“I’m aware of why you were let go.”
She reached into her bag, handing him over the references she had gained while working at various households as a nanny.
He took the letters, and his cell phone began to ring.
Temperance waited as he checked his phone, then left it ringing while he looked through her pile of paperwork. Working for wealthy businessmen, she was more than aware of the lack of spare time they had. This guy, though, his cell phone stopped and then began ringing again.
“You mentioned that Timothy wasn’t your son,” she said.
“No. He’s been placed in my care due to incorrect circumstances. I didn’t father a child, but it appears his mother lied about his parentage. I’m waiting for the proof to come through. Until then, I need him taken care of.”
He sounded so cold. All she wanted to do was wrap her arms around herself to warm from the chill of his words. Poor Timothy. She wondered if the little boy had been near this man as he spoke with such utter annoyance.
His cell phone continued to ring, and he tutted. “I’m sorry. I really need to get this. Timothy’s down the hall.”
Temperance watched him move in the opposite direction. She gripped her bag tightly to stop herself from hitting this stupid man.
Instead, she took a deep breath, counted to ten, and headed down the long corridor. She turned a corner, and there in one corner of the first room a small boy with blond hair sat on the floor. The television was playing cartoons. She leaned against the doorframe and watched him for several seconds.
Even from her stance she saw the boy was withdrawn, clearly struggling with this new life. His clothes were out of place, old and scruffy when everything in the sitting room appeared to be untouched, impeccable.
Moving into the room, she took a seat on the floor. The sofa didn’t look all that inviting. She sat down on the floor and watched the cartoons, aware of the boy noticing her. Every now and again she laughed at some stupid action on the screen. She didn’t really pay much attention to the cartoon.
Slowly, Timothy moved a little closer to her. She didn’t say anything and stared at the screen.
Every person had their own method when it came to kids. She had learned long ago not to make them like you. She always let kids set their own pace for getting to know her.
“Who are you?” he asked.
She turned her head and offered him a smile. “Temperance.” She held her hand out, and he stared at it before finally putting his smaller one in her hand. “What’s your name?”
“Timothy.”
“Hello, Timothy.” She continued to watch the cartoons.
“I like this one.” She patted the seat beside her, and he sat next to her. “Look at my truck.”
She stared at his truck, and gasped. “That is an awesome truck.”
He held it out to her, and she placed the truck on her knee, making driving sounds as she rolled it over her knee, then onto his own.
Timothy giggled, and it made her smile.
Suddenly that smile stopped, and he looked at her with tears in his eyes. “My mommy died.”
Her heart broke, and she nodded. “I know.”
“She’s never coming back.”
“She’ll always be with you, Timothy. Always.” She placed a finger gently against his heart. “Right there. You think of her, and she will love you always.”
“I hate that she’s gone. She said she’d be there to hug me always.” He wrapped his arms around himself, but she didn’t try to be his mother and take him in her arms. She wanted to do that, though.
An instant need to protect him swamped her.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
There was silence for several seconds.
“He hates me.”
“Who?”
“The big man. He glares at me, but he shouts at other girls and tells them to leave me alone. I wet the bed, and it makes them so mad. Do you get mad?”
She shook her head. “Not often, and never with little boys.”
“Would you like to play with my trucks?” he asked. “I’ve got no friends.”
“I’d love to play trucks.”
He took her hand, pulling her across the sitting room to his pile of toys. He placed a red truck in her lap, and she smiled. For the next ten minutes, they crashed their trucks together.
Timothy grew bored, and he rushed across the room, grabbing a book. “Will you read to me?”
“Of course.”
She took the book, opening it up. Children were amazing people. They trusted so easily, and they made her feel such love for them. One day she hoped to have her own children and shower them with all the love she had to give.
Timothy snuggled up against her as she began to read. She’d get him to repeat words, and she smiled at his rapture in the book.
Temperance wondered if anyone had taken the time to talk to the small boy, or if they’d just passed him from one person to the other. The poor guy.