Leah Gainor Flagg

Chelsea greets Emma at the front door, “Finally! I’ve been waiting all day for you to get here!” she takes Emma by the hand and leads her into the playroom where Mrs. Carlson has hung curtains across the back of the room to create a small stage.
“Surprise!” she claps her hands gleefully at Emma’s exaggerated exclamations of delight. “We’re going to sing for you today!”
Mrs. Carlson stays long enough for the little performance and then leaves, saying that she has left a casserole in the oven on low. She sounds as cheerful as always, but when Emma and Anna wave goodbye to her through the window, Emma notices the tired lines in Mrs. Carlson’s face, the tired sag in her shoulders. Abby’s condition seems to be wearing on everyone.
“How’s your mummy today, Chels?”
“Okay. She didn’t sleep as much today. We had breakfast together and walked on the beach looking for feathers and pretty stones for our crafts.” Chelsea gestures toward the table by the window.
“Oh, good! I can’t wait to see what you’re making with all those pretty things!”
“We’re going to make a magic rock for Mummy! It will make her all better so she doesn’t feel sick anymore.” Chelsea’s looks at Emma hopefully, waiting for reassurance that a magic rock really will heal Abby.
Emma takes Chelsea’s hand and smiles a little, “Sweetie, I know that smiles and laughter are the very best medicine. We’ll make her the most beautiful gifts and we’ll sing and dance and make your mummy laugh so she feels better. Okay?”
Chelsea’s head droops, “I wish Mummy would get better for good. She used to sing to me,” she stares wistfully out the window and Emma’s heart breaks for her.
Kneeling down, she puts her arms around Chelsea, “Well it sounds like she’s feeling better today. Why don’t we make the best of every minute with her? Okay?”
Chelsea nods and gives Emma a quick hug before bounding out of the room in search of Abby.
Much later, Chelsea is downstairs saying goodnight to Dr. Mitchell. Emma tucks Anna into bed and goes downstairs to get Chelsea. As she reaches the bottom of the stairs, Emma overhears Chelsea talking in earnest.
“I don’t think Emma believes in magic rocks, but she says making Mummy laugh and smile is just as good. Do you think so Daddy?”
“I don’t know if there is such a thing as magic rocks honey, but I do know Mummy loves you very much and when you make her smile she truly does feel better.”
Emma doesn’t want to interrupt them, and peaks around the corner, wondering if she should walk into the room. Chelsea is sitting with Dr. Mitchell on the couch under the big window in the front room. She wraps her arms around his neck, squeezing herself as close as she can to him, seeking comfort and security.
“I also know there are medicines that can help Mummy and I promise you I won’t stop looking until I find the one that works for her. Okay?” Dr. Mitchell hugs his eldest daughter tightly to him.
Emma is overcome with envy. Chelsea and Anna are so lucky to have a father who loves them, who protects them and makes them promises that she just knows he’ll keep. No matter what happens, whether Abby gets better or not, the girls have a father who adores them. That is more than Emma has had. She hadn’t realized how much she wished for that until this moment.
Mum had never really told them why their father had left, only that ‘things didn’t work out’ between them and he left when Emma and Sam were babies–only a year old.
And then Tom came along. He married their mother and provided them with a ‘roof over their head and food in their bellies’. He played ball with Sam and helped Emma learn to ride a bicycle but he was not an affectionate sort of person nor particularly articulate. What her mother ever saw in him, Emma couldn’t begin to guess. He was simple and dull, content to work at the mill and go fishing on weekends–ice fishing in the winter–and save up to go to Hawaii every year in February. He wasn’t charming or particularly articulate; he made lame jokes and told funny stories that were only entertaining for the coffee shop crowd. He didn’t talk about anything interesting. His only redeeming quality was that he could dance. He had taught Sam and Emma how to swing and country two-step at family weddings and New Years Eve parties. But over the years, Tom seemed to disapprove of everything Emma did, said or expressed an interest in and their relationship from the time she turned twelve had become increasingly tense. She had never felt like Tom loved her in the first place and now Emma resents his very presence in her life.
As for their father, Emma didn’t know when the last time was they had heard from either him or any of his family. She knew he travelled a lot, that his father had died a couple of years ago and his mother had since moved to somewhere in the Okanagan. Emma’s feeling is that if she and Sam aren’t important enough to them to stay in touch, then she isn’t about to reach out to them. She won’t set herself up to be rejected.
She wishes she had the sense of belonging, the sense of value and importance that Chelsea and Anna have with their parents. She doesn’t feel that except with Sam.
Sam. It will be so hard for her to leave him when she goes away after graduation. He plans to go to college nearby but Emma intends to leave for university and come back only when she has to. She hopes Sam will come visit her.
Working for the Mitchells has only reinforced Emma’s desire to free herself from the binding confines of small town life. She cannot think of anything–not even Sam–that could induce her to stay here.
**********
Chelsea and Anna are in the playroom, their voices a cheerful noise in the background of Emma’s thoughts as she sorts clothes in the laundry room. Their laughter and Chelsea’s animated storytelling gives a sense of normalcy to an increasingly disorienting sense of foreboding Emma has felt over the last couple of weeks.
Abby hardly comes out of her room anymore. When she does appear downstairs her hair is a dishevelled mess and she has heavy dark circles under her eyes. She eats very little, speaks rarely, doesn’t make any effort to spend time with Emma and the girls and even seems to be avoiding them.
Chelsea is singing now, her bright tones a counterpoint to Emma’s darkly anxious feelings.
“Don’t you ever want her to just shut up?”
Abby has appeared silently, seemingly out of thin air and her voice behind Emma is startling. Emma turns to see an expression of such profound bitterness on Abby’s face it frightens her. But Abby doesn’t wait for a response; she turns to shuffle her way down the hall and back upstairs to her bedroom.
This is just one more in a series of increasingly bizarre moments Emma has experienced this week. Several times she had felt she was being watched and when she looked around she would find Abby was there looking at her dully, unsmiling, not speaking, only staring morosely. Out on the beach Emma would look up at the house to see Abby standing at the window watching them.
When Dr. Mitchell arrives home he looks haggard and asks Emma if she would be willing to stay an extra day so he can sleep in. Emma feels bad for him and agrees to stay.
When at last the daily routine is done and the girls have been sung to sleep, Emma lays in her own bed listening to the soft murmur of Dr. Mitchell’s voice. It has a soothing tone and because she can also hear Abby softly crying she assumes he is trying to comfort his distraught wife.
Emma wonders if Abby has cancer or something like it and is pulling away from everybody instead of clinging to them. ‘Everybody reacts to stress and illness differently, right?’ she rationalizes to herself, but is dissatisfied with this explanation. She wonders if it’s too presumptuous of her to ask Dr. Mitchell about Abby’s illness and decides that, presumptuous or not, she will try to find a way to ask about it tomorrow.
Morning arrives bright and sunny with clear skies and a light breeze–a perfect day to be out on the lake in a boat or swimming at the beach. If she finishes here before lunch time, Emma decides, she will ask Sam to go out to Tent Island with her to spend the day fishing and swimming.
Dr. Mitchell comes down the stairs, hair messy and eyes blurry with sleep still.
“Good morning Emma,” he yawns.
“Good morning. Do you want some coffee? I have it set and ready to go, you just have to turn it on.”
“Mmm, that sounds great,” he switches on the coffee maker, turns to lean back against the counter with another yawn.
He looks so completely different this morning in track pants and a t-shirt, hair dishevelled like a little boy’s, not at all like the well-put-together doctor Emma has become familiar with. He looks younger somehow, despite being overtired. She had thought his eyes were blue but this morning they almost look green.
“Thanks for staying, Emma. I really needed to catch up on my sleep.”
When he smiles his eyes light up and Emma is embarrassed to realize she is thinking about how cute he is when he’s not being a doctor.
“You’re welcome. I don’t mind, really. I love being with the girls,” she smiles and turns away, trying not to blush and focusing her attention on wiping the toast crumbs from the counter. She hears Chelsea and Anna chattering with each other in the playroom and remembers her resolution of the night before.
“Um, Dr. Mitchell?” she’s not sure how to begin this conversation, but is determined to find out what is wrong with Abby.
“Please, I’m at home–call me Ryan.”
“Okay. Um, listen, I don’t mean to pry, but I’m here so much I think I would feel better knowing what’s going on with Abby.”
He sighs heavily, shoulders tensing defensively as he turns to pace toward windows of the breakfast nook.
“Abby is depressed,” he rubs his forehead as though he has a bad headache. “She gets like this sometimes–she sleeps too much or can’t sleep at all. It’s worse if she doesn’t sleep because she’ll start to hear things, start to think we’re out to get her or want to hurt her.” He stares distractedly out the window and the only sound in the room is that of the coffee percolating and trickling into the pot.
“Oh. I thought maybe she had cancer or something and that’s why she’s so sad.”
“No, she’s just sad. About everything. We thought it was post-partum depression after Chelsea was born, then we thought it was anxiety so we moved from the city hoping it would help,” he shakes his head unhappily.
“I’m sorry. I just–I was worried. She’s so different now from when we met a few weeks ago.”
“I know. She tried very hard. She really likes you and wanted to be well around you,” he smiles wanly.
“Well, I feel a little better knowing what’s going on with her.”
She gets breakfast ready for the girls and he goes upstairs with a tray of coffee, toast and cereal for him and Abby.
Just as she walks out of the kitchen on her way to get the girls from the playroom Emma hears a loud crash from upstairs.
“Abby! Oh god–Abby, no!”
Emma races up the stairs to see what’s wrong. When she gets to the door of the master bedroom, it is open, the tray and spilled coffee lying in a shamble just inside the room. She looks over to see Dr. Mitchell kneeling on the floor of the bathroom but his back is blocking her from seeing anything else. Then she sees blood–lots of blood.
“Oh my god.” Shock and fear immobilize her, she doesn’t know what to do.
“Emma, get me a towel. They’re in the closet there. Bottom shelf.” He turns to look at her, holding her gaze to be sure she has heard him. Grateful for direction, Emma nods and follows his order.
Abby is crying and moaning, mumbling incoherently while her husband tries to get her to respond to him as he wraps her arm in the towel.
“Dr. Mitchell?”
“It’s okay Emma, I’ve got her. Go make sure the girls are outside. Please. I’ll take care of Abby.” He sounds calm now, his voice firm, brooking no questions from her.
Shaking now, Emma carefully makes her way to the bottom stair where she sits and breathes deeply, leaning her head against the wall until she feels somewhat steadier. After a few minutes she goes to the gather the girls and take them outside. Thankfully, they had been listening to music in the playroom loudly enough that they hadn’t heard the commotion upstairs.
Emma keeps a watchful eye on the house as the girls play tag, so she sees when Dr. Mitchell helps Abby into his car and drives away. Surprising herself, she is able to act as though she’s not upset or worried about Abby, even when they go back inside and the girls realize their parents have gone, Emma just shrugs casually and smiles, not looking Chelsea in the eye, “I don’t know. But I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”
When the girls are laying down for their nap, Dr. Mitchell returns. Without Abby.
Emma is sitting in the front room reading when he comes in to talk to her.
“I’m so sorry you were here for that Emma.” He sits down heavily in the chair across from her.
“I’m okay, but what about Abby? What happened?” Emma swallows nervously.
“She cut herself. On purpose,” he looks at her to see that she understands what he means and Emma nods, her eyes wide and expression sombre. “She’s at the hospital here for now, but I’ve got to get her in to see her psychiatrist. We’re going to see if the clinic can take her sooner or if she will have to stay in hospital in Vancouver.”
“Oh. Okay. So you need me to stay with the girls?”
He nods grimly, “Mrs. Carlson isn’t going to be back for a few days yet. I can phone and explain everything to her when she’s back, but–can you stay?”
“Of course. Don’t worry about it. I can stay for as long as you need.” She’s not about to abandon the girls now when they need her most.
“Thank you,” he sighs heavily and rubs his forehead as though trying to massage away his worries.
Emma feels like she should say something but doesn’t know what to say. If it was anybody else she would give him a hug in the hopes of comforting him or at the very least to let him know he’s not alone.
“Dr. Mitchell?”
He keeps his eyes closed, one hand over them still rubbing at his brow, “Ryan. My name is Ryan.”
“I’m sorry–Ryan–um, is there anything else I can do? I mean, I wish I could do more. You seem–all alone, sort of.” She stammers, wishing she knew how to be his friend because it seems to her he needs a friend right now.
“Ha! Yeah. Well, I guess I am, sort of.” His words sound desolate, his laugh a sharp staccato sound punctuating them with bitterness.
Emma is even more uncertain how to respond, thinking for a moment that he is annoyed with her.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you.” He looks at her then, his face is so filled with anxiety and sadness that she impulsively reaches out to take his hand and gives it a squeeze.
“Well, at least you know the girls will be here with me and I promise I’ll do everything I can to help them through this.” She tries to sound confident and reassuring, even though she feels inadequate and that there is little she can do for him. But he squeezes her hand back and nods, giving her a small, grateful smile before he gets up to pace the length of the front room, stopping to stand and stare out the windows.
“I’ll tell the girls when they’re up from their nap. I’ll explain it to them.” Pent up emotions give his voice a raw, strep throat sound and Emma realizes he probably wants to be alone for awhile to get control before he faces the girls. She makes an excuse about going home to get some things for her extended stay and quickly leaves.
At home, she is careful to say only that Abby’s health has taken a sudden turn for the worse, that Ryan will be taking her to a specialist and that, because Mrs. Carlson is away, they are relying on Emma to stay with the girls.
“You make sure they pay you for all your extra hours. It’s good you care, but don’t let them take advantage of you,” Tom says bluntly.
“They’re not like that Tom!” Emma feels protective of them and resents Tom’s words. In this one comment she hears all the Small Town resentment for people who are wealthier, their suspicion of anybody who hadn’t been born and raised there. “You don’t even know them! How can you say something like that? What have they ever done to you?” she slams out of the house then and as she opens the door to her car, Sam stops her.
“He doesn’t mean anything by it, Em. He’s just being protective. It’s what dads do.”
“Okay, for starters he’s not my dad. And he has nothing to protect me from so do me a favour Sam and tell him to just butt the hell out!”
Why does Sam always have to be the nice guy, the peacemaker? Why couldn’t he see how narrow minded and judgemental everybody in Cluny is? Why couldn’t he just say ‘hey, I know what you mean, Tom’s a jerk’ and give her a hug? What was so hard about that? Emma fumes most of the way back out to the Mitchells’. Once there, puts on a calm front so that she doesn’t upset Chelsea and Anna any more than they probably already will be, if they’re up from their nap and Ryan has told them about Abby.
Chapter Four – Time Off for Good Behaviour
‘When it rains it pours’ and after everything else that has happened, the day after Mrs. Carlson returns to work her mother has a stroke. So it is that Emma is still staying at the house when Ryan calls from Vancouver.
“Emma?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Ryan. What are you doing at the house? I thought Mrs. Carlson was back.”
“She is, but her mother had a stroke so she’s gone to the city to be with her at the hospital.”
“Oh god. I’m sorry; this must be really tiresome for you.”
“No, of course not. I love it out here. And I’ve started teaching Anna to swim this week.” She quickly changes the subject, smiling at the memory of Anna’s first dip in the water without her water wings or life jacket, grasping with fright at Emma’s arms.
“Really? Does she like it?” he laughs and Emma’s pleased that she has brightened his day a little.
“She was a little worried at first,” Emma laughs lightly, “but of course Chelsea was quick to show her how much fun it is so now she’s become a little braver. I think we’ll try the doggy paddle in a day or so,” she laugh, “do you want to talk to them?”
“Yes, of course. And thank you Emma, for being so good about all of this.”
“No worries. Hold on a sec and I’ll call the girls.”
She listens as Chelsea chatters on the phone for a few minutes, then Anna has her turn and tells Ryan, “Emma teach me fim, daddy! I fimmin!” in her soft voice that sounds shy even when she’s speaking to her father. Emma smiles at the toddler’s best effort to say ‘swimming’ and after a minute or so Anna brings the phone to her.
“I’m going to be here another few days, Emma. If you want to have a friend out to keep you company that’s fine with me.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll invite my brother out for a bar-b-q. He’d love it out here.”
“That sounds good. And thanks again. I’ll phone the girls tomorrow at about the same time.”
When they say goodbye Emma realizes he hasn’t said anything about how Abby is doing and she wonders if that means Abby is doing better or worse than before. Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk about it yet. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to talk about it with her. She is only the nanny, after all, not his best friend. She frowns and shakes her head, surprised at how much she is offended by that thought.
That night, Emma is lying in bed reading when Chelsea knocks softly on the door and comes in, beside herself with worry.
“I thought the doctors would make Mummy better,” she sobs into Emma’s shoulder.
“Sometimes it takes longer than we think it should, sweetie, but the doctors will do everything they can to help your mummy get better soon. I promise. And your daddy wouldn’t have taken her there if he didn’t think they could make her better.”
Emma tries to comfort her but she is inconsolable and cries herself to sleep in Emma’s arms. Part way through the night Anna wakes and comes into Emma’s room, rubbing at her eyes and sniffling softly. Emma invites her to snuggle and spends the rest of the night overheated and uncomfortable between her two small charges, but is unwilling to send them away to be alone in their own beds. It hurts her to see them so worried and missing Abby and, unable to sleep, finds herself worrying for the little family.
**********
They are expecting Ryan home today, but it is a bittersweet thing for the girls because Abby won’t be coming with him.
Emma tries to keep them focused on positive thoughts, helping them to make pictures and suggesting they make a special meal for him of all his favourites. Now she is sceptical but follows their directions, making what they say are his favourite things: grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with Greek salad for his meal and peanut butter apple pancakes with cranberry juice and gingerale for dessert.
‘Even if they’re wrong,’ she smiles to herself over the strange combination of food, ‘at least they’re busy and happy.’
When they hear a car in the driveway Chelsea squeals, “Daddy’s here! Daddy’s here!” and the two girls rush outside to meet him. Emma follows a short distance behind them and watches as he gets out of the car looking tired but happy to be home.
“There’s my girls!” he smiles widely and kneels down as they fling themselves into his arms. It looks as though they might strangle him, so tightly are their little arms hugging him around his neck. He looks over their heads toward Emma and smiles, sadness, relief and exhaustion playing across his face.
“We made you a special dinner, Daddy! Emma said it might be cold by the time you got home but we can put it in the microwave for you if you want.” Chelsea is telling him now as he walks toward the house with Anna in his arms and Chelsea holding his hand, tugging him impatiently toward the house.
“Well that’s good because I’m starving!”
Emma holds the door for them, suddenly nervous and embarrassed about the food she’s prepared, thinking he’s going to laugh at the ‘menu’.
“I’m sorry, it’s um, they told me these were your favourite things and I really was just trying to keep them busy–” she begins to explain quietly as the girls rush to sit at the table. Ryan looks quizzically at her and she blushes.
As she brings out the salad and platter of sandwiches Ryan’s face lights up with a broad smile, his eyes sparkling brightly and he chuckles.
“This is just what I need after a long day’s driving!” Emma thinks he is humouring her and looks at him with a bashful smile.
“I told you!” Chelsea laughs and claps her hands gleefully, “And we made peanut butter apple pancakes too, Daddy! For Dessert!” she’s grinning broadly and Anna is nodding her head enthusiastically, smiling so broadly her dimples show and her eyes shine like stars when she looks up at Ryan.
“Peanut butter apple pancakes! Well, now I know I’m important! Only the most special people get to have peanut butter apple pancakes for dessert!” he’s laughing now and Emma is relieved to see him relax, playfully teasing his girls.
Over dinner, Chelsea tells Ryan all about their adventures with Emma and about meeting her twin brother Sam.
“But they’re not the kind of twins who are exactly the same. Sam’s hair is darker than Emma’s and his eyes are green! Really green like jewels! Have you ever seen green eyes like that Daddy?”
After they’ve eaten their fill and Emma begins cleaning up the kitchen she pauses to watch Ryan go down to the beach with the girls, one on each side of him, holding hands and strolling along the shore. They roll up their pants and wade in a short way, Anna skipping over the little waves as they roll into the shore.
Emma feels peculiarly at loose ends, a little sad about leaving them now. She reminds herself that she really does need some time to just hang out with Sam, Alicia and Kate. Besides, she’ll be back in a few days for work again.
Upstairs in her room later, she is packing her things to go home when she hears Chelsea talking with Ryan as they come up the stairs.
“Emma let us sleep with her when you were gone. I had bad dreams and she would sing for me so the bad dreams would go away. I think she’s magic, Daddy, because the dreams stopped.” Chelsea is saying quietly, in confidential tones as they step past Emma’s door.
“If she could make your bad dreams stop, I think she’s magic too.” Ryan says softly and Emma hears the smile in his voice. She sits still on her bed, listening as the girls go through their bedtime routine with him, and she feels like an outsider.
A short while later there is a soft knock on her door.
“Emma, can I speak with you downstairs please?” she hears Ryan’s voice on the other side of the door and opens it.
“Of course,” she says as she walks through to follow him downstairs. He goes to the kitchen and gestures for her to sit down at the table in the little nook.
“Abby wanted me to be sure and thank you for all you’ve done here. It’s a great comfort to her, knowing you’re here with the girls.” He begins as he sits down opposite her.
“How is she doing?” Emma asks the question most on her mind.
“Better,” he sighs and looks out the window at the darkness. The window is open and the sound of the waves gently rolling into shore is a soothing, familiar sound. “She has a long way to go this time before she’ll be ready to return home. Her mother is coming over from England to be with her in Vancouver. She’s to receive treatment on an outpatient basis and we live too far away for that, so we’ve rented an apartment there. She’ll be released into her mother’s care.” He sighs heavily and rubs at his tired eyes.
“It’s good to be home. I missed the quiet.” He smiles at Emma then, seeming to put all thoughts of Abby and her illness aside to focus on the present. “How are you doing? Ready for some time off?”
“I’m fine. I guess a few days off will be nice. My brother and some friends have invited me to a beach party this weekend.” She has mixed feelings about not being with Chelsea and Anna. “Actually, I guess I’ve kind of gotten attached to the girls and I was feeling bad about not being here for a few days,” she admits sheepishly.
“I’m sorry Emma. This is a lot for you to deal with isn’t it? You really shouldn’t be worrying about so much,” his smile is gone, replaced by a concerned frown.
“Well, I care about them, there’s nothing wrong with that,” she feels defensive like he’s saying there’s something wrong with her caring about them or that she’s too immature to handle it.
“I just mean you should be out there having fun and enjoying your freedom, that’s all.” He looks at her candidly, surprised by the tone in her voice and apologetic that he seems to have hurt her feelings.
She turns away, wishing she hadn’t said anything. “I’m sorry. I guess I am a bit tired.”
“Well, have a sleep-in. The girls and I will make you breakfast tomorrow–for a change. That’ll be fun for them and then you can head out for your week off.” He smiles apologetically at her, “Will you let us do that much for you? I really feel like I should return the favour.” He grins, alluding to the time, only weeks ago, when she had been willing to stay an extra day so he could catch up on his sleep.
“Except that you paid me for it, so it isn’t really a favour.”
“Ah, but you could have said no and you didn’t. That’s the favour.” He’s looking at her mischievously with one eyebrow raised comically and she can’t help but laugh.
“Okay, okay. But I don’t like peanut butter apple pancakes,” she grins as she gets up from the table to go upstairs.
“Well what do you like then?”
“Strawberries,” she shrugs with a shy smile and says goodnight.