Carrie Weaver - Temporary Nanny

But there was something almost barbaric about cooking that way. Now, he kept the bowl braced between his stomach and left arm so it wouldn’t slide all over the counter.

Damn .

His injured arm was still sensitive to pressure. He wiped his face against his shoulder. Who knew a fairly simple task could be such a workout? A year ago, he probably would have laughed at the idea. But now he was seeing things a whole lot differently.

It took at least four times longer than it should have, but finally, he had the treats cut and on a plate. He’d left the first plate two days ago. A coded rave review had come through yesterday. And this morning, a short request for more.

Glancing at his watch, he waited for the afternoon transmission. Three forty-five came and went. No message. What did that mean?

He heard footsteps upstairs.

Royce got out the broomstick and tapped on the ceiling. “U there?”

No answer.

He tapped again and still nothing.

Maybe he’d only heard one set of footsteps instead of two and the boy was home alone. And this wouldn’t be the first time he had been left on his own. What if the kid was hurt or something?

A man of action, Royce grabbed the plate of snacks and headed out the door.

Katy grated cheese for enchiladas with her phone wedged between her chin and shoulder as she talked. “Yes, Mom, I’m concerned, too. I’ll talk to Sally about it and make sure she only leaves five minutes before you pick up Jake when I’m out of town. But she’s worked for me for three years. I trust her.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Jake hollered.

Katy dropped the cheese, the grater and nearly the phone. She managed to get the speaker covered before she called, “No you don’t, Jake.”

“Aw, Mom, that’s a silly rule.”

Katy said, “Mom, I’ll have to call you back.” She clicked her phone shut and hurried to the door.

“It’s probably just someone selling magazines.” Jake crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture so reminiscent of Katy’s late father she had to smile. “I can tell ’em to get lost as well as you can.”

Ruffling his hair, she said, “I bet you can. But it’s best if I do.”

She opened the door and saw a strange man standing there. A strange, good-looking man holding a plate of Rice Krispies Treats.

“May I help you?”

The man grinned. “These are for you. From 372 to 472.”

“Um, thank you.”

“I’m the one-handed guy.” He held up his left arm and she saw air where there should have been a hand.

“Yes, I…can see that.” Katy felt as if she’d been dropped in the middle of a Twilight Zone episode.

“I made these especially for you guys. Just like before.”

“Before?”

“Ask and you shall receive.” He eyed her expectantly as if she should invite him in.

“I think there’s some mistake. Maybe you have the wrong apartment.”

He glanced at the number on the door. “Nope. You’re 472, I’m 372. Someone’s been sending coded messages to me.”

Oh, great. Katy bet he wore a tinfoil hat to keep the aliens from interfering with his brain waves, too. Although he looked pretty normal. Other than his injured arm.

“Like I said, I’m sure you’re mistaken.” Except something about the treats was familiar….

“Just take them. The kid likes them.” He extended the plate.

“No, thank you.” She started to close the door.

The man planted his size-twelve shoe in the gap.

Recalling a recent burglary nearby, Katy’s protective instincts went into overdrive. Especially when she realized this man fit the thief’s description.

“Mom—”

She blocked Jake as he moved into view. Making a split-second decision, she brought the heel of her shoe down on the man’s instep.

He grunted in pain, cursed and withdrew his foot.

She slammed the door and flicked the dead bolt. Leaning back, she closed her eyes, relieved when she heard the sound of retreating footsteps.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, honey, but I should call the police.”

“No, don’t!” Jake’s face was pale, his eyes wide with fear.

“It’s all right, the police will find the man and make sure he’s not sick or something. And if he’s a bad man, they’ll take him to jail.”

“He’s not a bad man! He’s my friend.”

An awful feeling started in the pit of Katy’s stomach. Then she recalled the plate of Rice Krispies Treats they’d had yesterday.

“Jake Garner, is there something you should tell me?”

“He’s our neighbor, Mom, so he’s not really a stranger and it’s okay that I asked him for Rice Krispies Treats.”

“You what? When?”

“The past couple of days while you’ve been at work. I got kinda lonely after school. I saw him in the elevator last week and thought it was pretty cool that he only had one hand. I’d been watching Frankenstein and figured maybe he could be somebody’s experiment someday and—”

“Get to the point, Jake.” How many times had she said that to her son? It seemed like thousands. He had such a vivid imagination.

“I figured maybe he was lonely, too,’ cause nobody looks at him once they notice his hand. They kinda pretend he’s not there. And I saw him getting mail one day for apartment 372. He was reading his mail, so he didn’t see me.”

“So he is our downstairs neighbor.”

“Yeah. One day I was bored and there were some weird shadows on the wall that made me think of monsters and stuff, so I started tapping out a code on the kitchen floor with a hammer. You know, so somebody would know if the shadows got me.”

“Sally would know, wouldn’t she? Didn’t she object to you pounding on the floor with a hammer?”

“I wasn’t pounding, I was tapping.”

“Jake,” she warned. “What did Sally say?”

“Um, she didn’t say anything.” Jake looked at the ceiling, the floor and everywhere in between.

She gently grasped his chin. “Out with it.”

And the whole story came pouring out. Sally’d had a scheduling conflict this week with her mother’s dialysis and Jake had been afraid she might get fired. So he’d decided to soldier on and stay home alone until Katy or her mother got there.

KATY COULD HAVE SMACKED her forehead. Why hadn’t she seen through his ploy? Because she’d been too preoccupied making a living. And in total denial that her child-care provisions were contingent on everything going as planned.

She grasped Jake’s hand and rose. “You are so grounded. But right now, we have an apology to make.”

Royce set the bottle of vodka on the table, along with a glass. His foot throbbed, his left hand itched and his pride screamed for oblivion. Foregoing the glass, he removed the cap and drank straight from the bottle. His throat burned. If he closed his eyes for a moment, the sharp taste of vodka would almost convince him he was back in Russia and none of this had happened. Convince him he was whole again.

But if he kept them closed, he’d start to see the horror and fear on the redhead’s face.

A tear trickled down his face. Becca had been right. He didn’t have any business living alone and pretending he could lead a normal life. Who’d he been fooling, trying to act as if the explosion hadn’t been a big deal? It was the elephant in the corner and the redhead had seen it with searing clarity.

He pushed away the bottle, cradling his head in his hand. No amount of alcohol was going to fix the mess his life had become.

There was a knock at his door, but he ignored it.

Another knock, more insistent this time.

Then a female voice. “Um, Mister, if you’re in there I owe you a huge apology. I didn’t realize you and my son had struck up a…friendship. Not that I approve of Jake having friendships with adults I don’t know, but, well, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Hope I didn’t hurt your foot.”