Teresa Southwick - Marrying the Virgin Nanny / The Nanny and Me - Marrying the Virgin Nanny / The Nanny and Me

The warning was too late, but Sister didn’t know about that. Now there was no point in making both of them feel bad. “I’m a big girl now.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t still worry about you.” Sister shook her head. “Some children never get over a deep anger and resentment about growing up in an orphanage, present company excepted. You were always a sweet child, loving easily and accepting without question.”

That may have been true when she lived here, but that changed after she fell in love and then lost even more than her heart. She still cared deeply, especially about children, but now she had parameters in place for her own protection. That way she didn’t have to hold part of herself back. But she was already more attached to Brady than she’d ever been to an infant and it had only been a week. That didn’t bode well for her marshmallow heart.

“I’m older and wiser now, Sister.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“I just meant that as a working woman of the world I’ve acquired experience.”

“You sound sad.”

“No.” Maggie shrugged. “I guess all the constant moving around in my job is making me restless. Making me yearn for stability.”

Odd. It hadn’t occurred to her when they talked, but that was something she and Jason had in common.

Sister’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Maggie hadn’t, until very recently.

“It’s just that I haven’t felt like I belonged since I left here at eighteen. When I entered the convent after college—” She ran her index finger around the rim of her mug. “I think I was looking for roots, like I had here at the home.” Maggie saw the worry she’d noticed earlier in the nun’s expression. “What is it, Sister?”

“It’s not your problem—”

“So there is something.”

Sister sighed. “The state has scheduled an inspection of this building.”

“Isn’t that standard procedure?”

“Yes. But we’ve been aware for some time that the home needs extensive and expensive repairs—starting with a roof and the plumbing and it’s not in our operating budget. The diocese doesn’t have the money, either.” She shook her head. “We’re hoping to get by just one more time, but if we don’t, they could shut us down.”

“But where will the children go?” Maggie couldn’t imagine what would have happened to her without the love and support of Sister Margaret and everyone else here at Good Shepherd.

“We’re looking into alternative placements, but the state is already burdened with more children than they can care for.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Maggie asked.

Sister tried to smile. “That’s very sweet of you, dear. But I don’t think so. The Lord provides, and every day I ask Him to provide for us.”

Maggie would pray, too. For Lyssa’s sake, and all the rest of the kids at Good Shepherd, she hoped the volume of prayers would produce a miracle.

In his study, Jason looked at the computer screen to check his e-mail and rubbed his hands over his face, scraping his palms on the scruff of beard he hadn’t had time to shave. He was bone tired. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear a gravel truck had overturned in his eyes. Brady had been up every two hours during the night. The only way he’d napped was while being held and rocked. Jason had always thought building a resort was stressful, but that was before becoming a father. Right now he’d welcome budget woes, a spike in the cost of building materials and labor disputes.

And Maggie.

He’d take her in a heartbeat. As if his son heard that thought, the baby let out a cry. Just one. Just enough to say he’d need something soon.

“Brady,” he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face again. There’d barely been time for a shower, let alone a shave. He looked at the gold clock on his desk. Thirty minutes until noon, when she was due back. If there was a God in heaven she was the punctual type.

He was walking past the foyer on his way to the nursery when the key sounded in the lock just before Maggie walked in. She was better than punctual; she was early.

“Hi,” he said, casually lifting a hand in greeting.

“Hi. I’ll check on Brady.”

“Do you have X-ray hearing?”

“No. Why?” she asked, hurrying down the hall.

“You just opened the door.” The baby had been quiet since that one dissatisfied cry. “How did you know he needed something?”

“Whether he did or not, I would have looked in on him. It has nothing to do with super hearing.”

“I’m not so sure.” He followed Maggie to her room where she set overnight bag on the floor and her purse on the bed. Then she went next door to the nursery. “It’s like you’re tuned in to his frequency.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” She lifted the baby out of the crib and cuddled him close. “I missed you.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys.”

Jason leaned a shoulder in the doorway and folded his arms over his chest as he looked at her. He’d expected a tart comeback to his comment, but there was only silence, which seemed out of character. What the heck did he know about what was or was not in character for a woman who’d come close to being a nun? He’d only known her a week. Still, she seemed like the spunky type and not inclined to overlook an opportunity for a retort.

He’d spent a lot of time in this room over the last few weeks, more than the entire eighteen months he’d lived here. But he hadn’t taken the time to notice what a good job the decorator he’d hired had done. The walls were a pale olive green with white baseboards, crown molding and doors. A changing table in maple stood on one wall with the matching crib beside it. The sheet, quilt and airplane mobile were in shades of green, yellow and pale blue. Stuffed animals filled every flat space and corner of the room. Satisfaction trickled through him that he could give his boy the best.

Including the best of care. Which was all about Maggie.

She kissed Brady’s cheek and rubbed his back as her body went into the automatic swaying motion. In her worn jeans, sneakers and pullover red sweatshirt with the words Good Shepherd on the front, she was a sight for sore eyes. Weird that the gravel in them was gone now. And he felt as if he was seeing clearly for the first time in over twenty-four hours.

He’d felt her absence, and not because it had been too quiet without her. Brady had filled a lot of the silence with his outstanding pair of lungs. Now that she was here, he had a bad feeling that the deficiency he’d felt had nothing to do with taking care of the baby and that was unsettling.

“How was your day off?” he asked.

“I think he’s hungry.” She set Brady on the changing table. “When did he last have a bottle?”

Jason glanced at his watch. “About three hours ago.”

“Just as I suspected. You’re ready to eat.” She undid his terrycloth sleeper and slid his legs out, grabbing one tiny foot and kissing the toes. “You have hollow legs, Brady Garrett. Yes, you do.”

Jason was completely caught up in the tenderness that she lavished on the baby. And apparently he wasn’t the only one. When she smiled down, Brady’s tiny mouth curved up in response. His arms waved and legs kicked with genuine excitement rather than agitation. If that was anything to judge by, the little guy had missed her, too. No, not too. That would mean Jason had missed her and he refused to admit to anything but feeling her absence.

He was so caught up in that thought and watching her with his son, it took him several moments to realize she hadn’t answered his question about her day off.

Now that he thought about it, she looked tired. There were circles beneath her eyes that made them look even bigger and more vulnerable.