7. Olivia
7
OLIVIA
C atie and I stayed close to home for the next few days, developing our own little routine. First, breakfast and playing outside for a bit. Then we’d head inside for some educational games and activities. I had plenty of favorites online that I’d bookmarked, and it didn’t take long to find some that matched Catie’s abilities and interests. Sometimes Declan would eat lunch with us, if he wasn’t too busy. Then Catie and I would go on a walk down to the heart of the village and back.
Declan had been right. It was a ridiculously short walk through town, and nothing much to do beyond walking. But everyone we passed gave a friendly wave at Catie, who would shyly wave back. After our walk, we’d read for a bit, then play whatever games Catie wanted until dinner. Declan was almost always there for dinner, though he tended to vanish back to his office afterward. But he always emerged in time to read her a few books and tuck her in for the night.
This day was a bit different, though. Declan had needed to head to Dublin for work, and he’d shared that Catie’s grandma, Marie, was champing at the bit to see her granddaughter. So at 7 a.m. sharp, we had all piled into the car so that Declan could drop Catie and I off at Marie’s house in Galway on his way to work.
Normally, I would have protested the early hour, but the other option would have been another stressful day driving on the wrong side of the road, or using the driver Declan kept on staff. I’d run into Declan’s private chef the other day, and she’d given me the scoop on what I needed to know about working for Declan. Specifically, she’d explained that the “driver” Declan kept on staff was a kindly villager in his seventies who was brilliant at keeping Declan’s cars in top shape, but no longer felt confident driving anywhere outside of the village. Since Declan preferred to do his own driving anyway, he hadn’t noticed. And since none of the rest of the staff needed a driver, it wasn’t a problem. I didn’t want to be the reason an old man lost his job, so I’d promised her I could drive myself if I needed to.
Which was how I ended up spending the wee hours of the morning in a small, enclosed space with Declan.
Catie was in the back of the car, soundly asleep again. I’d say this for her: she was the kind of child who could fall asleep anywhere.
I snuck a glance at Declan, who stared straight ahead, a mild frown creasing his gorgeous brow. “Thinking about work?” I guessed.
“Hmm?”
“You were frowning,” I explained.
“And you were staring?” he countered.
I felt my cheeks heat, so I turned to look away. Maybe I had been watching Declan, more than I normally would with my employers. But none of my employers had ever looked like Declan.
His low, quiet voice cut the silence. “I was thinking about a friend. They asked for advice, and I haven’t heard how it turned out.”
That was…a more human response than I’d expected. Most of the time he was this scowling, grumpy, chronically busy billionaire. But every now and then he’d show a flash of vulnerability.
We drove the rest of the way in silence.
We double parked in front of his Marie’s brightly colored row-house, and Declan carried the sleeping Catie inside. He was so careful with her, you’d never think he was the sort to lie to a child to make his own life easier.
And yet, he clearly was.
Marie opened the door before Declan had a chance to knock. She was tall and dark-haired like Declan, with striking blue eyes. But she had as much silver in her short hair as brown, and there was a soft, round feel to her I couldn’t imagine on Declan.
As I stepped inside Marie’s house, the first thought I had was warm . From the blond wood floor, to the light-yellow walls, to the hand-crafted quilt folded at the end of the couch, it all felt so homey. There was even a roaring fire. An archway behind the couch seemed to lead back into an equally cozy kitchen.
“Here, put her on the couch,” Marie said. “She can keep sleeping, but wake her up just enough so she knows you’re leaving. I don’t want her feeling she’s woken up in a strange place.”
I glanced at Marie with respect. It was clear the woman understood children.
Declan did as she said. Catie gave him a sleepy hug, then slumped back into the couch. By the time Declan walked out the door, she was fast asleep again.
“You’re the nanny, right? Olivia?” Marie asked.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s nice to meet more of Catie’s family.”
“Would you like a cup of tea? I figure we can have a nice chat, then you can have the morning off to do whatever you’d like while Catie and I make soda bread.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Declan had mentioned something about my taking the morning off yesterday, but then Catie had spilled a glass of apple juice I’d promptly switched focus.
I wondered if there was a café nearby I could go to. I should have brought a book. Maybe I could go by the children’s bookstore and see if Molly was there?
But once I sat down in Marie’s kitchen, I had a hard time motivating myself to leave. As I cradled a mug of tea in my hands, Marie’s lovely accent made small talk around me as I sipped the tea and let the caffeine hit my system. She told me all about how Declan had wanted to buy her something grander, but she’d known that she’d feel lonely in anything bigger. Besides, it was a short walk to the bay, and she loved the hustle and bustle of the city.
When the talk turned to baking, I found myself asking, “Do you make soda bread often?”
“Well, now and again. More often this time of year, since I’m trying to perfect it before the festival competition. More tea?”
“Sure. What type of festival?” I asked.
“Do you know that old 70s film, The Deer and the Warrior ?”
I shook my head.
“Well, it’s considered quite a classic, and it was filmed in Ballybeith. Since that’s the only claim our small village has to fame, we’ve been throwing a summer festival to celebrate it ever since. It’s a weeklong affair, culminating in a big party around a bonfire.”
“And a soda bread competition,” I said.
Marie smiled. “And a soda bread competition.”
I looked around the homey kitchen, feeling a type of longing I rarely did. Most of the places I worked in were elaborate mansions. But this place—this place felt like a home.
I wondered what it would be like to stay in one place for decades, participating in local traditions.
“I’d love to learn how to make soda bread someday,” I said, feeling a little wistful.
Marie cocked her head. “Would you like to learn to, today? I assumed you’d appreciate a few hours to yourself, but if you’d like to stay…”
“Yes,” I said, a little surprised at how quickly I agreed.
Marie laughed. “That’s what I like about Americans. Always quick to say yes.” She glanced off in the direction of where Catie was still sleeping. “I didn’t realize how early this would be for Catie. Why don’t you and I start on the bread now? Then Catie can have a treat when she wakes up.”
So she taught me how to plump the raisins in a bowl of water, then measure the ingredients into a big bowl and stir. She turned on a radio, alternately chatting with me, or humming along to the music.
“So have you always lived here?” I asked.
Marie’s smile faded a bit. “No. My husband and I lived in Ballybeith for many years. It’s where Declan and Sinead grew up. But after my husband passed…well.” She poked at the dough and, apparently determining it was firm enough, she tipped the bowl over and scooped it into a round cake pan. “I stayed until Sinead graduated secondary school. But after that, I moved here. I’ll always love Ballybeith, but it’s nice to buy your groceries without anyone giving you a pitying look.”
I knew what she meant. I’d lost my own parents when I was in high school. Starting college and meeting new people had felt like a breath of fresh air.
I looked down at my own dough, wondering if Declan had been around the same age as me when he lost his dad. “I’m sorry you lost someone you loved.”
“Thank you, dear.” Marie’s smile was bittersweet, but quietly resigned. “It’s been years, but I’ll never forget what a big help Declan was. All I wanted to do was cry, but he was so strong, making sure Sinead kept up with her schoolwork, making sure we all had something to eat every night.” She fell silent. “I regret how quickly he had to grow up, but I’m proud of him too.”
“As you should be,” I said. I didn’t have to like the man to admit Declan Byrne was impressive. Perhaps more impressive than I’d realized.
C atie and I ended up spending most of the day at Marie’s. There was a heartbreaking moment when Catie first woke up—she’d had a bad dream about her mom finding a new job and a new kid, so she never came to Ireland to get Catie. But once Marie and I had reassured her that that was never going to happen, Catie had been able to perk up and enjoy the rest of the time with her grandmother.
Now Catie and I were finishing the day off in the children’s bookstore. But whereas before Catie had enthusiastically pulled the books she wanted, now she half-heartedly ran a hand over the book spines, without actually taking anything off the shelf. All her delight at seeing Grandma seemed to have worn off.
“You okay, kiddo?” I asked.
She nodded glumly.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head.
I sighed. Declan was supposed to be coming back through town soon and picking us up at the bookstore, but part of me wanted to change plans and take Catie to that toy store, just to see her smile.
I settled on the carpet besides Catie, pulled out a picture book I recognized, and followed a hunch.
“Do you want to read this one? It’s about a mom who has to go to work. But then she comes home.”
Catie scooched next to me to peer at the book. “Does her kid help her get ready for work? Like if she has a really bad headache, and she needs someone to get her water and saltine crackers so that she feels okay in time for work?”
“Is that how you help your mom?” I asked.
Catie nodded.
My heart twisted as I realized Catie was probably describing helping her mom with a hangover.
“If I’m not there, who will help her feel better for her important work?” She repeated “important work” carefully, using Declan’s exact phrasing.
I felt a spurt of frustrated rage. Maybe Declan really thought he could shield Catie, or maybe he was just avoiding a difficult conversation he didn’t have the guts for. Either way, Catie was the one suffering. She might not know the word “alcoholic,” but on some level she knew her mom wasn’t okay.
“You know, I think your uncle found some people to help your mom feel better,” I hedged.
Catie scowled. “You’re lying . You’re doing the thing adults do where you say it’s okay and it’s not. Mom needs her crackers. I need to go home.”
“Catie—”
“No!” She scooted back from me as fast as she could, accidentally bashing her head into the bookshelf. She started tearing up, her face flushed. I reached to try to soothe her, but she got even more upset when I touched her, so eased back and waited.
I knew from experience that sometimes the best you could do with a fussy child was sit back and wait for them to calm down enough to let themselves be comforted.
Except Catie wasn’t upset because she got her second-choice snack, or didn’t want to wear her sunscreen. The poor kid was scared for her mom, and angry and hurt that the adults were keeping her in the dark.
I thought of that message I’d gotten from @DBCoder.
If there’s a kid at stake, follow your gut .
That was the answer, I realized. I couldn’t keep lying to Catie about something this.
Even if it meant I got fired.
I set the book aside and shifted so that I could face Catie squarely.
“Catie, remember when your mom told you that she was going to the hospital? Well, there are different kinds of hospitals. Some help your body get better. And some help your mind and your emotions get better. Your mom’s body isn’t what’s wrong.”
Catie watched me, eyes wide, a little frown between her brows.
“But her mind and emotions need some help right now. Sometimes when she’s sad, she drinks something that makes her feel better. It’s called alcohol. But if you drink too much alcohol, it makes you sick—gives you a headache and makes your stomach hurt so that you can’t eat anything but crackers.” I saw Catie’s eyes widen as understanding kicked in. “It also makes it tough to make good decisions,” I added as I took Catie’s hands. “But your mom is very smart and very brave, so she made the hard, important decision to try to stop drinking so much. So she’s staying at a special hospital for a few months so she can learn how to do other, healthier things when she wants to feel better, instead of drinking. The good news is, she’s getting help, and she’s going to be okay.”
Catie’s eyes were still wide, but her frown had faded. “What about her important work?”
“That was a silly story Uncle Declan made up to explain why she had to be away for so long. He said it because he didn’t want you to worry. But sometimes silly stories like that accidentally make us worry more, right?”
Catie nodded vigorously.
“So now that you know the truth, you don’t have to worry about helping your mom get to work. She’s going to focus on getting better, and you can focus on having fun with Uncle Declan and Grandma and me.” I made my smile bright and confident. “Your mom will be here before you know it. Okay?”
“Okay,” Catie said. “Can I pick out a book now?”
“Sure,” I said. I stood up, and nearly bumped into a man about my own age who had come to a halt behind me. He was average looking with brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin. The most notable thing about him was that he was in far too fine a suit for a children’s bookstore. I wobbled a bit, and he instinctively steadied me with a friendly hand.
“Sorry, I…your little girl. It’s amazing. She looks exactly like my sister when she was younger.” He shook himself out of whatever he was feeling and gave me a sheepish smile.
Molly bustled over to restock some books. “Hey, Seamus. I see you’ve met the youngest Byrne.” She smiled at me and Catie. “Catie, dear, it looks like your uncle Declan just parked out front.”
The man—Seamus—stiffened. He glanced at Catie. “I think I might know your mum, dear. How old are you?”
“Six,” Catie said proudly.
“Six,” Seamus repeated faintly. “Wonderful age.”
The shop bell rang, and I looked up to see Declan striding in. His face split in a grin when Catie ran up to him, holding the book she’d picked. Then he looked past me, and his face turned icy.
“Seamus,” he said, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.
“Declan,” Seamus responded, his voice only marginally warmer.
Molly winced and found an excuse to duck behind the register and away from the men.
Seamus tried for a smile. “I just met your adorable niece?—”
“I’ll thank you to stay away from my family,” Declan interrupted. He tossed some bills on the counter, took Catie’s hand, and abruptly left the shop, slamming the door behind him.
I scurried out of the shop after him, more than a little confused. “Declan, what was that about?”
He waited until Catie was settled in the backseat of his car, then shut the door and turned to face me. His face was so hard, it was almost frightening. “I want you to keep Catie away from Seamus O’Rourke, and his whole fucking family. Understand? They’re bad news, the lot of them.”
I nodded, wondering what the O’Rourkes could possibly have done to earn Declan’s wrath.
As we drove home, I tried not to think about the most recent rule of Declan’s I’d broken—and what kind of wrath he might rain down on me when he found out.