Page 22 of A Rancher's Heart
Sasha’s voice rose in volume. “Emma doesn’t talk. I talk for her, and she doesn’t want to empty her backpack. And she doesn’t want you to write anything on the calendar, and shedoesn’twant a nanny. Neither of us do.”
“Well. Thank you very much for sharing your opinion. Now you need to wait your turn because I’m talking to Emma.” Tamara turned her back on Sasha and focused on the little blonde-haired darling who was chewing madly on her lower lip. Where Sasha had gone louder, Tamara spoke with quiet authority.
“You’re a very smart little girl, and if you don’t want to talk out loud, I figure that’s your business. But that means when somebody asks you a question, or you want to tell another person something, you have to use the smarts you have up here”—Tamara tapped a finger against her forehead—“and make it clear what you’d like. You can write a note. You can draw a picture. You can act it out, but I’ll warn you I have never been good at charades, so that one might take a long time.”
Emma folded her arms over her chest, lower lip sticking out in a frustration, and for a split second she and Sasha looked like mirror statues. Stubborn, not very happy statues.
“Emma doesn’t like being bossed around—”
Tamara snapped a hand toward Sasha. “Please don’t interrupt. Your sister and I are having a conversation.”
Sasha’s jaw dropped in shock, giving Tamara just enough time to pick up where she left off, looking Emma in the eye. “Your sister is lovely, but she’s not you. If youwanther to answer for you, tell her that. Poke her, throw something at her, use sign language. I don’t care how, but when I’m around she’s not allowed to simply talkforyou unless you tell her she can.”
Sasha bristled. “I know what she wants.”
“You just interrupted again,” Tamara pointed out. “But fine. Let’s talk about that. I’m sure you do know what Emma wants—sometimes. Maybe even most of the time.” Tamara eyed Emma and crossed her fingers, hoping for the best. “All the time? Does Sasha get it rightallthe time? Does shealwaysknow what you would ask for? What you’d like to eat, or what you’d like to be for Halloween?”
A slow reluctant shake of blonde curls followed.
Thank goodness for truthful little girls.
Tamara raised a brow at Sasha, speaking even softer. “You need to be more polite to your sister, and not assume as much. I know you love her, and Iknowyou’re just trying to help. I have zero problem with you delivering the messageifEmma asks you to, and I don’t care if she uses telepathy to ask.”
Sasha’s face wrinkled in confusion, but she refused to ask what that meant.
Fine—Tamara had never believed in pandering. “Starts liketelephone, turns into the wordpathwith ayat the end. Look it up.”
She ignored them for a moment and turned to the counter, bringing forward the cookies she’d made earlier and glasses of milk. “Hungry? Want a snack before you empty your backpacks then get started on your homework?”
This was the moment where it could all go wrong. Emma reached for a cookie with one hand and a glass of milk with her other.
Sasha…
Her lower lip trembled for a second before her entire face contorted. She folded her arms on the countertop, buried her face in the crook of an elbow, and began crying at the top of her lungs.
It was pretty impressive.
Only this wasn’t the first temper tantrum Tamara had seen—she’d spent a lot of time on the children’s ward at the hospital and had seen crying and upset tears for far better reasons than having the law laid down.
Which is why it was fairly easy to ignore the fuss and reach for a cookie. She enjoyed the sweet treat as Emma glanced back and forth between the two of them, her eyes growing wider and wider as Tamara did nothing to try to settle the shrieking Sasha.
Tamara wiped her mouth daintily before speaking to Emma. “She’ll be okay. She’s just feeling a little emotional. Do you want me to help you with your backpack?”
Emma took another nibble from her cookie as Sasha wailed even louder. Finally, with amazing fortitude, she patted her sister on the back then pushed her schoolwork towards Tamara, freeing both hands for her glass of milk.
So be it. They might go deaf, but Tamara figured this was an acceptable first step in the nanny process. She popped the rest of her cookie into her mouth and did the next thing.
