“When you get older, kiddo, you’ll not need a nanny. You can stay home alone, go to school, hang out with your friends.” I smiled sadly. “You won’t need me.”
His mouth set in a stubborn line, he shook his head. “I don’t want to grow older.”
“I hear you,” I said quietly, watching the kids line up to return to their classrooms. “When I was a kid, I didn’t want to grow up, either. Adulting is hard.”
“You grew up, anyway.”
“I didn’t have much choice. Nor do you.”
He said nothing else. We finished our picnic, threw our trash in the dumpster, then ambled hand in hand toward the library. With the cooler weather, we both wore jeans, and the wolf whistles from passing cars diminished greatly. A few other townsfolk walked as we did, most passing us by with quick smiles.
We neared the library, talking about what I’d planned to teach him that afternoon, when yet another passerby strode briskly toward us. Rather than smile and walk on, she paused, forcing us to also stop. She gazed down at Declan, a beatific expression lighting her face.
“What a beautiful little boy,” she gushed. “You’re his mom?”
“No,” I answered. “I’m his nanny.”
Declan, gazing up at her, edged his way behind me, peering around my legs. An outgoing, never shy kid, Declanhad never before hidden behind me when meeting strangers. Surprised at his behavior, I nonetheless trusted his instincts.
“Why aren’t you in school, honey?” she asked, bending over to be closer to him.
“He’s homeschooled,” I said, not liking the way she looked at him. “Excuse us.”
I started around her, Declan’s hand firmly in mine, when she asked, “Where do you live?”
“In Bakersville.” Bakersville was two towns north along the interstate highway.
I glanced at her again, memorizing her features as best I could. Middle aged, her brown hair held streaks of gray. She’d pulled it back into a tail and wore a pink sweater over her jeans. Thin, athletic, her face had crow’s feet around her brown eyes. Nor did I like the gleam I saw within them.
“Where’s his mother?” she inquired as Declan and I walked on.
I didn’t answer. Declan watched her warily, his chin on his shoulder, as we climbed the steps to the library’s doors. As I opened them, I, too, looked over my shoulder.
She stood on the sidewalk, watching us.
“Why was she asking those questions?” Declan asked as we strode toward the children’s section.
“I don’t know.”
Except, I feared I did indeed know.
***
The woman was nowhere in sight when Declan and I emerged from the library hours later. As though fearing she’d step out from behind a shrub and pounce, Declan clung to my hand while looking around warily. I, too, watched for not just her, but anyone paying us more attention than necessary.
Nor, as far as I could tell, did anyone follow us.
Declan immediately relaxed the minute we stepped through the front door of our house and locked it behind us.
Wendy and Peter woke from their naps, yawning and stretching their lithe bodies. They’d grown considerably in the last month and had begun to appear more like small cats than kittens. Giggling, Declan laid on the carpet to hold and pet them while they purred, bumping their heads into his chin.
Declan never played with them roughly, pulled their tails, seized their fur in his fist, or treated them with anything save love and kindness. Neither Avery nor I had to chide him for any of that. He behaved that way all on his own.
“Mac and cheese for dinner?” I asked, walking toward the kitchen. “With wieners?”
“Sure.”
Though I suspected the health benefits of mac and cheese were minimal at best, both Avery and Declan loved it.I guess I should admit I do, too. Not healthy, but oh so tasty.Avery would be home soon, I knew, and mentally planned to get the meal together without cooking it until he got home.
