Chapter 1 #4
“We are not like other families.” My gaze fell on my daughter, swinging her legs in her seat, drawing a spider. “Clara is not like other children. She’s been sick. Your medical knowledge, what you have so far at least, may need to be put to use. Do you feel comfortable with that?”
Instead of answering me, she looked at Clara. “Do you know the name of what kind of illness you have, Clara?” She asked her like she was an adult, like she had agency over her own health.
Clara looked up. “Acute lymphocytic leukemia.”
My heart clenched in agony at my four-year-old daughter’s perfect pronunciation of the disease that threatened to take her from me. That had tendrils still wrapping around parts inside of her small body, clenching, ready to steal her away.
Hannah dipped her chin, though I didn’t miss the softness—empathy, not pity—in her features. “That is so hard, Clara,” she told her in a soft voice. “I’m so sorry that you’ve had to go through what I’m imagining has been a lot of pain and scary things. Do you know your treatment plan?”
All her questions, directed to Clara, took my fucking breath away.
Clara slanted her head, gazing up at Hannah. She wasn’t used to people speaking to her so directly or without all sorts of patronizing baby talk. “I have a bone marrow transplant scheduled soon.”
“Wow.” Hannah’s eyes widened. “That’s going to be a lot, but I’ll do what I can to help out. We can use your time recovering to watch some great nature documentaries, read, or draw diagrams of your favorite spiders. We can write stories about all kinds of magical things.”
Clara’s eyes danced in excitement, having only heard about things she couldn’t do after the transplant, her world shrinking even more once her delicate immune system was reduced to nothing.
“That’s a part of the reason why this position is live-in.” I spoke to Hannah but kept my eyes on Clara’s notepad, unable to watch her careful, empathetic, and borderline fucking magical interaction with my daughter. It only made her more endearing to me.
It was the only cruel thing I’d done to Clara, stopping an interaction where she felt seen, in her entirety, without people trying to downplay or ignore her illness.
“Her immune system will be extremely compromised, so the position will come with restrictions around who you interact with. No one in the first sixty days. I doubt that will appeal to someone your age,” I added gruffly. “No socializing, not even on days off.”
Hannah looked at me, smiling with a sadness that made my insides clench. “I’m new here. I don’t know anyone, really. And I’m not a ‘socializing’ kind of person. So hanging out with Clara sounds pretty good to me.” She winked at Clara, who was beaming.
Fucking beaming.
Another clench to my insides.
Because as overwhelming as that smile was, there was no way Hannah was living in my house.
“Thank you,” I snapped, making Hannah jump as I stood up. “I’ll be in touch.”
The end of the interview was abrupt, ignoring the fourteen unasked questions on my list.
I had a hunch Hannah would answer them perfectly.
“Is there anything else you want to know?” She stood too, looking uncertain, unsteady, a little off-kilter. “I’d be happy to provide you with more references, transcripts from school?”
“Nope. Thank you. As I said, I’ll be in touch.” I didn’t look at her. “Clara, do you want to walk her to the door?”
“Can’t she stay a little longer?” Clara asked. “I still have more questions.”
I was so used to obliging Clara’s every need, my mouth was open to say yes before I knew it. Luckily, I caught myself, drawing in a deep breath.
“We have things to do, Bug. You can walk her to the door, though.”
Clara’s lips turned down, but she hopped off her chair, grabbed Hannah’s arm, and walked her to the door.
I listened to them talk for three minutes. Hannah was patient, kind, and engaging with Clara. The happiness in Clara’s voice warmed my bones and furthered my self-hatred for having such a carnal reaction to someone my daughter so clearly connected to.
Finally, the door opened and shut. No more soft hum of a feminine voice. No more exciting chatter from my daughter. I missed the sounds already.
“I love her.” Clara came running in, her smile lighting up the whole room. “And she does know Wednesday. Enid is her favorite too.” Her mouth was stretched in the widest smile I’d seen. “She’s sunshine and rainbows. Being happy and hopeful is a superpower.”
My breathing shallowed at my daughter’s joy, the two of them sharing interests in things I couldn’t comprehend, sharing insights I couldn’t give her because I wasn’t hopeful or happy.
But I wanted my daughter to be. Oh, how I wanted my daughter to be sunshine and fucking rainbows and never even remember the time when her life was full of storm clouds and darkness.
“We’re going with Mrs. Jennifer,” I decided.
She was the one I’d disliked the least. And that wasn’t saying much.
But she would have to do. Though the thought of her alone with my child burned my esophagus, she’d keep her physically safe.
Her references were long and reassuring, but would she light up Clara’s world, ask her questions about her disease, talk about spiders and fucking Wednesday?
Would she treat her like a person, not a job to be done?
Clara’s bottom lip went out, her eyes shimmering as she looked up at me. “But, Daddy, she didn’t even ask a single question about my spider tea party, doesn’t like Nirvana, and her smile wasn’t right.”
I swallowed past the guilt threatening to suffocate me. My daughter was right on all counts. Her smile had been tight. Tolerant but not genuine.
I spotted that because I was someone who abhorred smiling—unless it was at my daughter. And I couldn’t give a shit if someone was cheerful to the world or not, but they better fucking smile at my daughter.
“I like Hannah.” She folded her arms in front of her.
I did too. That was the problem. She would be perfect for Clara. But she was also perfect for me.
“We’re going with Mrs. Jennifer,” I stated more firmly, tasting my own bitterness as I spoke.
Clara’s little brow knitted. She wasn’t used to me putting my foot down a whole lot.
There wasn’t reason to. Clara was a pleasant kid, she was polite, cute as all fuck, and didn’t throw tantrums at all.
And because she’d spent the majority of her life sick, I didn’t like to spend any time arguing with her about what she wanted.
I just gave it to her.
But not this time.
Not with Hannah.
Not when it came to her living in my house.
I could barely stand being around her for the fucking interview.
One I ended after five goddamn minutes. My focus did not need to be on my nanny's ass or smile.
It needed to be on getting my daughter well, getting the restaurant earning good cash, and getting our life back to a semblance of normal.
Hannah Morgan factored nowhere into that.
To the contrary, Hannah Morgan was a direct threat to that.
“Please, Daddy?” Clara asked quietly. “I know you have to go and work, and I’ll miss you lots, but I won’t complain. I just want to hang out with someone I like. And I like Hannah.”
Fuck.
“Okay.” I instantly conceded. I couldn’t say no to my daughter.
Couldn’t contribute to the unhappiness I knew would follow if I picked the wrong woman.
They would be living in this house. Spending all their time with Clara.
I needed someone who would light up my daughter’s life.
Even if they drove me crazy with temptation.
I’d have to get a hold of myself. “We’ll go with Hannah. ”
And that was the beginning of the end.