Chapter Ten

Over the next week, Damien texted me throughout the day. They were frequent, sweet texts, asking me about Mary, and how my day was going. They would always abruptly stop as soon as it got dark. It was jarring. I wondered if it was because he was going out with other women from the town. They all obviously had a thing for him, and it was not like we were in a committed relationship…yet. On Wednesday afternoon, he even called.

“Hey pretty lady,” he said when I answered, and I could tell that he was smiling by the tone of his voice.

“Hey yourself,” I replied. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just thinking about you.”

“Only good thoughts, I hope.”

“Oh, yes, very good.” He paused. I wondered what else he would have to say. Damien’s conversation was never deep. He lacked anything beneath the surface, I had realized, which was very strange for a writer.

“Do you have time for our lunch date, by any chance?” he asked me.

“I can’t,” I replied. “I have a complicated math lesson to get through with Mary today. She’s having a little bit of a tricky time with this one.”

“Agh. We’ve been trying for days,” he complained. “You must be playing hard to get.”

“Nah. I just have a demanding job,” I reasoned. “You’re the one with flexibility, and yet you didn’t seem to have the time when I was free on Tuesday.”

“Touché.” He sighed.

“I’ll see you in church,” I offered.

“Yep.”

“Okay,” I said. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, yours too.” He said it with a startling lack of emotion. As the call disconnected, I thought about Michael. He seemed to always make time to have at least one meal a day with Mary, even if he was slightly distant. He was always there, attempting some sort of communication. I chastised myself for comparing my boss with my supposed and stagnating romantic fling. One did not date the boss. Especially if one was the nanny.

On Sunday, I had just finished pulling my hair back into a neat ponytail. I was wearing a lilac-colored sundress and a pearl necklace from my grandmother. I exited my ensuite bathroom, on my way to help Mary prepare. When I opened the door to my bedroom, Michael was standing in the hallway, his hand raised as though he were about to knock on the door.

“Oh,” I said. “Hello.” He looked me up and down, and smiled nervously.

“I…I was wondering if I could join the two of you,” he said hesitantly.

“Sure,” I said. He nodded.

“Excellent,” he turned. “I’ll get the car.”

“Okay,” I said. I was surprised. I was also nervous—how would he react to my slowly budding relationship with Damien?

I found myself squirming a little in the passenger seat of the Camaro—Michael’s car of choice, as he drove us in to Ashford. He seemed communicative, for once, and even Mary was talking.

“I’ll introduce you to Jackie,” she told him. “She’s my best friend.”

“Oh, really?” Michael asked.

“Yeah. We both have pink tutus,” Mary said. “You’ll really like her.” When I looked over at Michael, I noticed a small smile on his face.

“What about the church?” Michael asked her.

“It’s kind of small,” she admitted. “Smaller than the one I used to go to…but it’s nice. The people are nice. You’ll like them.”

We pulled in, and I stopped by one of the folding tables to drop off the pasta salad that I had brought for the lunch after the service. Michael met me by the door, having dropped Mary off at the Sunday school classroom. He opened the door, gesturing for me to walk in.

“Thanks,” I whispered. He nodded. We were a little late, so we sat in the back row. Glancing around, I saw no sign of Damien Price. My heart sank, wondering why he hadn’t texted me to say that he wouldn’t be there. I frowned and sat back in my seat. I looked at Michael, sitting beside me. His face was sad, eyes wide and solemn. If he had been anyone else, I would have assumed that he was on the verge of tears. He noticed that I was looking at him, and he smiled at me, the gesture not reaching his eyes. He held out a hand. I paused, surprised at the gesture, before taking it.

He pressed my hand in his. I felt torn—what if Damien walked in and saw me holding the hand of another man? But, at the same time, sitting silently beside Michael in church, my hand tucked within his, something felt so…right. The service was lovely—I barely paid it any attention, trying to figure my employer out. He wanted distance, yet hated it, or so it seemed. But what was the reason? What had happened to him to make him distance himself, even from his niece, to whom he had been so close to before?

The service ended, and we stood, heading for the door behind the procession. To my shock, Damien stood beside the door, his hands in his pockets. He stood casually, looking at me with Michael. I looked at Michael—his face was impassive. He didn’t know Damien, I realized.

I waved to Damien, and his smile spread slowly across his face in an almost threatening manner. I felt my stomach drop like a lead weight. Something was wrong—direly wrong. I walked over to him, Michael following.

“Damien, hi,” I said.

“Hello,” he replied, leaning forward, and kissing me on the cheek. Michael’s face looked stern, shocked.

“Um, Michael, this is Damien…Price,” I said feeling the full awkwardness of the situation. “Damien, meet Michael Price, my employer.”

“Nice to meet you,” Michael said, obviously not meaning it, yet holding out his hand anyway. Damien took it, leaning in and whispering something in Michael’s ear. Michael’s face registered shock like I had never seen before. Damien leaned back as he said:

“I know you. All of you.” He turned away from Michael, and took me by the arm.

“If you did,” Michael replied. “Then you would know better than to touch what was mine.” Damien laughed, placing a hand on my arm.

“Shall we get some lunch?” He asked, maneuvering me away. I glanced back at Michael, who was watching us walk away, a look of fury on his face. I mouthed to him, “Are you okay?” He didn’t respond. I turned to Damien.

“What was that about?” I asked. “How do you know each other?”

“We met about three years ago,” Damien replied. “You know, Michael Thompson is rather a dangerous sort. You should really stay away from him.”

“Michael? Dangerous?” I laughed. “He might be a bit stern, and a little eccentric, but I doubt that he’s dangerous. Whatever would make you say something like that?”

“I don’t want to discuss it right now…” Damien looked about us. “In such a public place. We should have lunch.”

“Okay,” I said as we got in line for the buffet. I felt deeply uncomfortable. I looked about me for Mary. I saw that she was talking to Michael. Her eyes were wide, and she was toying nervously with the end of her braid.

“Excuse me for a moment,” I told Damien. He didn’t reply, simply nodding as he grabbed a plate and began piling it with food. I walked over to Michael and Mary.

“What’s going on, guys?” I asked. Mary turned to me a perplexed look on her tiny face.

“He wants to leave without meeting my friends,” she said mournfully.

“I want to leave,” Michael said. “Now.”

“A few more minutes,” Mary pleaded. “Just a few.”

“No. Now, Mary,” he said.

“No,” she stomped a foot, for the first time I’d ever seen her act petulant. She reminded me of her uncle in that moment.

“Mary,” I said, kneeling. “Your uncle says that we have to go. We will see your friends this week at the park. Run and say a quick goodbye to Jackie and the girls and let’s go home. We can fix the dinosaur chicken nuggets for lunch, okay?” She sighed deeply, rolling her eyes.

“Okay.”