Page 8 of The Nanny and the Don
“Yes, Sicily,” I groaned, knowing there would be follow-up questions that I couldn’t answer even if I wanted to. She knew how I was about questions, so hopefully she would keep it brief. I was irritable enough as it was.
“I didn’t even know you had a sister, Mr. Gray. How many will there be? Is she coming with them?”
“I don’t know and no. Just make sure the rooms are ready for them. I’ll be back tonight sometime.”
I had a four-hour drive ahead of me and no clue what was waiting for me when I got there.
After a long boring drive, I pulled up to a house that looked like it had been abandoned for years. If it weren’t for the car parked in front of me and the woman standing on the porch holding a clipboard, I would have thought it was. I double checked the address to verify that I was in the right place. According to the message I read over three times, I was.
I don’t think anything could have prepared me for what I walked into when I showed up at the address Four sent me. The house was small and quaint, and it wasn’t in the best neighborhood. Still, I knew those places had to be thoroughly checked out before they were approved. That wasn’t saying much because Angela and I had lived in some of the most deplorable conditions known to man when we were in the system.
The thought of my flesh and blood going through half of what we had to endure made me sick to my stomach. As long as I had anything to do with it, those kids would never miss a meal or have to wonder if they were safe. As long as I could help it, they would have the best of everything and be thoroughly protected.
The foul stench of dried urine and mildew greeted me as I stepped onto the porch where the social worker stood. Apparently, my disgust was written all over my face because she immediately went into defense mode.
“Mr. Gray, I’m sure these aren’t the ideal conditions for your loved ones, but this was the only place we could find on such a short notice. I assure you that the children are fine.”
“Have you been inside?” I quizzed.
“No, sir. I just arrived.”
“Well, how can you assure me of anything?” I asked as I raised my hand and knocked on the door.
As if they were waiting on my arrival, someone swiftly whipped the door open. A redheaded woman who was at least sixty years old answered the door smoking a cigarette. Plucking the cigarette from her lips, I flicked it into the overgrown grass before stepping past her into the house.
“Ms. Gale, this is Mr. Gray. He’s here to pick up the children who were placed in your custody last night.”
“They right there,” she announced from somewhere behind me.
I didn’t have to look around much to find them since they were the only black children in the room where six children were asleep on the floor. In a perfect world, I would have taken them all. This was no place for a child or even an adult to live. So much for the social worker’s guarantee. I reached down and picked the little girl up first, cradling her in my arms before scooping up the boy.
“Just these two?” I asked, turning to the two women.
“Yes, only them.”
“What are their names? I haven’t spoken to my sister in a while.”
“King and Evie. He’s just turned four years old and she’s two.”
“OK.”
It didn’t matter how strong I was. I felt awkward holding the children. They were so little. It crushed me to see how dirty they were. The little girl’s clothes were soaked with urine, almost sending me into a rage. At the same time, I knew little kids peed in the bed so I couldn’t blame the temporary guardian for that.
I was just glad that I was here now. As I looked between my niece and nephew, their sweet faces caused my heart to seize up in my chest. The little girl stirred in my arms, and I prayed thatshe didn’t wake up. I needed to get them to someone who knew what to do with them. I wasn’t qualified to care for anybody’s children. At the same time, I knew I had to be better suited to take care of them than the people in this house.
“You’ll need to get car seats for both of them,” the social worker informed me as she followed me outside.
“I want my mommy,” the boy said as I opened the back door of my car and put him down.
Fuck.
He looked so much like me when I was his age that it was scary. Even hearing him cry for his mama hit home. There were so many nights that I cried for my mama before I realized that there was no use. Hopefully that wouldn’t be my nephew’s fate.
“Your mom wants me to take care of you until she gets back,” I said as I buckled him into the seat belt that didn’t fit his little body.
“I know you. Your name is Uncle Steel. It’s pictures of you at my mama house.”
Why did that cause a subtle flutter in my chest? Not only did my sister’s son know who I was, but she had pictures of me.
