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Am I putting my girls at risk by hiring her, Lord? Maybe it's simply that she needs my help as much as I need hers and You want me to gain her trust first.

Vicky came running over and wrapped her arms around him tightly as if she hadn't seen him for years.

He swung her into a bear hug, the usual ripple of joy spreading warmth through him. “Hello, Vicks. How was your day?”

She shoved her painting—a man and a dog—right into his face.

“It's very good.” He ruffled her hair and set her down gently. “Vicky, I'd like you to meet Amy.”

She looked up shyly, pulling back into her shell.

He hunkered next to her, holding her hand securely. “Remember how I told you I was looking for someone to come live with us and take care of you and Jodie when Daddy has to work? Jodie called her a fairy godmother, rather than a nanny.”

Amy grinned.

“Well, Amy is that person.”

Amy knelt next to him and held out a hand. “Hi, Vicky. It's a pleasure to meet you. And I love the idea of being a fairy godmother. So long as I get pink sparkly wings.”

Vicky nodded.

“Can I see your painting?”

Dane watched as Vicky slowly held it out. He didn't believe what he was seeing. His youngest daughter barely responded to anyone she didn't know. Just getting her into school had taken a major effort and even now a change of teacher or routine could knock her back.

“Wow. That's really good. Is that your daddy with the spiky hair?” Amy pointed and as Vicky nodded, gestured to the dog. “And who's this?”

Vicky shrugged, looking at her father.

Dane gave a grin. “I'm guessing its Auntie Adeline's dog, Ben.”

Vicky nodded.

“I wish I could paint dogs as well as you. He's a lovely color, black and brown and white. He must be a King Charles spaniel.”

Vicky nodded again.

“Ben is Adeline's hearing dog,” Dane said.

Amy smiled, her whole face lighting up. “That makes him a very special dog.”

Vicky seemed to be bonding with Amy. Relief surged through him. That was a huge weight off his mind.

Miss Macnin, Vicky's teacher, began walking toward him and he met her halfway. “How was she today?”

“She refused to do PE. Clammed up for an hour afterwards, hence the painting. There's a letter in her bag about the class homework. It fits in with the topic this half term. Mr. Philips, there was another matter. I was talking to a friend of mine, she's a child psychologist.”

Dane's hackles rose, and he stiffened.

“I didn't mention any names or Vicky in person. Just said we had a child in the school that was having a hard time, but loved art and painting. She suggested maybe using the painting to get her to talk about what happened to her mum.”

“She was only four when my wife was killed.”

“But it's surprising how much she'll remember. Either way, it'll help her to work through what's bothering her. It might get her talking a little as well. This would help her integration with the other children immensely.”

Dane nodded. At times the teacher sounded like a broken record over the talking issue. It wasn't as if Vicky was mute. She'd just decided not to talk. “I want to introduce you to Amy, the new nanny. She'll be dropping Vicky off and picking her up, if it's not me doing it now.”

Amy waved from where she stood with Vicky. “Hi.”

Dane looked at his daughter. They'd suggested counseling for her before, but he didn't see the need. She was a child and children bounce back. Vianne, Nate's niece, had been the same age when her parents died and she'd turned out just fine. Maybe he should encourage Vicky to use sign language, by signing to her each time he spoke.

Vicky walked up and tugged on his sleeve.

“What is it, honey?”

She pointed to the gate.

“Sure, we can go home. We need to show Amy what happens after school.” He took firm hold of Vicky's hand, and glanced at Amy. “Milk and cookies, her favorite thing and guaranteed to put a smile on her face.”

Amy laughed as they walked. “Now that sounds like fun. Have you ever tried dunking the cookies in the milk?”

Vicky looked at her with wide eyes and shook her head.

“You should. It's almost as good as chocolate.”

Dane shook his head. “Then homework. Then an hour of TV before dinner if the homework is done.”

Vicky scrunched her nose up and shook her head, pointing at one of the other boys from her class.

“Does he get all his homework done?”

She shook her head.

“Then he'll get in trouble. Miss Macnin said you have some tonight?”

She nodded slowly, rolling her eyes. She may not speak, but she had no trouble making her feelings known.

“OK. I'll have a look when we get home.”

Vicky held his hand tightly as they walked the short distance to the house.

Jodie sat on the doorstep, blazer undone, and hair disheveled. Her tie was peanuted and her shirt untucked, covered in something he couldn't identify. She leapt to her feet. “Where have you been? You're late. Again. And where's Grandma? She's meant to be taking me over to Rebecca's.”

“Grandma isn't coming tonight. I'm here instead.”

“So how do I get to Rebecca's house now? Because you won't take me. You never do.”

Dane scowled. He'd suspected Jodie had his parents wrapped around her little finger and this just confirmed it. “Walk, maybe—use the legs God gave you for once? And I wasn't here because I had to speak to Vicky's teacher.”

“Great. What's the freak done now?”

“That is no way to speak of your sister. I had to introduce Amy, otherwise she can't do the school runs.”

“And who's she?”

Dane sighed internally, curbing his frustration. “This is Amy. She's the new nanny. She'll be living in the spare room and when I'm not here, what she says goes.”

“Oh, really?”

He unlocked the front door. Jodie shoved past him and straight up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door. “That was Jodie.”

Amy rolled her eyes in mock amusement. “Twelve going on nineteen.”

He nodded grimly as he deactivated the burglar alarm. “If you'll excuse me, I need to go have a word. Vicky, can you show Amy where the milk, cookies, and glasses are?”

She nodded and headed to the kitchen, Amy close behind.

Dane took a deep breath and walked up the stairs for the inevitable fight with his oldest daughter.

 



 

Amy looked at Vicky. She really didn't say anything and now that her dad wasn't there, she seemed to have shrunk several inches. Something had really traumatized the little girl and it was a fair guess it was the death of her mother. “So which cupboard are the glasses in?”

Vicky pointed.

Amy nodded and got down two. “Though I don't suppose Jodie will want one, will she?”

Vicky shook her head.

Amy put one back. “Will Daddy want coffee or milk?”

Vicky pointed to the kettle.

“OK, then we'll do him coffee.”

Amy poured a glass of milk for Vicky and beamed as she reached down the box of cookies. “Oh yummy, homemade ones. They always taste heaps better. Did Daddy make them?”

Again Vicky shook her head. Oh, this was hard, but she wasn't going to give up.

“Grandma?”

This time she got a small nod.

Yelling echoed from above them. A door slammed, opened and slammed again.

“I think Jodie's in trouble,” Amy said.

Vicky nodded.

Dane's voice increased in volume. “Jodie, don't you dare walk away from me! Get back here now!”

“No!” Footsteps hurtled down the stairs, and the front door opened and slammed shut.

Amy looked at Vicky. If anything, she'd shrunk even further. “What about you? You get into trouble?”

She shrugged and made a wobbly hand gesture.

Amy leaned forwards conspiratorially and put a hand to the side of her mouth. “I get in trouble sometimes. Everyone does. It doesn't mean people don't love us though.”

Vicky dunked the cookie into the milk. Her eyes were fixed on the door, but her tilted head showed she was still listening.

“I was wondering what we could do tomorrow after school. Do you like going to the park?”

Vicky nodded slightly.

Amy filled the kettle and put it on to boil. “Cool, because I love parks. We could feed the ducks. Maybe find the swing and slides. Would you like that?”

There was a slight nod.

“Brilliant, because I love going on the swings.”

Vicky glanced at her and then waved her hands, making a tall and wide gesture.

Amy read between the lines and winked. “No one's ever too big to go on the swings. We'll go tomorrow.”

Dane came in as the kettle boiled, his face set and his eyes glittering. “You read my mind.” His voice was as taut as his shoulders.

“Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please, with just a little milk.” He leaned against the counter, folding his arms tightly against his chest. “So, you got this letter about your homework then, Vicky?”

Amy made the coffee as Vicky pulled it from her bag and handed it to him. Amy added the milk and looked for sugar. She couldn't find any. She glanced over at Dane who was frowning over the letter. “Is there any sugar?”

He shook his head. “No, we don't have any. Vicky, I can't work this out. I'll look at it again later.”

Amy watched as Vicky's face fell. She held out a hand. “May I?”

Dane handed it to her. “Be my guest.”

She read the letter through twice. It could have been phrased in a much easier way, but she got the gist of it. “So you need to make a boat. We'll need something that floats then.” She looked at her. “Does your glass float?”

Vicky pointed to the milk in it.

Amy clicked her fingers. “Good point. Why didn't I think of that? Try this one.” She handed her an empty one.

Vicky put water in the sink and dropped the glass into it. She shook her head.

“Then we try something else. How about we check the recycling box?”

Vicky looked at her father.

“Go on. It's in the garden. I'm right here, not going anywhere.”

Vicky slowly headed to the back door.

Dane looked at Amy. “Go with her. So long as she knows where I am, she'll be fine.”

Amy followed Vicky into the large, well-cared for garden. Plants lined the borders, and a neat lawn filled the gaps between. She glanced at her employer through the kitchen window, wondering where he found the time to keep tabs on this as well as the house. He stood slumped against the counter, hands hung loosely by his side and his eyes downcast.

Vicky tugged on her hand. She held up a box, milk carton, washing up liquid bottle, a tin, and some wood.

She gave Vicky a thumbs up. “Let's go and try them out. Then we can design a boat. Take them inside to Daddy.”

She followed Vicky inside. There must be a way to reach her. She just wished she knew what it was.

 



 

Dane trudged into the lounge and flopped onto the couch exhausted. At least Vicky was asleep now and Jodie was in bed. Well, upstairs in her room, would be more accurate. The beginnings of a boat sat on the coffee table. He nodded to Amy who sat curled up and shoeless on the end of the sofa. “Thank you for helping her with that.”

“It was fun.” Amy smiled. “She's a cute kid.”

“She seems to like you. She rarely responds to anyone she doesn't know.”

“Does she speak at all?”

Sorrow filled him, and he shook his head. “No. After Jas's death, she just stopped speaking. She hasn't said a word or uttered a sound since. Sometimes Jodie will speak for her, but that depends on her frame of mind.”

“I wonder why.”

Dane stiffened. “Don't suggest child psychologists. She doesn't need one—she manages to communicate fine without speaking. Besides she wouldn't respond anyway.”

“I wasn't going to. She'll probably respond eventually, given time and love.”

“Hope so.” He pulled his laptop over. “This bounces off the router attached to the main PC in my room. I'll make you an account on here so you can use it.”

“Thank you.”

“Welcome. I need to come up with a contract. That's assuming Jodie hasn't put you off working here.” He looked at her over the top of his reading glasses. “She can be a right little madam at times.”

That was putting it mildly. She'd been downright rude and stand-off-ish. She'd even accused him of replacing Jas. A fact he'd vehemently denied, but Jodie didn't listen. He'd sent her to bed immediately after dinner, and she wasn't allowed to watch her favorite TV soap all week. He had no idea what was wrong with her. She'd been moody for the past few months, but this was a new low even for her.

Amy shook her head. “No. At her age, everything is a drama. She's bordering between wanting to be a child and being a grownup.”

“She's twelve, nothing more than a little girl.” His defenses went up automatically. He'd defend his kids to his dying breath and woe betides any kid or boy or man who laid a finger on them. Ever.

“She'll always be your little girl. Dad saw me as that, right up until he died. But all you have to do is look at her to see she's growing up.”

Dane sighed. “I'm not ready for her to grow up.”

“There isn't a lot you can do to stop it. Not even locking her in a tower like Rapunzel would fix that one.”

“I can try.” He typed as he chatted, trying to word the contract. At the same time he found himself loving the company. It had been so long now since he'd been able to talk about anything other than work. And talking about the girls this way was a relief. “I've tried to get through to her, but nothing. Maybe she'll respond to you.”