name is Julianna Bishop, but everyone calls me Julie.”
Abby stared back at her, little mouth pressed into a frown. “Mine is Abigail Sarah Montgomery. My mommy said Sarah means ‘princess.’”
Encouraged, Julie continued. “Little girls are always princesses to their mommies...and daddies.” An unexpected stab of pain penetrated her barriers. Like sand washing away with a wave, her foundation began to erode. Blood drained from her face. A surge of light-headedness blurred her vision. She rubbed her forehead, willing herself to calm down. She glanced across the table at the little girl and felt her stomach heave.
Mr. Montgomery’s cell rang again, and she grabbed the opportunity to excuse herself. “Abby, could you point me to the bathroom?”
The child gestured to the hall and Julie tried to walk, not run, from the room. Her fiercely pounding heart sent her blood roaring in her ears. She stepped into the small guest bath, shut the door and leaned against it.
She couldn’t cry. Not now. She wouldn’t be able to explain it. Mr. Montgomery might change his mind and ask her to leave. Or worse, he’d demand an explanation. He’d think she was unfit to care for his daughter.
Trapped in a whirlwind of colliding emotions, she fought to find her footing. Fear. Excitement. Joy. Anger. A million reactions she hadn’t anticipated.
Please, please, Lord, help me. Moving to the sink, she ran cold water over her hands and pressed them to her cheeks to ease the scalding heat. Inhaling a few deep breaths, she forced herself to calm down. Slowly her stomach settled. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and saw a woman facing her worst nightmare. Not the image she wanted to project. She wanted to appear friendly and nurturing. Capable and caring. The way she seemed at school or when working as a nanny. Except this wasn’t a normal assignment. Not by a long shot.
Inhaling one last calming breath, Julie straightened and turned to go. As she grasped the doorknob, the anxiety churned up again, buckling her knees. What would Gil Montgomery say if she told him the truth? That the child he called Abby was the baby girl she gave up for adoption eight years ago?
With great effort, Julie managed to regain control and return to the kitchen. Mr. Montgomery looked up as she entered.
“Miss Bishop, I know you weren’t supposed to start work until tomorrow, but I need to run to the office. It’s only a few miles away. I was wondering if you could stay with Abby for a half hour or so. You could get better acquainted while I’m gone. Of course, I’ll understand if you can’t.”
A million possibilities raced through her mind. What she wanted to do was run home, bury herself in bed and sort out all the emotions surging through her heart before she exploded. Yet having the chance to remain here and spend extra time with her child was a blessing she couldn’t pass up, even though the danger and the potential emotional stress would be difficult.
“I’d be happy to stay. Abby can show me around, help me find things I might need.”
Montgomery looked a bit leery, but nodded. “Good. Thank you.” He stooped down beside Abby. “Will you be okay here with the new nanny? I won’t be long.”
Abby shrugged, clutching her backpack a bit closer. Montgomery raised a hand as if to stroke her hair, then let it fall, getting to his feet. The gesture caused a twinge in Julie’s heart and raised a number of questions. Why was Abby so indifferent toward her father and why was he so reluctant to show his affection? Clearly there was a barrier between them. She smiled to cover her concern.
“All right, then. I shouldn’t be long.” He handed Julie a business card with all his numbers. “Don’t hesitate to call me for anything.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” She gave him her most reassuring smile, but the moment the door closed behind Gil Montgomery, Julie began to question her decision. Her only hope to keep from sinking into a pit of emotional quicksand was to don her professional facade, lock it down tightly and move forward. She faced Abby with her most engaging smile. “I’m feeling like a snack, how about you?”
With some assistance from Abby, Julie found plates, glasses and a tin of oatmeal cookies. After pouring two glasses of milk, she settled at the table, watching the little girl eat a cookie and take a sip of her milk. Julie took a bite of her cookie, but it turned to sawdust in her mouth. “These are really good cookies. Did you make them?” The question drew a puzzled frown from the little girl.
“My grandma made them.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a better one.” Even though she couldn’t choke one down, she had to admit they were soft, chewy and very tasty. “She must be a very good cook.”
Abby shrugged again. “She had to go away.”
Hope blossomed in Julie’s heart. At least they were conversing now. For a while she’d feared the only source of communication would be shrugs and nods. But the resigned tone in Abby’s voice bothered her. “I know. You must miss her.”
One corner of the little mouth twitched upward. “Everybody goes away.”
A sharp barb pricked her nerves. “But they come back. Your dad said that as soon as his sister is well, she and your grandma will come home.”
“Mommy won’t come home.”
Julie’s insides twisted at the sadness in the child’s voice. She resisted the urge to scoop her up into a hug. “I’m so sorry about your mom. You must miss her very much. But you’re here with your daddy now, so everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
Abby shoved her plate back and glared. “He doesn’t want me here.”
Julie stared at the little girl a moment, replaying everything she’d seen and heard since arriving at the house. If first impressions counted for anything, then Mr. Montgomery was a devoted father. The relationship between him and his daughter was strained, but she’d seen no indication that he resented his child being here. “Oh, Abby, I don’t think that’s true. I’m sure he loves you very much and he’s happy to have you here with him.”
Abby clammed up. She stared down, backpack clutched tight. Conversation over. Time to change directions. “Well, let me clean up, and then you can show me around so I won’t get lost tomorrow when I come to stay with you.”
“I don’t need a nanny. That’s for babies.”
“Not always. In some countries nannies take care of children until they’re all grown up.”
“That’s silly.”
“I think you might be right. Well, why don’t you think of me as a friend who will watch out for you while your daddy is at work and until your grandma comes home?”
Abby mulled that over, a frown folding her little forehead. “What do I call you?”
“How about Miss Julie? That way it’ll sound more like we’re friends.”
“Okay.”
“Good, because I want us to become friends.” Was that possible? Could she have a relationship
