Nanny by Christina Skye
To C. and C.
Thanks for all the happy trails. . . .
prologue
The house was bare, white wall to white wall. Naked windows opened onto cold, rain-swept hills. Noises echoed, jarring in the empty space.
A young girl with brown hair walked through the silent rooms, her back ramrod straight. There was no reason to cry, Summer Mulcahey told herself. It was just a house now, not their house. The new family would be here any minute, backing up the drive in a shiny red station wagon packed with noise and children and dogs.
No, she wouldn’t stay, not to watch strangers take over these rooms, trampling on her memories.
Shoulders rigid, Summer sat down on her battered suitcase, letting her mind touch the walls, searching through fifteen years of memories. She wanted the past carved into her mind, so she could always find it because the past would make her hard and strong.
She needed to be strong now.
There was a thump down the hall. Behind her the door swung open. “Aunt Sarah’s down in the car.” Her sister gestured impatiently, a brighter, rounder, more graceful version of Summer. “I want to go now.”
“In a minute.”
“You said you were ready.” Jess’s voice was strained. “You said you hated it here, Sum.”
There was no fooling her twin, Summer thought ruefully. They had always read each other too well. “I do. But before I go, I want to remember the good parts.” She took a deep breath. “Sneaking pancakes when Mom wasn’t looking. Dad building our tree house.” Her voice wavered. “You dancing in your red sneakers on that ugly picnic table that always rocked.”
“I remember.” Jess rubbed her cheeks sharply. “But they’re gone now. Mom was . . . strange for a long time, if you ask me.”
Both girls had suffered because of it, but neither mentioned that.
Summer’s eyes stung, but no tears fell. “She couldn’t forget Dad, Jess. She always called him her hero and said he would take care of her, no matter what.” Summer glared out at the lawn sloping down to the river. “No man is ever going to take care of me. It’s stupid to let anyone make you weak like that.”
Jess hugged her arms to her chest. “How do you know? You’re only fifteen.”
“I just know.” Summer leaned out the open window, the cold wind on her face. “Dad shouldn’t have died, Jess. He wasn’t even on duty. He was just going down the damned street for some damned milk.”
Jess Mulcahey hated it when her twin cursed. Frowning, she crossed the bare floor and took her sister’s hand. “I miss him, too. Sometimes I think I hear the front door open. I keep waiting for him to walk in, whistling Nat King Cole.” Jess swallowed hard. “‘Unforgettable.’ You know, the one he always sang to us at bedtime.”
“I remember.” God help me, I’ll always remember, Summer thought. But I’ll be smart and I’ll stay strong as the big trees along the river. No man is ever going to sweep me onto a white horse to make me feel safe. Summer scowled at the room, repeating her silent vow. “Just remember, the world isn’t safe, Jess. And no matter what they say, there aren’t any more heroes.”
“Maybe there are.”
“Trust me, we wouldn’t be here alone if I were wrong.”
Silence fell. Down the lane the wind shook the poplars and the world seemed to condense, pressing down on Summer with iron fingers. The room was choked with the smell of loneliness.
First they had lost their father, then their mother. Now the two girls only had each other.
Jess broke the spell first, opening her neat blue coat and pulling out a fluffy white cat. Summer pressed the small, wriggling body to her cheek and felt as if she were waiting for something important to happen, some sign that it was over, finished, and they could finally leave.
But no sign came.
There should have been something more, Summer thought angrily. There should have been a chance for explanations and good-byes. Already her parents felt distant and unreal.
Jess pressed her lips together hard, trying not to cry. “Look, Zza-Zza’s ready to leave, and Aunt Sarah is waiting. She says we’re going to get our own room with pink curtains.”
Summer didn’t answer. The woman downstairs wasn’t their aunt, just a family friend, and the arrangement was temporary, but Summer wasn’t cruel enough to point that out to her grieving sister. Jess wasn’t strong like Summer was, and she needed to be protected from some things.
“I want to go, Sum.” Jess’s lips quivered. “Everything’s sad and awful here now.”
Things wouldn’t ever be the same, Summer thought. No amount of pink curtains could change that. Her childhood was over, and she had to be strong now. For Jess and for herself.
Maybe for her dad, too.
Summer took a last look out the window. An old-fashioned wooden swing hugged the grassy slope to the river beside a crooked picnic table. Once there had been long walks and days of laughter here. There had been water fights and double dare and wild laughter.
Gone now. Almost forgotten, in fact. Two shattering deaths in the last year had done that, leaving the bone-deep emptiness that gripped Summer now.
A man from the Navy had come to the house one night. He had sat in the living room, speaking quietly, with care and concern. At first the two girls thought there had to be a mistake. They were certain their adored father would be coming back any second, whistling one of his favorite Nat King Cole songs.
But he hadn’t come back, and they hadn’t seen his body even at the funeral. Jess had cried for three straight days, but Summer couldn’t seem to shed a tear.
No more laughter.
No more Nat King Cole.
No more touch football by the river.
One week ago their mother had stopped her constant coughing and slipped away. The doctors had called it pneumonia and complications, but Summer thought it was too many memories and a heart that just stopped trying.
Summer wished she could cry, but she couldn’t. Maybe her heart was frozen, and it had just stopped trying, too. If so, she was glad. That would make her strong, and she didn’t want to feel things.
Her sister shifted impatiently from foot to foot. “It’s too quiet here. It’s creepy, Sum. Let’s just go.”
“I’m ready.” Summer tried to smile, holding out the struggling cat. “You take Zza-Zza while I get our suitcases.”
Jess stuck out her lower lip. “No way. I’m going to carry my own stuff. You don’t have to help me all the time.”
“I’ll do it, Jess. I’m stronger. Besides, you’re better with Zza-Zza.” Jess had always been the soft one, the easy communicator. Summer was all spunk and grit, the one who held off the bullies after school and fought the monsters hiding under their bed at night.
Since their father died, there had been too many monsters to count, and their mother hadn’t seemed to notice.
Summer glanced at the window seat where she and Jess had dreamed about pirate ships and desert islands. Now the window looked small, and there were no dreams left.
Down below the house the river raced on, carrying leaves and small branches that bobbed and twisted in the fast currents. Her mother had always warned them not to get too close or they’d get carried away.
Instead she’d been the one carried off.
Summer shoved away the memories. She wasn’t going to get all stupid and blubbery. Things changed, and you had to change with them. Besides, Jess needed her.
“You’re right,” she said ruthlessly. “Let’s go. There’s nothing here, anyway. This room is dumb. So is this house.”
A bird sailed low over the cold river where December trees guarded a slate-gray sky. More leaves floated past, brown and twisted, long since dead.
Summer grabbed both suitcases. When she walked outside, she didn’t look back.