Chapter Two
Blake
Very rarely does someone impress me right out of the gate, but Thea managed.
Seeing her on my step, shrinking away like a scared little girl had me certain there was no way she could handle my household. But the second I challenged her, she stood up for herself and had a good reason for walking away.
She is right; both of us see our time as valuable, and wasting time wouldn't be in anyone's best interest. Of course, it wasn't just her words, but the way she'd said them, with her shoulders square and her chin up and her fists almost balled up at her sides as if she was daring me to stop her.
And I admit, my first impression of her had clearly been wrong. She'll fit right in, after all.
Now, as she steps in front of me across the threshold of my home, I take in her features. She’s beautiful, but in a very understated, clean way. I can see a touch of makeup to accentuate her dark blue eyes, a hint of color to hide the paleness of her skin and the dark waves of her hair harshly pulled back into a ponytail, but left free to flutter in loose ribbons down her back.
She continues to walk past me, accepting my open, outstretched hand gesture as an invitation to walk deeper into my home - which it is - I take in her skirt, blouse, and smart shoes. The skirt seems to fit just a little bit too tight, the blouse is too loose, and the shoes don't quite match the outfit. I doubt any of them are the expensive brands that I'm used to having, but I'm not about to hold that against her.
Given how difficult - damn near impossible, actually - it is for me to find help, I'm not about to disqualify someone based on their financial status. Still, every detail I can glean about her gives me more insight to who she is and whether or not she is safe around my daughter.
Of course, I did a full background check on her, but there's only so much a background check can show. References are garbage. Of course. Any name she gives me is going to be someone who's going to sing her praises, but the people that I talked to that she didn't give me as references also had the same nice things to say about her.
She smiles at me over her shoulder, and I find that expression alluring and a bit alarming because I know she doesn't intend it as a flirtatious gesture, but it sure as hell feels like one. “You have a lovely home, Mr. Thorpe.”
I want to warn her not to get comfortable. No one ever lasts at this job. I know that she came to me via a friend of hers who had already worked here, one Everly Paige. I don't remember Miss Paige all that well, but I know she didn't last long.
I dip my head in acknowledgement of her compliment. “Thank you.” I'm not unused to people complimenting my home, my taste, my things, but she might be the first person who has ever said the words in a genuine tone that holds no hint of envy.
As we walk into the sitting room I prepare myself for the inevitable moment when she storms out of my house, frustrated and angry, refusing to take the job. If she actually agrees to take the job, I will be very, very surprised. And I can't imagine she'll last any longer than the rest of the women who've tried to nanny for my daughter.
My daughter isn't the problem, and I'll readily admit that I'm the issue.
I'm mired down, stuck in a rut, unable to escape the dynamic that my daughter and I have cultivated over the last four years since her mother died. My household is toxic, and no one can stand it for long. No one can get through to my daughter, and I can't seem to fix my troubled ways even with therapy and help. Every new thing I try works for a little while, but then eventually stops working and things go back to the way they were before.
“So where would you like to start?” She perches on the edge of a leather seat, and I take a spot on the couch, very aware of what will happen next, but unable - or unwilling - to warn her.
“I've already looked over all of your qualifications. You passed the background check and the only thing left to do is for you to meet Azura.” Her eyes widen in surprise. But I'm charging forward like a bull, and there's no way I'm going to stop now. I might as well sever things quickly if that's the way this meeting is doomed to end. After all, we've both agreed our time is valuable and we won't waste a second. I glance over my shoulder and raise my voice. “Azura, honey, will you come out here, please?”
Only the quiet answers me, at first.
Then I hear her stomping up the hardwood hallway right toward us.
Even though I don't look her direction, I can feel Thea tense up as Azura storms into the room.
She stops short when she sees a stranger in the room and crosses her arms, her stance tight and angry. “What?” My daughter says the word to me, completely ignoring Thea, and I can see the storms in her vivid green eyes that are so like her mother’s.
“This lovely lady's name is Thea. She's here to be your new nanny. I'd like you to meet her.” I try to keep my words as calm as possible, but I can hear the undertone of my own frustration. Frustration that my daughter would be so rude to me and to Thea. Her mother and I both taught her better.
Azura's nostrils flare, and I can feel her temper tantrum building before it begins. She doesn't so much as look at Thea. Instead, she stomps her foot, all of her rage aimed at me, as she begins to melt down.
“I don't want a new nanny.”
I glance at Thea out of the corner of my eye, expecting her to flinch away from the words, but instead, she seems to be watching witha calm, composed expression.
That's a first; every potential nanny has always taken my daughter’s words to heart and very, very personally. I've tried to talk to Azura about being kind, but she just doesn't hear me. Maybe it's my own fault for having difficulty being kind when she behaves this way.
“That's not very nice, Azura.” I hear the warning edge of my own voice, and know that things are only going to escalate from here. These power struggles are just a part of our everyday life now, and I don't know how to avoid them. Azura acts out. I react to her bad behavior; it devolves to a screaming match. Then we both go away angry. She's only eight, but like her mother, she knows exactly what buttons of mine to push to start a fight.
“I don't care. I don't want a new nanny.” She finally turns her attention to Thea, who's still watching, with a very calm expression. “You hear that? I don't want you here. I don't want you to be my nanny. I don't want you around. I don't like you. Go away.” My daughter's fists are balled up at her sides and rage leaves her tiny body shaking.
“Azura, you don't talk to people that way. That is very rude.” I can feel my own frustration at my daughter and the situation rising. “You apologize to Miss Thea right now.”
But my daughter shakes her head, her fists tightening. “I won't say sorry because I'm not sorry. I don't want her here. Tell her to leave now, Dad.”
And here we are again, caught in this endless cycle, this endless power struggle where neither of us can talk to one another without the conversation turning into a fight. We could be talking about what we're having for dinner or where we're going to go next time we go out, or what she'd like to do today... this is always the outcome.
“I'm not going to tell her to leave. I asked her to come over because I'd like her to be your nanny.” In all honesty, I'm surprised that Thea hasn't already walked out. “Now you need to show some respect or go to time out.”
“Fine, I will.” Even though she thrusts the words out there, she stays put, and I know she's still itching for a fight.
“Thea is a really nice lady. You need to give her a chance.” Azura is only eight, but I swear she's going on sixteen. Her attitude, her anger, her absolute inability to work with me has me on edge most days. I love her dearly, but I can’t help think we’re both nearing our breaking points. And with multiple therapists trying to help and failing, family offering to step in, and an ocean of ex-nannies, I’m beginning to think this is just my life now.
“She is not a nice lady, and I don't want to give her a chance. Besides, they never stay anyway. You drive them all away.” She aims the words at me with as much venom as her mother would have thrown my direction before she passed away, and I’m simply stunned.
“I drove them away? You don't think your attitude and behavior drives them away?” She literally just got done screaming at Thea to get out of the house and go away and she's blaming me for the nannies leaving.
I feel Thea's hand on my arm. “I don't think this is going to make any progress.” Her gently spoken words should make me angry that she's stepping in the middle of things, but instead I internally agree with her. She's right, this isn't going to go anywhere, but I don't know what else to do.
“No, you're the reason they all leave.” I can't for the life of me figure out how she's making that mental leap in her mind. I know she's only eight, but still, that’s a heavy accusation that seems to come from nowhere. I want things to be better. Desperately wish I could fix whatever is broken between us, but I'm not sure how or what to do. If professionals can't help, what hope do I have?
Thea’s fingers gently squeeze my forearm as Azura continues yelling at me, her face contorted with fury as the spiteful words pour from her lips. “It's all your fault. I hate you. You're the reason everyone leaves. You're the reason Mommy died. And you're the reason I hate you!” With that, she storms off to her room as my heart absorbs her painful words.
I can't help but be stunned with these new accusations. This is the first time she's ever accused me of being the reason people leave. The first time she said that I'm the reason her mom died. It’s not the first time she's told me she hates me, though, not that those words inflict less damage because I’ve heard them before.
I glance at Thea, deeply embarrassed by the theatrics she just witnessed. “Well, now you've met my lovely daughter, what do you think about the job?”
I fully expect her to tell me that this nanny position isn't for her and to leave.
“I think we're definitely going to have a lot of challenges, but I absolutely don't see this as a hopeless situation.” Once again, her absolutely calm demeanor surprises me. Shouldn't she be throwing her hands in the air and walking out while telling me that my family has issues and that she's not qualified to handle this?
As the fact that she sounds willing to stay registers in my mind and begins to sink in, I wonder what to do now. Most nannies would have already given up before we even got started, so I’m not sure what to do now.
Back before things got this bad, it was easier to find people willing to take on the job, but now, with Azura's almost constant meltdowns, it's near impossible to find somebody who's willing to stay past the interview stage, so I’m at a loss.
“Now that you've had a raw peek into my life, what do you recommend?” Even though the question has more to do with my helplessness, I pose it in a tone that leaves me sounding more like I’m questioning her ability to handle the situation based on what she suggests we do next.
“I think you need to take a step away and let me introduce myself to Azura, if that’s acceptable.” She says the words with kindness, not malice, yet they still sting. Clearly, Thea thinks I'm the problem. But then again, everything I've done to date hasn't worked, so maybe she's right.
“I can do that, I guess. Are you sure you're up for this and able to handle her while I'm gone?”
Thea nods her head.
“I don't know that she won't get violent.” There was a nanny in the past who claimed that Azura swung at her.
But Thea gives a slight smile. “I don't know if you saw it in the information, you were able to dig up on me, but my mom suffers from severe depression and bipolar in her manic phases. She has absolutely swung at me, and I promise I can handle it.”
This tiny nugget of information into her life leaves me wanting to know more, but I'm not about to ask questions. Just knowing that she has the absolute patience to deal with someone who's unpredictable and potentially dangerous has me breathing a sigh of relief. She might be lacking as far as medical qualifications, and she doesn't have what I'd hoped for when I started looking for a nanny - which is some degree in teaching or early childhood development - but she seems like she is able to handle my daughter if what she says is true.
“That's very insightful. Thank you for the personal information.” I'm well aware that she didn't have to share that with me, and I want her to know that I am grateful she did.
“It's no problem.” With that, she rises from her seat and offers me her hand to shake again. This time I take it without hesitation, and she surprises me with a firm grip and very soft skin. “You're looking for someone just during the day, which is easy enough. I'm very flexible on hours and happy to start right now.”
“Then you're hired.” I feel incredulous about how easy this whole situation has been, given how poorly the whole introduction - and meeting - went.
She offers me a soft smile. “I'll do my very best to get through to her, but I can’t make any promises. I did read and memorize the rules of your home and everything you expect her to follow. Is there any flexibility in that list?”
“Honestly, if you can get results, you can have all the flexibility in the world. Just make sure you tell me what changes you're making so that we can be a unified front when it comes to managing her life.” I don't mind offering some of the reins of control when it comes to my daughter, but I can tell that I've worded things wrong when Thea's expression tightens.
“Instead of calling it managing her life, why don’t we call it guidance? Words have power, Mr. Thorpe.” Again, she says the words with that delicate smile that makes my guts twist. She’s absolutely right, of course, and when I stop and think about what she’s said, I understand her mindset.
Maybe I need to step away from trying to control my daughter’s behavior and instead, I need to try working with her to get through this rough patch.
“Then I'd like us to be a unified front when it comes to guiding her through life.” I say the words without a hint of mockery, instead focusing on acceptance and showing her that I'm willing to meet her part way, as well as the fact that I'm trusting her judgment when it comes to my daughter. “Just know that no matter how it looks from the outside, I love my daughter very much. I would move heaven and earth to make her happy.”
“I don't doubt that for a second, Mr. Thorpe.” She takes a step closer to me, her beautiful dark blue eyes sparkling. I notice the darker ring around the outside of her iris and can’t hold back a thought about her beauty, inside and out. “Now I need to ask a very uncomfortable question.”
I brace myself. “Go ahead.”
“Is what she said about you being responsible for her mother's death in any way grounded in any kind of fact?” Though she says the words gently, I can feel my instant internal response of anger and push the emotion down.
“I do believe in her mind that she feels I'm responsible.” It's a topic I'm not comfortable discussing, a situation I don’t want to think about, a memory I am not ready to dig up.
Thea seems to sense my hesitation. “Excellent answer, Mr. Thorpe, thank you. I apologize for prying.” She dips her head, her soft tone soothing the wounds she unearthed with her question.
“No need to apologize, and please call me Blake.” I know eventually the truth will come out and she'll know exactly what happened to my late wife, but for now, I'm not ready to discuss the past. Not on day one.
I can barely accept that my own daughter believes I'm responsible for her mother's death.
But what's worse is that I wholeheartedly agree with her.
END OF THE SAMPLE!