Page 26 of The Baby-whisperer and the Brute
Sullivan Reece wasn’t the answer either. I didn’tknowthat he’d hire me to watch over his children—I hadn’t even interviewed for the job for heaven’s sake.
Oh, why couldn’t I have just kept my mouth shut? Why had I talked back to my mother and set this whole horrible ball in motion?
Maybe there was a way to turn things around again. Yes, there had to be. I’d pack my suitcase, carry it downstairs to show Mother how cooperative I was being, and then I’d apologize.
Maybe Mother could still be convinced to cancel the driver for tomorrow morning.
A month wasn’t much time, but to me each day felt precious right now. Maybe I could at least preserve that short window of time to experience a bit of the world before being confined once again to a tiny corner of it.
Kneeling to peer under the bed, I pulled out the large suitcase stored there and unzippered it.
Because I hadn’t planned to leave so soon, I hadn’t yet made a packing list, but at the very least, I knew I’d need underwear. I crossed the room to my dresser, opening the top drawer and lifting a stack of undergarments to transfer into the suitcase.
A loudclicksound made me whirl around.
What?
Was that the door lock? I couldn’t remember when, if ever, the door to my room had been locked.
It could be done from the inside or the outside, but only with an ancient iron key, and there had never been a need with only Mother and I living here and never any overnight guests.
Running to the door, I twisted the knob. There was a noise on the other side.
“Mother! What are you doing?”
The voice from the other side of the heavy wooden door was muffled, but the words were clear enough.
“Protecting you from yourself. I was young once, and I know what a wild hair looks like. You had that look in your eye—the one that leads to heartache. Believe me darling, I’m doing you a favor. I’m saving you.”
I rattled the doorknob again, turning it back and forth in frustration as it refused to budge. “You don’t have to save me. I’m doing what you asked. I’m packing. There’s no need to lock me in.”
“That’s good sweetheart. I knew you’d come to see reason. We’ll get on the road to New Jersey bright and early tomorrow. I’ve already called a car service. The driver will be here at eight a.m. to pick us up. Sleep well.”
Sleep well?Really? After being locked in my tower room like some sort of mythical princess at the mercy of a wicked witch?
“No,” I yelled.
There was no answer. I banged on the solid surface with the side of my fist. “Come back and unlock this door, Mother. I’m not a child. I’m not aprisoner.”
Or was I? The door would open tomorrow morning, but if I went along with my mother’s plan against my own will, wouldn’t I be just as trapped as I felt at this moment?
Everything inside of me rebelled at the thought.
I can’t believe this is my life.
Cinda had been right. Each of us only got one life, and mine should bemine.I was the one who had to live it day by day after all.
Whirling away from the door, I went to the window, threw it open, and let out a scream of impotent frustration.
Not that I expected anyone to hear it. The sound was carried away harmlessly by the night wind and absorbed into the dark, rolling ocean.
Though it provided a temporary release, crying for help wasn’t the answer. Therewasn’tone as far as I could see. Cinda had promised a solution would present itself, but I had run out of time.
The distant sound of pounding footfalls drew my eyes down to the Bluff Walk. A lone jogger ran in the moonlight. I couldn’t see him clearly, but I could make out the shape and size of him.
It was unmistakably Sullivan Reece. Had to be—no one else looked like him.
He must have gotten a babysitter or something because he was alone, running hard, as if trying to dispel an entire week’s worth of frustration and energy.
