Page 116 of The Nanny and the Nerd
Twenty-Four
Rowen
He didn’t wantto let go of this night, of this feeling, of this love, of the belief that he wasn’t destined to be alone. He couldn’t let his past win. He could do this. Pushing the needling discomfort aside, he closed his eyes and tried to control the panic pulsing through his veins. He couldn’t allow it to take over. Not tonight.
“Let’s get to our girl, Rowen. We’ll figure it out,” Penny assured him, putting on her seat belt, concern flashing in her eyes.
She wasn’t the only one who was uneasy.
He started the car and headed for the marina, but he couldn’t shake this ominous feeling. Yes, he was worried about his niece, but that damned nagging voice in his head was back. The voice that chided him—that darkened his soul.
The rain, or possibly the late hour, had left the waterfront deserted. They left the car parked in the empty lot, and he scanned the marina. He spied a couple of attendants smoking cigarettes huddled beneath an umbrella. He signaled to the men, then tossed one of the attendants the keys to the rental. The acrid, tobacco-scented air did nothing to help ease his apprehensive countenance. The last thing he wanted was to ruin this night with his overactive mind. But as much as he tried, he couldn’t quell the simmering unrest. But he had to fight it. He couldn’t give in to the part of him that required complete and total control. The part that shut everyone out. It was his go-to reaction—or it had been until Penny showed him a different way to live. He tried to summon one of his sensory coping strategies. Focus on something else. Count the number of boats in the marina. Concentrate on the sound of the water. But nothing helped.
The trip back to the yacht was night and day different from their ride over. There was no handholding or snuggling. He had too much on his mind. Not sure of what else to do, he kept his gaze trained on the jet-black waters, and it wasn’t long before he pulled up to the yacht. One of the crew and a worried-looking David met them on the lower deck.
“I’m sorry we had to text you,” Jerome’s husband said, wringing his hands.
“You don’t need to apologize,” Penny replied as they stepped off the speedboat. “We’re glad you did, David. Where’s Phoebe?”
“She’s down here. On the starboard deck,” the man answered, concern etched in his expression.
Fear pulsed through Rowen’s body. The back of the yacht wasn’t a safe place for a child. During the day, the crew put up a slide so they could swim in the ocean. Phoebe loved it, but there was always an adult with her. But at night, it was a dangerous place for anyone, let alone a little girl.
“Why did she come down to the lower deck?” Penny asked.
“I’m not sure. She got out of bed and must have slipped past us.”
That was Phoebe to a tee. He’d lost count of the times his niece would sneak into his office to take…
Oh no! The knot in his stomach twisted.
“What was she doing when you found her?” Rowen asked as a sharp wail cut through the night air.
“Phoebe!” Penny exclaimed, running toward the starboard deck. He and David followed as the cries grew louder.
Jerome sat in a deck chair, holding Phoebe in his arms. She was wrapped in a towel, and her face was red and swollen from crying.
Penny dropped to her knees. “You’re soaking wet,” she said, brushing the wet locks of hair from the child’s tear-stained cheek. “What happened, honey? Why did you come down to the lower deck?”
He scanned the area and saw Phoebe’s backpack. Phoebe’s empty backpack. He joined Penny, and the child sprang from Jerome’s embrace into his.
“Easy now, Phoebe! Tell us what’s going on?”
The little girl’s bottom lip trembled as a fresh batch of tears trailed down her cheeks. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and sobbed.
“Did an alarm go off?” Penny asked, directing the question to Jerome. “Any loud sound? Even a blow horn?”
The man shook his head as his cell phone chimed a flurry of incoming texts. He pulled it from his pocket, stared at the screen, then swallowed hard. “Sorry, that’s…” he began but didn’t finish. Jerome looked awful. Completely gutted. “No, there weren’t any loud sounds,” he answered.
“It’s been peaceful,” David added. “There was a little thunder when that storm rolled in, but Phoebe didn’t seem bothered by it when it rained a few days ago. I didn’t think to go in and check on her. I’m sorry, Rowen.”
The men hadn’t done anything wrong. Storms didn’t bother Phoebe. Her anxiety stemmed from her grandmother’s stroke. Something else must have happened to get her worked up and into this state.
He patted her little, wet head. “Phoebe, what were you doing out here?”
“We want to help you, honey. You can tell us,” Penny added.
Phoebe took a few gulps of air. “I thought of a sink or float experiment all on my own. I wanted to do it and tell you about it. I made a hypothesis like we do in school, and then I had my crayons to draw a picture of the experiment. Then I got another big idea.”
