OK, so you've read just about every baby sitter story that has ever appeared on this site for the last 5 years or more. Well, here's one more with a slight twist at the end. So, grit your teeth and slog through another one. I think you just might like it. Special thanks go to my new editor, "Bright Eyes."
Once you have found a great baby sitter, it is not wise to let any of your friends who are parents in on the secret. If you do, chances are the next time you call; she'll be busy at someone else's house. So it was with Tracy. We discovered her from a little hand written ad on the bulletin board at the super market. I copied down the phone number and later asked around to see whether anyone had hired her. To my surprise, no one I talked to had used her or called to check up on her. Even so, I decided not to call until the night before our company Christmas party. Our regular girl took sick and all the others we called were busy. Finally, in desperation, I called Tracy.
"Sure, I'll be over at 7:00, "she chirped into the phone.
I knew we were taking a chance but the twins were used to various new faces appearing in our absence so we crossed our fingers and went ahead and arranged to attend the party the next night. We left strict instructions about guests, alcohol and drug use. Tracy eagerly agreed to everything and before I could mention it, she asked for our cell phone numbers.
At just sixteen, she was slender, about 5'8" with long dark hair. She had a way about her that could only be described as beyond her years. It sort of made me think she had had a hard life and was used to shouldering a lot of responsibility. She just didn't talk or act like a teenager. A little rough around the edges is the best way I can think of describing her.
We arrived home after midnight and were stunned at what we found. The entire lower level of the house was picked up, furniture dusted; books and papers neatly put away and in general, everything was in much better shape than when we left. In the kitchen we found that all the dishes were washed and put away, the floor had been mopped and even the stuff in the fridge was cleaned up. The twins were sound asleep in clean P.J.s, their toys were all put away. I was speechless and my wife gushed with appreciation. I gave Tracy the regular rate and added a very nice tip.
"I never expected anything like this, Tracy, but can we call you again for next Saturday?" I asked with my fingers crossed behind my back.
"Sure, Mr. Miller. What time do you want me here?"
We watched her leave and drive off in an old, totally beat up Renault Dauphine. The ancient car rattled and lurched down the road and I began to worry that it would never make it to the corner but it did and disappeared from sight.
For the next two years, Tracy was a regular in our home, often brought in to help with the housework when my wife was covered up with her real estate job. Tracy was eager to earn as much as she could. Now 18 and graduating from high school, Tracy had plans to attend the local junior college in the fall. Although she was awarded some scholarships, Tracy still needed more to make it through the first year. (Tracy never told us much about her home life, only that she lived alone with her mother who was on permanent disability.)
Late one evening we came home to find, as usual, that Tracy had the house in spotless order. She went out to the old car and tried to start it. The ancient engine ground on and on and finally was silent. Tracy got out and came up to the house again, angry and flustered.
"The damn thing won't even start. My mom will be furious if I can't get home."
I said, "Are you sure you can't stay here until the morning? Why don't you call your mom."
Tracy called her and although I could not hear all of the conversation, it was obvious that her mother wanted her home now, not tomorrow.
"Tracy, I said, let me drive you home. I'll put a charger on the battery and maybe by morning it will be good enough to start the car."
"Gosh, Mr. Miller, that would be great. Mom is real upset when I'm not at home."
I drove her home and discovered that she was living in a run down trailer park. The trailers were really ratty looking although Tracy's was as clean and neat on the outside as an old mobile home could look.
"I'll be back in the morning with the car. You can drive me back home:"
"Thanks Mr. Miller, you are a real prince." she said.
She quickly slid over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. This was the very first overt act of affection she had ever shown me during the two years we had employed her. By this time, her slender body had begun to fill out with the curves one would expect from an eighteen year old girl. I could not help but notice her breasts seemed to be getting bigger each month. I dearly love my wife and would never cheat on her but I must admit that not all of my thoughts about Tracy were as innocent as they should have been.
Very early the next morning, I got the old wreck started and drove it to the trailer park.
The next time I called Tracy, I got the bad news that once again the car would not start.
"I'll come and pick you up", I said.
I drove to the trailer park and saw a couple of "good ol' boys" looking at the Renault.
"The starter and flywheel are done for," one of them said as I approached.
