Page 41 of Nine Week Nanny

The praise warms and stings all at once. I push past it. “I wanted to run something by you. I think I found something perfect for him. Do you have a second for me to tell you about it?"

"Of course."

"It’s called Seabreeze Nature Enrichment. It's an outdoor program similar to what we did last spring in Charleston. You know, kids connecting with nature, working through things by caring for creatures and the earth.”

“That sounds amazing. Can I sign up, too? Do they take adults?”

“You remember Barrier Island, right? That rotation we did ?”

"Of course. That was my favorite rotation. I learned how to seine net fish."

I twist a loose thread on my shorts. "It's like that. I just spoke with the director, and it literally sounds almost identical."

"Those kids made so much progress in that month," Maris says. "They didn't even realize it was therapy."

"Exactly. Being outside, touching things, smelling, exploring. It anchored them." I watch Lennon pat down one side of his sandcastle. "I think this would be perfect for Lennon, considering everything he's processing," I say quietly, careful not to let him hear me talking about him.

“What does Pope think?”

I sigh. “I haven’t told him about it. I’m going to. Right now I'm working overtime because the agency hasn't filled the mid-day slot. This program would solve everything. Lennon gets some peer time, I get actual off-hours, and I can still handle evenings and bedtime."

"What about weekends?" Maris asks.

"In theory, I have weekends off. The agency wants me to stay overnight in case Lennon needs me, but I'm not required to be here during the day. They're looking for a weekend nanny."

"That poor kid," Maris sighs. "Where is his father in all this anyway?"

"I don't think Pope was involved before Lennon's mother died," I whisper, feeling almost guilty saying it aloud. "They seem like strangers to each other. It's heartbreaking. I think Pope only stepped in because he had to. Lennon clearly doesn't know him."

“And Pope’s just… what? Working while you handle everything?”

I press my lips together. “Pretty much. I’m piecing things together as I go. No one’s really told me the full story.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement through the glass. I see his broad shoulders crossing the kitchen. My heart drops.

Shit. He’s home in the middle of the day.

“Hey, I’ve got to go,” I whisper urgently. “Pope’s here and this guy needs some lunch, anyway.”

"Call me later. I want to hear more about the nature program."

“Will do. LYLAS.”

I end the call fast, set the phone on the table, and look at the page I've been scribbling on. I close the binder.

Lennon’s still bent over his sand fortress, oblivious. I wait, watching the kitchen door through the glass. A shadow, the faint bang of a drawer closing, then quiet. He must’ve just stopped in for something.

Good. He's gone again.

"Buddy, let's go grab some lunch. We can come back out here later to finish. What do you say?"

He doesn’t answer, but he lines up his tools carefully and stands. The precision of it guts me. Kids shouldn’t have coping mechanisms this tidy. My chest aches with the urge to pull him into my arms, but I keep my hands to myself.

He pulls out the necklace he always wears from under his shirt. I've noticed sometimes he likes it hidden, and other times he prefers it to sit outside of his shirt.

I guide Lennon through the sliding glass door, watching as he carefully wipes his feet on the mat before stepping onto the polished marble floor of the kitchen. Grains of sand still cling to his forearms despite my attempts to brush them off outside.

"Why don't you wash your hands at the sink? I'll get lunch ready."