The tension in the room seemed to slacken then and the two of them spent some time talking about their situation—his work schedule and hers, and what each expected of the other.
As he refilled her glass, she commented, “This is a wonderful thing you’re doing, letting the boys stay here. When Mrs. Winthrop and I met in Lebo, she was so excited about this trip to Africa.”
Pierce topped off his own glass and then set the bottle on the marble-topped side table. His mouth screwed up in a grimace as he admitted, “I turned down her request at first.”
“Oh?”
He eased himself back into the chair. “Yes. Cynthia came to me to explain that John had been offered the opportunity of his career. Six weeks as a missionary in Africa. Having the chance to do missionary work has always been my brother-in-law’s dream, she said. She asked if I’d keep the boys for eight weeks, as the position required two weeks of studying the language and customs. I gently but firmly refused.”
Pierce chuckled, remembering his well-reasoned denial.
“I reminded her,” he continued, “that I wasn’t the one who’d pined for hearth and home. That had been her. That I wasn’t the one who’d been certain that parenthood would be the experience of a lifetime. That, too, had been her. And besides that, as she explained to you, I was just about to land a huge contract with one of the largest perfumeries in France. I couldn’t afford to be away from the lab, away from my work…not for a single week, let alone two months.
“Cynthia seemed to understand.” His smile widened. “But my sister is pretty stubborn. And it wasn’t long before she returned with a whole new plan. A plan that involved you. She made it all sound so…workable. In the end, I agreed to take my nephews for the summer. As long as you were here to look after them during my working hours.”
Amy set her empty glass on the table. “A reluctant hero is still a hero in my book.”
Pierce had never thought of himself as a hero, reluctant or otherwise. The very idea unsettled him. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. The atmosphere stiffened up.
A few moments passed, and she stood. “I think I should head off to bed. If those boys are as rambunctious as you say, then I’m going to need a good night’s sleep.”
Her tapered fingers shot out and she tipped up her chin, and it took him a second to realize that she wanted to shake his hand. He stood and slid his palm into hers.
Her skin was warm against his. Smooth. And soft.
It was as if his every thought gurgled right out of his head.
“I want to assure you that I plan to do a good job,” she proclaimed, giving his hand several good pumps. “We won’t interrupt your work. In fact, when I’m with the boys you won’t even know we’re here.”
Even though his gaze was riveted on the gentle sway of her bottom as she left his study, he did have enough of his wits about him to doubt her promise.
You won’t even know we’re here.
Her words echoed in his head. But he had serious doubts that he could be oblivious to the fact that Amy Edwards had invaded his home.
Chapter Two
“I’m so glad you told me about that tiny scar on your chin, Jeremiah,” Amy said as she combed the child’s hair neatly into place.
“It’s the only way to tell me and Benjamin apart. I guess it’s kinda lucky that I was jumpin’ on the bed and fell on the bedpost.”
Amy’s nose scrunched. “I don’t know that I’d call it lucky.”
Benjamin looked up from where he was fussing with a stubborn button. “He had to get three stitches. With a needle and everything.”
“I’ll bet that hurt,” Amy said.
“Nah. Not even a little bit.” But Jeremiah’s chest puffed as he scoffed at the experience. Then he added, “The doctor numbed my chin.”
His brother’s eyes widened. “With a needle.”
“Mom still teases me about it,” Jeremiah added, “because I started snorin’ while the doctor was puttin’ in the stitches.”
“When did all this happen?” Amy asked.
“A couple of years ago,” he told her. “When I was really little.”
She wrestled with the grin that tugged at one corner of her mouth. One thing she’d learned in the past five days of caring for the boys was that there was nothing quite like experiencing life through the eyes of a child.
“Ah, so it happened when you were a petit garçon.” She did her best to implement a perfect accent when she spoke the last two words.
“What’s that?” Jeremiah asked.
Amy chuckled. “That means ‘little boy’ in French.”
“You can talk in French?” Benjamin looked to be in awe.
“Don’t be too impressed.” She grinned. “I’m not very good. When I was a little girl I had teachers who were trained in France.” She didn’t think the boys would understand about the Oblate Sisters and the life of spiritual devotion they chose, so she just stuck to a simple explanation. “They introduced me to the language. All the students had to take French lessons, from the youngest to the oldest. I’ve tried to keep up with it by listening to audio tapes.”
“Cool,” Jeremiah said.
“Can you teach us some?” Benjamin’s gaze lit with curiosity.
“Sure I can,” she told them. “If you really want to learn.” She ruffled Jeremiah’s head of dark hair. “I think the luckiest thing about your ordeal with the bedpost is that your scar is so small. I have to squint to see it. But it is good to know I have a way of knowing which one of you I’m talking to.” She smiled as she tapped the boy on the tip of his chin with the pad of her index finger, and then she reached to help Benjamin fasten his button.
Life had fallen into a comfortable routine very quickly, and that had surprised Amy. She’d wake early and get herself ready for the day. She’d help the boys dress, feed them breakfast and then they would plan the day’s activities.
One day she’d taken them to Glory’s public library, where they had found a huge globe on which Amy had pointed out Africa and the wide expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. Then they had read some children’s books about the area where the boys’ parents were serving as missionaries. They had spent another day exploring the small town of Glory together, and Benjamin and Jeremiah had been more than happy to point out the pizza place, the ice cream shop and the arcade. And yesterday she’d helped the boys pull out the fishing gear. Unable to deal with the idea of worms, she’d baited the hooks with bits of ham she’d found in the fridge. But they hadn’t gotten a single nibble, so the three of them had climbed on boulders at one end of the cove and watched the blue crabs shimmy sideways under the water.
Pierce had been right when he’d told her she needed to rethink her attire. The tailored skirts and dresses that had helped to bolster her confidence since her flight training simply weren’t appropriate for traipsing around after the twins. To be honest, even the slacks and leather flats she’d reverted to wearing were still not fitting for this job. What she needed was sturdier, more casual clothing. Jeans and shorts, sneakers and sandals. The stuff she used to knock around in back in Kansas. However, she’d purposely yet unfortunately left those items in her dresser back home.
During her flight attendant training, it had been stressed to her over and over again that if she wanted to garner the respect due a professional, then she must be perceived as a professional. She had to dress and act the part.
One day during her training something had clicked.