Page 57 of Nine Week Nanny
He chokes mid-sip, coughing into his arm while Lennon dissolves into giggles.
"You okay, there?" I pat his back, feeling the solid warmth of ripples through thin cotton.
Pope nods, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Wrong pipe."
This isn't what I signed up for: these moments that feel like family, the way Pope's unshaven jaw softens his usual sharp edges, how his forearms flex as he rinses his mug. It's too easy to let my mind go to places it has no place going.
Lennon interrupts my thoughts. "Let's go, Pope."
Pope clears his throat, seemingly better although still coughing a little. “Alright. Let’s go find some shells.”
"I'm going to play at Micha's house today. I can't wait to show him what I find."
"Excellent memory. Yes, I will drop you off at eleven and then you'll ride with Micah to Seabreeze for the afternoon."
"Yay," Lennon declares as the two of them disappear out of the back door toward the beach.
I watch them in awe, worried about all of the feelings that are bubbling up inside of me.
This was easier when I thought Pope was a grumpy asshole who never took an interest in his son. Seeing this side of him has suddenly turned this into a whole other thing.
The Florida sunbeats against the windshield, turning the car into a greenhouse. I turned the car on to cool it down while I get Lennon strapped in.
I adjust the vents to blast cooler air toward the back, where Lennon squirms in his booster seat.
"Hold still, buddy." I tug the straps across his chest, clicking the buckle into place. "We've got everything? Water bottle? Sunscreen?"
It's more a question to myself, not him, but he nods. His small fingers are already digging through his shark-patternedbackpack. "And I got my necklace to show Micah." He pulls out the black charm from under his shirt and kisses it.
"Will you tell me about that necklace? Camila told me it was your special necklace.”
"Yep! My mom wore it every day. It's called a mano de azabache. It protects me from the evil eye." His eyes shine with the memory, and something catches in my throat.
I zip his backpack closed. "Bet Micah is going to love that."
Lennon erupts in giggles, the sound filling the car with a lightness that wasn't there just days ago. "Can you come in to see the turtle tank when you pick me up? They got two new babies!"
"I'd love to see that,” I tap his knee.
"Even the gross stuff?"
"Especially the gross stuff."
His face splits into a wide grin, revealing the gap where his front tooth is growing in. When I climb into the driver's seat, I catch his reflection in the rearview mirror. His cheeks are flushed, and his dark hair sticks out wildly from under his Seabreeze cap, practically vibrating with excitement.
My throat tightens. This is the kid I hoped was hiding under all those layers of grief when we first met. This is what healing looks like, happening right before my eyes. And quicker than I imagined it would happen.
Before backing out of the driveway, I grab my phone. Still nothing from Maris. I type another quick text.
girl, where are you? I texted you earlier and crickets. I need to talk to you. dropping Lennon off now. call me!
I hit send, switch to my Waze app, and exhale. Whatever advice Maris will give me, which will probably involve words like"boundaries" and "professional ethics," will have to wait another twenty minutes.
Lennon hums to himself in the backseat, swinging his legs in time to a song only he can hear. I steal another glance at him in the mirror and smile to myself.
After a surprisingly short drive, I turn down the last street leading to Micah’s house, courtesy of my friend, Waze.
I park in front of the house, a sprawling Mediterranean with terracotta roof tiles and elegant palms framing the driveway. My phone vibrates against the center console, and Maris's name finally lights up the screen.
