The Holiday Nanny. Lois Richer
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As she sat in her window seat overlooking the backyard, Connie mused on the changes that would come. The Abbot home was large. The master wing was on the second floor, on the far side of the house, opposite Silver’s rooms and hers. The child might have very little contact with Wade unless Connie arranged otherwise.
“There’s a problem between the two of them, God,” she murmured, watching as Wade emerged on the pool deck ten minutes later. He walked back and forth across the deck, pausing at one end to inspect a bush, then resuming his private stroll. “Some barrier that I don’t understand. Help me to help them. Amen.”
She didn’t turn on the light, didn’t prepare for bed, as was her custom. Instead, Connie sat in the dark, watching Silver’s father pace across the yard, his steps barely slowing. When he finally sat on one of the chaise longues, the little clock on her nightstand read two thirty.
Yes, definitely something wrong. It wasn’t her business, but Connie wanted to help. She knew what it was like to face each day knowing your father didn’t care about you, had cut you out of his life. She couldn’t let that happen to sweet Silver.
Wade wasn’t uncaring. He’d made it a point to visit his daughter, check on her when he arrived home and even bring her a special toy. He’d asked about her welfare, said it was important to him that she be happy. He had to love her.
“He has to, God. Because I don’t want Silver to be like me.”
Wade climbed the stairs slowly, knowing he should stay away but needing to reassure himself one more time that Silver was all right, that nothing bad had happened to her in his absence. The reports he’d asked David to send were never enough to soothe his imagined anxieties. And the video Ms. Ladden had sent only made his yearning to be near the child that much stronger.
“Can you come home and see me in the Christmas play, Daddy? Please? I’m going to be an angel,” Silver had said in the video.
An angel. A gift from God—for him? That was the question.
He slipped through the partially open door and stood gazing down at the wonder that was Silver. From the moment she’d been born, he’d been overwhelmed by her, by the silver-gold hair that had never lost its fat curls, by her enormous blue eyes that peered up at him with utter trust, by the tiny hands that grasped his in complete confidence that he would not lead her astray.
And yet Wade had failed her. At least he felt he had. Though his heart ached to spill out the words of love that had built inside for the past four years, somehow they wouldn’t move past his lips.
Because since the day Bella had died, he’d been enslaved by fear.
Fear that Silver wasn’t his. Fear that someone else would claim her and he’d lose the only person in his life who truly mattered. Fear she’d never know how much he wanted to be the kind of dad she deserved. With his return home, those fears erupted anew. What had seemed so simple last week in Argentina—coming home, settling down, being a real father—now took on nuances and complications he hadn’t imagined.
Bella’s child.
Not his daughter, but Bella’s child.
As always, Wade’s mind traveled back to that day and the phone call that had turned his world on its axis. There had been a fire on a private yacht. A child had survived unharmed. A woman had died. Her death was a result of smoke inhalation, they said. The reason for the fire wasn’t known. When Wade arrived on the scene, he’d seen that beside Bella lay the body of the man she’d run to, the man with whom she’d been going to raise Silver.
The nightmare had shattered when Wade had heard the plaintive cries, pleas for someone to help. He recognized Silver’s howl immediately. She lay upstairs in her carrier, secured to a chair on the bow of the charred vessel, kicking and bawling at the top of her lungs, guarded by a firefighter. She was fine—unhurt but hungry. Wade had snatched Silver into his arms and left as quickly as he could. The next day he’d flown home.
But in four years, the startling clarity of one image from that day never left Wade’s brain, no matter how hard he’d tried to erase it—Bella’s man was a young blond-haired Adonis whose blue eyes stared lifelessly at him.
That man could have been Silver’s father. Silver, the child Wade would gladly give his life for if it would keep her safe and happy.
The beautiful blessed daughter he’d begun to doubt was his own.
Something wet dripped on Wade’s shirt and brought him back to the present. Tears. But what good did they do? How could he give up Silver? It would be like ripping out his own heart.
But what if Wade was wrong to keep her? What if he’d torn her away from cousins, aunts and grandparents who would dote on her, fill her life with love—something he had so much trouble showing?
“I can’t lose Silver, God. Don’t ask that of me. Please.”
God hadn’t answered Wade Abbot’s prayers in a very long time.
Chapter Two
“I have to thank you, David.” Wade looked at the man who’d been his best friend since they’d been kids, the only person besides Jared whom he could trust as Silver’s guardian. “Miss Ladden seems to be a perfect match for Silver.”
“Because of where she grew up, you mean?” David nodded as he adjusted his chair so the sun couldn’t reach his eyes in the outside café. “I guess being the eldest of ten foster kids does prepare you for whatever a whirlwind like Silver can throw at you.”
“Ten kids? Wow! I didn’t know the authorities would allow parents to foster that many children.” Wade bit into his pizza.
“According to my investigator, those who run children’s services are so delighted with the results of this foster home that they will send as many kids as the Martens family are willing to take. Martens—that’s the name of Connie’s foster parents.” David signaled for a refill of his iced tea.
“Apparently, kids are clamoring to get in there.”
“Why?”
“Maybe because they get to live on a big farm in North Dakota with everything a kid could ask for—a creek to swim in, a hill to slide down in winter, lots of woods to hide in and animals galore.”
“You sound like you’ve seen the place.”
“I checked it out.” David shrugged. “I had my god-daughter to protect, remember?”
Wade met his gaze. “Thanks, man.”
“My pleasure.” David grinned. “It’s a fantastic farm. Not a lot that’s modern but the Martens family make up for that. They seem to adore each and every one of their charges, and their kids beg not to be moved. Of the forty kids the family has had over the years, most have gone on to college.”
“Including Miss Ladden?”
“No,