Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
JACE
She told me once there is a clock in the hearts of parents. Most of the time it is silent, but you can hear it ticking when your child is not with you and you do not know where they are, or when they are awake in the night and wanting you. It will tick until you are with them again.
Cassandra Clare, Queen of Air and Darkness
“W ill they like me?”
“Absolutely. In fact, I think they’ll love you.”
Ryla was sitting in her booster seat in the backseat of my car, legs swinging. She’d paused while belting out all the lyrics to “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King” to ask this question. I’d gotten a call from my momma this morning. Pop was having a flare of his rheumatoid arthritis. They’d come back early from Florida because of it, but hadn’t had time to go to the pharmacy yet. Momma had sounded frazzled over the phone, so I offered to pick up his steroids and pain medication that had been called in for him.
So here we were, on our way to my parents’ house, even though they had no idea I was a nanny.
“Max?”
“Yeah?” He pulled back one of his headphones.
“They’re going to love you too. Stick close to me if you like. If you need a break, just grab my hand and give it two squeezes.”
Nodding, Max put his headphones back on and returned to looking out the window.
When I’d gotten my parents’ message this morning and called Polly, she’d only seemed concerned about their welfare, having no problem with me bringing the kids to their house. Her reaction surprised me some, but it shouldn’t have. Her kind heart was one of the best things about her. Despite being exhausted, I’d lain awake the previous night for a fair while. More than I was used to. Partly because I was holding a sleeping Polly in my arms, but partly from worry. I’d wondered what the future held. What happened at the end of August, when Polly didn’t need me as a nanny anymore?
We’d gotten to my parents’ house just after lunch. Max was looking at the house furtively whereas Ryla was already out of her seat and reaching for the door handle.
“Not so fast, little miss. A few ground rules. Take off your shoes by the front door. My momma doesn’t exactly know I’m working by y’all, so she might ask a lot of questions. Max, you already know to stick close to me. And Ryla?” I took in the outfit she selected for herself: leopard shorts, a pink tutu, black T-shirt, and unicorn headband. I winked at her. “Just be yourself.”
Going up the front walk—I knew Momma would be appalled if I let “company” in through the garage—Ryla grabbed the pharmacy bag from my hand, replacing it with her hand. Max was holding onto my other hand, so Ryla rang the doorbell for me.
“It’s Jace!” I yelled when I heard movement from the other side of the door.
Momma opened the door, eyes narrowed in question. “Jace? Why are you—” She stopped speaking once she saw the kids standing next to me, confusion heavy on her face. She glanced back at me, eyes widening as she clocked my red hair.
“Surprise!” I cried, holding up our still joined hands. “Momma, this is Max,” I inclined my head as I introduced them, “and Ryla. I’ve been working as their nanny for the last few weeks. Their momma is a new pediatrician in town.”
I didn’t add that I was also falling in love with her. That’d have to wait for another day.
Momma’s eyes blinked twice. “Nanny?”
“Jace is our new Giselle!” Ryla exclaimed high and sweet, smiling wide . . . but she continued holding my hand, letting me know she still felt a bit shy.
I stifled a chuckle as Momma openly gaped at Ryla, probably wondering what she just said.
“Alright if we come in?”
At my teasing tone, she narrowed her eyes slightly, then put on a polite smile. Her manners were deeply ingrained.
“Yes. Please, come in. I was right about to put a batch of cookies in the oven.”
Apparently, that was enough for Ryla. Trust, granted. Dropping my hand, Ryla walked through the door like she owned the place, stepping right up to Momma. I gave Max’s hand a squeeze as we followed her inside.
“Your daddy’s in his recliner, resting.” Momma looked down to Ryla, eyeing the pharmacy bag. “Here, why don’t you give that to me—What’d you say your name was again?”
“Ryla.”
“Ryan?”
“Ryyyy-llaaaaa.”
“Ryla?” Momma finally said to which Ryla nodded happily. Momma smiled warmly down to her. “Well, Ryla. I’m Jace’s momma. You can call me Susan.”
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
“What was that?” Ryla startled. Max took a step closer to me.
“It’s our cuckoo clock,” Momma explained.
“A what?”
“You’ve never heard of a cuckoo clock before?”
“No.”
“Let me tell you, you’re in for a treat. They don’t make ones like this anymore.”
I shook my head. That damn thing went off on the hour, every hour, for as long as I could remember. It drove my sister insane.
As Momma took Ryla over to show her that absurd clock, I took Max in search of Pop, finding him in his typical spot in front of the TV watching the Braves. He was in obvious pain, had an ice pack on his hand, and he wasn’t keeping score—which was a dead giveaway that he was hurting.
“Jace.” Pop’s voice was strained, giving me a weak smile when he first saw me in the doorway and a double take when his his eyes lifted to my hair.
“Who’s this?” he asked, spotting Max behind me.
“This is Max. I’ve been nannying for him and his sister this last week.”
“Hiya, Max. Have a seat over here. I’m Nick.” I studied Pop dubiously. He’d barely blinked an eye when he saw Max. Pop wasn’t dramatic, don’t get me wrong, but he had the worst poker face. Someone had spilled the beans.
Pop muted the TV. “I’m just watching the Braves’ game. You like baseball?” he asked Max, who shrugged.
I glanced from Max, then to Pop and offered, “He might be more of a video game guy, though we’ve been gettin’ into some magic lately.”
“Well, you got a great teacher, Max. This one was pullin’ the wool over my eyes since he was your age.”
“He’ll be doing the same to me, I expect, he’s a natural.” I winked at Max. After a couple minutes of small talk, Max glanced between his tablet and me in question, to which I nodded, letting him know it was alright to use.
Pop watched our exchange intently.
“I heard you were watching some kids,” he said softly, once Max was absorbed in his tablet.
I quirked an eyebrow.
“Sherriff James mentioned it before we left for Florida. I didn’t bother tellin’ your momma. She’d do nothin’ but worry. I knew you’d come around to tell us in your own time sooner or later.”
Wincing, he shifted the icepack over his hand.
“How’s the hand, Pop?”
“Ack, it’ll be alright. Just a little swollen. Darn knees are the real problem.” I looked down and sure enough, he had two more bags of ice on his knees under the TV tray. “Probably doin’ too much in Florida.”
“And here I thought Florida was supposed to be good for your joints.”
He snorted. “Ain’t that the truth. Nah, but your momma was so happy. All that sunshine. And it was good to see your aunt and uncle, I suppose. Kent’s got a brand new boat and wanted to show us all around.”
That was news to me. I was surprised Kent didn’t rub that in my face when he was here.
“When do you think you’ll put this place on the market?”
“Your momma was talking about being down there by early fall, but with me outta commission now, that’ll put us back a few weeks. Maybe by the end of September. I’m in no rush. I’ve lived here all my life, raised my kids here. I don’t want to feel run out of my own home.”
Somewhere Sarah was pumping her fist in satisfaction.
“I’m happy to help. Really, whatever you need.”
“I know you are, son.” He paused, looking ready to say something else, but the ice pack slipped off his hand and he went to make a grab for it, then flinched.
“I got that, Pop. Don’t worry.” I adjusted the icepack back onto his hand. “I picked up your medicine, let me go get it.
I motioned to Max to take off one of his headphones. “I’ll be right back. You want to come with me?”
“You can feel free to stay here with me, Max.” Pop piped up. “I’d love some company. I can’t keep score today ’cause of my arthritis, if you’d like to do it for me.”
“I’m not sure how,” Max replied.
“Here,” Pop held out the score sheet and pencil to Max, who eventually took it.
“You go on and take a look at that, Max,” Pop said, “and we’ll just see how things go.”
Pop was just starting in on how baseball was a blend of strategy, skill and teamwork when I made my way to the kitchen, wondering what kind of standoff I’d see between Ryla and Momma. I hadn’t heard any explosions so it must be going ok. I found them at the kitchen counter, their backs to me. Ryla was standing on a chair next to Momma, a too-big apron tied around her waist.
“It’s all squishy!” Ryla’s little hands were mixing something together in a bowl.
“It starts off that way, then you gotta mix and knead it with your fingers so it’ll turn all soft. Then once the soup’s boilin’, you drop it into the pot. A few minutes later, you have a nice, soft dumplin’.”
Ryla continued to chatter and my momma gave gentle encouragement as she taught Ryla how to make one of her staples, chicken and dumpling soup, which she made whenever we were sick.
“Smells good,” I said, walking into the kitchen, making my presence known. Then, the strangest thing happened. They both stopped talking and looked over their shoulders at me.
In unison.
And they gave me the exact same look: May we help you ?
I held up my hands, then grabbed the pharmacy bag from the table. “Just bringing Pop his medicine. As you were.”
They turned around as if I hadn’t spoken, continuing their conversation without missing a beat. I doubled back down the hall, slowing when I heard Max’s voice.
“And that’s called a ball?”
“Yep. If it’s outside that little square there, that’s called the strike zone, that’s a ball. And if you get four of ’em before you get three strikes, the guy at bat gets to go to first base without hitting the ball first. It’s called a walk.”
“Because they like, don’t have to run there?”
“Exactly right! You got it. Now what you need to know about the strike zone is . . .”
I stayed outside the living room, leaning against the wall, feeling a strange contentedness listening to Pop teach Max about baseball, just like he’d taught me when I was young.
* * *
“No!”
“Did they call that strike?”
“What a load of horse manure!”
That’s what me, Max, and Pop, respectively, yelled at the TV when the ump called a strike on an obvious ball at the bottom of the ninth. The Braves were tied with the Twins at three a piece, and we had a runner on first and second.
“Yeah, they called that a strike.” Pop looked over to Max and winked. “But we got one out left.” He leaned over and patted Max on the leg, which meant that the pain meds must be working a bit. He hadn’t been wincing as much since he took his first dose of medication over an hour ago.
“Though that ump should get his eyes checked if you ask me,” Pop grumbled under his breath. Max and I looked at each other in silence, stifling our laughter.
“Nah, we got this. Tanner’s up next,” I reassured, nodding at the TV.
“Tanner?” Max looked down at his score sheet. “Oh yeah, he’s the fourth batter in the order. So that means he’s good, right?”
“The best. Made the all-star team this year.” Pop nodded, eyes glued to the TV, an empty soup bowl next to him. Ryla had brought him his second helping half an hour ago, informing us that she and Momma were now making homemade moon pies.
I hadn’t seen either of them since.
Tanner knocked the first pitch high into right field.
“That’s goin’!” Pop yelled, and I stood, prompting Max to get to his feet as well. We watched and cheered as the ball sailed over the right field fence.
“Home run! Let’s go!” I cheered, hands up, smiling wide at Max as we high fived and watched the all-star third baseman round the bases on his walk-off home run.
A few minutes later, after watching the celebration on TV, we sat down. My daddy was all smiles as usual after a Braves win.
“It doesn’t get better than that. A walk-off home run on a perfect July day. The only thing that’d be better is doing a catch outside. You bring your glove, Max? Jace yours is still in the garage, I ’reckon, and we’ve got plenty of baseballs laying around.”
Max looked down, suddenly quiet.
I glanced to Max, not entirely sure if he’s ever thrown a baseball in his life. “Nah, we didn’t bring it along. Maybe next time, though.”
Frowning, my daddy studied Max, then nodded. “Well, no harm there. We got plenty in the garage. Why don’t you boys go out and toss a few around? It’d do my heart good to see someone gettin’ use of ’em.”
Max’s cheeks flushed red so I took a knee in front of him. “Hiya, Max. We don’t need to do anything you don’t want to do, alright?”
His red-rimmed eyes moved between me and his lap.
“Have you ever thrown a baseball before, Max?” I asked softly.
Shaking his head slowly, Max continued looking down.
“You know, I learned when I was about your age,” I lied. I was barely four when Pop was tying my right arm behind my back until Momma stopped him. I looked over my shoulder and gave Pop a wide-eyed stare, teeth slightly clenched. “Right, Pop?”
Pop shifted in his chair. “Absolutely. Was terrible at first, too, could barely throw five feet in front of him.”
I frowned at him. He didn’t need to lay it on that thick.
I looked back to Max. “Tell you what. Let’s go out and try on some gloves. That’s it. We can bring them back home, and if you ever want to learn how to throw, you ask me. Anytime. I got you.”
I waited quietly for his response, watching his face carefully to gauge if we were going to have to leave, when Max surprised me.
“I’d like to. But what if . . .” there was a little tremor in his voice. “What if I’m no good?”
“You won’t be at first.” I smiled. “And you won’t be good on your second or third try either. I was plain awful, just like Pop said?—”
“Yup,” my daddy chimed in happily from behind me. I barely held back a roll of my eyes.
“—but I didn’t give up. I made plenty of mistakes. Making mistakes is part of life, Max. That’s the only way you learn. Don’t let the fear of failing keep you from trying. I kept at it and made the team in high school. Played all four years. Some of the most fun I’ve ever had.”
As the words left my lips, I really and truly heard them. Was that what I was doing in my own life? Was that the reason I hadn’t pursued teaching, because I’d been afraid of failure?
I stood and held my hand out. “I’ll only play catch with you on one condition. Let’s go out there and play the worst, most horrible round of catch ever, deal?”
Max wiped his eyes; some of the wariness had left his expression. “I guess I can try it out.”
Pop chimed in, “Attaboy! I’ll be watching through the window. And I don’t wanna see you make a single catch—or throw, you hear? Only misses!”
Max looked warily at Pop on his way out of the room. After Max left, I turned back to my old man, throwing my arms out to my sides, throwing him a what the hell was that? expression.
Pop just sat there, an ear-to-ear grin on his face. And then he did the strangest thing. He winked at me.
As if he was proud of me, too.
As if I’d just scored my own home run.
* * *
“She a spirited little thing, isn’t she?” Momma said, taking a seat next to me on the concrete stairs in the backyard. Ryla had joined Max and me after he’d gotten the hang of catch. He could actually have a good arm if he stuck with it.
Now, they were playing hide and seek with the baseball; Ryla reassured me twice she wouldn’t throw the ball at Max.
I grinned. “That’s one word for it.”
“She asked me if I was alive when the dinosaurs were living.”
I barked out a laugh. “Welcome to Ryla. What you see is what you get.”
She chuckled. “Oh, but that’s girls for you. Sweet as sugar one minute, sassy as all get out the next. And Max—so polite! I barely got any time with him. You’ll have to bring them over again soon.”
“Just wait. I give it five minutes before someone is hurt or crying.”
“Well, that’s parenting.”
“So I’m coming to find out.” We were quiet for a few minutes. It was Ryla’s turn to hide, and after trying to scale a too-tall tree, she was squatting behind a bush.
My mother broke the silence. “Ryla implied you’ve been living with them, too. Is there a reason you didn’t tell us about your job?”
I let out a long breath, shifting toward her. She appeared surprisingly calm, almost resigned. Like being around Ryla and Max, even in this short amount of time, had softened her.
“Not really. It happened fast, I guess. And if I’m being honest, I didn’t want to feel like I was holding you back.”
“Holding us back?” she asked with wide eyes.
“If you want to move to Florida, move to Florida. If y’all want to sell the house, sell the house! I’m not reliant on you. I pay rent, I help you and Pop around here plenty. And you know what? I’m happy to do it. But I’m not a child. And to be treated like I’m one just ’cause I don’t have a career like Kent or Sarah, I guess . . .” I took a deep breath in and let it out. “Well, I guess I just didn’t want to hear it anymore.”
I hadn’t realized how much keeping something from them was weighing on me, until I felt it leave my chest. It wasn’t like me to keep something from them. Secrets poison everything, good intentions or not. And glancing at Momma, seeing sorrow in her features, I knew she felt that too.
“I’m sorry, Momma.” I put my arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze.
Her face turned wistful. “No, don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry. I know I need to stop bothering you about college. I’ve already heard an earful from Sarah and your daddy the other week. It was somehow easier when you were young. My role was more defined. And I worry. I worry about your daddy. I worry about you. I worry about Sarah and Kent plenty, too.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m doing fine.”
She chucked my chin. “A parent will always worry about their child. No matter how old they are.”
I brought my arm out from behind her, leaning my elbows on my knees, watching Ryla giggle as Max pretended not to see her. He was such a good kid. I guess I understood where she was coming from. Over this past week, I’d been filled with more worry than I’d ever recalled. Max had such an uphill battle to climb. Middle school. High school.
Would I still be with them when he was that age? What if I wasn’t there, would he be alright?
And then, a worse thought. What if someone else was there, taking my place?
Instant jealousy filled me at the thought of another man in my place. I thought about Max graduating from eighth grade, then getting his driver’s license. How it’d feel to see another man in his life, hugging him, teaching him the rules of the road. What if he wasn’t patient? Or kind? My stomach started to cramp. And Ryla, she’s had the same wiggly tooth all summer. What if I wasn’t there when she finally lost it? When she was the lead in the school play, I wanted to be in the front row. I didn’t want to sit next to the man who got to spend the rest of his life with Polly and the kids.
I wanted to be the man that spent the rest of his life with them.
It suddenly felt like time was speeding up; it’d already been both the longest and shortest week and a half of my life. I already considered them, Polly and the kids, my home. It was way too soon to tell Polly any of this, especially based on our conversation yesterday. But . . . what if I kept waiting for her to feel the same, but she never did?
“You’re wonderful with them,” my momma said, interrupting my thoughts. “You should bring their momma around the next time. We’d love to meet her. Ryla couldn’t stop talking about her, she just kept saying ‘my mom this’ and ‘my mom that’. What was her name again?”
“Polly.”
“Polly! What a pretty name.” Momma turned to me with an innocent smile on her face. “Don’t you think?”
I narrowed my eyes, she and Sarah looking more alike in that moment than ever before.
I didn’t have the time to deflect Momma’s question because Ryla came tearing out of the bushes just then, screaming her head off, hands moving frantically above her head.
“Spider!! SPIDER!! Jace! Max! RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIIIIIIIIVES!!!
I jumped up. Saved by the Ryla.