Chapter 9
Nine
CLOVER
I get to work cleaning up downstairs, my spiraling taking on a new flavor as I realize how much I dislike the thought of never seeing Bella and Ava again. That’s not a good thought. Not good at all.
I didn’t think I’d get attached this fast, but man…those girls.
They’re tugging on my every heartstring, and could they be any cuter?
Or sweeter?
Or smarter?
They’re really special little kids, and I’m not just saying that because I happen to know their father is one of the hottest men alive. Dean honestly has nothing to do with this. I’m saying it because it’s true, and because Bella and Ava are kindred spirits.
They’re my tiny sisters-in-arms, new recruits in the “My Mom Died, and I’m Still Just a Baby” club.
The worst club ever…
“Poor buddies,” I mutter as I quickly take care of the mess by the dishwasher, finish loading it, and start the wash cycle on “ultra-sanitize” mode.
I wish I could spare them the pain they’re feeling now and all the pain to come.
I can’t, of course, but I can be the nanny they need, the kind who understands exactly what kind of shitty epic quest they’re both on. They need me, not some other random nanny from the roster.
I’m not normally one to put too much stock in Fate or Destiny—I refuse to believe it was my “Destiny” to have my body ruined by a hit-and-run driver, for example—but there’s something at play here.
Too many random events had to align perfectly in order for it to be me here instead of the woman who originally had the job.
If I hadn’t gone to meet the Hendersons early, if they hadn’t been ableist jerks who hate people with impaired bodies, if the other nanny hadn’t been willing to make a last-minute change, if Dean hadn’t been willing to do the same, then I might never have met Ava or Bella.
The thought is already enough to make my ribs clutch again.
And just like that, I know I can’t let Dean fire me. At least not without putting up a fight.
Before I can second-guess myself, I pull out my cell, typing out a quick manifesto on my way up the stairs—I know you were taken off guard this morning. And I know I probably wouldn’t have this job if you’d realized I was the one Tasha was sending.
But please don’t fire me, okay?
At least not until we can talk about this some more?
I think we can make it work! And I think it’s important that we try. Like I said the other night, I lost my mom when I was young. Just a little younger than Bella, in fact.
What I didn’t tell you is that it was hard.
Really hard. It was something that affected me deeply for a long, long time, and caused a lot of pain and struggle.
If I can spare your girls even a little of that, I would like to.
And I think maybe I can. I’ve been through what they’re going through, I can meet them where they’re at, and it just feels like I’m the one who’s supposed to be with them right now.
To help in a way only someone who’s walked this road can.
I hope this isn’t overstepping, and I hope you’re having an easy drive to the airport. We’ll be here whenever you get back. No rush. I can already tell we’ll have plenty to keep us busy.
Your kids are great, by the way. Really great.
Refusing to feel weird about my bout of textual diarrhea, I tuck my phone back into my pocket and head for the bathroom to join the quest.
I’m assigned a one-eyed Barbie named Gorgonzola who, as far as I can tell, is a troll-type figure, who guards the crossing from one side of the tub to the other.
I take my role seriously, popping out of hiding from behind the shower curtain or the edge of the bath, just as the mermaids are wiggling across the edge.
I scare them back into the water, again and again, until Bella is giggling hysterically and Ava pronounces me, “The best at Gorgonzola. The best ever!”
“Thank you,” I say, resting a hand on my splash damp sweater. “That makes me proud. I want to put it on a T-shirt.”
Ava’s eyes widen. “That would be such a cool T-shirt!”
“Yeah!” Bella echoes, happily parroting her big sister.
“You should make that,” Ava insists as we start gathering up the dolls, taking time to drain the water from their plastic bodies before tossing them back into the bin so they don’t get any funkier than they are already.
“I’ll put it on my craft list,” I promise her. “I’m working on sewing some stuffed animals right now.”
Bella’s eyes go wide. “I love stuffed animals! Clover, come see my stuffed animals! I have a new elephant named Poundy, and he has the softest trunk.”
“Woah, slow down, buddy,” I say, laughing as she bolts to her feet in the bath, sending droplets flying. “Let’s make sure you’re clean before the water gets cold. Then, we’ll get dressed and go play with all your toys.”
“But we have to play with my toys first,” Ava says. “I’ve been waiting a long time because you got sick, Bella. And I had to work hard to be patient.”
“Okay,” Bella says, seeming to find that request reasonable. “But I can play, too, in your room? And my stuffies?”
“Of course, silly,” Ava says, rolling her eyes before turning to me. “Do I have to wash my hair, Clover? I washed it last night, and washing it makes me cold.”
“No, that’s fine,” I say as I start soaping up Bella’s little toes. “What about the rest of you, Ava? Do you need a wash, or was this a just for fun bath?”
Ava cocks her head to one side. “Can baths be just for fun?”
“Of course,” I say. “Sometimes it’s just nice to lie in the tub.” Glancing at the ducks still littering the surface of the water, I add in a pointed tone, “Or play in the tub.”
Ava giggles. “This one was for play. No, I’m not dirty. I can get out and dry off by myself. I know how.”
“Okay,” I say, giving her a hand up and over the edge onto the large bath mat. It’s thick and soft, but my knee is starting to talk to me after being bent for so long.
I’m glad Bella’s ready to move the fun to a new location.
While Ava dries off and redresses in her clothes from this morning, I finish washing Bella and get her dried and dressed before following her down the hall to fetch stuffies to bring to Ava’s room.
We spend the next two hours playing restaurant with Ava’s miniature kitchen set and vast collection of fake food before transitioning to trains in Bella’s room, where a massive train table showcases a pink, pastel-colored train set.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in the babysitting game on a regular basis, but I don’t remember anything this delightfully girly in the toy train sector back when I was crouching beside play tables in Missouri.
“Where did you get this, Bella?” I ask, marveling at an exquisitely carved train named Tina, with a big yellow bow and a little dress covering her front wheels. “These are the cutest trains I’ve ever seen.”
“Uncle Blue made them for me for Christmas,” Bella says. “And Daddy painted my old tracks pink because it’s my favorite color.”
“Aw, Uncle Blue! What a great guy he is,” I say. “And what a great job he did.”
“You know Uncle Blue?” Ava asks.
I nod. “He’s like my big brother. Until this morning, I was living with him and his girlfriend, Beatrice.
I probably sat right across from him while he was carving these at night.
” I shake my head. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice he was working on something different than the chess pieces he usually makes. ”
“He’s really nice,” Ava says. “He’s Daddy’s friend, but he’s our friend, too. When he comes to watch football with Daddy, he always brings extra cheesy garlic bread because he knows that’s our favorite.”
“I love cheesy garlic bread.” Bella presses a hand to her stomach, right over the sparkly taco. “I think my tummy wants that for lunch.”
“We can’t,” Ava says, shaking her head. “That’s only from the pizza place, and that’s only open at nighttime.”
“Well, we can’t get pizza place bread,” I say. “But let’s see what you have downstairs. I might be able to make cheesy garlic bread.”
Bella’s eyes go big. “You could make it? Right here? In our house?”
I laugh and give her belly a pinch. “Yes. Right here in your house. As long as we have the ingredients. And if we don’t have them today, I can order a grocery delivery before tomorrow.”
Bella leans in, wrapping her arms around my neck and squeezing tight. “Oh, Clover, I just love you.”
Throat tight, I cuddle her close. “Love you, too, buddy. Now, should we clean up the trains before we go see what to have for lunch?”
“The trains don’t like to be clean,” Ava says, popping to her feet. “They like to stay out on the table.”
“They get scared in the box in the closet,” Bella agrees so vehemently that I can’t help but laugh. Mistaking my laughter for a lack of serious attention to this matter, she insists, “Really. We can’t put them in that dark place or they’ll cry all day. All day and all night.”
“Okay, okay,” I say, fighting a smile. “Let’s just make sure they’re all on the table so they won’t stepped on.”
We do, then head downstairs, where we find frozen garlic bread in the freezer and a hunk of cheddar cheese in a drawer in the fridge.
It isn’t mozzarella, but I assure the girls I think it will still taste delicious and put the oven on to preheat.
I cut up apple slices for them to eat as a nod to health while we wait for the bread to bake, then shred fresh cheddar on top of two large slices before popping them back into the oven to melt.
The girls devour their first portions in a flurry of praise and beg for seconds.
I’m sliding their second round on the table when Dean walks in, a grocery bag in one hand and a bag of apples in the other.
“Hey there, I stopped to pick up some groceries for lunch on the way home,” he says, his awkward expression reminding me that he never replied to my text.
“But it looks like you have lunch covered.”
I was so busy with the girls, I forgot I was waiting for a response from their dad.
But I remember now.
Boy, do I…
“The girls wanted garlic bread,” I say, my cheeks heating. “And you had everything to make it, so…”
“It’s so good, Daddy!” Ava cheers, inhaling deeply over her still-smoking slice. “So delicious, and it smells even better than Packy’s Pizza cheesy bread.”
“I love it in my belly,” Bella says around such a giant mouthful that the words are barely intelligible.
Dean and I both laugh. Then abruptly stop laughing. Then glance at each other. Then glance away, the awkwardness so exquisite there’s no doubt in my mind that my text appeal was a failure.
I’m going to get fired. Soon.
Probably the second, the girls are tucked in for their naps.
Which really, really sucks, but…
Well, I guess it is what it is. And maybe this is the right call. Maybe we should end this before I fall any harder for his kiddos. Before they fall any harder for me.
Before I make a potentially dangerous mistake and get in too deep with this wounded family.
After all, I’m not a therapist or a licensed social worker. Heck, I’m not even an accredited secondary education teacher or a person who wants kids someday.
I don’t want kids.
I don’t want to be the girls’ stepmother any more than I did before I met them.
I just wanted to be here for them during a hard time.
For both us. The past year hasn’t been a walk in the park for me, either, and healing has taken so much longer than I thought it would.
Caring for Bella and Ava would have given me some meaningful, much-needed work while I give my body more time to see if it’s going to get “back to normal.”
And I would have given them someone who could truly empathize with everything they’re going through. And with just being a kid. I remember how hard it is to be a kid.
I remember it better than most adults, I think, though Dean might get it, too.
When Bella insists that he try a bite of the bread she’s been gumming and squishing with her little fingers, he doesn’t hesitate to lean down and let her feed him.
“But just a tiny baby bite, Daddy,” she warns as he opens his mouth.
“Because I’m still hungry, and I only want to share a little right now. ”
I grin. “I like your honestly about sharing, Bella.”
“I don’t want to share at all right now,” Ava says. “Not my bread. No way.”
Dean stands, smiling as he chews. “I can see why. That’s really good!”
I shrug, self-conscious at all the praise. “Well, thank you, but it’s just frozen garlic bread and shredded cheese. I didn’t do anything special.”
“I think you did,” Dean says in a softer voice. He glances down at the girls, smile widening as he watches them eat. “Been a while since I’ve seen these two so relaxed and happy about a meal.”
“We had a good day and played with toys the whole time,” Ava says, stifling a yawn before she adds, “But it’s almost time for Bella’s nap, so we have to take a break. But I don’t take a nap anymore, do I, Daddy? I’m too big for naps.”
Dean arches a brow. “Not unless you need one. Seems like you’re kind of tired. A nap might feel good.”
Ava shakes her head. “No, it wouldn’t. And no, I’m not. I’ll have storybook time with my headphones, instead. I’m not tired.”
Dean nods. “Okay. When you two are done with lunch, we’ll do nap and storybook time.” He glances my way as he adds, “And then we can have afternoon coffee and a talk?”
I nod, ignoring the nervous cramp in my stomach. “Sounds good.”
It does sound good.
It sounds like maybe I was wrong about getting fired. Why would he be showing me the ropes if he’s planning to let me go? My heart lifts even as my stomach balls into a tighter knot, one half of me excited at the possibility of sticking around, while the other insists this is a bad idea.
The kind of bad idea that ends with falling in keeper-level love with people who aren’t mine to “keep.”