Mississippi, could have been lifted from a fifties television sitcom. Each home oozed charm, their appealing facades nestled on neatly landscaped yards that even the gray drab of January couldn’t dim. Full-grown trees stripped of their leaves arched overhead, filtering the bright sunlight streaming down from a clear blue sky. Evergreen live oaks and giant magnolia trees added a splash of green to the winter landscapes.
The peaceful and picturesque surroundings were at odds with the violent storm raging inside her. She swallowed hard against the tightness in her throat and searched the house numbers again. Heart pounding against her rib cage, Julie pressed down on the brakes, bringing the car to a full stop. She had arrived. One-twenty-two Sycamore Avenue was a two-story white colonial with black shutters, a red front door and a lamppost at the edge of the sidewalk. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, turning her knuckles white. She was doing the right thing. Her prayers had been answered.
Her gaze surveyed the white house more closely. It was exactly as she’d expected. It was a beautiful home, the kind of place where families laughed and loved and enjoyed each other. All that was missing was the white picket fence.
Closing her eyes, Julie inhaled slowly, hoping to settle her jittery nerves. The house and the neighborhood were reassuring. Everything would be fine.
Sliding the gear shift into Park, she inhaled a couple of slow breaths, hoping to calm her churning stomach and take a moment to plan her introduction. The opening strains of “Mighty God” sounded from the depths of her oversize purse. She rummaged around, found the small phone and glanced at the display. DiDi. Her moral support. And oh, how she needed her longtime best friend at this moment. “Hey.”
“Are you there yet?”
DiDi’s anxious tone mirrored her own. “Yes.” Julie rested her head against the back of the seat, mentally scolding herself for being such a coward. “I just pulled up out front.”
“I’m praying for you.”
“I’m praying for me, too.”
“Have you figured out what you’re going to say to him?”
“Uh, I was thinking of, ‘Hello. I’m the nanny.’”
“You know what I mean. What if he suspects?”
“Di, you’re not helping.” Julie pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to quell the nausea.
“Sorry. I know you have to do this. I just hope you find the peace you’re looking for when this is over.”
Her friend’s loving concern and understanding did more to ease Julie’s anxiety than all her prayers. She thanked the Lord every day for sending Deirdre Simmons into her life. “I know it will. The Lord’s given me this chance, and I can’t pass it up.”
“Be careful. Watch your emotions, girlfriend. You deserve to be happy, and I hope after this you will be.”
Julie ended the call, then peered out at the house again. Lord, this is a blessing from You, isn’t it? The answer to my prayers? There was no other explanation. Why else would Gil Montgomery’s name turn up at the Nanny Connection Agency, and why else would she be available to step in to fill the assignment?
The timing was too perfect to be anything other than a gift from God. She’d ended her job as a second-grade teacher at Christmas. In three months she’d be boarding a plane for Paris and a new life as a teacher at the International School. The five-year assignment she’d dreamed about and worked toward for years. In the meantime, she continued to work as a nanny, a second job she’d held in the summers and on school holidays. The butterflies were still battling in her stomach, but she’d regained her confidence. It might be nerve-racking at first, but when all was said and done, she’d have peace and she could step into her future finally free of the gnawing questions. Anticipation coursed through her like carbonated water, making her all bubbly with excitement.
Climbing out of the car, Julie tugged her sweater down, adjusted her scarf and slung her large purse over her shoulder. The walkway to the front door was long and winding, giving her the time she needed to disengage her emotions and find her professional nanny zone. This afternoon’s meeting with the family was a mere formality. She’d been through it dozens of times. It was a chance for everyone involved to get a feel for one another and gauge their compatibility. It was unusual to meet on a Sunday, but given the urgency of the client’s request, it was understandable.
Fingers trembling, she rang the doorbell, lifting up one more prayer. The only way this would work was to keep her heart locked away and her emotions shut down. She’d assimilate everything later when she got home. She swallowed the knot in her throat and tried to ignore the fierce pounding of her heart.
Movement from the other side of the small panes in the front door froze her breath in her lungs. This was a happy assignment. Joyous, even. She would concentrate on that. She pasted a smile on her face as the door clicked open. The man in the doorway stared back at her, looking puzzled and confused. But he wasn’t the middle-aged, slightly paunchy man she’d expected. This guy was early thirties, tops. Tall, well built and with sculpted features that were drawn downward in a fierce scowl. Did she have the right house? The numbers beside the door confirmed her location.
“Yes?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m from the Nanny Connection Agency. You requested a nanny?” His frown deepened, and he scanned her quickly with intense cobalt blue eyes. A gust of wind blew hair across her face, and she raked it way with her fingertips and widened her smile.
“Right.” The man touched his forehead and nodded, motioning her inside. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize what time it was.”
Julie stepped into the foyer, her gaze quickly scanning the small entry. Outdated wallpaper covered the walls, and a shiny brass chandelier hung from the ceiling. The stairs were covered with worn carpet and the parquet floors had seen better days.
“Thanks for coming. I’m Gil Montgomery.” He extended his hand.
She grasped it, her fingers enveloped in a strong, warm grip, along with a snap of static electricity as if she’d rubbed her feet across new carpet before touching him. Or had she imagined it? It was winter after all, and the air was dry. She looked up into his eyes and found it hard to look away. She saw intelligence and probing, and a swell of appreciation rolled along her nerves. He was a very attractive man. She blinked and smiled. “Julie Bishop.” He motioned her to follow him.
Glimpses of the other rooms as she passed by left her puzzled. The interior of the home didn’t match the picture-perfect exterior. The layout was small and cramped, and the scale of the furniture was all wrong. Oversize and ornate, it was better suited for a much larger and more modern home. The rooms were relics from the eighties. The disjointed feel about the house added another flip to her churning stomach. She’d envisioned the inside of the home as warm and welcoming, filled with antiques and lovingly worn furniture. Not these conflicted styles. What did that say about the people who lived here?
Like Gil Montgomery.
Her gaze landed on the broad back of the man. He wasn’t supposed to be this elegantly handsome man who moved with athletic grace and control. He was a head taller than her, which placed him a little over six feet in height. The dark blue knit shirt tucked in neatly at the narrow waist hung nicely over his broad shoulders. She continued her inventory as she followed behind him. A head of wavy, coffee-brown hair curled slightly over his ears and along the nape of his neck, suggesting he was in need of a trim. But it was the
