Small-Town Nanny (16 page)

My prickly independence hurt a little girl
, she thought as she searched the woods at the edge of Sam's property.
I need to do something about that. If only I hadn't just run up and packed, Mindy wouldn't be missing.

They checked in with Sam, who was white-faced and tight-lipped, searching the property lines as well. Phone calls were made, and within minutes Fern and Carlo, Troy and Angelica came back, with Lou Ann Miller to watch Mercy and Xavier.

“I shouldn't have jumped into packing,” Susan lamented as she, Fern and Angelica walked back into the fields behind Sam's property, calling Mindy's name. “I always think I'm just going to run away. If I hadn't done that, she wouldn't be missing.”

Fern patted her arm. “Don't forget the time Mercy went missing. Only it was the dead of winter out at the skating pond. I totally blamed myself, but I've come to realize these things happen. We'll find her.”

“It's true,” Angelica said, giving her a quick side-arm hug. “Don't blame yourself. We all make mistakes with kids.”

“You guys are the best,” Susan said, gripping each of their hands, not bothering to hide her tears. She couldn't even pretend to be an island now. She needed her friends.

They met up with the men and Daisy in front of the house. “She just can't have gotten far,” Troy was saying. “Look, Angelica and I will head to the surrounding houses.”

“We'll check the library and the downtown,” Carlo said, “just in case she took off running.”

Sam shook his head. “I have this feeling she's somewhere in the house. I'm going to search this place from top to bottom. But let's get Dion involved, just in case.”

At that, Susan's heart twisted. Everyone else looked half-sick, too, reminded of what could happen to missing little girls.

Daisy made the call to Dion, and then she, Susan and Sam started methodically going through the house. Susan realized anew how huge it was, how many spots there were for a little girl to hide. They searched each floor together, checking in with the other searchers.

Dion came in his cruiser and drove the neighborhoods.

The basement yielded nothing, and the main floor didn't, either. Susan thought she saw a head of blond hair in the playroom, but it was just a doll.

Upstairs, they went through Mindy's bedroom and all the closets, and then started on the spare bedrooms. Nothing.

But as they headed back downstairs, Susan heard a sound, like a sob, behind the sunroom door, that mysterious door that always remained closed.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“What? Where?”

Susan indicated the closed door.

“She wouldn't go in there,” Sam said. “She's scared of it, because—” He broke off.

“Didn't you ever change it?” Daisy looked at Sam.

“Not yet,” he said, and opened the door.

Inside was a beautiful, multi-windowed sunroom with wicker furniture and a rattan carpet, decorated in rust and brown and cream. Autumn colors.

In the center of the room was a hospital bed.

In a flash it came to Susan: this must be the place where Marie had died.

There was a bump in the covers of the bed. And there, sleeping restlessly, with the occasional hiccupping sob, was Mindy. Her new little black-and-white dog slept in her arms.

They all three looked at each other. Daisy bit her lip, tears in her eyes. “You have to get rid of that bed, Sam. You have to open this place up.”

He nodded without speaking, and from the way his throat was working, Susan could see that he could barely restrain tears, himself.

“Thank the Lord we found her.” Daisy hugged both of them.

Sam picked Mindy up and carried her to her bedroom while Daisy and Susan called the others.

“Now, what's this about you packing? Why were you leaving?” Daisy asked as they walked out to meet the others.

Fern fell into step beside them.

“It's time for girl talk,” Daisy told her. “Susan was thinking of leaving.”

Fern winced. “I remember when you guys talked sense into me,” she said. She beckoned to Angelica, and the four of them headed into the living room, which looked to be the most secluded place right now.

“It's not that I need sense talked into me,” Susan said, sinking into one of the formal living room chairs. She was too broken down to lie or conceal her feelings. “I love him. And I love Mindy. But he's never going to be able to commit to someone like me. I heard him say it.” She shrugged. “I guess I'm just too different from him, not his type.”

“Do I look like Carlo's type?” Fern asked. “I'm a librarian, and he's a mercenary, or at least he used to be. What could we have in common? But love is strange.”

Angelica leaned forward and took Susan's hand. “It's hard to trust in men after you've been hurt,” she said. “But it's so, so worth it.”

“Just stay a little longer,” Daisy urged. “Talk to Sam.”

Susan wanted to take in what they were saying, but her heart was aching and her head was confused.

They talked a few minutes longer, and then Troy and Carlo called from the foyer and everyone started to leave.

Susan stayed, alone, sitting on the couch in the gathering darkness, too drained to move. “Thank You for letting us find her, Father,” she prayed. “I'm sorry I'm so messed up. Please, help me to change so I can find love and do what's important.”

She sat without tuning on a lamp, listening to the murmur of Sam talking to Dion on the porch, feeling alternating waves of sadness and God's healing love wash over her.

Finally, she curled up on her side on the narrow couch, tucked a hard, uncomfortable pillow beneath her head, and fell asleep.

Chapter Twelve

S
am sank down onto the wicker armchair on the front porch, waving to Troy and Angelica as they drove away, tooting their horn.

Only Dion remained, his cruiser parked out on the street. “You okay, my man?”

Sam stared out at the night sky. “Not really.”

“Rough day.” Dion sat down in the other chair, propped his hands behind his head and put his feet up on the wicker coffee table. “Now's the time you wish for a woman to bring you a tall iced tea.”

“Tea's in the refrigerator,” Sam offered. “I think.”

“Exactly. That would require effort.”

They sat together for a few minutes in a comfortable silence.

“Sorry I made you search the streets,” Sam said finally. “Mindy never goes in the sunroom.”

“The room where your wife died?”

Sam nodded. “I...just keep the door closed.”

Dion nodded, tipping the chair back on two legs. “I did that for a while myself. At the house we shared, and in my heart.”

“And you stopped? How?”

Dion shrugged, still staring out into the gathering darkness. “Time, man. Time, and prayer.” He leveled a stern look at Sam. “You've had enough time, but you could use some help on the prayer side.”

“I'm coming to the men's breakfast,” Sam protested.

“Which I'm glad of. But you might need a private consult with the Lord.”

Sam smiled at the terminology. “I know I do.”

“Marie was a good woman,” Dion said, and then paused.

Sam knew a “but” was coming. “But what?”

“But I'm guessing she must've been a little hard to live with.”

A few weeks ago, that remark would have surprised him and roused his defenses. Now he just nodded. “She was pretty tense.”

“Grew up that way, I guess.”

“Exactly.” Sam thought about his in-laws. Marie had never really broken away from them enough to have her own life. Everything had been colored by their insistence on perfection, on image. It wasn't that they were bad people, just a little misguided about what was important. “They were...controlling.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“What?”

“Look in the mirror, my man.” Dion gave him a look. “Everyone knows you're a dominant alpha-jerk. It's a wonder you have so many friends.”

He knew he was controlling, but he'd never put it all together like that. “Is that why Marie married me?”

Dion spread his hands, palms up. “I hate to say it, but she kind of married her mother.”

“Hey!”

Dion stood up, clapped him hard on the back. “Think about it, my man. How long you gonna force yourself to live in the past? Don't you remember you can be a new creation?”

And he waved and headed down the long front walk to his cruiser.

Restless, Sam stood and went inside. He checked on Mindy, who was sleeping peacefully, her new little dog beside her. The rule he'd made, no dogs in bed, was obviously not going to stick.

And then he went downstairs to the room where they'd found her. Marie's room. Or Mommy's room, as they'd called it when Marie was alive.

He sat in the chair where he'd spent so much time, right beside the hospital bed where she'd lain as the strength had slowly left her body. Talking to her, trying to cheer her up, reading with her, watching the house and garden shows she'd loved.

Even though the shows had bored him to tears, he'd kept watching them religiously for the first year after her death, because he'd felt closer to her that way. But, he realized, he hadn't seen one in six or eight months.

Dion was right. There came a time to move on.

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped together. It was a prayer position, but he wasn't talking to God, not yet. He was talking to Marie. Telling her how sad he was that their dream hadn't worked out. How sorry that he'd been a controlling replica of her parents, that he hadn't encouraged her to spread her wings and fly. Letting her know that he couldn't keep the promise he'd made.

After a while, he stopped telling her anything and just sat. Just invoked the Lord's presence, asking for help. Confessing his sins there, too.

And as he sat, in prayerful meditation, a realization came to him.

Marie was with Christ. He'd prepared for her a room in His mansion. He'd promised that He'd see her face to face.

Oh, Sam had known that, but he hadn't
known
it. Hadn't really felt it.

Marie was happy now, happier than she'd ever been in life. Free of her failing body. Free of her insecurities. Free to love.

Marie had moved on to a new life, one he couldn't even imagine.

And likewise, she hadn't been able to imagine that he would move on, that life would change, that Mindy would grow beyond toddlerhood and would maybe need something, and someone, new. Maybe Sam would, too.

With the promises of Christ, Sam could move on, just as Marie had.

He sat until the tears had mostly stopped falling. Grabbed a tissue from the box Marie had always kept by her bed, a box that hadn't been used or changed out since she'd died.

He wiped his face and blew his nose and felt like an idiot, but a cleansed one. A healed one.

He took a deep breath, opened the door wide and went to find Susan.

Earlier, he'd seen that Susan's car was still behind the garage apartment. She hadn't left with Daisy, so she must have gone back to stay in her apartment. Which was good, because he had things he wanted to say to her.

But the apartment was dark, and she wasn't there, and fear gripped his heart.

What if she'd found another ride, sometime when he wasn't looking? What if she'd left? Left, before he could tell her all the things he wanted to tell her?

He walked back into the house, exhaustion hitting him hard. It had been a long and stressful day, full of fear and joy, sadness and closure. What he wanted at the end of this long day—at the end of any long day—was to be with the woman he loved. But she wasn't here.

As Sam walked through the house, hoping to hear Susan's voice, he seemed to see it with new eyes. It had been Marie's pride and joy; she'd loved inviting her friends here, serving tea, hosting her book club. At one time, the place had been his dream, too, full of stability and love, a home base that ran as smoothly as a business.

Now, it felt empty, lifeless, sad. Was this even the house he wanted to live in? Was it the right place for Mindy to grow up, formal as it was and full of sad memories?

Desolation gripped him hard.

He felt like just collapsing into bed, but he had responsibilities. He finished his walk-through of the house, just as he did every night, shutting off lights, locking doors, checking to make sure nothing was amiss. He picked up some cups and a few stray cupcake wrappers that remained from the party. Feeling utterly alone.

And then he saw her.

Curled up on the couch like a young girl, her fist at her mouth, silky black hair spread over her shoulders. In sleep, the determination and spark and movement weren't there, and she looked totally vulnerable.

Totally lovely.

Joy was surging in his heart that she hadn't left him, that she was still in the house. She was still in reach. There was a chance.

He pulled up an ottoman and sat beside her, but just watching her sleep felt creepy. So he touched her arm, patted her awake. “Hey.”

She opened her eyes slowly, and Sam got a momentary vision of what it might be like to watch her wake up every day. His heart ached with longing to be the man who saw that, who was there with her.

“I fell asleep,” she said, looking around. “What time is it?”

“It's late,” he said. “Ten or so.”

Susan stretched and pushed herself up into a semi-reclining position, propped on pillows, rubbing her arms.

“You're cold,” he said, and looked for an afghan or throw. Finding none, he went to the front closet and found one of his sweatshirts. “Here,” he said, tucking it gently around her shoulders.

She blinked. “What time did you say it was? And hey, are we even allowed to put our feet on this couch?”

“We are now,” he said.

She grabbed her phone and studied it. “If I go now, I can get a seat.” She started to stand up.

“Wait. What seat?”

“On a plane to California,” she said, putting her feet down and brushing her hands over her messy hair. “There's this online standby thing, and it looks like I have a seat if I can claim it by eleven. I've got to go.”

He put a hand on her knee. “Susan. Wait.”

“If you're going to yell at me, don't bother. I already know I made a mess of things.” She was fumbling for her shoes, checking her phone again, looking anywhere but his face.

“What did you make a mess of?”

She stopped fussing and looked at him. “It was because of me that Mindy hid,” she said. “She found me packing and got upset. I think she felt like it was another mother figure leaving her alone.” She shook her head rapidly. “I'm so sorry I did that to her.”

“Why were you packing to leave?” If it was because she didn't care, then he had to let her go.

“Because,” she said slowly, “Because I heard what you said to Helen. That you could never marry me, that you made a promise.”

“Ah.” He took her hands. “I was afraid that was the problem.” And he explained about the promise.

“You're right that I'm never going to be that person,” she said. “And I don't want to break Mindy's heart. Or mine. I need to go now, before we get more attached.”

“Wait.” He shook his head slowly. “I've realized something now. That promise is something that helped me to grieve, stopped me from moving on too soon. But it doesn't hold now. It's like the old law and the new.”

“What do you mean?” She sounded troubled.

“Susan, one thing you've helped me see is that I needed to change. I don't have an easy time with change, never have. I'm the steady, boring, rock-solid type.”

One side of her mouth quirked up. “Never boring. And steady's not so bad.”

“Steady is okay, but I've seen that change is part of life. There's a new way. I'm a new creation.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean like a new creation in Christ? You're talking religious, and that's not like you.”

“It's like me now,” he said. “I've recommitted. I've stopped blaming Him for what happened. With God's help, I'm back.”

“Oh, Sam, I'm so happy for you!” She threw her arms around him.

* * *

Susan felt happy for Sam and more peaceful for herself, but she still had to get going. She talked to Sam for a few minutes, hearing about his conversation with Dion, glad to know he was getting right with the Lord.

But seeing his handsome face lose some of its tension, seeing the light in his eyes that hadn't been there before, just made him more attractive.

“Look,” she said finally, “this is wonderful, but I really have to go. If I start driving in the next ten minutes, I can get to the airport just in time to catch this flight.”

His lips tightened, but he nodded and followed her to the door. “Your purse, your phone?” he said, looking out for her, making sure she had what she needed.

She swallowed hard as she walked out of the house, because this was truly goodbye. “I'll send for my stuff,” she said.

His hands clapped down on her shoulders, turning her to face him. Behind him, his giant mansion shone in the moonlight.

The mansion that had become home to her.

Looking up at him, thinking of Mindy in the house behind him, just about broke her heart.

“I don't want you to go. I want you to stay.”

She shook her head. “It's just hurting Mindy,” she said. “And me.”

“Why is it hurting you?” he asked, touching her chin to make her look at him.

He was going to make her say it, but what did it matter now? She was already hurting and she was leaving. “Because I've fallen in love with you and Mindy. With this life we're playing at. I want to have it for real, but I can't.”

“Why not? Susan, what you just said makes me the happiest man in the world.” He sank down to his knees. “I want to marry you. I don't know how or when, I know Mindy and I have a little more healing work to do, but I think we can do it with your help. I want you to be Mindy's new mommy. And my wife. Especially my wife.”

“But your promise to Marie...”

He shook his head. “I've made my peace with that. With her. I'm not held to it any more.”

“For real?” She wanted to believe it, but she wasn't sure she could trust him. Was he just saying that? Could people really heal from a loss like the one he and Mindy had sustained?

“I am completely, totally sure.” He swept her into his arms and carried her over to the lawn swing she'd insisted they get.

“Sam!”

“No near neighbors to see,” he said. “And I want to prove to you just how much I love you.”

He cradled her against his chest and kissed her tenderly, and Susan's last shreds of doubt wafted away on the gentle night breeze. Eagerly, she kissed him back and then stroked his hair and looked into his eyes.

“Does that mean yes?” he asked, sounding a little insecure.

She laughed out loud. “When does the nanny ever say no to the millionaire?”

“This is a serious moment!” He shook his head, then traced a finger along her cheek. “And I take nothing for granted.”

“I'm sorry,” she giggled, her heart almost bursting with joy, her soul singing. Daisy had been right: God's plan for her, for all of them, was bigger and deeper and richer than their human minds could imagine. “I'm just so happy. And it's totally a yes.”