1. Dylan

1

DYLAN

" M r. Anderson, will you please come do something about your son!" My mother's personal… oh, I don't know what she was, sometime companion, sometime nurse, barked at me.

She was always barking unless she was dealing with my mother. Around her, Clara was calm, quiet, and soothing. It's why Mother liked her and why she was still employed.

I strode toward the sound of her command. I still had my keys in my hands and the leather messenger bag I used for a briefcase slung over my shoulder.

"He really is too much," she said. She had to know I was following her, even though she stayed several paces ahead of me and was frequently out of my line of vision as she took the most convoluted path to Mother's rooms.

My son stood in the middle of the room looking lost. Max was sniffing and sucking his lower lip in and out at the frantic pace of his panting breath. He was either just about to cry, or… I got a better look at the boy. He was sweating and blotchy and his eyes were red. He had been crying, and hard, from the look of it.

"Hard day?" I asked the room before I crossed over to where Mother sat. I gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head before dropping my bag and scooping a distraught Max up.

"I'm afraid we weren't playing the same games and he had a bit of a meltdown," Mother said. She sounded tired.

"I'm sorry I didn't get home sooner. I thought you'd be all right for the afternoon. Did he take a nap?"

"A nap?" Clara snapped. "No one said anything about a nap."

I let out a long, slow breath and counted to ten as I continued to make shushing, soothing noises to Max. I gently pressed his head down against my shoulder. No nap. That explained a lot. I shouldn't have had to mention a nap. Max had been with us long enough, and we all knew he needed a nap in the afternoon.

"He was fussy all afternoon. He tried to be a good boy, I could tell, but it was all too much for him," Mother said in a very apologetic voice.

She wasn't the one who needed to apologize. She had her limits, and I'm certain Max pushed to the brink of every single one of them. But Clara could have—no, scratch that, it would have been nice if Clara had been willing to step up and help take care of Max during the gaps between nannies. And there were a lot of gaps between nannies. But Clara had as little to do with my boy as she possibly could.

"Mother, he didn't…?"

She was shaking her head before I could finish. "Max is never trouble. Even when he's having a hard day or when he's an angry little boy. He's always so good, so loving. He reminds me of you. You were always such a charming little boy." She sounded wistful. That meant she was tired, overtired, and that could take a hard toll on her system.

"Thank you for watching him. I have a nanny candidate coming after dinner for an interview."

"So late?" Mother asked.

"She was a last-minute suggestion from the agency, and I'm so swamped this week, it was the only time we could work out. I'll see if you're up for meeting her when she gets here."

"Mrs. Anderson will not be up for anything this evening," Clara stepped in.

"Now, Clara," Mother started.

"Now Clara, nothing. You are exhausted to the point of falling over, and you're sitting down. I'm going to see that you're comfortable and then head to the kitchen to see if they can have your dinner early. You will thank me for the rest tomorrow when you feel like getting out of bed. I don't even know if that's going to happen."

"Of course, you're right, Clara. You do take care of me."

Sometimes, I couldn't help but think of Clara as my mother's bully. But she bossed her around for her own good. It was her job, after all. She was like some old-fashioned lady's maid.

"Come give Nana a goodnight hug and kiss," Mother said as she reached her arms up toward Max. She could barely lift him, and she quaked. Clara was right, there was a very good chance Mother would not get out of bed tomorrow.

I leaned down and set Max on her lap. "Max no bed," he whined.

Mother brushed his fine hair to the side and brushed his cheeks with her fingers. "Not you darling, me. Nana is very tired today. I have to have my supper and go to bed early. You daddy is home. He can play with you and keep up. I'm sorry I can't. Now hug me."

Max gave her a mighty squeeze. I saw her wince, but she didn't say anything or pull back, so I didn't interfere. When he let go, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. I picked him up and then hauled my bag back over my shoulder.

"Come on, buddy, let's let Nana rest. Goodnight, Mother." I leaned over and gave her another kiss before carrying Max out of her sitting room.

Clara followed.

"Mr. Anderson," she said.

I stopped and turned. "You need to go back in there and see to my mother," I said as flatly and as calmly as I could. I didn't want to raise my voice unnecessarily around Max. He was already fragile from not having a nap and having to navigate a meltdown without anyone to comfort him.

"When are you planning on having a nanny? Mrs. Anderson cannot look after the boy. He is too rambunctious for her."

I clenched my teeth and grimaced at her. I had thought she would have stepped in and helped out even a fraction. She had in the past, when Max first moved in with us, but now, she was getting more and more belligerent when it came to Max.

I rested my hand on his head. He was so tired, and nothing had been his fault. I couldn't exactly lay blame at my mother's feet. She was ill, and well… No, this was my fault. Clara had been clear about what her limits were. Max was not on the list of things she was willing to help out with.

"I have a temp lined up for tomorrow. I told you when I left that this afternoon's meeting couldn't be helped. Don't worry, he won't be a bother to you or my mother."

I turned and started walking. I didn't care if she wasn't done speaking with me. I was done with her. My mother refused to let me look for another nursemaid-assistant. She thought Clara was perfect. And as much as Clara grated on my nerves, she was here to take care of my mother and she did a very good job at that.

I put my bag in my home office and carried Max into the playroom. I didn't know whether it was too late to try to get him to nap or not. He was usually asleep or just waking up this time of day. I tried to set him down, but he clung his arms around my neck and whimpered.

"Okay, I'll hold on. How about we get a story and go for a ride in the car?"

"Juice and cookie?" When he spoke, it sounded more like deuce and ookie , but I know what he meant.

"You know it."

I checked to make sure I had my keys on me before I carried him into the kitchen. I stepped into the pantry and grabbed three juice boxes. One for him, one for me, and one backup. Max seemed to like it when we shared snacks and ate the same things, and I liked making my boy happy.

I made a quick side trip to his bedroom to pick up his favorite toy of the week, a floppy brown dog stuffed animal, and carried Max out to the car. He happily sucked away at his juice box, clutching his doggie under his arm as I buckled him.

"You good?" I asked and gave him a thumbs up.

He nodded and fumbled with his hands trying to figure out how to give me a thumbs up back while both hands were full. I ruffled his hair and slid into the driver's seat. His favorite story on audio was on my phone. I learned to keep a collection available at a moment's notice. It took a few minutes to get the story playing through the car's speakers.

I checked the rearview mirror. Max's eyes were wide open, to the extreme. He was holding them open, trying to stay awake. I drove down the drive. By the time I pulled out onto our road, his lids were falling hard. But he was fighting it with all of his determination.

I continued until I turned onto the road that wrapped around the coast. It was a scenic drive, so I'd be able to cruise for a while without having to stop for traffic. The constant smooth drive always put Max to sleep. It was also a soothing, Zen-like drive, so I didn't mind the peace. Sometimes, I would take this route just for the thinking time of the drive.

I checked the rearview mirror again. Max was out cold. His head fell to the side and the juice box hung perilously in his slack grip. The straw stuck to his lower lip. I chuckled. He was so tired, so adorable. I continued the drive, even though I didn't need to. He was out. I could have turned around, but he was getting his rest, and I was getting some quiet time.

I checked the time on the dash. I needed to be home to meet the nanny candidate. I needed to turn around in ten minutes, and I could take the long drive home, or I could keep driving and take the shortcut through town. I opted to turn around and cruise, taking in the low evening sun and the crashing waves along the shoreline.

When I pulled in, a slightly battered early century model car sat in my driveway. I drove slowly as a woman with long sun-kissed hair climbed out of her car. She turned to me and gave me a tentative wave.

I parked next to her and got out.

"Are you Mr. Anderson? I'm supposed to meet with him in about five minutes." Her voice was lyrical.

"That's me. I was about to say you're early, but I guess I'm late. Would you like to help me get Max into the house?" I gestured at the car.

Her big eyes went wide, and she scurried over to the car. "Of course."

She opened the back door, and while I couldn't hear her exact words, her tone was soft and calming. When she stood up, Max was limp and clinging to her. He had a handful of her hair. His fingers moved back and forth as if her hair was as silky smooth as it looked.

By the time she had carried Max inside the house, I was ready to offer her the job.