Page 15 of Puck Your Nanny

"Here we are," Calvin announces, breaking the quiet as he turns into a driveway.

I look up, and my breath catches. The house is larger than I imagined. A two-story colonial with a wide porch spanning the entire front, dark green shutters framing the windows. It’s beautiful. And intimidating.

Calvin parks, and we get out. I unbuckle William and lift him out, settling him into his stroller. He’s still awake, his eyes wide and curious, taking everything in.

"Ready?" Calvin asks, giving me a reassuring smile.

I take a deep breath. "Ready."

He leads the way to the front door, punching a code into the keypad, the same as the pack house, I notice, and the door swings open.

"After you," he says, gesturing for me to enter.

I wheel William’s stroller across the threshold and step into a house frozen in time. The air is still and quiet. The space is meticulously clean. I feel like an intruder in something private, something sacred. This isn’t just a house, it’s a home filled with memories, with love and laughter and loss. Even though I never knew Nate’s father or Stacy, I can feel their presence and their absence everywhere I look.

The entryway opens into a large living room. Sunlight filters through gauzy curtains, it illuminates the family photographs that cover the walls. I go over to study them. Nate appears in several, younger and carefree. Beside him stands a handsome man, who I assume is his father. Recent images show Nate's father as older, accompanied by Stacy as she holds her pregnant belly; it had to have only been a few months ago. It really hits home how fast everything can change. You think you have all the time in the world until you don't. I look away, not wanting to cry over the thought of how little time she had with her baby.

Calvin steps up beside me, his touch gentle on my elbow, guiding me toward the staircase at the far end of the room. The soft, earthy aroma of sandalwood and lavender drifts around us, warmer with his closeness. It seems to radiate from him, even though he says wears no cologne. My skin prickles with pleasant awareness, senses heightened as warmth gathers in my center.

“His room is up here.”

His words bring me back to reality. I need to focus on what we're doing. William is important right now, not what Calvin smells like to me.

I glance at William asleep in the stroller and move to unbuckle him, so we don't have to take the stroller up the stairs. Calvin remains close, hands relaxed by his sides.

He leads me upstairs, opening a pale yellow painted door to reveal William’s nursery. The room is warm and welcoming, walls painted soft yellow with a playful mural of clouds and stars across from the door. A crib rests in one corner, with a rocking chair draped with a cozy quilt nearby. A mobile sways above the crib, moons and stars twirl in the breeze from an open window. Calvin brushes past me, his fingers drifting over my arm as he smiles. The sandalwood and lavender scent deepens, enveloping me, fueling a subtle pulse beneath my skin.

I step toward the window, needing some of the fresh air to clear my head.

Calvin moves to the closet, retrieving a small suitcase and setting it open on the plush rug.

“Take your time. Grab whatever he’ll need: clothes, blankets, toys. I'll get diapers and wipes.”

I place William in the crib, smoothing his soft curls as he settles. Then close the window, so the draft isn't hitting his face while he rests. Hopefully, the scent coming from Calvin will stop effecting me.

Turning to the dresser, I select outfits and essentials. Calvin moves through the room, collecting diapers, wipes, and baby shampoo with quiet efficiency.

He pauses at the rocking chair, fingers grazing the quilted baby blanket, tracing its intricate patterns of teddy bears and yellow duckies. He picks it up and turns toward me.

“Stacy made this for him. Every stitch was a done with love.”

I step closer, taking the blanket from Calvin’s hands. Our fingers brush, sending a small shiver down my spine. I fold the blanket and place it atop the clothes in the suitcase. William stirs again, a soft whimper breaking the silence. I lift him, cradling him close.

“He’s lucky. Stacy’s love for him is still here, even if she isn’t.”

Calvin comes over, his fingers brushing William’s tiny hand. His proximity amplifies the scent, increasing the gentle ache that's growing in my center. My heartbeat quickens, and I focus on William, trying to ground myself in the innocence of the moment.

“He’s calmer now. The first two days, he cried a lot. You’ve had a good effect on him. Stacy would have loved seeing this.”

Warmth blooms in my chest. It hurts that she can't be here for him instead, but I'm glad I've helped eased his stress over his mother disappearing.

“He deserves it. I just want him to feel safe.”

Calvin glances at the packed suitcase and diaper bag.

“We've got enough for today. If you need anything else, we can always come back.” He picks up the bags and carries them.

We move downstairs, William resting content in my arms. Before I place him in the stroller and push it out the door as Calvin holds it open from me. The brightness outside contrasts with the heaviness within the house.

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