Together With You Page 6

  Her daddy groaned. “Penny, that’s enough.”

  Why was he mad? She was telling the truth like he said to do. She gave a little huff, then looked up at Aunt DeeDee. “Eric was mean, so I left him at the stupid arcade and went to the Animal Factory, because that’s where Bethany had her birthday party. Carly was there and she made Miss Rabbit talk. Then Dr. Tremaine came, and so did Kyle and Eric and a man with the badge, and . . . and . . .” Penny lost track of the story, so she turned to Carly and held up Miss Rabbit. “Make her talk. Okay?”

  All three adults stared down at her. Her daddy’s mouth was tight like a zipper but twisted. Aunt DeeDee’s eyebrows were so high they looked like mountains. Carly was the only person wearing a normal face. She looked at Aunt DeeDee, then at Penny’s daddy. “The three of us need to talk.” She held her hand out to Aunt DeeDee. “I’m Carly Mason, and I’m here to interview for the nanny job.”

  Aunt DeeDee shook her hand, but she didn’t look happy about it. “I’m Denise Caldwell, Penny’s aunt—her mother’s sister.”

  “She’s a very special little girl,” Carly said, smiling down at Penny.

  Penny didn’t feel special. She just felt different. Hugging Miss Rabbit, she wished—she didn’t know what she wished.

  Dr. Tremaine glanced at the house. Penny turned her head and saw Mrs. Howell by the big glass door with her hand on her chest.

  Her daddy called out, “We found her.” Then he reached for Penny’s hand. “Aunt DeeDee and I need to talk to Carly.”

  “Okay.”

  When her daddy walked her to the house and told Mrs. Howell to give her Oreos and a big glass of milk, Penny was happy. She liked Oreos the best, and she told her daddy that. He said he liked them too, then he hugged her as hard as Aunt DeeDee did, even harder, and went back out to the patio.

  6

  Still reeling from the search, Ryan headed for the patio table, a glass rectangle shaded by a beige vented umbrella. Four feet away from it, Carly and Denise were waiting in the awkward way of strangers who’d just met and didn’t like each other.

  “Let’s sit,” Ryan said to the women.

  As if they were at a cocktail party instead of a job interview, he pulled out two chairs. Denise reached him ahead of Carly, her expression smug as she sat at the head of the table. Ryan indicated Carly should take the chair facing away from the house, and he sat facing the kitchen window, where Mrs. Howell and Penny were in his line of sight.

  When he shifted his gaze to Carly, he saw the guarded expression she’d worn at the Animal Factory. He wished he could read her mind. She was either an ally in his fight with Denise or the star witness against him.

  “This won’t be a conventional interview,” he said, folding his hands on the table. “I’d like to start by explaining Penny’s remark about going to the Animal Factory and how she met Carly.”

  “Good,” Denise replied, “because Penny’s version is terrifying. What was she doing alone in a toy store?”

  “That’s a good question and a fair one,” he admitted. “Penny’s nanny quit on Friday. Kyle needed new baseball cleats, so I brought all three kids.” Refusing to dodge the truth, he told Denise about sending Eric and Penny for ice cream, the faulty cash register, and the Code Adam. “It was a mistake. A bad one. It won’t happen again.”

  Razors flashed in her hazel eyes. “Let me be clear here. You left my niece—a special needs child—in the care of a thirteen-year-old boy?”

  “I expected to be ten steps behind them.”

  “But you weren’t.”

  “No.” A witness box in a stifling courtroom would have been more comfortable than the padded chair shaded by the umbrella. If he were in Denise’s place, he’d ask the same outraged questions, just like she asked questions the day they met in his attorney’s office to discuss custody and visitation. She’d brought an e-mail from Jenna, written two years ago, asking her to raise Penny if something ever happened to her. His DNA trumped that letter, but she’d pressed him. “Why do you want her?”

  “Because she’s mine.”

  It really was that simple. As low as he’d fallen before and after the divorce, he couldn’t abandon a child with his blood. Penny looked a lot like Jenna, but she had Ryan’s eyes and the Tremaine nose. She was part of him—the neglected part he needed to redeem.

  Prepared for a lashing, he drew back in the chair and faced Denise. “It was a bad decision. I admit it.”

  Under the table, someone kicked his foot. Startled, he glanced at Carly. Her eyes were riveted to Denise, giving no indication that she’d signaled him. But who else could it be? Denise was too far away, and the kick wasn’t an accident.

  Carly broke in. “I think this is where I come in.”

  Denise raised her perfectly penciled brows. “I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but you’re here for an interview, not to interfere in a family matter. I’d prefer it if you’d wait inside with the other nanny.”

  “I have a unique perspective,” Carly replied. “I’m assistant manager at the Animal Factory. When Penny wandered away, she came to our store, and I found her. The story doesn’t start well—not at all. But I saw how Dr. Tremaine handled it. All parents make mistakes. What counts far more is what comes next, how a person makes a bad situation better. That’s what a child learns.”

  Absolution. Ryan craved it.

  Denise leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs. “I appreciate your perspective, Carly. Working in a toy store, you must see children and parents every day.”

  “I do.”

  “That’s nice,” Denise said, maybe meaning it. “How old are you, dear? Twenty-two, maybe twenty-three?”

  “I’m twenty-eight.”

  Like Denise, Ryan had assumed Carly was younger. He viewed her age as an advantage, plus he knew she was in grad school, another plus no matter what she was studying. With that kick to his foot, she’d told him she was on his side. But what she brought to the table remained to be revealed. She could still torpedo him by accident.

  Denise tapped a crimson fingernail on the arm of the metal chair. “So you’re twenty-eight and you manage a toy store. That sounds like fun.”

  “Oh, it is.”

  “Yes, but let’s be realistic. Managing a toy store hardly qualifies you to judge the situation with Penny. You might not be aware of it, but she has special needs.”

  “I’m aware.” Carly turned her attention to Ryan, giving him both authority over Denise and a look at the intense gleam in her pretty eyes. “My CV is on the kitchen table. I can get it if you’d like.”

  The fact she said CV, short for curriculum vitae, instead of resume, told Ryan she had more clout than he knew. “Why don’t you summarize for us, starting with your education.”

  “I’d be glad to.” Her eyes twinkled at him, then she turned back to Denise. “I have a BA in biology and a masters’ in social work, both from the University of Kentucky. A year ago I won the Emma Hanson Scholarship from the UCLA School of Social Welfare and am working on my doctorate.”

  “What’s your focus?” Ryan asked.

  “My dissertation is on fetal alcohol prevention.” She looked straight at Denise. “FASD is the one birth defect that can be prevented one hundred percent of the time. Education is vital, and that’s my long-term goal—to make sure women understand the consequence of alcohol consumption during pregnancy.”

  So the toy-store manager was an expert on FASD. Ryan rubbed his jaw to hide a smirk, then pitched her another question. “The scholarship’s impressive. Any other honors?”

  “Phi Beta Kappa and Alpha Delta Mu. That’s a national honor society for social workers. My master’s thesis was on FASD. It won a prize and was published last year.”

  With the smirk under control, he risked a look at Denise. “Any questions for Carly?”

  “Yes, several.” Her lips pulled into a frown, but she erased it with a careless shrug. “You surprised me, Carly. And I admit it—I’m impressed.”

  �
��Thank you.”

  “Let’s move on a bit.” Denise recrossed her legs. “What hands-on experience do you have with FASD?”

  Sitting tall, she emanated confidence, but her eyes lost their sparkle. “Back in Lexington I counseled teenage girls at a group home called Sparrow House. Two had full-blown FAS, but I suspect others were affected by fetal alcohol as well.” Her gaze shifted from Denise to Ryan. “I know firsthand how difficult it is to cope with a disability that’s unseen and misunderstood. It’s hard on the kids and the caregivers alike.”

  She understands. She knows the fight. Which meant she knew him in a way few people did. If they’d been alone, he’d have told her how much her understanding meant, but Denise’s gaze stayed hard on his face until she shifted her attention back to Carly.

  “I have another question,” she said. “How did you become interested in this particular field?”

  “A boy back home had FASD. When his parents adopted him, they had no idea what they were getting into. This boy struggled in school and got in trouble, but his parents did everything possible for him. He’ll always need some help, but he’s seventeen now and works at the grocery store. Love can’t fix a damaged brain, but I saw the difference it can make to a child with special needs.”

  Denise looked down her nose. “That’s a lovely sentiment. You started in biology, though. Why the biology degree?”

  “I was premed for a while.” She focused solely on Ryan. “I had plans to save the world, but medicine wasn’t a good fit.”

  Ryan knew the feeling. His youthful ambitions had been different, but he recalled that naïve passion to explore the unknown and leave his mark, like the astronauts on the moon. Those dreams went up in smoke somewhere in college when he’d succumbed to his father’s pressure to go to medical school. He had also met Heather and become infatuated with her. When they eloped, Kyle was already on the way. Ryan had felt trapped at the time, not because of the baby but because of the lost dreams.

  Carly, it seemed, had escaped those regrets and he wanted to know more. “When you worked with FASD kids, what was a typical day like?”

  “Typical? There’s no such thing.”

  That was Ryan’s experience, too, but Denise interrupted. “That’s true, but we have to provide Penny with routine.”

  “Absolutely,” Carly replied. “But we also have to remember Penny has brain damage. Her mind works in unique ways, which means there are things she can’t do and things she won’t do. There are also things she can do, but only if the adults in her life communicate their expectations in a way she can understand. It’s all very confusing, especially for outsiders, because she looks perfectly normal. But she’s not.”

  “No.” Ryan thought of the tantrums for no apparent reason; her hypersensitivity to noise, smells, tight socks, and bright lights; the storytelling and lying; her learning challenges. Most frustrating for him personally was her inability to understand the consequences of her actions. “She’s impulsive,” he said. “If she wants something, she takes it.”

  “That’s typical,” Carly replied. “Raising children with FASD is a unique challenge. They pull your heart right out of your chest about a dozen times a day, either because you’re afraid for them, because you love them so much it hurts, or because you’re so grateful for a special moment.”

  “That’s it exactly,” Ryan said.

  Denise had the annoying habit of huffing through her nose, and she did it now. “You’re certainly qualified to work with Penny. But don’t you think that leads to another question?”

  “Of course,” Carly said to her. “Hiring a nanny is a big decision.”

  “You’re highly qualified, perhaps overqualified. Tell me, Carly. Do you really want to be Nanny Number Five?”

  Carly didn’t care for either Denise’s tone or the vaguely superior gleam in her eyes. “I’m not sure yet. I came here today to interview Dr. Tremaine—not the other way around. I didn’t expect to meet you, but I’m glad you’re here. Penny has strong family support. That’s a big advantage.”

  “Yes,” Denise agreed. “I’d do anything for her.”

  Dr. Tremaine pushed his chair back a few inches, draped a leather shoe over his knee, and looked at her with an appreciative gleam in his eyes. “The job’s yours if you want it. What’ll it take for you to say yes?”

  “I’d like to know more about Penny, how she was diagnosed, and her early years with her mother.”

  The pool pump kicked on with a hum, and the water rippled to break the silence. Denise hid her face, pinched the bridge of her nose, then wiped away tears with her fingertips. “I’m sorry. It’s . . . it’s just still so fresh.”

  After a respectful pause, Dr. Tremaine focused back on Carly. “Jenna died in a car accident. A drunk hit her head on after a night shift at the hospital. She died instantly.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Carly murmured.

  “Life is cruel.” He spoke in a benign tone, but his voice carried the weight of human suffering. “We deal with it. There’s not much of a choice, is there?”

  Carly thought of the home invasion in her own neighborhood. “No, there isn’t. But it’s still wrong.”

  “It’s also real.” His gaze hardened into a stare, one that dared her to argue.

  Putting her personal angst aside, she lifted her chin. “That’s true, but we can strive to make the world a better place.” That was Carly’s purpose in life and the reason she was working on a PhD.

  “Jenna’s death was just so wrong,” Denise said, her voice breathy. “Penny’s my only family. You can understand what she means to me.”

  “Yes.” Carly couldn’t imagine being that alone. In addition to her father, brother, and sister, she had aunts, uncles, and a passel of cousins.

  “It’s just all too much—” Choking on a sob, Denise shoved to her feet. “I’m sorry. I need a moment.”

  Ryan stood with her. “If you’d like some privacy, you can use the guest room upstairs.”

  She paused to inhale, then squared her shoulders. “Mostly I need to hug Penny and give her that kangaroo.”

  “She’ll love it,” Dr. Tremaine assured her. In a lighter tone, he spoke directly to Carly. “Denise is a flight attendant. She brought Penny a three-foot stuffed kangaroo from Sydney.”

  “What a perfect surprise.”

  Denise managed a watery grin. “Ryan, if you don’t mind, I’ll take Penny to dinner a little early. The other nanny can leave, and you and Carly can finish the interview.”

  When he stood, so did Carly. She offered her hand to Denise. “I’m glad we met.”

  “I am, too.” Denise squeezed Carly’s fingers, then she and Dr. Tremaine went into the house.

  Restless and weighed down by thoughts of Allison, Carly wandered to the fence at the back of the yard. With one hand on a black bar, she stared at the ocean and silently asked God whether she should take the job or run from the risk of personal involvement. The only answer was the scrape of palm fronds high above her head. It was a lonely sound, a rustling like the one deep in her soul. She tried so hard to do the right thing, to be a good person. But what if she failed Penny the way she had failed Allison?

  She needed help, a sign like the one God gave to Gideon in the Bible, when He’d answered the man’s desperate prayer for assurance by dampening a cloth with dew. The picture of Gideon cowering in a winepress triggered the memory of the berry stains on the seats of the Impala, and she decided to ask for a sign of her own. When she told Dr. Tremaine about the mess, he’d probably try to clean it. If the stains came out, she’d stay. If they didn’t, she’d take her guilt and leave.

  7

  Ryan listened to Mrs. Howell apologize for the fortieth time and sent her home. Anyone could make a mistake, but she wouldn’t be back. If Carly didn’t take the job starting tomorrow, he’d cancel his appointments and stay with Penny.

  With the house empty, he grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and returned to the backyard where Carly was stand
ing at the fence. The sun was in front of her now, low on the horizon and shooting rays of light through her hair. The brightness turned the blond waves into a mane or a halo, maybe a helmet. She’d done battle with Denise today and won. Ryan couldn’t remember the last time someone had fought for him instead of against him.

  “It’s a beautiful view,” he called out as he approached. “On a clear day, you can see a couple of the Channel Islands.”

  Carly turned to him with a faraway smile. “I’ve never been on an island.”

  “Really?” He handed her the water.

  “Kentucky has rivers and lakes. No islands.” She took a swig from the bottle, then turned back to the view of the Pacific dotted with whitecaps. “I have to tell you more about finding Penny. You’re not going to like it.”

  “Have at it. I’m used to criticism.”

  “It’s not criticism.”

  “What is it?”

  “Penny tracked berry juice all over the seats of the Impala. The upholstery’s a mess.”

  She looked at him expectantly, waiting for a scowl or at least a sigh. He cared, of course. The Impala was worth a small fortune, and it held a thousand memories: restoring it with his father, visiting car shows, driving it for the first time down the Pacific Coast Highway. He treasured the old car, but his stomach burned with other memories: his father becoming churlish over a gum wrapper left in the ashtray, polishing chrome that already gleamed.

  Ryan aimed his chin toward the garage. “Let’s take a look. We can talk salary and hours while I clean it up.”

  “I haven’t taken the job yet,” she reminded him.

  “No, but I hope you do.”

  As they headed toward the gate, he raised his hand to touch the small of her back but stopped. He had no business touching her, and he wouldn’t have reacted that way with Mrs. Howell. Annoyed with himself, he strode past her to the garage and used the keypad.