Page 16 of Marrying the Nanny

The hundreds of islands along BC’s central coast were the tips of a submerged mountain range covered in temperate rainforest. They formed a complicated landscape of peaks and fjords, rocky headlands, and protected bays.

The village of Raven’s Cove was a hundred miles from anywhere, but as remote and austere and damp as it was, Emma was in love with it.

She gloried in the empty beaches and the primordial smells and the quiet that was never really still. There was always a rush of wind in the branches of a tree or the call of a gull or the steady rhythm of the waves moving with the tide. The noises were different from home, but she had never been a creature of nature there. She had been a city-dweller worried about structures and emails and networking and what was trendy and trending.

Here she was insignificant against a wild and unforgiving environment. She was an outsider, but Raven’s Cove was the fringe of civilization, where outcasts collected like flotsam above the tide line. People might be curious, but her explanation as to why she was there was accepted at face value. She didn’t have to worry about putting on lipstick or heels or a smile that wasn’t genuine.

She didn’t have to be anything but who she was because no one knew who she was supposed to be.

A smile touched her lips as she peered through the tiny, rain-spattered window of the executive jet they’d transferred into in Vancouver. She recognized the lopsided peak of Slipper Island, so named because it vaguely resembled what some long-ago seaman thought a lady’s slipper looked like. The shape was smudged by a carpet of thick evergreens and shrouded in mist.

She’d been told the mist was common in spring and fall. Also in winter evenings and summer mornings. It would sock in when it rained and rise as salt spray when the wind picked up. Straight sunshine and blue skies were rare, actually.

Storm stirred in her arms as the plane banked around the peak and the jigsaw inlet of Raven’s Cove came into view. Emma glimpsed the few dozen mismatched roofs of grayed cedar and rusted tin of the houses that surrounded the village. The actual resort was a hodgepodge of buildings all facing the water.

On one end, next to the boatyard where salvage vessels and those needing repair were stored on dry land, there was the huge corrugated roof of the marina building. It held the offices, machine shop, and hardware store.

The other end showed the fresh asphalt shingles and solar panels atop what was the partially finished Ocean View Lodge. In between was the “mall,” which was four storefronts on the lower level—the grocery store, the laundromat, the coffee shop, and the gift shop. Four studio apartments on the upper level were occupied by locals.

Closest to the wharf was the pub with its wide patio for summer seating overlooking the handful of boats bobbing in their slips along the dock.

A week ago, Emma had believed the barges of fresh lumber and other building supplies that had arrived with an influx of laborers had meant her future here was brighter than any she’d had at home. Many of the existing structures were cramped and speckled with moss, the interiors utilitarian and well past their use-by dates. Revitalization was overdue from Wilf’s house on the point to the ferry slip next to the old cannery building, from the shoreline all the way up the potholed logging road that led to the airstrip.

Her stomach knotted with worry as they descended, though. She had come to Canada on a whim. It had been an act of desperation. An escape from that horrible question, What are you going to do now?

She had begun to settle here, thinking she knew what she would do for the foreseeable future, but now she was back to uncertainty. She hated that awful, floorless feeling. She hated the sense of failure and loss that came with it.

Storm began to cry, but Emma was ready with the bottle. Please let this new formula be an improvement. She stuck the nipple into Storm’s mouth.

Storm sucked and swallowed but fussed between gulps. Her ears must be popping. Emma’s were. It was a quick landing, thankfully. Emma exhaled with relief as the plane roared to brake as it reached the end of the strip.

It turned and began rolling back toward the terminal building, which was a relic from the island’s former military base. These days the structure was used by hikers looking for shelter from the rain. Maybe teenagers seeking privacy. Emma had never been inside it.

This plane was only slightly larger than the floatplane but seemed sturdier. They each had their own bucket seat and it was equipped with Wi-Fi. That had kept the men busy with a few brief discussions on service arrangements in between.

Reid sat across from her and rose as the door cracked. A gust of fresh, rain-soaked air came in.

“Can you take her while I gather my things?” Emma asked, offering Storm.

Reid froze. His gaze flicked to the open door where Logan and Trystan had already moved outside to wait for the cargo hold to be opened.

“It’s just for a second while I put on my jacket.”

Reid seemed to have moments where he bordered on being nice, then he turned into this guy. Dour. His mouth tightened and he accepted Storm into his crooked arm as if she was made of nitroglycerin. Or poop.

How was she supposed to get them to bond with Storm if they wouldn’t even hold her?

“Hey, Emma? Didn’t you say—” Logan poked his head in. “Oh, that’s cute.”

Mockery wouldn’t help. Emma hurried to shoot her arms into her sleeves while Reid said, “Here.” He crouched and handed off Storm through the door.

“It’s raining,” Logan argued.

“Stand under the wing. I have to help Emma.” Reid forced Logan to take her and left, turning to offer Emma a hand.

Emma was fine. She flipped her hood up to cover her hair and didn’t need the hand Reid offered to steady her as she descended the perfectly manageable and very solid three steps. His hand was warm, though. Strong and reassuring.

Why did eye contact with him feel so impactful? Flustered by her reaction, she pulled her hand from his and moved toward Logan with a receiving blanket.

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