Alpha's Nanny: Bears of the Wild Page 2

  “Mommy!” Penelope said, pointing at a picture of the woman. She wasn’t made up, and she was looking over her shoulder as though about to chastise the photographer.

  Despite her better judgement, Easton said, “Yeah, she looks so smart. What does Mommy do?”

  Penelope shook her head, hitting Easton in the face with her soft curls.

  “No, silly, no,” she said. “Mommy gone.” Easton bit her bottom lip. Terrible divorce, or…?

  “Which one’s yours, then?” was what she asked. Penelope pointed to the room at the end of the hall. Easton padded along the carpet in her socked feet and pushed open the door. Penelope’s cot was full of stuffed toys and fleece blankets covered in stars and animals. Against one wall, there was a single bed, covers half off, one pillow on the floor, one on the bed.

  “Wow!” Easton said. “So many toys, Pen, you’re so lucky.”

  Penelope looked pleased, and she nodded her little her head. “From Daddy.”

  “You have such a kind Daddy!” Easton put the kid down, and she immediately toddle-ran to the crib and began pulling a stuffed pig from between the bars. Easton saw her about to fall backward before it happened, and she dashed forward. But Penelope bounced right back up, laughing.

  “Piggy!” she shouted, thrusting the thoroughly chewed pig at her babysitter.

  “Oh!” Easton cried and took Piggy in her hands. “Thank you so much. Piggy is… well, it looks like you love Piggy, huh?”

  Penelope looked happier than Easton ever remembered feeling. She grabbed the soft toy and clutched it to her body, swinging back and forth.

  “Love Piggy!” she exclaimed. Then she ran over to the single bed. “Me, Daddy, Piggy sleep.” Easton was kneeling next to her.

  “You sleep in here?” she asked. “With Daddy and Piggy?”

  Penelope looked annoyed and nodded, as if saying, ‘Yeah, that’s what I said.’

  Ouch, Easton thought. Ash was still young; early thirties, probably. And, to be frank, he was hot, wasted on a single bed with Piggy. It must have been a very, very rough divorce.

  The day passed easily. Penelope and Easton played in the garden, which was practically on the beach, and then it was time for lunch, then a nap, and then a long game with Penelope’s toy kitchen and plastic food. She had a lot of toys. Single parents always felt the need to make up for the lack of the second somehow. She was a sweet child, though, only as demanding as being nearly two-years-old made every child. Easton had been looking after kids for a while now, all through school and the three years since. This age struck her as the best and the worst. They were so sweet, becoming tiny humans instead of squishy creatures. But they also knew so much more than they could communicate!

  3

  Ash

  Ash hadn’t taken Easton’s number. What a god-awful father he was. The meeting with the developers, and the meeting following that with council members, had run over. It was after 7pm by the time he pulled into his own driveway, beside Easton’s beat-up Ford. He hadn’t even given her a car seat! He glanced through her window. There was a carrier strapped into the back seat. She really was a professional, then.

  Ash hurried to the front door, fumbling his keys in the lock. The door opened. Easton stood there, smiling.

  “Daddy’s home!” she said and passed Penelope to her father, taking his briefcase from his hand so he could hold the child. Penelope was wrapped in her favorite towel, the one with the hood that had bear ears on it. She smelt like No More Tears shampoo.

  Ash smiled at Easton, a little embarrassed that he’d just closed his eyes and buried his face in his daughter’s wet hair, pushing off her bear-ears hood. Easton wasn’t perturbed. Her icy blue eyes shone with pleasure, watching Penelope wrap her arms around Ash’s neck.

  “Bath time may have been a little early,” she said, “but we got muddy.” She stepped back for Ash to enter.

  “No,” he said, “pretty much on time.” In fact, Penelope was snuggled into his chest now, half asleep. “Bedtime is normally at eight, and then a few stories, but you seem to have tired her out. Did she—”

  Preempting him, Easton began going over their day. “She had apple slices and cheese for her snack, and a sandwich for lunch with a glass of juice. She ate most of it. I didn’t know if there were allergies or anything, so I kept it simple. Then she napped for about forty-five minutes. We played kitchen, and we made mud pies. Hence the getting messy.”

  “Show Daddy flars!” Penelope mumbled from her position curled into her father.

  Easton grinned. She had a nice smile. Ash could see why children connected with her; she had a child-like energy. She bounced up and down on her toes the tiniest bit as she said, “Oh, yes! Come to the kitchen,” and walked in front of him down the wide hallway. God, he hated this house. Well, no, he didn’t hate it. It just wasn’t him, had never felt like his house.

  “Pen picked them for you,” Easton said, pointing to a large mug stamped with NEVER ENOUGH COFFEE, which held a spray of flowers. “Promise we didn’t totally destroy your front garden,” she said, “though if Pen had had her way…” Ash smiled.

  “No,” he said, “they’re lovely. Place needs brightening up.” Then he lifted his daughter. “Thank you for the flowers, sweetheart.” Penelope smiled at him, blinking her big eyes. She was exhausted. “I think someone’s ready for bed,” Ash said, cradling her again. “Can I just get your—” But Pen had her eyes wide open now.

  “Eassy stories!” she said. “Eassy read stories.”

  Ash looked down at her. How easily he was replaced… She’d never been this attached to Sandra.

  “Easton has things to do,” he told her. “She’s busy.” Penelope’s face began to crumble.

  “I’m not busy,” Easton said quickly. “I mean…” She met Ash’s eyes. Hers were so blue… it was distracting. She shrugged slightly. “If that’s…”

  “Of course!” Ash said. “And we should talk after. I never even took your number, I’m a terrible father.”

  “I don’t think so.” Easton nodded to Pen, who was turned into him, grasping his shirt with one hand. He smiled.

  “Okay, Sweets,” Ash said, “one story from Easton, and one from me. Then sleep!”

  “I love this one!” Easton cried, picking up The Hungry Caterpillar. “My parents used to read it to me. Did you have it when you were a kid?” she asked Ash.

  He smiled, almost laughed. If only she knew. Printing press had barely been invented.

  “Strangely, I didn’t,” he said, “and now I read it at her bedtime and before I’ve had dinner, and it makes me hungry.”

  “Sorry!” Easton laughed. “You’re about to have a rumbly tum.” She tickled Penelope’s little belly, and the toddler squirmed. Her pajamas were covered in a design of little frogs.

  Penelope was asleep by the time the caterpillar ate through a whole slice of cake, but Easton carried on reading in a quiet voice. When she closed the book, she looked at Ash and smiled.

  “Now she’ll have dreams about salad and butterflies,” she whispered. “You learn while you sleep, right? She’ll grow up to love spinach and arugula, and you’ll never have to worry about the quality of her diet.”

  Ash smiled. There was something unbelievably charming about Easton. Maybe it was all that time in Los Angeles—stardust had rubbed off on her. He put down Goodnight Moon, which he’d had on his lap for his turn. Then he pushed Piggy a little closer to his daughter and pulled the blanket up to her waist. He didn’t feel like any higher than that was safe without him there, too.

  The two adults stood as quietly as they could, and he closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar so he’d hear his daughter if she shouted for him. On the way down the stairs, Easton was in front of him. He saw her gaze linger on the picture of Rebecca, the photo of her looking back at him as he’d tried to take a picture without her knowing. They’d been on a trip, the desert. She was freckled, and her hair was wild.

  Easton looked at the floor after the pic
ture, as if she were apologizing, or trying not to be rude. Ash wanted to say, She never liked that picture, but I love it. He wanted to tell her everything, because apparently, she had that effect.

  In the kitchen, Ash went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of white wine, undoing the cork. This was his evening routine.

  “Sorry.” He turned to Easton. “Usually, I save the wine for later in the evening, but you exhausted her. Would you like a glass? Unless… I’m sure you have places to be. I vaguely remember having a social life.” Easton smiled.

  “Me too,” she said, “but I know almost no one here, and I’ve been looking after kids for years. Also your kid all day. I’d love a glass.”

  Pouring, Ash asked, “Was Pen that bad?”

  Easton shook her head. “Oh, gosh, no, she was wonderful! She’s just full of energy. The best age. Brace yourself for the next two years, though.”

  Ash handed her a glass and took a sip from his own. “Excellent. I honestly don’t know how to do any of this, so that’s reassuring.”

  “No one knows how,” Easton said. “And yet the human race pushes on. And we’re mostly only a bit fucked up by our parents.” She took a sip of her wine. “Ah,” she said, “grown up drink! I’ve been working with kids so long, the first taste of wine always reminds me it’s my time.”

  “Right?” Ash smiled. “I wish I saw Pen more, but when I have her all day, I’m totally beat.”

  Easton nodded. She’d pulled one of the tall stools around the kitchen island to her and sat on it. Ash did the same.

  “I love kids,” she said, “but sometimes, I’m very glad I get to go to a home without any at the end of the day!” Ash laughed.

  “Right,” he said. “Not easy on your own.” Easton looked up at him through her lashes.

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “Pen says you guys share that single bed. Every night?”

  Ash felt himself blush. He took a gulp of wine. “She couldn’t sleep without me, and now I kind of can’t without her.”

  Easton laughed. “Tragic, and yet beautiful. What will you do in about a year, when she wants to be independent?”

  Ash shrugged. He hadn’t thought that far.

  “I have a bedroom,” he said. “A very nice one. I just haven’t used it in a while.” Why had he just said very nice? It was like he was inviting her in. He wanted to hide under something.

  “No doubt,” Easton said. “I’m sure your room is just peachy, but really, how do you even get a good night’s sleep next to a baby and a pig in a twin bed?”

  “I don’t,” Ash answered with a smile. He reached for the wine to refill the glass he’d finished too quickly, then proffered it toward Easton. She nodded, pushing her quarter-full glass forward.“So,” Ash said as they both took their glasses. “Pen seems to love you. How are you set for the next few months? Are you looking for longer-term work?”

  Easton swallowed her wine so quickly that she almost choked. She coughed into her elbow and then said, “Absolutely! I just got here, desperately looking for work. Which doesn’t mean, ‘please low-ball me,’ but close enough.”

  Ash smiled. Easton took nothing seriously. Probably good in a childcare provider. Or… she didn’t take anything trivial seriously. She was funny.

  “Okay,” Ash said. “I need someone five days a week, and I’m kind of a big deal, so I can do health insurance and overtime and all that.”

  Easton laughed, her warm-brown hair falling over her face, long bangs in her scrunched-up eyes. “Big deal, huh? Wouldn’t have been able to tell from the house.”

  Ash sighed. He twisted the stem of his wine glass between his fingers.

  “Pen’s mom,” he said. “I never liked it.” Easton looked him dead on for a moment, probably trying to work out the situation with ‘Pen’s mom,’ but she was polite.

  “Well,” she said, “the view is amazing.” Ash looked out the glass wall, the dark sea, the islands just lit up.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, “not bad at all. But I didn’t want her to grow up in the big house on the hill, you know?”

  Easton sighed. He was still looking out at the sea, so he couldn’t read her expression.

  “Sure,” she said, “but I grew up poor as dirt, and that wasn’t the best.” Ash turned back to her.

  “You seem to have come out great, though,” he said. Easton sipped her wine. She looked down and shrugged.

  “Yeah,” she said, “the fight makes you. But maybe that can be skipped? Maybe just good parenting, and then no fight is needed?”

  “Let’s hope,” Ash said. “I really have no idea at all! Hopefully you can help. Are you planning to be in Sitka for a while?”

  Easton paused. “Yes, I mean, if I have work I like. I’m a rudderless millennial, I guess. I looked after kids all through college, and I’m good at it, so I kept doing it. And I got tired of the LA bullshit, so thought I would try the exact opposite.”

  Ash nodded. “Well, we’re that, at least. Beautiful, and the opposite of Southern California. I just want some stability for Pen, you know…”

  Easton seemed to pause again, this time intentionally.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed to get his attention. And then once he was looking, she said, “Hey, you’re doing really well. I’ve looked after a lot of kids. Many of them spoiled brats, to be fair, but your daughter is wonderful. Don’t doubt that. And that’s rarely in spite of parents. You’re showing her how to be a great person, even if it isn’t always obvious to you, okay? Kids pick stuff up!”

  Ash was blushing again. Was he getting parenting lessons from a young human with no children? He was, though. And he didn’t mind. He nodded.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Sometimes it’s hard. I don’t know when I’m doing good or bad, you know?”

  “Isn’t that life?” Easton asked with a grin.

  Ash laughed. And now lessons on life. Easton was smart as well as funny. But humans were surprising; sometimes their pressingly short lives, the clarity of their mortality, made them try harder. Think harder. Be happy harder.

  “It is,” he said, “but that sweet little girl up there learning that’s life, well, that scares me.”

  Easton sipped her wine and nodded.

  “Yeah, but coddling them doesn’t work. They find out how hard life is on their own, and then they hate you for failing to prepare them.” She grabbed the wine bottle, then said, “Shit, sorry…”

  “It’s fine,” Ash assured her. “Let’s finish it off. Will you still be okay to drive?”

  “I’m good.” Easton nodded. “I think half a bottle of wine after a day of work is justified.”

  Ash was embarrassed for a moment. “I didn’t mean…”

  “Oh, I know, but yeah, I’ll be fine. And what time do you want me in the morning?”

  “Is eight-thirty okay?”

  Again, Easton smiled at him. “I don’t know, is eight-thirty when you need me?”

  He ran his hand through his short hair and shook his head.

  “Yes,” he replied, “yes, that’s when I need you. I’ll get you a key cut, too. My old sitter has the spare, and she’s stressed out of her mind with teenage children, I guess.”

  Easton nodded, putting her wine down.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, “I mean I’ll stay a while, but I’ll be out of here before you have to deal with teenage Pen. I can only imagine how strong-willed she’ll be.”

  Ash smiled the smile he was supposed to. Easton had no idea. She’d be dealing with an actual monster.

  It was late by the time Easton left.

  Ash watched her walk to her car, search all her pockets for her keys, and then finally get in and back out the driveway. He waved briefly, like he was saying goodbye to a cousin he wouldn’t see until next Christmas or something. He watched until she turned a corner and then stepped back inside. He closed the door quietly and pressed his back against it, resting his head against the glass panel.

  Maybe it was just because he didn’t meet women very often—he
didn’t meet anyone new very often. In fact, he only saw Penelope and whoever he had to communicate with for his work duties. Easton was going to be a good thing for Penelope and for him. He was trying to convince himself of that. Unfortunately, when he closed his eyes for a moment, it was Easton he saw, smiling at him in that, You idiot way it seemed she had.

  4

  Easton

  Easton woke early the next morning.

  “Hi, Pickles,” she mumbled to her cat, who was purring on the pillow next to her. The cat bopped Easton with his nose. “Thanks, buddy,” she said, and she stretched and stroked the cat on his fluffy gray head. She contemplated turning over and going back to sleep, but she didn’t want to. Somehow, she wasn’t tired, despite staying up late reading. Pickles put his paw on her face softly. “Hungry, are you?” she asked. “Of course you are, you always are. Well, wait a minute, and you can have wet food for breakfast. Today’s a big day; my proper official day at work. That’s how I pay for all your food, you know. And toy mice.”

  Sitting up in bed, Easton wondered if maybe she engaged in too much conversation with her cat. She’d been single a long time. Nah. Pickles was a great companion and never argued with her. He crawled onto her lap as she thought this, and he rolled onto his back for a tummy rub. He was a third cat, a third dog, and a third slug, she sometimes said.

  After she had showered and fed Pickles, Easton stood in front of her closet for a good five minutes. It was cold in her room, and she was getting goosebumps in her towel, but for some reason, she couldn’t decide what to wear. She settled on a blue dress with leggings underneath for practicality. At least she was killing some time with all this indecision.