The Nanny's Little Matchmakers (Love Inspired Historical) (6 page)

Mitch nodded slowly. “Thank you. I am grateful for the offer. In fact, I was afraid of what would happen if I had to take them back home. They don’t need to be subjected to the scandal.”

The older man looked at him solemnly. “Now, Polly assures me that you’re innocent, but I need to hear it from you. I won’t harbor a murderer in my home.”

The ever-present lump in Mitch’s throat threatened to cut off his airway. It seemed like all he ever did was proclaim his innocence, but no one ever listened.

“I didn’t kill Hattie.”

There. The words were his own, but he hardly recognized his voice. He had children who were grieving a lost mother, and rather than focusing on them, he had to continually defend himself.

“Where are my children?”

Polly smiled at him. “They’re playing in the yard. We’re letting them get their wiggles out before we start lessons.”

Once again, Mitch nodded slowly, trying to process the information. Laughter drifted toward him, and somewhere in there, he thought he recognized the sound of his own children. Pastor Lassiter walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I believe you, son. But from what I’ve seen in the papers, you’re going to need to do a lot more than what you’ve been doing to get the rest of society to believe it.”

Mitch’s body went cold as he looked around the room. “You’ve seen the papers? Are they here? I don’t want the children—”

“They’ve already been burned in the stove,” Maddie said, rising. “What do you take us for? Fools?”

Once again, he felt his body relax at the knowledge that someone else was thinking through all the details that plagued him.

“Thank you.” Mitch looked around the room. “I’m not used to people wanting to help me like this, and I’m not sure what to do with it. To be honest, I don’t understand why.”

The hand that rested on his shoulder squeezed it, spreading warmth through his body. “Because we serve a Lord who has taught us to love the least of his children and fight for justice for those for whom no justice comes.”

Mitch wanted to believe him, but he’d spent so much time listening to the church people standing in front of his house, his store and every other place he went telling him how undeserving he was because of all his sin.

And, if Mitch were honest with himself, all those people were probably right. He’d committed a good number of sins in his life. The trouble was, he wasn’t guilty of any of the sins people accused him of.

So when was the real agenda of these people going to come out? Mitch would like to think they were who they said they were, but he’d had too much experience with life teaching him otherwise. Still, he had to admit that this was the safest place for his family right now, and while he wasn’t sure how long this hospitality would last, for the children’s sake, he’d accept it.

Chapter Six

P
olly tucked the blankets around Isabella, pleased that the children were settling in so well. Their father, however, was another story. Why was Mitch being so obstinate about accepting help? Yes, he was letting the children stay at the parsonage, but how did that help exonerate him? How did that ensure that the children would continue to have a father?

She turned to leave, but the little girl sat up in bed. “You didn’t say my pwayers wif me.”

Warmth radiated through Polly’s chest. With so many things about the situation bothering her, at least something was going right. This sweet little girl, who’d clearly not known the Lord before meeting Polly, asking for prayer. Louisa still sullenly ignored her, and the other children seemed to tolerate it, but at least Isabella seemed to love Polly’s nighttime prayer.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you.”

A drowsy smile filled the girl’s face. “I sweep better wif my pwayers.”

Polly knelt beside the bed and recited the prayer she said every night. Before the “amen” was out of her mouth, Isabella had drifted back to sleep. She’d join the little one in bed later, but she still had other things to do before retiring.

As she exited the room, she nearly ran into something hard, firm and warm—Mitch’s well-built chest.

“Oh!”

He smelled fresh, clean and with just a hint of the pine-scented soap she’d helped Maddie make over the summer. She hadn’t thought of soap being so...intimate...and yet Polly recognized the feeling of attraction almost immediately.

With a quick step to the right, Polly got out of his way, trying not to notice how handsome he looked with his still-damp hair. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach had no business there. She was meant to do a job, not ogle her employer.

“Sorry,” he said slowly. “I didn’t mean to be spying on you. It’s just that...” His voice caught, and for a moment, Polly thought she spied tears glistening in Mitch’s eyes.

“I don’t think Isabella has ever known such tenderness and love before.”

Polly’s heartbeat returned to its original state. At least Mitch hadn’t noticed her foolishness over him. And instead, he’d brought her focus back to where it should have been in the first place—his children. “I imagine it’s been hard, having so many nannies, and with her mother now gone, love is all the little dear needs. And I’m happy to provide it.”

But Mitch didn’t return the expression. Instead, his eyes looked haunted, his brow furrowed. “I don’t think she even had that before.” He rubbed his forehead, then shook his head slowly. “How could I have missed it, all this time?”

“Missed what?” Polly reached forward and touched his arm tenderly. Oh, if he were only a little boy like Rory or Thomas, she could take him in her arms and hold him. But Mitch wasn’t a boy, and the longing in her heart felt different from how she felt toward his sons. But it didn’t change her wish to somehow make whatever was going on in his mind better.

“They’re so easy to love. But why couldn’t the nannies? Why couldn’t she have loved them?”

“She?”

In the dim corridor, Polly couldn’t read his expression. But when he spoke, his voice cracked, and the ache in Polly’s heart deepened.

“Hattie.”

Their mother. “I’m sure she loved them. Of course she loved them.”

Mitch shook his head slowly, his brow twisted momentarily, though he was trying to figure out a puzzle. Just as quickly, the expression disappeared, then he spoke. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’ve just never seen a woman tuck my children in and say prayers with them. Hattie wasn’t the motherly sort, and the nannies were more interested in discipline than love.”

Something in Mitch’s mood had shifted, and it seemed better to lighten the atmosphere. “Perhaps you just don’t know what to look for in a nanny,” she said, giving him a wink.

“I hired you, didn’t I?” The light had returned to his eyes, and Polly thought she caught the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.

“Then I suppose there’s hope for you, after all. You’ve finally learned from all of your mistakes.”

Mitch chuckled, a sound she hadn’t heard before, and from the awkward way it creaked out in the beginning, something he probably hadn’t done in a while. Which, of course, he wouldn’t have, given that he’d just buried his wife and was dealing with accusations of her murder.

“You have been good for my family, that I will admit.” Then he composed himself and said with his usual solemnity, “Thank you. I know the situation has been difficult for you, and I’ve made it even more challenging. But what you’ve done for the children means the world to me.”

It seemed unnecessarily cruel to bring up the fact that it would make her job a lot easier if he would just open up to her, to her family and let them help. The emotional admissions he’d given her just now seemed to be hard-won, and if she pushed, it could take them backward rather than forward.

“You’re welcome. I meant what I said about your children being easy to love. I know the other nannies had difficulties with them, but it’s only because the children have had such instability in their lives. They need to know they are loved unconditionally and that no matter how badly they behave, they are still loved.”

“What about discipline? The other nannies seemed to think that was the real problem with the children.”

Polly frowned. “Discipline is important, certainly. But it’s absolutely useless if it’s not given in the context of love. A child will obey out of fear if the source of fear is present. But what happens when the child is on his own? If the discipline has been given in love, then the child wants to obey, even when the child is left to his own devices.”

Funny how her mouth spoke her own mother’s words so easily. She’d been blessed with a mother who taught her about love and never disciplined out of anger. Ma might not have been the best example in terms of romance, but if Polly could be half the mother she’d been... Polly shook her head. She was never going to be a mother. But at least she could impart that same loving wisdom on any children who were in her care.

“You make it sound so simple.” Mitch rubbed his forehead again. “I’ll be honest. They can try my patience even on the best of days. I’ve often wondered if the other nannies were right. If I wasn’t hard enough on them.”

Then he peered into the room at his sleeping daughter. “But how can I not love that sweet girl? How could I possibly be harsh with her?”

“Discipline, if done in the right way, is love. You’ve just never known a loving way of doing it.”

A screech sounded from the bottom of the stairs, and then the blur of two children ran past them, yelling as they climbed the stairs into the attic room.

“Give it to me,” Clara wailed.

“It’s mine,” Rory shouted.

Polly let out a long sigh.

Mitch grinned. “About that loving discipline you were just telling me about?”

“Follow me.”

She led Mitch into the large attic all the children shared as a bedroom. Uncle Frank had built several sets of cozy bunk beds lining each side of the attic—one for girls, and one for boys, divided by a large sheet across the room. It gave them plenty of space for the MacDonald children, the Taylor children and any other children who happened to need a bed for the night.

Clara and Rory rolled around on the floor, hitting each other.

“That is enough,” Polly said in a quiet but firm voice as she stood over them.

The children stopped, midswing, and stared at her.

“Now, would you please tell me what is going on?”

“She started it!”

“No, he did!”

Polly shook her head. “I didn’t ask who started it, I asked what was going on.”

She could feel Mitch’s presence, even without seeing him. He stood just to her left, close enough to witness what was happening, but not so close as to interfere. And yet, having him so close, it was somewhat hard to focus.

What would he think of her methods in caring for his children? He’d approved of how loving she’d been to Isabella, but what of her handling of the other children?

And then, there was the very...nearness...of him. Oh why, oh why, did she have to be attracted to this man when it was absolutely the most wrong thing in the world? She had plans for her life that didn’t involve men, and he—he’d just lost a wife and had all these children to raise.

“Rory took the last biscuit!”

“Maddie said I could have it.”

“But I’m hungry,” Clara wailed. “You just asked Maddie if you could have it to be mean. You heard me tell Louisa I was going to ask if I could have that biscuit, and so you took it before I could.”

“Maybe I was hungry, too.” Rory smirked, and by the way he casually held the biscuit in his hand, Polly thought Clara probably had a point.

“So you’re both hungry,” Polly said casually, looking at the children.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“Good. Give me the biscuit please.”

Rory handed her the biscuit. Polly neatly broke it in half and handed a piece to each child.

“There. Now you each have a little something in your stomachs so you can sleep well tonight. In the morning, I’ll have some chores for the two of you to do together. You’ll do chores for as long as it takes for you to get along.”

The children looked puzzled, but that was all right. They’d find out soon enough about their punishment.

“Now off to bed, both of you.” Polly shooed each child to their own side of the attic, then turned to Mitch. “Want to help me tuck them in?”

He nodded slowly. “Thank you. I believe I do.”

Though he answered in the affirmative, his voice was unsteady, like this was the most unnatural request anyone had ever made of him.

“You’ve never tucked in your children?”

“The nannies said it would spoil them.”

Polly looked up at him, wishing she could erase the doubt from his cloudy blue eyes.

“Well, this nanny says it’s time for them to learn just how much their father loves them.”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs indicated the other children had come up to bed as well. Louisa held Thomas by the hand, and Polly smiled at the older girl.

“Thank you for bringing up your brother. I appreciate all of your helpfulness.”

Louisa scowled. “I’m only doing this to prove I can take care of them. Then we can get rid of you.”

“And I will be delighted when that happens,” Polly said, still smiling. “That means I will have done my job.”

The scowl didn’t leave Louisa’s face as she turned to get ready for bed. Polly looked around the attic and saw that Rory was already in bed and Thomas was scrambling to join him.

“Come on, Mitch. Let’s tuck in the boys, then we can come back for the girls.”

She tucked in the boys, giving them a squeeze, then motioned for Mitch to do the same. Her chest tightened as she watched him awkwardly bend down and kiss them on their foreheads. Though the action was clearly one he wasn’t used to performing, the backs of Polly’s eyes prickled with tears when she heard the catch in his voice as he wished the boys a good night. Anyone with a heart could see that Mitch loved his children deeply, and yet something inside him seemed to struggle with showing it.

Mitch turned to her. “Now what?”

“Now we say our prayers.”

She knelt by the bed and began to pray over the boys, just as she’d done every night since they’d been in her care. After pressing a final kiss to the tops of each of their heads, she motioned for Mitch to follow her to tuck in the girls.

* * *

Mitch quietly walked behind Polly, marveling at what he’d just witnessed. No, been a part of. He’d never been invited to assist in putting his children to bed, but he couldn’t imagine that it had ever looked like this when the other nannies had done it. Polly clearly cared for his children, and just when he’d thought he’d finished marveling at that fact, she’d gone and done something else to make him marvel at it anew.

He watched as Polly knelt beside Louisa’s bed and attempted to tuck her in, but his daughter recoiled and rolled away.

“Don’t bother,” Louisa said, her voice harsh.

“Well, good night then, Louisa. I love you.” Polly brushed the back of his daughter’s hair, then turned away.

Louisa didn’t answer, and it made Mitch’s heart ache. As the eldest, she’d been deprived of love the longest. He hated himself for missing just how desperate his children had been for love. He could see that now.

Mitch knelt in front of Louisa’s bed. “My turn,” he said softly.

Louisa didn’t turn to face him, so he rubbed her back gently. “I love you, Louisa, and I’m sorry you haven’t been told that often enough. I know you don’t like having a nanny, but right now, we need Polly to help us.”

His daughter turned to him, her eyes full of tears. “So that’s what this is about. You’re being nice to me so I’ll be nice to Polly.”

The knife in his gut wouldn’t have hurt so much had it not been well deserved. He’d neglected his daughter for so long that naturally she wasn’t going to be able to accept his love so easily. His throat tightened with the tears he wanted to cry but couldn’t.

“No. I’m being nice to you because I love you. And because until Polly came into our lives, I hadn’t realized what a poor job I’d done of showing it. So I’m trying to do better.”

A tear trickled down Louisa’s cheek. Mitch leaned forward and pulled his daughter into his arms. “I love you, Louisa. And I’m so, so sorry that you haven’t been shown that love until now.”

Louisa clung to him as though she was holding on for dear life. Her tears soaked his shirt. He kissed the top of her head, repeating “I love you” over and over.

Why had he listened to all of the nannies who’d told him that to lavish his children with love and attention was to spoil them? Holding his sobbing daughter seemed to be the most natural thing in the world. He’d wasted years of listening to the so-called experts on how to best raise his children, when all along, the answer came in the form of a tiny spitfire named Polly MacDonald.

He turned his head slightly to see that she was sitting on her sister Caitlin’s bed, talking to her softly.