The Nanny's Double Trouble

And really, since before that, even. More like five years, since about the time Lillie started really pushing him to try for a baby of their own.

“Okay, what’d I say?” Keely asked.

“Huh? Nothing. Why?”

“You looked... I don’t know. Faraway. Unhappy.”

He tried for a laugh. It came out as more of a grunt. “I always look unhappy. Ask anyone who knows me.”

“Now, see. I want to say that’s not true. But, Daniel, it kind of is.”

He had the absolutely unacceptable urge to start talking about Lillie, about how angry he still was at her after all this time, for betting on her life. And losing.

What was the matter with him? To even consider spilling his guts about Lillie to Keely, of all people? That would be a bad idea of spectacular proportions.

Wouldn’t it? Why did he have this powerful feeling that Keely would understand?

Didn’t matter. He just wasn’t going there. No way.

And he needed to get out of there. Now.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “What can I say? Except, yeah, I’m a gloomy guy. And since you’re good to go here, I’ll see you in the morning.”

She didn’t reply for several seconds, just looked at him, kind of thoughtful and sad, both at once. A soft sigh escaped her. “All right then. Night.”

“Night—come on, Maisey. Let’s go.” The dog, stretched out by the window, got up and followed him from the room.

With Maisey trotting along behind, he went down the stairs to let her out before bed. He walked fast, too, just in case Keely got it in her head to try to stop him, to start asking questions he saw no win in answering.

* * *

Daniel got in bed around midnight. He had trouble sleeping until a little after two, when he heard Grace come in. Relieved that she was home safe, he finally drifted off.

He woke to the sound of one of the kids crying. Maisey was already out of her dog bed and sniffing at the door. She gave a worried little whine, urging him to hurry as he yanked on track pants and a frayed Go Beavers T-shirt. When he opened the door, she pushed out ahead of him, leading the way along the hallway to the twins’ bedroom.

The door stood open, dim light spilling out. Maisey went in first.

Keely was already there, Frannie in her arms. She was pacing the floor in the muted light from the little lamp on the green dresser. She turned when he entered, her hand on the back of Frannie’s head, stroking gently as Frannie sobbed against her shoulder.

He felt that familiar ache his chest, the one he got when one of his own was hurting. A quick glance at Jake’s crib showed him his boy was still asleep. That miracle wouldn’t last long. “Let me take her,” he whispered.

Keely kissed Frannie’s temple. “Here’s your daddy,” she murmured, keeping it low, probably hoping Jake wouldn’t wake up.

Yeah. Good luck with that.

Daniel held out his arms. With a sad little cry, Frannie twisted in Keely’s hold and fell toward him. “Da-Da!” she wailed. He caught her and gathered her in. She dropped her head against his chest. “Ow. Ow, ow, ow.”

Keely moved in close, the soft sleeve of her flannel pajama top brushing his arm. He got a faint whiff of sweetness—her shampoo? Her perfume? “Ear infection?” she whispered.

He felt the back of Frannie’s neck as she sobbed against his chest. “She seems kind of hot.”

“I thought so, too.”

“We should take her temperature.”

“I’ll get the thermometer.”

“It’s the one that says rectal on the case,” he advised over Frannie’s unhappy cries. Rectal. Story of his life. Rectal thermometers and never enough sleep—and did Keely know where to look? “Cabinet in the big bathroom,” he added. “On the left, second shelf. Just to be sure it’s sterile, clean it with alcohol and a little soap and water.”

“You got it.” She disappeared into the hallway. Really, she was a champ, that Keely.

About then, Jake woke up with a startled cry. “Da?”

“It’s okay, big guy.”

“Fa-Fa?” It was Jake’s name for his sister.

“She’s not feeling so good.”

Jake stood up in his crib. “Fa-Fa?” he called again.

Frannie answered, “Day!” She couldn’t make the j sound yet, and she tended to drop hard sounds at the ends of words, so the k got lost, too, and she called her twin Day. “Ow, ow, ow!”

“Shh.” Daniel soothed her. “It’s okay...” Gently, he laid his wailing daughter on the changing table. As she wiggled and whined, he took off her one-piece pajamas and her diaper. Meanwhile, Jake jumped up and down in his crib, calling out “Fa-Fa, Fa-Fa!” in frantic sympathy, followed by a bunch of nonsense words to which Frannie replied with nonsense of her own—well, maybe not nonsense to the two of them. They had their own language that only they understood.

Keely came back with the thermometer in one hand, a bottle of liquid Tylenol and a dosing syringe in the other. “We’ll probably need it,” she said, meaning the Tylenol. Chances were way too good she was right.

He held out his hand as Frannie continued to cry and squirm. Keely passed him the thermometer—and Jake let out a wail from his crib.

“I’ll get him,” she said. “Tylenol’s right here.” She set it on the shelf above the changing table and went to reassure Jake.

The thermometer registered 102 degrees. He put a fresh diaper on Frannie and dosed her with the Tylenol as Keely sat in the corner rocker, soothing the worried Jake.

Once he had Frannie back in her pajamas, he walked the floor with her until the Tylenol seemed to kick in. She went to sleep against his shoulder.

He kissed the top of her sweaty little head and glanced over to find Keely watching him.

She mouthed, Sleeping? At his nod, she nodded back, pointing at Jake, who was curled up against her, sound asleep, too.

It was only a few steps to Frannie’s crib. He carried her over there and slowly, gently, laid her down. She didn’t stir as he tucked the blanket in around her.

Across the room in the other crib, Keely was tucking Jake in, too. She turned off the lamp, and they tiptoed from the now-quiet room together.

“Psst. Maisey,” he whispered. The dog lurched to her feet and waddled out after them. Daniel closed the door. “Whew.”

Keely leaned back against the wall next to her bedroom and said hopefully, “Maybe they’ll sleep the rest of the night and Frannie will be all better in the morning.”

“Dreamer. And what rest of the night? It’s already morning, in case you didn’t notice.”