Page 140 of Nine Week Nanny
"What was that?" Angela asks.
I scan the floor, spotting something small and glinting in the lamp's glow. Bending down, I pick it up. It's a delicate gold chain, coiled loosely in my palm. The pendant attached is small, worn smooth with handling.
My breath catches. The azabache charm. Maria's necklace.
"Oh my God," I whisper, memories flooding back.
The beach. Lennon asking me to hold it while he swam.Just for safe-keeping, Sloane.His careful placement of it in my palm, the way he checked twice to make sure the clasp was secure.
And I never gave it back.
"What is it?" Angela's voice seems far away now.
"I have to go," my voice wavers. "I found something. It's Lennon's, something really important to him, and I imagine he's probably been beside himself, thinking he'd lost it."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I say, though I'm not. "I just, I have to get this back to him. I'll call you later."
After ending the call, I hold the necklace up to the lamplight. The small black fist charm hangs there, the thumb tucked between the index and middle finger. Maria's protection charm.
And I've had it buried in a box of beach towels for months.
Tears blur my vision as I sink onto the edge of my futon. This isn't just jewelry. It's sacred to him.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper to no one, closing my fist around the charm.
I turn the necklace over in my hand, its delicate weight somehow heavier than it should be. The tiny black fist catches the dim light of my lamp.
My mind drifts back to that afternoon at the beach, the day before everything fell apart.
The memory is crystal clear: the salt-heavy air, Lennon's smile as he'd run toward the waves. What isn't clear is how I never gave it back.
And then on Thursday, the call came. Friday would be my last day.
"Oh God," I whisper, pressing the pendant into my palm until it leaves an imprint. The metal warms quickly against my skin.
Lennon must have searched everywhere for it frantically. I can see his small hands checking under his pillow, rifling through drawers, his brown eyes growing wider with panic.
Pope probably tore apart the house looking for it, too, room by room, while Lennon grew more inconsolable.
The azabache, Maria's protection charm for her son. The one physical connection Lennon had left to his mother, to his heritage.
My throat closes until breathing becomes difficult. This isn't just misplacing someone's favorite toy or book.
I can't fix what's already happened, the months Lennon has spent without this talisman, the confusion and loss he must have felt. But I can get it back to him. Now.
I set the necklace down carefully on the coffee table and bury my face in my hands. I won't reach out to Pope directly, I can't. But I will drive to FedEx first thing tomorrow and overnight it. No note, no explanations, no fanfare. Just the necklace, returned where it belongs.
Last I asked Angela, Lennon was still with Pope. If Lennon's already gone to live with Camila, Pope will know how important it is to get it to him. He'll handle that part.
What matters is getting this necklace back around Lennon's neck, where it belongs. Where Maria wanted it to be, where he will know his mom's protection is close by.
When I wake up early, the only thing on my mind is that necklace. I don't have to go to work until ten for the lunch shift, so I have plenty of time to get to FedEx before.
I dreamed of Pope and Lennon. It's been a while since they've visited me at night like that. It's always a bittersweet reunion. My heart aches like it was real and now awake, another moment spent mourning the loss of them.
I need to get this packaged up and in the mail.
