Read The Forgotten Child Online

Authors: Lorhainne Eckhart

The Forgotten Child (2 page)

She should have started looking for a job yesterday after she’d asked Bob to leave. But she didn’t because of a whole pile of excuses. Katy had been cranky all day after waking up so early after Bob’s tantrum. Then she had to feed, bathe and put Katy to bed, all before Bob, still moody, dragged his sorry ass through the door, telling her he’d found a furnished apartment in Olympia during his lunch hour. He’d move out on the weekend. She almost shouted, “Hallelujah!”

But now this morning, she felt the after effects of an adrenaline rush, maybe that’s why she was in such a crappy mood. She muttered a curse as she opened the damp newspaper to the classified section. It was sparse today, the feed store, the market. The one that stood out was the one in bold at the bottom of the page:

Wanted: Caregiver and Cook

Duties include day-to-day care of a young child.


I can do that.” She slapped the paper and glanced up at Katy who was watching
Dora
on TV as she snuggled with her blanket on the sofa. Emily reached behind her and snatched up the cordless telephone. She paused, pressing the top of the telephone to her forehead when a sinking fear she’d fail tried to weave its way into her, zapping away all her newfound courage. “Knock it off, just call.” Emily ran her finger over the ad and dialed the number. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt her chest. Her hand shook as her adrenaline soared through her veins. To release the rapidly building tension and calm her nerves, she paced through the kitchen and living room.


Hello.” An older woman’s voice chimed on the other end.


Hi I’m calling about the ad in the paper for a caregiver and cook.”


Oh yes, that would be Brad you’d want to talk to. Just hang on a second and let me get him.” Unfortunately the wait for Brad to come on the line allowed the irritable voice in Emily’s head to creep in and fill her with doubts.
What do you think you’re doing? You’re not qualified.
Sweating, she was tempted to hang up when she heard the man’s deep baritone voice.


Hello.”

Along with being tongue tied, Emily’s dry throat threatened to close up. She swallowed the hard lump and licked her lips. “Hi, my name’s Emily Nelson, I’m calling about your ad in the paper as a caregiver and cook for a child.” She winced when her voice squeaked.


It’s for my son Trevor, he’s three. I run a ranch and need someone to look after him and also do the cooking.”


Are you still interviewing for the position?”


I am but I need someone right away. I have a ranch to run. If you’re interested, could you come out to the Ranch?”

He was abrupt. Straight to the point and that made it easier for Emily.


I’m interested, but I should tell you I have a two year old who’ll be with me at work. He said nothing. In that nanosecond, Emily felt the impending rejection. And that awful voice chimed in,
No, I don’t think it’ll work. I need someone without kids.


Could you be here at nine tomorrow morning?” This she didn’t expect.


Nine, no problem I’ll be there.” She committed to a time she knew darn well wouldn’t work. Katy had a checkup scheduled with her pediatrician tomorrow at nine. How was she going to do both? How stupid and desperate was that?
Say something.
But she didn’t. She swallowed and continued scribbling down the address, along with rough directions to the ranch, on the back of her overdue hydro bill. It was not far from town, maybe a twenty-minute drive.

Emily held the disconnected phone, and then tapped her head with it again. “Stupid, you forgot to ask what he’s paying, the hours, come on, Emily.” She dropped the phone back in its charger, realizing he too hadn’t asked many questions. What about her qualifications, experience and references?

Emily dug out a pen and paper and started a list. She needed to be prepared for tomorrow, so she scribbled down a list of questions. Most importantly, she needed to someone to take Katy to the doctor.

 

* * * *

 

Early the next morning, she opened the front door to her bubbly friend Gina, a vivacious, trim woman with short dark hair. Under her wool cape, she wore a turtleneck and blue jeans. She burst through the door and hugged Emily hard. “Morning, darling. I hope you have some coffee. I only had time for a quick cup before bolting over here.”


What about Fred and your boys? Aren’t they going to miss you this morning?”

She waved her hand as she wiped her shoes and wandered into the small box style kitchen. “You should have seen the lost look on their faces this morning. It was priceless, my husband and two teenage boys, horrified that I actually expected them to fend for themselves this morning. Hey there cutie pie.”

Katy practically leapt into Gina’s arms. Gina knew how to get down on the floor and play hard with kids on their level. “Thank you, Gina, for coming. I’m nervous enough as it is about this interview without dragging a two year old with me and I forgot about her appointment with the pediatrician. It took me months to get it and I didn’t want to reschedule with this guy...” She was rambling and she knew it, so she shut her mouth.


Don’t be nervous, you’ll do just fine. And you need to give yourself some credit. You’ve a lot of courage. I’ve watched you from the sidelines these past few years as you’ve spiraled into a downward slide. I’m amazed, and a little awed, by what you’ve done. It’s as if you’ve taken a leap off the dock without a life jacket. You have this pure faith now—everything will work out. Now hold onto that and move forward. Don’t look back.” Gina glanced down at her small gold Rolex, a gift from her husband for their anniversary last month. You better go. You have enough time to get your head together and enjoy the drive. Remember don’t rush … that’s when you get flustered.”

Emily hugged and kissed both her daughter and friend, pulled on her brown wool coat and grabbed her purse and handwritten resume. Gina was right; having extra time to find where she needed to go relieved a lot of her anxiety, as did being alone. She took a deep breath and pulled out of her driveway.

Thick trees lined both sides of the road out of town. This was a peaceful drive. She realized she’d never driven west of town in the ten years she’d lived in Hoquiam. She’d grown up in Seattle and that was where she’d met Bob. Hoquiam seemed like a nice place to live after he was offered a government job in Olympia ten years earlier. The commute was not too long, and Emily’s dream of living in a small community had never left her. Now as she drove these narrow winding roads, passing only a few cars through this private, rural and heavily forested part of the peninsula, she was reminded of her childhood dream.

Emily balanced the hastily scribbled directions on the steering wheel. She passed the faded red barn at the second marker on the highway. Making a right turn onto a gravel road, she continued down until she saw the split rail fencing with 665 in bright green numbersembedded in the wood. A huge fir archway on two solid beams surrounded the entrance to the dirt driveway, with the name Echo Springs carved into the weathered wood. What was it about the name that stirred some nostalgic memory of longing in her tummy? History, established families, of Mom, Dad, grandparents passing down their heritage and land. She’d heard the powerful family names whispered in the community: the Rickson’s, Folley’s,
who were the others
? She was caught now by a nervous flutter continuing to pound her solar plexus as she drove down the long dirt driveway. Old growth spruce, cedar and fir trees on both sides created a dense canopy overhead and a mixture of other bushes and trees gave the appearance of walls. At the end, it opened up into a large clearing exposing a two-story white frame house with a wraparound veranda and large post beams. It resembled an old rambling Victorian. She parked in front of the house beside an old Ford Escort, a dirty blue pick-up truck that had seen better days, a chipped yellow digger, a fairly new black GMC one ton pickup and a flatbed trailer loaded with some mysterious goods covered with a tarp.
How many people live here?

The wind created a chilly breeze as thick clouds cluttered the baby blue sky. Emily was far from cold when she climbed out of her van. Her underarms were damp and she prayed her deodorant was strong enough to keep her from smelling ripe.
It’s nerves, that’s all.
Or maybe it was the five cups of high-octane coffee she’d guzzled before Gina arrived, which wound her nerves so tight she could have bounced her way to the door.

She paused and breathed deep in the clean air. The front of the house was virtually bare of any landscaping. Patches of grass poked up here and there from the well-packed dirt in the front yard. The flowerbeds in front were littered with dead perennials, weeds and overgrown grass long and bare leaning against the house.
How many acres did he have?
A large barn and other outbuildings littered the property with what looked like miles of open land with a spectacular view of the mountains.

She flexed her damp hands and climbed the four white wooden steps. She noticed the paint was chipped.Emily nearly tripped when the third step suddenly creaked and caught her off guard. She was way out of her comfort zone and this didn’t help, prompting her self-doubt to send SOS signals to confuse her already shaky insides. She was a mess. Her face ached so much, she was positive the forced smile she wore looked more like a grimace. Emily clutched a brown manila envelope stuffed with her resume and references from her friends. On unsteady legs, she crossed the wide porch. A porch made for families to gather at the end of the day to laugh together and share dreams and triumphs. Something families did. Well back to reality, it was a dream family Emily yearned to be part of. She spied a wooden swing suspended by chains at the far end of the porch beside two wicker chairs placed on each side of a large picture window and she sighed.

She could daydream about this imaginary family abode all day but when she faced the classic wooden frame door, Emily’s dry throat threatened to close up. “Well it’s now or never.” So she did it. She rapped on the door with a couple of confident solid knocks. Her heart pounded, echoing with a thud in her ears when she heard solid, heavy footsteps approach. She swallowed and felt a notorious bright scarlet flush flame her face.

She wanted to hide in that anxiety panicked second but it was too late when the door flew open. She stepped back clutching her purse to her chest like a shield and fidgeted with her old wool coat, pulling it tight around her. A tall, broad shouldered man filled the doorway. She was struck speechless by this man with hazy brown eyes. He didn’t have pretty boy features. What he had was a solid, strong jaw, a hardness to his square face and eyes alive with some ancient wisdom, making him the most handsome man she’d ever seen. His flannel plaid shirt didn’t cover any average man. This was a well-formed man who she’d swear could make a burlap sack look good. He pulled off a pair of reading glasses and gazed at her, looking confused, as if she were a door-to-door sales girl, obviously wondering why she was on his doorstep. She hated that feeling.


Hi, I’m…” Then the worst thing that could possibly happen, happened. She fumbled her purse upside down. It tipped open scattering the contents of her bag as well as coins from the unzipped coin purse inside all over the doorway floor, along with what remained of her dignity.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

Mortified, the ringing in her ears catapulted her tingling body to what she could only explain as an out of body experience. Who was this idiot who’d taken over her body? Her face burned crimson, again. And she did what any self-respecting woman would do. She dropped to her knees, grabbed the coins, open wallet, crackers, Katy’s toys and the wrapped sanitary napkin lying by his feet. Emily stuffed everything back in her purse, cursing her idiocy at not making sure it was zipped up. Wasn’t that rule number one?

Retreating into her head, she prayed, maybe at some point in the years to come, she’d look back on this and laugh. Except now to make things worse, Mr. Good-looking knelt down in front of her, nose to nose and started scooping up her loose coins scattered across the hardwood floor. Emily glanced up; his eyes were burning into her and she wanted nothing more than to slink away apologizing profusely, run to her van and drive away so she could cry the tears threatening to burn a hole in her head. “I’m so sorry; I can’t believe I did this.” Why did he have to help? Why couldn’t he ignore what she’d done? He said nothing as he handed her the loose coins. She dumped into her plain black purse and zipped it up. Emily then sprung to her feet without looking, smacking her head into his, which sent her tumbling back down where she landed on her derriere.


Wait. Don’t move. Let me help you up. Are you okay?”

Could it get any worse? She wanted to weep right here, right now, but she was stronger than that, right? She rubbed her head and the strong man held out his large, rough hand and with little effort, pulled her up. Back where she started from, facing this extraordinary tall man, who shovedhis hands in his front pockets as he appeared to study her with amazing control, no sign of embarrassment, but an odd curiosity twinkled in those wise whiskey colored eyes.

Without a doubt, he must think she was nuts, a moron. Maybe he’d ask her to leave. Her forced smile pulled at her mouth.

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