13. Summer
Chapter 13
Summer
H omemade chicken soup is harder than I remember, but I finish it with the help of the internet and—surprisingly—it tastes really good. With it simmering on the stove, I hunt around for some bowls and spoons, then I find a serving tray.
I take Allie a bowl of soup and find her still passed out the same way I left her, so I leave it with some more water before heading to get Aoife.
“Aoife?” I rub her back. She’s still warm, but not as hot as before.
She rolls over. Her blonde hair is snarled into unruly sections, her little nose red and raw, but the smile she offers me makes my heart swell.
“Aoife, I’ve made some chicken soup. Your nanny Allie told me it was your favorite. Would you like some?”
She nods and sits up.
“Are you all right to come to the kitchen to eat?” I look at the couch, and frankly I’m concerned about letting a four, almost five-year-old eat soup on it.
“Yes,” she says. “Daddy and I eat there all the time.”
I smile at her, offering my hand for her to pull on to get up, but she ends up keeping hers clasped in mine as we walk to the kitchen.
There are barstools at the abnormally massive island, and I help her climb onto one. Then I slide a bowl of soup in front of her. “Do you know if Allie keeps crackers on hand?”
She points to some double doors behind her, and I walk over to open a walk-in pantry half the size of my classroom. Allie had left all the ingredients out for the soup, like she had been planning to make it, so there wasn’t a reason to go snooping around the kitchen.
Shelves of pantry items line from floor to ceiling, with the exception of a counter with a jar of coffee and specialized tea. I scan quickly and spot some saltines.
Grabbing those, I pull out a sleeve and open it, setting it next to Aoife who’s gobbling up the soup.
“Is it good?”
“Delicious,” she says, yanking a cracker from the package.
“Good.” I help myself to a bowl and sit next to Aoife. The first bite is really good. “How are you feeling? You must feel a bit better if you’re able to guzzle the soup.” I gently poke to tickle her belly, and she giggles.
“I feel okay. I’m tired.” She sniffles. “Is Nanny Allie okay?”
“She will be. Just needs some rest. Same with you. Once you finish with your soup, we’ll get you up to bed, okay?”
She nods. “Will you read me a story?”
My heart clenches. “Of course. We can pick one?—”
The back door opens, and I startle, dropping my spoon into my bowl of chicken soup. Several drops plop on the island counter.
I look up, half expecting Kieran to come through the door, but it’s not, and I immediately stand, stepping in front of Aoife.
“Can I help you?” I ask the man standing in the door, grinning at Aoife.
“I believe the question is, lass. Can I help ye?”
“Cormac!” Aoife giggles, and before I can turn around to help her, she’s jumped down and barrels into the man’s legs for a hug.
He’s of average height, definitely not as tall as Kieran. With straight brown hair that tapers off past his ears, and leering eyes that are a light hazel. A rough five-o’clock shadow lines his face, and he smirks at me.
“And who might ye be?”
“This is Miss Smith. My teacher!” Aoife coughs wide open onto the man named Cormac, and he makes a face, stepping back a couple steps.
“Sick, little bug?”
“Uh-huh,” Aoife says. “Nanny Allie’s sick, too. Miss Smith made soup. Want some?”
He looks at me, and I wince. I’m not sure why I’m uncomfortable. Perhaps I’m worried he’ll assume the worst about why I’m here, though I can’t imagine what that might be.
“I-I dropped some work off for Aoife and noticed Allie was barely holding on. From what I understand Mr. O’Donnell is out of town. It didn’t feel right to leave while they were both sick.”
Cormac rubs the back of this head while kicking off his boots. “Aye. That’s mighty nice of ya.” He shucks off his coat, exposing a rust-colored button down and black dress pants. “Soup, ye say?”
He moves toward to the stove where the pot of soup is, helping himself to a bowl full and sliding on the opposite side of Aoife.
“Have you talked to Daddy?” She’s comfortable with this man. I vaguely remember seeing him before at the bar. He must be a restaurant manager for Kieran or something. The way he helped himself by coming in is a bit odd, but maybe they’re really close. Or related. They both have strong accents. Honestly, who am I to say him coming into this house is odd? Jeez, Summer.
“Aye. Once or twice. He misses you.”
I bite back a scoff. Has Aoife spoken with her father? Why is Cormac telling her he misses her when Kieran should be the one calling his little girl? Does he even know she’s sick?
Memories crack open, flooding my mind, and I wince at the emotional pain. Like the time I injured myself during a tennis match and my parents couldn’t be bothered to take me to the doctors themselves. Not when it meant canceling an important meeting with some of my father’s associates. Or how I’d party until the early morning hours, sneaking back into my house smelling of alcohol just to see if my parents would notice or even care.
Somehow, though, I can’t quite equate my father with Kieran. My father would’ve never volunteered for a class field trip, regardless of motivations. Not when it meant losing out on an entire day’s worth of work.
Aoife lets out a yawn and mild shiver. I palm her forehead feeling for a resurgence of her fever. She’s warm. I brush the hair out of her face, and when I look up, Cormac is studying me.
I pull my hand back. “What do you say, Aoife? How about getting ready for bed? Do you want me to see if Nanny Allie can?—”
“Can you put me to bed?” She pleads up at me.
I offer her a soft smile, then glance up to Cormac who’s plopped his face in his palm, elbow leaning on the counter. He raises his eyebrows at me.
I’m fairly certain I’m about to cross a line here. But I know it’d be doing Allie a favor.
“I, uh, sure. Are you finished with your food? Let me clean up these bowls.”
“I’ll go pick out my book!” Aoife darts off the stool again and rushes out of the room. When I’m left with Cormac, my brain stumbles for something to say as his gaze follows me while I clean up.
“Teacher, ye say?”
I nod, soaping up the bowls in the sink, my back turned away from him.
“Ye’re very tan for winter. Must be nice. Or is that because ye’re Italian?—”
My mouth goes dry. What did he just say? My gut screams at me and my heart pounds in my chest, but I keep my hands moving methodically over the dishes slowly.
“—or Brazilian, maybe Mexican …” he continues. I glance over my shoulder at him, but he’s not looking at me. More like mumbling into his bowl. “I don’t know. That was rude of me. I’m pasty white, so I’m jealous.”
He looks up, and I plaster a shaky smile across my mouth. He smiles back, before standing and setting the dish next to the sink. “I’m going to check in with Allie.”
He exits before I finish up the dishes, my heart finally returning to normal. I dim the lights in the cleaned-up kitchen and make my way to the stairs, as I told Aoife I would.
Allie’s door is cracked open, and I pause at the raised voices inside.
“—were you thinking?” A male’s voice. Cormac.
“She’s her teacher, not a criminal.” I swallow the baseball-sized lump in my throat. If they really knew …
“He’s not going to like this.”
A cough, then. “Well, he’s not due back for two days.”
“You coming?” Aoife’s voice sounds from the top of the stairs, and I jump, moving up them.
Family portraits line the wall, but I stomp out the curiosity to look at them until I reach the top where there’s a portrait of Kieran holding a beautiful baby. Aoife. Just the two of them.
He’s younger looking, but I don’t miss the tired lines around his eyes, through his smile. I linger, gazing into those deep forest-green eyes. Was it always just the two of them? Does he want something more? A family? Someone to share his life with …
Thoughts I shouldn’t have invade my mind, and I shake my head. He’s one of the most handsome men I’ve met. I’m sure he has his choice of woman. If there isn’t anyone in the picture, it’s because he wants it that way.
At the top of the stairs there’s a closed door to my left, and I pause wondering if that’s his room. After that there’s a hallway with several rooms to the right, and Aoife bounds down it with fresh pajamas in her hand.
She shows me her bathroom, where I help her brush her teeth at the double sinks. There are two antique mirrors that hang above each one, and my heart almost bursts when I catch our reflection as I brush out her tangled hair.
Changed, and ready for bed, Aoife grabs her two books and hops under her blankets. Sitting on her bed, I read both to her, twice, before her little lashes close with the heaviness of sleep. I turn on her dancing star light next to her bed, then on my way to the door, I switch off the main light.
Before I can shut the door, she whispers, “Can you stay?”
I smile at her as she sits back up in bed. I shouldn’t. I’ve overstayed as it is and who knows what Kieran will do when he finds out I’ve played house with his nanny and daughter for half a day.
But Aoife’s subsequent pouty, “Please!” does me in, and I walk back over to sit on her bed, back against the headboard while Aoife lies back down on her pillow next to me.
“Good night, Miss Smith.”
“Miss Summer is fine, Aoife,” I say, and she giggles.
“Does Cormac always call you little bug?”
“Uh-huh. Nanny Allie calls me that.” She yawns, and I smooth down her hair and wrap my arms around her little body.
“My nanny used to call me a nickname, too,” I say.
“You had a nanny?”
“I did. I’m not sure I appreciated her as much as I should’ve. But your nanny, Allie, seems like such a great nanny. You’re a lucky one.”
Aoife nods, and I sit there listening to each of her breaths slow and even out into a restful sleep. But instead of moving, I lean my head back, watching the dancing stars floating across the walls and ceiling.
Memories of my nanny taking care of me while I was sick lull me to sleep, and the last words playing in my head are hers.
It’s okay, sweet girl.