"This wasn't supposed to happen," he said, clenching his eyes shut, as if thinking of something painful.
"What wasn't?" I asked, knowing the answer, but wanting only to keep listening to him talk.
"You... Me... This..." he sighed deeply, his breath hot on my face as our noses nearly touched. "It was the opposite of what I planned." His eyes opened again and searched mine, seeking something like forgiveness, but for a sin I couldn't identify.
"Of course it wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. And is that so bad?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly, wishing I knew why he was still so conflicted over this.
"It is," he said softly. "Because I was using you. But not for this. This wasn't what I intended."
"And what exactly
did
you intend?" I whispered, running my hand across his brow to wipe away the sweat.
"Something I hope you don't hate me for," he confessed.
*******
Eight Months Earlier
"I know it's been hard for you, Denise," Macy assured me over a cup of coffee at her kitchen table. "I'm not as available as I was back in Florida. I tried to warn you when you said you'd follow us here, but..."
"I'm not blaming you, babe," I cut in. "I'm just saying... I've got a lot of time on my hands."
"But another job? Doesn't the clinic keep you busy enough?"
It felt awkward talking to Macy about being busy. Even as she spoke, her youngest child was insistently patting her leg, asking for something in language indecipherable to an untrained ear. Without breaking eye contact with me, Macy reached across the table, picked up a bowl of dry cereal, and handed it to the grateful toddler. And this was her day off from her full-time job as a chef.
I shook my head to refocus. "It's not that. I could probably work more hours, but Dottie won't let me. She doesn't want me getting swallowed up in my job."
"And the pot calls the kettle black," Macy smirked with a roll of her eyes.
"But that's not the point," I continued. "I need something different. And it feels like
more
than a coincidence that I saw the ad the same day I decided to look for more work."
Macy took a long sip of her still-steaming coffee. Her eyes were tired, but they still shone with a contentment that made her look perpetually young. She looked towards the other room, making sure that there were no sounds of children in danger. "But
nannying
?" she asked, twisting her face. "I'm the last one to question your competence at that, but doesn't it feel... like a step back?"
"You're just worried you'll lose your free babysitter," I teased, poking her leg with my toe.
She looked at me and smiled wryly. "No, it's not that. Randy and Emily are getting old enough to watch the younger ones; and as long as Ernst is working nights, we don't need you that often any more..."
"Except for the occasional romantic getaway," I commented as the fruit of one of their last weekend getaways scampered past with a giggle.
Macy blushed and tried to turn the tables on me. "And what about Jared?" she ventured.
At the mention of Jared's name, my heart skipped a little. We had only been dating a few weeks, and there was still that nervous excitement of standing on the precipice of possibility.
"Jared... is still new," I concluded. "I'm not ready to plan anything around him yet."
"Yet?" Macy picked up on every word, every nuance. We had known each other too long to think we could hide things in our words.
"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "He's an hour away, and we only see each other an evening or two a week, so things are moving slowly. No red flags yet, but it's so early."
"But you like him?" Macy asked, half-statement, half-question.
"I like him as far as I know him, which isn't far."
"I get it," she sighed, looking wistfully out the window. "Neither of us moves quickly on that front. And it's been so long..."
I shrugged. "Time doesn't bother me. Not yet at least. But I guess the longer I wait, the more special the guy needs to be."
"That's all I was saying," Macy said with a soft smile.
We sat in the contented silence that only the closest of friends can enjoy without awkwardness. Macy ran a few fingers through her auburn hair. Then she gave me a look of genuine concern and said, "I just thought you were seriously considering more education, maybe becoming a nurse practitioner."
"I think that's still on my radar," I said, looking into my almost empty mug. "But not yet. And there's just something about this job that...
intrigues
me. I don't even know why."
"Well, it's your life," Macy said in defeat.
"And I value your input," I replied.
"Just... don't do anything rash, that's all I ask."
"Says the woman who married a guy who was spying on her while he pretended to fish," I teased.
"Hey! That's not how it happened and you know it," Macy shot back in mock anger as she stood up and took my mug from my hand.
"Speak of the devil..." I said as Ernst walked in the door after his night shift.
While Macy greeted her husband at the door, I chatted briefly with Emily, who was still young enough to think a single girl in her early 30's was cool. I knew Ernst would be heading to sleep soon, and my shift at the clinic would begin in another hour, so I said my goodbyes and headed to my car. Arriving early to the clinic, I once again stood in front of the public bulletin board, reading carefully the ad that had caught my eye a few weeks earlier:
Help Wanted: After school and evening care for my two precious kids, ages 8 and 6.
Some light housekeeping and cooking.
Certifications and references helpful but not necessary.
Pays well. Women only.
I entered the number into my phone, saving it under "Aaron- nanny job." I considered calling right then, but I realized it was probably too early in the day for most people. The sun was just rising. I pocketed my phone and turned my attention to the day ahead. There was something about the ad that made it stick in my mind, but I had to push those thoughts aside until lunch, at the earliest.
*******
It was a coincidence - or fate, if that's your thing - that set events in motion sooner than I had planned. I was between patients at the clinic and had a financial question while I was doing inventory. I needed to call Andrew, who knew our finances off the top of his head. Alphabetically, Andrew is usually the first name that comes up when I scroll through my contacts, and so my thumb scrolled and dialed from memory without me ever looking at the phone.
Instead of Andrew's familiar voice, a deeper, slower speaker answered, "Hello?"
"Uhh... Andrew?" I brightly responded.
"No, wrong number. This is Aaron," came the polite but tired reply.
Aaron? Who was...?
Then it hit me. "Oh! Aaron. I'm so sorry. I did dial your number by mistake. But since I've got you on the line, I saw your ad for a nanny and I was interested in hearing more about it."
Good recovery, Denise. You don't sound totally helpless.
"Really? You're calling about the ad? Uh... sure. Let me think... When can you come over to talk about it? Or should I come to you? That doesn't make sense, you should meet the kids. When can you come over?"
He sounded about as flustered as I was. Feeling a sudden urge to avoid doing anything rash (thank you, Macy), I asked, "Well, what can you tell me over the phone?"
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I guess that could work, too. No sense in making a trip if you... Anyway..." He went on to discuss the basics of the job: the typical hours, the responsibilities, the pay. It all sounded pretty good. The only downside was the location - a neighborhood deep in the suburbs. It would probably take me a good thirty minutes each way. Nevertheless, by the end of our conversation, I was interested in meeting the kids... and their dad, who seemed gentle and kind and a bit overwhelmed. We arranged a time for me to visit that weekend. Just then, I spotted Dr. Tom walking down the hall and remembered I was supposed to be doing something else. I hastily wrapped up my conversation with Aaron and dialed Andrew.
"Almost done?" Tom asked as he passed. "I'm going to need your help in room seven."
"Just a minute," I assured him, holding up a finger as I waited for Andrew to answer. Tom nodded and continued down the hall. I squinted at the ad. What
was
it about those few simple phrases that caught my attention? The tone of the words seemed... sad? desperate? But then Andrew picked up and I moved on to other thoughts, letting Aaron and his kids sit on the back burner until the weekend.