I'd lived with them for nearly four years, since just after Sammy was born. My father moved to Miami with our younger sister, and Mary asked me to move in to help out. It was a perfect situation — I was in college at the time and needed a place to stay, and they'd just bought their brownstone, which had plenty of room. She offered me the guest room downstairs at the back of the house where I could look out on the patio and write.
I jumped at the chance.
Of course, as the years wore on, they came to depend on me more and more. And when I'd graduated with my literature degree, I didn't know what to do with it. Didn't know what to do with myself.
The boldest thing I'd done since Wade left for the Army was to go to school. But even in doing that, I was still only going through the motions without an end game.
He'd been my end game, and when things ended, the path of my life had been erased, left smudged and blurry. I hadn't found my way since.
So it was easy, convenient, to be a live-in nanny, working my schedule around theirs. The kids were in private preschool three days a week, and I took care of them from the time I picked them up at three until they went to bed, and all day the rest of the time. Charlie and Mary always had places to be, benefit dinners and the opera and other sorts of social things — frankly, I lost track. And I enjoyed the solitude when they were gone.
But before I knew it I was … stuck. I didn't think about it overly much, mostly because I didn't have a plan for the rest of my life and it was easier to just put it off. I felt no urgency — I had my degree but no idea what to do with it. And helping Mary gave me a sense of purpose, gave me a solution to a question I didn't want to answer myself.
I pulled the plug on the old clawfoot tub and helped the kids out, drying off Maven before handing Sammy his hooded towel, knowing he'd want to put it on himself. Then Sammy ran off to his room to get dressed, and I carried Maven to her room.
It was all pink and purple with butterflies and flowers hanging from the ceiling, with a white sleigh bed topped with pillows and her favorite stuffed animals. Her room always reminded me of Peter Pan and what I imagined Wendy Darling's room to look like, classic and Victorian, sweet and pretty, just like Maven.
The toddler hummed tunelessly as I dressed her, and then we climbed in bed with a book while Sammy brushed his teeth. And when we were all finished with Olivia, I tucked her in and turned down the lights, clicking on her nightlight that threw stars all over the ceiling. I sang her a soft song, and she gave me a hug, and when she told me she loved me, my heart ached.
Guilt sprang in my chest — I'd forgotten for a moment what the day had held, the sadness crushing me in a wave. But I caught my breath as I walked into Sammy's room to find him bouncing on his bed with a Pete the Cat book. His room was like Maven's, but all shades of blue and dark wood, with a captain's bed and a nautical theme that had skewed in the pirate direction over the course of the last year. He leaned against me as we read, though he knew all the words and recited them with me. And when all was done, I said goodnight with a wave and a kiss on the cheek before making my way wearily down the stairs.
Mary sat in the living room on her phone, long legs crossed, wine glass in hand. People always said we looked alike, but I didn't see it. Mary was all sharp edges; even her dark eyes, the one part of her I did see myself in, held a hardness to them that I'd never understood.
"Everything go okay?" she asked, not looking up from the screen.
"Just fine. They're all off to dreamland."
She sighed. "Good. I hope they don't come out a thousand times."
I tried to smile, but I found it hard to pretend. "Well, I'm heading downstairs for the night."
Mary looked up to meet my eyes. "Oh, I didn't even ask you how Rick is."
This was her way of asking. "He's …" I swallowed. "He's okay. I read to him while Sophie and W-wade had a meeting with the social worker." His name hitched in my throat, catching, snagged by my heart.
"Wade's here?" she asked, one dark brow climbing.
I nodded. "He flew in from Germany tonight."
"Huh. Great place to be stationed. Have you even seen him since he left?"
"No," I answered quietly.
Compassion passed across her face and was gone. "I'm sorry. Was it hard?"
I took a breath. "It was."
"Is he just as handsome as he was?"
"More. He's … he's a man now. I barely recognized him."
She shook her head. "Well, he's really done well for himself in the military. I hate that he's back under such awful circumstances. Poor Rick. Those poor girls."
I found it so strange that she approved now when seven years ago she was so quick to judge, so quick to steer me away from him. Another attempt at a smile had me wanting to leave. "Okay, well … if that's all, I'd really like to lie down."
"Of course," she said with a wave of her hand.
I started to walk away but stopped, turning back to her when I remembered something. "Oh, I'm sorry, one more thing."
She was already back on her phone. "Mmhmm?"
I clasped my hands behind my back, pulse speeding up at the prospect of her saying no. "The next few weeks are going to be … well, they're going to be a lot for the Winters family. Sophie's asked me to help out, and I'd like to do what I can. Do you … do you think it would be possible to put the kids in full-time school for a while?"
Mary looked up at me, frowning. "That will cost a fortune, Elliot. I don't even know if the school has space."
My cheeks flushed. "I know, I just thought—"