sip, and hummed with pleasure. “That sure tastes good after a long day.”

“Any word on the home invasions?”

“No, but I'm worried.” Bette studied Carly across the table. “Are you sure about not living in with this family? It makes sense, considering what's happening here.”

“I'm sure.”

“I hope you're not staying because of me.”

“Not entirely, but I worry about both of us. We could share a two-bedroom, but it would only be until I finish school.”

“No, thanks,” Bette said. “The crime scares me, but I'm used to living alone.”

So was Carly, but she didn't like it. She missed her family, the little jokes born of a common history, just knowing people cared about her. Her mind leapt to an unsettling future, one where she had gray hair, saggy arms, and only a cat for company. She was twenty-eight, single, and a virgin by choice because she wanted her wedding night to be everything God intended. The thought gave her goose bumps in one breath and filled her with fear in the next. What if that night never came?

She had stopped dating after the mess with Allison, mostly because she was such bad company. As for being social in Los Angeles, she missed Kentucky too much to risk losing her heart to someone who didn't share her roots. Aching for home, she took a long sip of the sweetened tea that wasn't quite sweet enough.

She chatted a little longer with Bette, then went to her own apartment, immediately slipping the two deadbolts into place. She fed Wild Thing and then turned on her laptop. After skimming her e-mail, she clicked on the links to Allison's social media pages. There was nothing new, just the same pictures from two
years ago and an old note from Chyna at Sparrow House, saying,
Hey, AlleyCat, where r u?

Next, Carly checked her post about Allison on a Web site dedicated to finding missing children. Again, nothing.

A car backfired on the street. Carly jumped out of her skin. A cat screeched out on the walk, and a female voice shouting in Spanish penetrated the glass of the locked window. Her heart pounded and not just because of the noise. It was the unknown that plagued her—worry, failure, and feelings she didn't want to have, especially when those feelings included a child with FASD and the child's troubled father.

“Ryan,” she said out loud to numb herself to the name.

It didn't work. Instead her heart came alive with the memory of his confessing to the affair. She'd been repelled in one breath, impressed by his remorse in the next. Knowing how it felt to have made a bad mistake, she felt his failure as plainly as she felt her own. The power of that connection couldn't be denied. She liked him as a person, and if she were honest, she found him attractive.

With that awareness pinging from her body to her heart, she wondered if she'd met someone special . . . the man God made just for her.

“That's ridiculous,” she said out loud.

Dr. Ryan Tremaine was cynical, snide, not a Christian, and her employer. He also lived and breathed the Los Angeles smog, was a little older than she was, and came with a family tree shaped more like a tangled vine than a sturdy oak. The stain being lifted from the upholstery was God's gracious sign that she belonged with Penny, but no way would Carly care for Ryan any more than she'd care for any hurting human being.

And that, she realized, was a very big problem.

C
arly sat perched on the top row of the bleacher seats facing the baseball diamond, watching as Kyle's team jogged onto the field with their caps pulled low against the sun. Eric and his friend Nathan were huddled on the bottom bench as far from her as they could get. Ryan had taken Penny for her session with Miss Monica and would arrive any minute. It was four in the afternoon, warm but not hot, and the air smelled of sunscreen, hot dogs, and the red clay dirt of the infield. With her eyes shaded by a white visor, she relaxed in the sunshine, off duty for the moment.

After a full week with the Tremaines, she thought she knew why God had dropped her into their lives. When it came to his sons, Ryan's demeanor was clinical, as if he were diagnosing patients instead of raising children. He loved his kids, but he was missing out on the fun side of life, something Carly observed on that first morning when she arrived with donuts, gifts, and an icebreaker game. The kids had enjoyed the surprises—an outfit for Miss Rabbit, rubber snakes for Eric, and baseballs for Kyle—and they quickly chimed in with answers to the silly questions she pulled
out of a bowl. Even Eric had played along, but Ryan didn't crack a single smile.

Carly felt a little like Maria in
The Sound of Music,
her mother's favorite movie
.
Nothing would stop her from going home to Kentucky, but someone had to help Ryan understand his children, and apparently Carly was the one. But how? She didn't want to be a know-it-all, but she'd gleaned things about the boys he needed to know.

The batter smacked a grounder to the shortstop, who whipped the ball to Kyle at first. Tall and lean like his father, he snagged it with a graceful swipe of the glove.

Carly leapt to her feet, shouted, and clapped with the other adults on the bleachers. Ryan needed to be here. Turning, she glanced over her shoulder and spotted him by the tot lot, where Penny was playing with her friend Bethany under the watchful eye of Bethany's mom. Carly took in his tall frame and long stride, the sun glinting off his dark glasses and the tanned skin that made his short hair even darker. Instead of his usual shirt and tie, he was dressed in Levis and a gray plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves. The look suited him.

Grinning, she waved so he'd see her. He raised his arm to acknowledge her, a kind of salute that sent a little zing to her heart. Inexplicably energized, she turned her attention back to the game and waited for him. Two pitches later, Ryan arrived at the bleachers and climbed up to meet her.

“Sorry I'm late.” He whipped off the sunglasses and put them in his pocket. “Traffic was hideous.”

“It usually is.”

He hated to be late. Carly knew that about him, along with other things, like his favorite kind of pizza and the fact he played a mean game of chess. She'd gleaned the details during the icebreaker game, along with his favorite color—dark green—and his favorite TV show—reruns of
Seinfeld
.

They'd discussed meeting at the game earlier, and she was free to go if she wanted. Ryan could cram the kids into his Honda, but it was a beautiful day and she liked baseball. He didn't mention her leaving, so she stayed at his side with her legs crossed and a canvas tote bag at her feet. Figuring he might be thirsty, she reached into the bag and handed him a bottle of water, still cold thanks to an ice pack.

An appreciative smile lit up his face. He took a long drag, wiped his mouth with his bare forearm, and surveyed the stands. “Where's Eric?”

“As far from me as he can get.” She pointed to Eric and Nathan on the bottom bench, stuffing themselves with popcorn. “How did it go with Penny today?”

“Very well.” Enthusiasm, maybe surprise, deepened his voice. “Miss Monica said to keep doing what we're doing. She's glad you're here.”

“So am I.” Carly meant it. “Any insight into why Penny runs away?”

“No,” he answered, more somber. “But as long as the nanny situation is stable, Miss Monica said we should wait and come back in a month. That could be the last visit.”

“That's great.” Now was the time to bring up the way Eric misbehaved to get attention, or the fact that Kyle had a girlfriend, but Ryan was relaxed and she didn't want to spoil the mood.

He took a deep breath and blew it out. “It's not often all three kids are occupied at the same time.”

Carly liked that about him, the way he noticed moments out of the ordinary. He glanced at her with his lips damp from the water, hesitated, then said, “You're off the clock. If you want to leave—”

“No. I like baseball, plus look.” She pointed to the scoreboard. “The score's tied and Kyle's up next.”

“Good. We can kick back and relax.”

The
we
sounded natural enough. They were employer and
employee, but his casual tone and being apart from the crowd made them something else. Friends, she decided. Sharing the afternoon with Ryan definitely beat going home to her apartment.

The opposing team made the third out. Kyle jogged in from first, grabbed a bat, and headed to the plate. He took the first pitch for a strike, missed the next one, then hammered a line drive to left field. Carly and Ryan leapt to their feet, cheering like crazy as he slid into second for a double.

“He's got wheels for legs,” she said. “And he's got a great stretch at first. With his build, it's the perfect position for him.”

Ryan gave her a curious look. “You know baseball. I thought people in Kentucky were just into basketball.”

“The Cats are number one,” she said. “But Boomer County's not far from Cincy.” Knowing the history of the rivalry with the Los Angeles Dodgers and Cincinnati Reds, a rivalry second only to the Dodger rivalry with the San Francisco Giants, she put an extra note of pride in her voice. “I grew up rooting for the Reds.”

Ryan reared back. “That's heresy in the Tremaine household.”

With her nose in the air, Carly huffed at him. “May the best team win, and
I
know who that is.”

He gave a hearty laugh, the first one she had ever heard. “When the Reds are in town, we'll take the kids to a game.”

“I'd like that.” A touch of home appealed to her. So did the fun of razzing Ryan about his misguided baseball choices.

They settled into easy banter that shifted into stories about their everyday lives. With smacks of the bat punctuating the conversation, she learned that he liked being a doctor but once dreamed of being the next Jacques Cousteau. He had lived in Los Angeles all his life except for a fellowship at the Wills Eye Institute in Philadelphia, but he enjoyed travel. Given a choice, he'd choose a week on an exotic island over a history-packed trip to Europe, though he'd been to London a few times.

In turn, she told him about growing up in a small town, how
much she missed her family, and how much she disliked the big-city bustle.

They glanced occasionally at Penny and Eric, but mostly they teased each other about their differences.

“So you don't like Los Angeles,” he said with a shake of his head. “What's not to like?”

“Almost everything!”
Everything except Ryan and his kids.
Carly pushed that thought aside. “For one thing, the seasons are upside down. Kentucky is brown in the winter, green in the summer, and the sky's always blue. Here it's the opposite. The hills are green in winter and brown in the summer. And the sky—” She gave a disgusted shake of her head. “Half the time it's as brown as the hills. I hate smog.”

“Los Angeles at its worst,” he said. “But it's home to me.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” he admitted. “It's big, noisy, and impersonal, but the good outweighs the bad. The ocean is close. The weather is just about perfect, and there's plenty to do. Movies, theater, museums, even the zoo.”

Ryan's mention of the zoo was her opening to bring up the kids, but she was enjoying his company and didn't want to put her nanny hat back on just yet. “Other than play chess, what do you do for fun?”

“Fun?”

“Yes, fun! It's what we're doing now. Just enjoying this beautiful day.”

“I don't think much about fun.”

The poor guy really needed to loosen up. Carly had grown up in a family where joy and faith were opposite sides of the same coin. Joy wasn't a matter of simply being optimistic or a Pollyanna. Her kind of joy grew from the rich soil of God's love, serving others, and embracing life in all its complexity. She doubted Ryan would understand, so she searched for common ground. “Do you like birthdays?”

“Sure.”

“How about Christmas?”

“What's not to like?” He tossed off a shrug. “Trees. Lights. Christmas music. It's a nice time of year.”

She went for the clincher. “How about when Kyle's team wins, or when the Dodgers go to the World Series?”

His mouth relaxed into the promise of a smile, and he bumped her arm with his elbow. “You got me, Carly. That's definitely fun.”

His eyes locked on to hers, his blue-gray irises shining silver and somehow murky and mysterious at the same time. She lost herself in those eyes, and for a blink she forgot he was her boss and saw him only as a man—a handsome man with broad shoulders, forgotten dreams, and a smile that sent lightning bolts to her toes.

The bat cracked against the ball. Someone shouted, “Heads up!”

Carly's gaze snapped to the sky where a foul ball was plummeting straight at her. As she cringed to the side, Ryan launched to his feet, leaned sideways, and caught it bare-handed. The leather whapped against his palm. Hauling back, he lobbed the ball over the fence to the pitcher holding up his glove.

“That had to hurt,” she said when he sat back down. “Is your hand all right? I have ice in the cooler.”

His eyes twinkled in a way that suggested she was being silly. “I'm fine.” To prove it, he held out his hand and flexed his fingers. “It didn't hurt a bit.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

She gave a shake of her head. “Thanks. That ball would have beaned me if you hadn't caught it.”

His brows lifted in what seemed like a smirk, but his twinkling eyes betrayed him. “That's because you're a wussy Reds fan.”

Carly laughed. “I walked right into that one.”

He was closer to her than when he first arrived, so close she could see the cleft in his chin and the start of a scoundrel's smile.
The faintest trace of his aftershave, a smoky scent, wafted to her nose, and so did the smell of the hot cotton of his shirt. Rolled-up sleeves revealed muscular forearms with a smattering of dark hair, and when he raised his knee and planted his foot on the bench in front of them, her insides did a mischievous leap.

Unnerved, she retreated to nanny land with a glance at Penny. Ryan remarked on how well Kyle was playing. Carly mentioned that Eric and Nathan were on their fourth bag of popcorn, and they settled in to watch the next pitch.

She really did like baseball, at least that's how she explained the shivers still running up her arms. She'd never be a Dodgers fan. Her Kentucky roots were too deep, but she decided to go to all of Kyle's games. It was just plain fun, especially with Ryan snagging foul balls and trading jokes with her.

Five days after Kyle's baseball game, Ryan took Eric and Nathan to the museums at Exposition Park. He wanted to spend quality time with Eric, even have a conversation or two. Instead he was playing chauffeur and busboy to two thirteen-year-old boys. His patience was frayed, and the heat wave didn't help.

What had he been thinking to suggest a trip to see the Space Shuttle Endeavor at the Science Center? This morning, when he had skimmed the SOS list, he was able to cross off just two items—
Go to Kyle's baseball games
and
Swim lessons for Penny.
Thanks to Carly, Penny swam like a fish. On the other hand,
Have a family dinner and enjoy it
had been an abysmal failure with the four of them sitting at the kitchen table saying nothing. He hoped to have better luck taking Penny for ice cream at Dairy Queen sometime.

He had arranged for her to play with Bethany today so he could spend time with Eric, but nothing else went as planned. Eric and Nathan raced to the Natural History Museum, gawked at the T. rex, but ignored everything else. In the Science Center, they called the
space shuttle clunky, dashed through the ecosystem exhibit, then charged past the section on technology and inventions. Ryan and Eric exchanged maybe five sentences, and those were about lunch.

Ryan felt like a failure.

And he was lonely. The day would have been a lot better with Carly to run interference, but today he was on his own and determined to break through to Eric. Maybe the IMAX movie would help. It was about the marvels of the ocean, and Eric had seemed interested when they first arrived and saw the five-story poster on the building. At the very least, he and the boys would sit together.