C.J. Carmichael - Leaving Enchantment

Kim tacked the stick drawings and doodles onto a small corkboard that held a list of computer codes, as well as other work-related items. Nolan figured she’d crush it into a ball and toss it into the trash once they left.

“Okay, Sam. We’d better get going.”

His niece gave him a reluctant look, then turned back to Kim. “Uncle Nolan is looking for a baby-sitter for me. Do you baby-sit?”

Oh, God! Nolan felt like whacking himself in the head. His day couldn’t get any worse. Surely he could count on the frigid Ms. Sherman to say no?

“Sometimes I do. In fact, I used to spend a lot of time with children when I was younger.”

Somehow Nolan couldn’t picture her with children. She wore no rings. And there weren’t any photos of family in her office. It appeared she had no strings at all.

But then again, two weeks ago neither had he.

“But your uncle probably has another sitter in mind.”

Sammy looked at him expectantly.

“Actually, I don’t,” he grudgingly admitted. “Sam’s grandmother, Irene, is too emotionally distraught. I’ve thought about advertising.”

“I don’t want a stranger,” Sam said, conveniently forgetting that half an hour ago Kim Sherman had been exactly that. “Please let Kim be my baby-sitter.”

So far his niece hadn’t asked him for anything. Not so much as a chocolate-chip cookie.

“Sammy, your uncle doesn’t really know me.”

“No, I don’t. But Sammy seems to like you.” Was he crazy to be considering her offer? She had a responsible job. Harming six-year-olds probably wasn’t one of her policies.

“I have various volunteer and work activities on week nights. What I need is someone to come by the house on Tuesday and Thursday after dinner. Just for a few hours.”

Kim Sherman nodded. “That sounds fine to me. Since today is Thursday, I guess I’ll see you later? I presume you want me to come to the address on your check.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Sammy clapped her hands, then willingly went to Nolan when he held out his hand. Seeing his niece’s happy face, Nolan felt some of the pressure he’d been feeling the past two weeks ease off a little.

Kim Sherman was right. She wasn’t a people person. But she seemed to be a Sammy person. He hoped that would turn out to be enough.

KIM COULDN’T SHUT her office door fast enough. She leaned against the wooden barrier and closed her eyes, torn between equally strong desires. To never see Nolan McKinnon again. And to comfort his poor niece. It was so obvious the man didn’t have a clue about children.

Sammy’s plight triggered emotions Kim couldn’t afford to feel. When she’d moved to Enchantment she’d promised herself two things. She would only stay one year at most, less would be better. And she wouldn’t get involved with anyone who lived in Enchantment.

So why had she agreed to baby-sit Sammy? What could she really do to help the little girl? Sure she empathized with losing a mother, losing the only family you’d ever known. But Sammy was Nolan’s niece. It was up to him to help the little girl deal with this tragedy.

If only the guy wasn’t so hopeless with kids.

Surprising really. So many of his editorials were about helping teenagers. That drop-in center was just one example. Was it only younger children he couldn’t relate to then? Because he obviously wasn’t relating to his niece.

Kim smoothed her hair, straightened her skirt. She’d committed to the baby-sitting, so no sense fretting over the situation. Maybe she could give Nolan a few pointers on relating to Sammy. Also, she could suggest grief counseling. Celia Brice, a local psychologist who worked part-time at the center, was supposed to be amazing with children. The key was helping Sammy without getting personally involved.

Kim returned to her desk and fished out her glasses, trying not to think about her motives for removing them in the first place. She did not care what Nolan McKinnon thought of her looks.

Anxious to put the recent episode behind her, Kim pulled out the binder she’d started for the Mother and Child Reunion. She needed to verify the addresses on her guest list. Some were fifty years old. She hoped she’d be able to trace at least a few of the birth center’s original patients. Lydia would like that.

She tried to draw a line under the name next on her list, but the pen wavered so much she had to stop.

When would the shaking stop?

Some herbal tea might help, but she didn’t want to face anyone yet. Not Trish, or Parker, or Lydia. One glance at her face and they’d see something was wrong.

Work, her usual solace, would have to pull her through.

She set aside the guest list and began crunching numbers to figure out if the per plate estimate from a local bistro would be better value than the fixed price deal she’d been given from a caterer in Taos.

But all she could see was the pain emanating from Sammy Davidson’s big eyes.

Something in a child’s heart died when a parent was lost. In one moment you weren’t a child anymore, but you weren’t an adult, either. You became…

Nothing.

Kim made fists of her hands and pressed them into her eyes.

Who could love a child the way a mother did? The simple truth was—no one. Not a new foster mother, that was for sure.

And probably not an uncle, either.

WHILE MAKING NOTES on a chart in the room behind the reception counter, Lydia noticed Mary’s brother, Nolan, enter the birth center. His niece, Sammy, followed behind him.

What were they doing here?

She heard him ask Trish if he could speak to Kim Sherman.

Some sort of accounting matter, then. If Lydia had her way, they would erase any debt the Davidsons owed to The Birth Place. She’d already spoken to Kim about it, but the accountant was adamant that businesses couldn’t be run that way. Unfortunate outcomes did occur now and then: babies born with Down’s syndrome, spina bifida, other less severe genetic deformities that were no fault of the birth center.

Lydia had been forced to accept that the Davidsons’ bill had to be paid. But she still didn’t like it. She hated worrying about profit and loss and the bottom line. All she wanted, all she’d ever wanted, was to provide top-notch care to mothers and babies. And she wasn’t above bending the rules to do so, when the situation called for it. As she had for Hope Tanner’s baby.

She’d acted in the best interest of the birth center and the baby that time. And look where that had gotten her—estranged from her beloved granddaughter. Oh, how Lydia missed Devon. She was such a special woman, so caring and intelligent…and stubborn.

Fifteen minutes later, noises out in the hall regained Lydia’s attention. She peered out the glass window. Nolan McKinnon was about to leave. His body language screamed frustration, maybe even anger, but he was gentle enough with the child.

Common courtesy required that Lydia step out into the hall and ask how they were doing. She hadn’t spoken to either one since the funerals.

But she couldn’t.

Not an hour of the day went by that she didn’t think of Mary. She couldn’t help but imagine how the baby would be growing if he had survived. At two weeks he’d be gaining weight and beginning to settle into a schedule.

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