Marie Ferrarella - Adding Up To Family

“Just one,” Becky told him. Pausing, whether for effect or to gather her thoughts together, she said, “You are coming back tonight, right?”

He seemed taken by surprise that she’d even ask something like that. “Of course.”

She met his response with a broad smile. “Then I’m fine.”

Before he had time to rethink at least part of this situation, Stevi spoke up. “But I’m not.”

“We’ll talk about it tonight,” her father promised, and the next minute, he was gone.

Stevi stood there, her back to Becky, staring at the door even after it had closed and her father had left the house.

Left her stranded.

Judging by the way her shoulders slumped, Becky thought, the girl clearly thought she had just been abandoned. She needed to find a way to reassure Stephanie that she was going to be all right. That they were going to be all right.

“I’m going to need a lot of help, you know,” Becky began, still addressing Stevi’s back.

“If you feel that way, you shouldn’t have taken the job,” she answered, in a dismissive voice that belonged to someone older than a girl who was almost turning eleven.

But Becky was determined to make an ally out of her. “No, I meant help from you.”

This time Stevi did turn to face her, but she didn’t look friendly.

“Again,” the girl repeated, clearly hostile, “if you feel that way, you shouldn’t have taken the job.”

Rather than argue the point, Becky said gently, “I’m not your enemy, Stephanie.”

In response, Stevi just glared at her, the look on her face loudly proclaiming that she thought differently.

“You know who I feel sorry for?” Becky continued. When Stevi made no response, she went on as if the girl actually had answered, asking who that person was. “Your dad.”

Stevi’s eyes narrowed, all but shooting daggers at this stranger who had invaded her space. The woman had no business talking about her father, even if he had just deserted her, leaving her at the mercy of this intruder.

“Why?” she practically growled.

“Well, for one thing, because your dad feels totally out of his element, trying to raise an almost-teenage girl,” Becky answered.

Loyalty had Stevi coming to her father’s defense, even though this woman had voiced something that she’d felt herself more than once, if not exactly in those words. “My dad’s not out of his element!”

Becky looked at the young girl closely, as if she was actually able to see beneath the layers of anger and bravado. The whole thing made Stevi nervous, though she did her best to cover that up.

“Truth?” Becky asked her kindly.

Stevi shifted from foot to foot, searching for a comfortable stance. “Well,” she finally said, backtracking slightly, “maybe just a little.”

And then she straightened her shoulders, as if she suddenly felt that she’d admitted far too much. “How would you know anything about that?” Stevi asked, her very tone challenging this unwanted person traipsing through her home.

“Because I was just like you once,” Becky replied knowingly.

Stevi’s eyes darkened as she frowned. “Yeah, sure. Just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you were anything like me,” she retorted angrily.

Becky merely smiled. Stevi’s response just confirmed that she was right. “Don’t be so sure about that,” she murmured.

Stevi fisted her hands on her hips. “Okay, prove it,” she challenged. “How were you like me?”

“Well, aside from the fact that I had all sorts of questions about what was happening to my body, questions I couldn’t put into words, and even if I could, I think my mother was too embarrassed to answer—”

She could see by the light that came into Stevi’s eyes that although she was resisting, Becky had guessed correctly. She continued, confident that there was more to the girl’s dilemma than what she had just stated. “—I was also smarter than all the other kids who were my age.”

Stevi’s eyes widened. She hadn’t been expecting that.

Bingo , Becky thought.

“How much smarter?” Stevi asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Well, for one thing, I skipped a lot of grades,” Becky told her, observing the little girl’s face as she made each response.

Stevi cocked her head, as if that would help her judge whether or not this woman was telling her the truth. “How many grades?” she challenged.

This was definitely not a trusting child, Becky thought. But that was all right. Neither had she been at Stevi’s age, she recalled. That was because she had endured being teased and ridiculed by kids who were ultimately older than she was and who, scholastically, she had left behind. She remembered being ashamed of how smart she was, thinking of it as a burden and a curse instead of a blessing. She found herself wanting to save Stevi from that.

Becky debated saying anything further to Steve’s daughter. When Celia had told her about this job and had mentioned that Stevi was precocious and exceptionally bright, Becky had decided not to mention graduating college at a young age until she’d had a few days to get the girl acclimated to her. But already she was beginning to change her mind.

She wasn’t ashamed of the fact that she’d been so young when she’d achieved so many milestones, and she didn’t want Stevi to feel ashamed of that, either.

“Most people graduate college when they’re twenty-two or twenty-three—” Becky began.

“I know that,” Stevi said, cutting in. And then, pressing her lips together, she eyed her with curiosity more than suspicion. “How old were you when you graduated?”

The girl had realized where she was heading with this, Becky thought. Most ten-year-olds wouldn’t have. She was right; they had more in common with each other than the little girl thought.

“I was eighteen,” Becky stated.

For the first time, Stevi’s bravado slipped just a little, allowing the young, vulnerable girl beneath to show through. She looked at this new housekeeper, clearly impressed. “Really?”

“Really,” Becky responded.

Stevi fell silent for a moment and Becky thought that maybe she didn’t believe her. The look on her face was nothing if not suspicious.

But then, after a moment’s hesitation, the girl asked, “Um, did the other kids—the older kids,” she clarified. “Did they make fun of you?”

“Some of them did,” Becky admitted. “A lot of them, in fact. When I got older, I realized that was because they didn’t know what to make of me. Later on, some of them admitted that they felt bad that they couldn’t keep up to me, but you know, everyone’s different and everyone has a different talent inside of them, a different gift.

“They just needed to concentrate on that instead of being angry at me because I got better grades than they did and I could finish tests faster.” Becky paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. When she saw the furrows on Stevi’s brow, she decided to delve a little into her life. “Do other kids make fun of you?”

“No!” Stevi answered quickly.

And then, because it was a lie, she relented a little. “Maybe.”

Not feeling comfortable with that answer, either, she finally sighed deeply and then grudgingly admitted, “Yes.”

Becky nodded. “You realize that they’re acting angry at you because that’s a lot easier to do than finding fault with themselves.”

Stevi regarded her doubtfully. And then, because Becky wasn’t backing off, she asked uncertainly, “Really?”

“Really,” Becky told her with solemn conviction. “Trust me. Years from now, if any of those kids have a brain in their heads, they’re going to realize that they were being very unfair to you, when what they should have been doing was studying harder so that they could get those grades they were so envious of. Or better yet, studying with you and trying to find out just how you were able to manage doing so much better than they did.