Music & Lyrics Page 2

  She rang the bell this time, having finally located it in some intricate scrollwork around the door frame. She heard the chimes inside, wiped her palms again, and took another deep breath.

  Still nothing.

  Looking side to side, Mari checked for signs of life. The garage faced the front of the house, taking up almost half the façade with three identically ornate doors. They were all closed, but an SUV was parked out front of it, so someone was here.

  Leaning slightly to the side, she peeked in the beveled glass at the sides of the door. She couldn't see clearly, but of course someone was now coming down the hallway, and she'd been caught looking.

  The large door opened, letting conditioned air out as well as a small angry voice. It didn't belong to the beleaguered woman standing in front of her. The curt voice wasn't a surprise, given the expression on her face. "Are you the new nanny?"

  "Yes, I—"

  "Great, come in." She turned away, cutting off Mari's planned introduction and ignoring the so-nice-to-meet-you smile. "Follow me."

  Mari did, even as her heart squeezed. This was not a good sign, but she had nowhere else to go. Mari consoled herself that this woman likely had a job or at least wouldn't be around much if she was hiring a live in nanny. She would have days off, and it turned out she was getting specialist pay for the "foreign" language she needed for this assignment.

  She opened her mouth, but another discordant yell came out of the back of the house, along with a loud noise. That would be the little deaf girl. Deaf kids had no idea how loud they were, so they were often not at the culturally accepted decibel level. They banged things, too, not realizing they were doing it.

  She figured the woman was leading her back through the house to meet the children, but she veered to the left, to a hallway just past the kitchen. Mari followed her, trying desperately to introduce herself. "I'm Mariliz Jennings. The Purvey Child Care Agency sent me." She winced as she repeated the name.

  "Yes, I figured that was you. Who else would show up at eight in the evening?" She didn't look at Mari, and didn't even pause to change the subject. "This is the live-in suite. It's all yours. I even changed the sheets."

  Well, if that wasn't a ringing endorsement . . . Mari felt her eyebrows lift up. If this was their mother, she was grateful the girls had a caregiver. Then again, maybe the woman was good with kids? "You're Bridget Beaumont?"

  A laugh that bordered on a cackle flew from the woman's mouth. "Oh no, honey. I'm Francesca, her sister."

  "Oh." Well, that made her feel a lot better. Mari nodded and smiled, not sure what else to do.

  She was about to ask another question when the woman waved her hand around. "That's your personal bathroom. No kids allowed, I suppose. You have this small reading room, and through that door is your bedroom."

  Mari was grateful for the bedroom existing, she'd become afraid she was expected to live-in on what looked like a pull-out couch. So she headed over and gingerly turned the knob to reveal a decent sized room with a full sized bed, tall windows, and really nice decor. Not her personal style, but she could certainly live in it. When she exited, she saw the small kitchen built into the wall she'd passed on the way in. Though slightly smaller than her current kitchen, it was a lot nicer.

  "Oh that." Francesca replied. "All yours, but you can use the big kitchen, too. Lord knows Bridget doesn’t."

  Great. Just the opening she needed. "Is she here now?"

  Another cackle. Another unsettling twist in her stomach.

  "Oh God, no." She stared as though Mari clearly had no clue what was going on. And Mari was beginning to realize she didn't. "Bridget is on a cruise. It's the only reason I'm here now. Next time, she can get her ass home and do this herself."

  Ohhh. Kaayyy. Mari just offered a nod, hoping she wasn't agreeing to anything. "And Mr. Beaumont?"

  "He left on tour yesterday."

  "Tour?" She frowned. Was he a soldier?

  Now Francesca wasn't just looking at her like she had no clue, she was looking at Mari like she was stupid. "He's a drummer." She waited. "With the band Wilder."

  "Oh!" Then Ohhhhh. Mari liked them. She'd heard them on the radio. No wonder they could afford a nanny and her own live-in suite. "Okay." She'd get to meet the drummer from Wilder. Oh! And probably all the rest of the band eventually. That would be cool, wouldn't it?

  "So, let me show you the rest of the house." Suddenly, Francesca sounded a lot nicer, and Mari followed her through the living room, up the wide, carpeted stairway. She peeked in each of the girls' rooms—both neatly kept. There was a music room with a full drum set parked in the middle and some kind of foam padding the walls. It was really cool, but Francesca only opened the door onto it briefly before heading to another.

  "Their room," she gave a small snort, "Hall bathroom," then "Guest room."

  In the guest room, Francesca walked in, allowing Mari to follow and get a good look. The room was a passable mess and her hostess noticed. "No worries. This is not on you. The maid comes three times a week. She'll get it."

  "And the suitcase?" It was open on the bed, the clothing mostly neatly packed with a few pieces rolled and tucked around the edges.

  "Mine." Francesca smiled off-handedly, then dug into the purse lying sideways next to the suitcase. "Oh, here, this is the card for you."

  Mari took what was clearly a credit card and frowned. She was going to get a wrinkle between her brows just from tonight.

  "It's for you. Household account." She went on to describe a few things Mari was supposed to purchase with it, and how much was put on it each week for her to use for the girls. "You know, bring home ice cream, drive-through for burgers, anything you need that the assistant didn't pick up."

  Mari nodded and held it tight, not yet having decided where to keep it. She hadn't expected to be handed a credit card, nor to find out that not one but both parents were out of the house. She stood silently while Francesca handed over several items, including a ring of keys. Mari was opening her mouth to ask when she would meet them, when she noticed Francesca pulling the zipper on the suitcase. "Are you leaving?"

  "Oh yeah. I'm outta here. It's all yours."

  For the first time in her life, Mariliz Jennings actually sputtered. "What? When does Mr. Beaumont get back? Or Mrs. Beaumont? I—"

  "That's why I asked you to come at eight tonight. I have plane to catch." She smiled, maybe a little too brightly.

  "No! You can't leave." Mari almost grabbed the woman and maybe should have as she pushed by. "I'm not supposed to start until tomorrow."

  "You came tonight at eight? Right?" Francesca was already in the hallway looking back at her, suitcase in hand.

  "Just to meet everyone. I start tomorrow." She stated it firmly and barely held back from putting her hands on her hips.

  "Well, I have a non-refundable ticket and I have to go or I won't make it through security. I'm sorry for the miscommunication." She lugged the suitcase down the steps muttering under her breath.

  Mari was certain she heard both the names 'Bridget' and 'Alex' in there. She was about to mutter them herself.

  While she was shaking her head, Francesca disappeared out the front door with a wave and a "Bye!"

  Mari was left alone with two kids she hadn't even met yet. Aunt Francesca hadn't even introduced her to the girls. She could have found her own bedroom, figured out what was in the fridge, and plenty more, but now she had to introduce herself to her charges? Suddenly she realized that no one had even told her when either of the Beaumonts was getting back.

  Who were these people?

  As she straightened her spine, she heard a faint sound of a car door closing and her spine sagged again. Then she heard a yell from the ground floor and raced down the steps.

  Chapter 3

  Cautiously, Mari approached the noisiest room in the house.

  It wasn't the volume that scared her. It was that it sounded angry.

  She wondered where the older sister was until she got close, then she heard the voice coming from the room.

  "Sophie, no. Don't throw that." The voice stayed calm despite the growl that followed it. "No, Sophie."

  Then a sigh.

  Mari couldn't figure out what bothered her so much about it. So she paused, listened a little longer.

  "Let's play a game, Sophie. Let's play with the toy cars. Toy cars?"

  A faint rattle followed, then a crash and a burst of vocal power. Mari was rushing the door when the voice came again.

  "Are you hungry? Hungry, Sophie?"

  That was it. Why was the girl talking to her younger sister? If Sophie was deaf, there was no purpose. And she was too young to read lips.

  In a second flash of insight, Mari almost smacked herself on the forehead. The older one—Olivia—was only eight. She'd probably only learned sign for her sister, and like many beginners was probably vocalizing while she signed. It helped newbies keep things straight.

  With a sigh of relief that she'd figured it out, Mari turned the knob and realized she had it all wrong.

  It all hit her at once. The two girls were as adorable as they could be, and Mari's heart sank. The little one looked at her and let out another horrible sound, angry at just seeing her. The older girl looked at her blankly, but the toddler's diaper sagged.

  Time to get to work.

  The diaper had to go. But she couldn't do that until she introduced herself. Signing and talking, thinking that might make Olivia more comfortable, she started. "Hi, I'm Mariliz, and I'm—"

  "You're the new nanny."

  "Yes." She smiled at Olivia, not correcting that she'd interrupted. "And you're Olivia and this is Sophie, right?" She kept her hands moving, eyes on each girl as she turned. This was why she'd had a cross-body strap purse when she was interpreting. Yet another thing on a rapidly growing list.

  "Did Aunt Frankie leave yet?"

  It took a second for that to sink in, then Mari nodded, "Yes, she left just a minute ago." Then another thought occurred, "Oh, did you not get to say goodbye to her?"

  "No, but I didn't want to. Are you fun or strict?" Olivia looked up at her with perfectly round blue eyes and Mari fished for the right answer.

  "Both."

  "Okay." The girl seemed unconcerned with the answer one way or another—as though she only wanted to catalog it.

  "Hey, Sophie." Mari turned now to the little girl who was almost growling at her. "You need your diaper changed."

  Something was wrong. Something about the way the little one looked at her. Mari tried again. Same response.

  Feeling like she was in an episode of the Twilight Zone, she almost shook her head to clear it, or started looking around for a hidden camera. Then it snapped into place again.

  Sophie was tracking her hands. Not looking at her face. And she was wide-eyed.

  Mari said it again, both with her words and her hands. "Let's change your diaper."

  Same response. The daughter wasn't just deaf, there was something else wrong. Mari was looking for signs of Downs, or fetal alcohol syndrome, or something, when Olivia piped up.

  "You can put your hands away. Sophie doesn't sign."

  Obviously, but she didn't say it. Sarcasm should not be in her opening conversation with her new charges. "She can read it can't she?"

  No response.

  So Mariliz turned and looked at Olivia who was shrugging. "Do deaf kids just know it?"

  Sounded like something an eight-year-old might think, so Mari let it pass. "No, they learn it the same way you learn English, a little at a time and from the people around them."

  She put her hands down, in case Sophie understood more than she was reacting to. This time, Mari faced Olivia and spoke in English only. "She's not making her own signs? You sign to her but she doesn't sign back?"

  Sophie was two. Even if she was severely developmentally delayed she should sign something. Even her own, made-up signs.

  "I don't sign to her." Olivia said it again. She looked like a little angel. Her hair was braided with ribbons that matched her outfit. Her clothing was high-end childrens' stuff. But her answers were flat, she was only cataloging them. She had none of the bounce and interest Mari would have expected from an eight-year-old meeting their new babysitter.

  Then again, Mari had never had a nanny nor ever been one. Maybe the kid had gotten jaded already. "Who signs to her?"

  Maybe the parents weren't very good? Or the old nanny was just learning and didn't do it well, or not often? No wonder the little girl was a mess.

  "No one."

  Holy shit. "No one?"

  "She's learning to lip read." Olivia stated.

  No, she wasn't. She was two. Mari must have been looking at Olivia like she was insane, because the little girl frowned at her. Great, now she was staring down a kid about poor life choices that weren't even hers.

  Then she turned back to the small one who was now quiet, but watching with wary eyes. Trying not to look like she was doing it, Mari took a scan of the kid's head. She wasn't sure if she succeeded in being furtive, because Sophie started to glare a little.

  Turning back to Olivia, she asked questions of the only person around who seemed willing to talk to her. "She doesn't have a cochlear implant?"

  As the words left her mouth, she realized that she'd asked a kid about a neural device. But Olivia was already on it. In other circumstances—maybe some with some happiness?—she would have liked this kid.

  "She's not a candidate for it."

  Not a candidate? Little pitchers did indeed have big ears. She hadn't come up with that phrasing on her own. Mari didn't ask why. She wasn't sure of the answer she'd get. Steering the conversation another way, she asked, "Do you know when your dad is coming back?"

  "Yes!" This time, the kid smiled. She pulled Mari into the kitchen to look at a calendar on the wall. A day was circled in red and Olivia pointed. "That day."

  Nine days from now. Shit. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. "Then when is your mom getting back?"

  "I don't know."

  "A couple days?" She tested the waters. "Tomorrow?"

  "A month?" Olivia shrugged and followed her back down the hallway. They couldn't leave Sophie alone.

  A month???

  Eight-year-old, she reminded herself like a mantra. Bridget Beaumont would be home soon. Mariliz had Alex's number and Bridget's. Though if she was on a cruise, she might not have service. Still Mari could get a hold of the Dad, let him know she'd arrived safe, and that—despite the 'miscommunication'—she had the girls taken care of.

  "Let's get Sophie changed."

  Sophie fought her the whole time she tried to change the diaper. Mari was stronger and rapidly becoming more stubborn than the little girl, though that was a task. She would have thought the kid would want the diaper changed.

  In the end, concessions were made on both sides. Sophie was changed on the floor on the mat from the changing table. Mari tried to sign to the girl, but that was difficult with her hands trying to wrangle a rebellious toddler. Olivia watched her the whole time she tried, making weird faces that Mari could not for the life of her decipher.

  It was nine p.m. by the time she got Sophie into a clean diaper. She tried again to get information out of the best source. Turning to Olivia, she said. "It's your bedtime, isn't it?"

  "It was our bedtime an hour ago." She smiled and headed up the stairs.

  Deciding it was her best course of action to follow, Mari tried to pick up Sophie and go along. Sophie did not want to be picked up. She tried to hold Sophie's hand. Sophie did not want to hold hands.

  In the end, Sophie followed her older sister and Mari was content with that. There was too much else to do. So she trailed along behind the toddler, in case she missed a step, and peppered the older one with questions.

  She learned when school started in the morning and which school Olivia attended. That Olivia had her alarm set. That Sophie had a daycare but had been kicked out of it a week earlier for hitting. Shocking, Mari thought and reminded herself that she needed the job. Also, if she didn't do it, who would look after the girls? Clearly, no one else was going to.

  She tucked Olivia in, smiling despite the girl's nearly clinical approach to the whole thing. Then she went after Sophie. It was ten p.m. before the toddler finally went to sleep.

  Sitting in the hallway, her back literally against the wall, Mari ran her hand over her hair. She'd put it up, but now took it down. She couldn't go home and leave the girls, that had to legally be neglect. She wouldn't do it anyway; it just wasn't safe.

  She had to make it through to tomorrow with what was in her purse—a prospect that wasn't too promising. She looked up the address for Olivia's school, then let herself into the garage and tried the car key on the chain. They'd left her a Mercedes to drive. But since she couldn't figure out how to open the garage door, she wound up moving the carseat into the back of her own car. Her car would stay in the driveway until she found a button that didn't need a code she didn't have.

  Mari sighed. In another hour, she was as ready as she could be for the morning. There was just one more thing to do. She got the contact list Francesca had handed her and dialed her phone.

  Alex pressed the button on his phone. He'd seen the call from an unknown number last night. There was a message, too. He'd wanted to delete it, but couldn't quite hit the buttons to do it. It had a Nashville area code and might be someone he needed to talk to. So he'd headed out to the front of the bus because it was empty, thinking he could have some privacy.

  He simply couldn’t handle talking to anyone in Nashville. Even Olivia.

  Though he loved his daughters, he couldn't deal with any of it now. He knew they were safe and he wanted to leave it at that. He was between a rock and a hard place—there was simply no way to be a good father. So the only choice left an absent one.

  Even if it wrenched his heart in two, he couldn't even tell anyone.

  Though he’d been married the longest of any of the guys, he and Bridget didn't have what JD and Kelsey had. Kelsey had JD's back, no matter what. The couple was open, kind, friendly, and clearly still in love. TJ had Norah, and they were new, still honeymooning. Emotional and big, they were the stars of the show. Even Craig found someone. He and Shay were almost the dead opposite of the other two. Intensely private, they lived with the wagons circled. They shared birthday parties and the occasional playdate, but Craig and Shay were the embodiment of 'still waters ran deep.'