Page 11 of Knocking up his Nanny

CHAPTER 7

“Wasn’t it nice of Mrs. Merriweather to get you that job interview?” my mother asks, as we drive back.

“Yes,” I answer. When I picked my mother up from chemo, my old boss from the daycare hooked me up with a potential nannying position. She’s gotten me a few nanny gigs in the past, helping parents of the children who use the daycare. Especially when parents are working extremely odd or long hours and can’t use the daycare, or when they have to travel out of town for work.

Usually the gigs don’t last very long, or pay very much. But I’m not in a position to be picky about what I do for work. Every dollar matters, right now.

“You’ve always been so good with children,” my mother says. “It’s a gift. I was never that patient with you and your sisters.”

“Of course, you were.”

“No, it’s your father who was the patient one. Thank goodness for him.”

I glance down at the restaurant card that my mysterious stranger gave me. “Uhm, Mumsy—are you feeling hungry at all? Can you eat?”

“Of course, dear! I am not sure why, but I’m always starving after chemo. I feel like I could eat a whole cow.”

This brings a smile to my lips. “Well, I was offered dinner reservations at The Willow, if you would like to stop and grab some food before we get home.”

“The Willow? Oh, Junebug. That’s a fancy schmancy place, and we can’t afford that.”

“It’s a gift,” I inform her. “From the guy I am seeing. He said we could order whatever we wanted, on him.”

“A gift?” my mother repeats. “How generous and kind of him. And you made it sound like it’s nothing serious! He clearly cares for you if he’s giving you such a thoughtful gift.”

“Oh, I really doubt he cares for me. He hardly knows me,” I say with a small laugh. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. And even if I do, probably just two or three more times until he gets bored, I’m guessing.”

“Why are you so cynical, my dear? Not all people are the same. Give it time. Give him a chance! I have a good feeling about this one—especially if he’s buying dinner for you and your sick mum—well, he can’t be that bad, right?”

“Hopefully,” I say with a smile. But I’m pretty sure that my mother is just extra positive about these things, because -she- has been quite lucky in love. Not so for all of us.

“So what’s his name, dear?” my mother asks.

“I have no idea,” I tell her honestly. “He refuses to tell me.”

“What? Well, that’s strange,” she comments. “But just give him the benefit of the doubt for now, if he’s been so nice to you in so many other ways.”

“He really has been,” I say, reaching up to touch my hair thoughtfully. My stranger did seem like a very sweet man. Sometimes you just have to be patient with adults, the same as children. It takes time for them to trust you and open up. Perhaps.

“So what’s on the menu at The Willow?” my mother asks with excitement. “I’m starving.”

“I’m not sure—I think it’s a steakhouse,” I tell her. “He recommended the seafood chowder.”

“Screw the chowder,” my mother says. “I’m really happy to be alive today. And my little girl is finally spending time with a nice boy. This is cause for celebration. So I’m getting the fucking lobster!”

I can’t help laughing at her enthusiasm. Even on the worst of days, her zest of life is uplifting and contagious. I wish I could be more like Mumsy. Always looking on the bright side, always appreciating the beauty in life.

* * *

We sit in the restaurant,in the private room that has been reserved for us. It’s surrounded by glass, and overlooking a waterfall that is partially surrounded by ice and snow-covered rocks and trees. The river is mostly frozen on the surface, but still water flows underneath, creating the peaceful and relaxing sight of the falls. It’s a rare treat, as my family doesn’t eat out often. Never with such a gorgeous view. We considered inviting the others, but Mumsy was too hungry to wait. We decided to ask for some meals to take home to them, instead.

“I don’t know who this mystery man of yours is, Junebug,” my mother says as she dips a morsel of her lobster in butter, and then places it in her mouth. She closes her eyes in bliss. “But I think he’s a keeper.”

“This is definitely very sweet and generous of him,” I say, staring out at the wintery landscape. It’s like a moving painting. With little birds and animals occasionally popping out to go about their business. I wish I could text my stranger and thank him, but I don’t even have his number. That’s the only negative part of all this. I also wish he was here so we could enjoy this scenery together. And chat a bit more, and get to know each other.

Maybe hold his hand under the table. It’s probably dumb, to miss someone you’ve only known for such a brief pocket of time, but I can’t help it. I can’t help reminiscing on the beautiful feelings he gave me, and the way he took care of me, and it almost distracts me from the food.

Almost.

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