Margaret, Jonah’s former nanny, was different. Margaret was sixty three years old, battle-hardened by life, and completely unimpressed by me, which is exactly why I trusted her with my kid. But she went back to Europe to be with her daughter who just had a baby, and finding another Margaret feels impossible.
Now Jane is pointing me toward a redheaded spitfire who already hates me.
And I don’t trust this girl either. Not if she’s reckless with her own safety.
Granted, maybe I overreacted a little bit. I’ve been swimming in that lake by myself. I know my brothers and sister have been swimming there alone too.
I never lost my shit on them for it.
But they’re known quantities. Strong swimmers.
This girl looks so delicate, even if her personality is not. The thought of something terrible happening to her disturbs me on a primal level I can’t explain.
She might have a smart mouth, but she’s young and vibrant and has all her best days ahead of her.
In other words, all the things I’m not and don’t have.
So it makes sense I’d be concerned for her. Angry that she’d put herself at risk and throw it all away.
And this is the woman who I’m gonna let take care of my child?
“You said she's reliable?” I ask.
“Punctual, follows through on her word, CPR trained, certified lifeguard.” Jane ticks them off on her fingers. “Four families who will give her glowing references, no question.”
I scrub a hand down my face. Well, shit. So she’s a strong swimmer too. Certified lifeguard.
There goes my last legitimate objection.
I still don’t like the thought of her in that lake by herself.
The honest truth, the one I'm not real eager to look at directly, is that my resistance has nothing to do with her competence. She's clearly gifted with kids. Jonah is proof of that, laughing his head off over something she's drawn in the margin of the paper.
My resistance is the fact that she's already gotten under my skin, and she hasn't even tried. Hasn't even noticed. She just waded out of that lake and looked at me like she could see right through me, and I felt that gaze like it burned.
It was more than enough to know I'm not as numb as I thought.
I do not need that energy in my house.
I do not need those blue eyes at my breakfast table. Her light voice ringing through my hallways. The scent of her every time I walk through a room she's just left.
This is a terrible idea.
Jonah laughs again. Head thrown back, glasses slightly askew, the way he used to before everything got so heavy.
I close my eyes briefly.
Damn it.
Chapter 4
Shrinking Violet
SADIE
While the little boy I’m tutoring takes a break to play with some of the toys we have set up, Jane comes up to me.
“That went very well,” she says.
