Page 7 of Unwanted Vows

“The Quinn Foundation invites you to head up the First Aid and General Medical booth at the Organic Farm Fair. You will be compensated at double your normal rate of pay.

I know you had planned to take Paul for a day of fun, so a day or two off can be scheduled in. I know it is short notice and an imposition, but we need someone qualified to handle a variety of illnesses and accidents.

I would ask Julia, but she is already selected to run with the Child Pack and keep them out of mischief. You are more than welcome to bring your son, Paul. He will fit right in.

Thanking you in advance,

Charles Emory.”

Julia had watched me read it grinning, “Uncle Charlie did it to you, too, didn’t he?”.

I definitely couldn’t afford to say no. I’m a single parent. The extra money and the free childcare will go a long way to getting things caught up and making it possible to send Paul to an expensive camp he’s been petitioning for.

My eight-year-old son, Paul, is my world. I’ve given up a great deal to keep him safe, and I would give even more if it ensures his safety. Call me a helicopter parent if you wish, but there is nothing more important in my life than my child.

“All right,” I say, handing over the childcare forms that include standard items like contact information and permission to treat in case of emergency. “Let me just look in on Paul, and tell him I’m going.”

“Dining room is down that hall and to the right,” Kate says. “Have you had breakfast?”

I shake my head to indicate no.

“Then grab yourself a breakfast box. Things aren’t likely to be busy this early.”

I didn’t tell her that when it comes to first aid, early could be just as busy as late. But I don’t pass up the offer of free food.

I quickly grab a box of food, then look around for my son. Paul is seated at a low table with several other children and young people, ranging in age from Kate’s seven-year-old, Abigail, to Julia who is enjoying a summer job as the clinic receptionist, thanks to family connections with Spindizzy.

“Paul, I’m going.”

He pauses eating long enough to reply, “Okay. Bye, Mom, have a nice day.”

I can’t help giving a little sigh as we go back into the hall.

Kate says, “It’s tough letting them grow up. Cece is so independent, I sometimes wake up in a sweat, especially after she’s done something especially outrageous.”

I purse my lips. “Does it show that much?”

“Remember, I worked in childcare before Charles hired me as Cece’s nanny. You met her just now, she’s your boy’s guide, plus she was in just a few months ago for her school check-up.

Did you recognize her? She was sitting next to Paul.”

I nod. “She’s gotten tall this year. Is that a new haircut?”

Kate laughs. “It is, and not a trim that was chosen by the adults. She chewed bubble gum after going to bed, and fell asleep with it in her mouth.”

“Oh, no!” I exclaim, imagining the mess.

“Oh, yes,” Kate says with a laugh. “Come on. I’ll find someone to guide you to the first aid tent.”

The boss himself meets us at the door of the cottage that is serving as a childcare center and general meal prep and staging area for the fair’s staff.

Charles Emory is a tall man with silvering dark hair, military bearing, and a slight limp.The limp is the result of a hunk of shrapnel that was removed long after the original wound was healed up. As he always puts it, “That little piece of metal put me on permanent desk duty.”

“Good morning, Madeline,” he says formally. “I think we have everything set up for you.”

“Good morning, Charles,” I say. “You know you can call me Maddy. Everyone else does.”

He laughs. It’s a nice laugh. He takes a moment to kiss his wife — nothing fancy, just a quick peck on the lips. “Don’t wear yourself out,” he says. “I’ll see to it that someone relieves you before nap time.”

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