Page 21 of Stolen Fate

My phone kept ringing for another minute, but for the life of me, I couldn’t find it in my bag. I had half a mind to dump everything in my purse out onto the clean linoleum floor, when someone bumped into me and everything fell out anyway.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry, Miss. Are you okay?” the man asked, bending down to help pick up my things as well as the stack of paper he was carrying.

“That’s okay,” I said, shoving everything into my purse, including my phone. It wasn’t ringing anymore and a quick glance told me it was Katie who had called. I zipped the bag up and helped the man gather up some of his paper.

“Thanks,” he said distractedly and without looking at me. I couldn’t even tell what he looked like, except that he had dark hair.

I watched him rush to the elevator and wondered absently what his hurry was, before picking myself up. I had taken one step before a flash of yellow caught my eyes.

I looked down and saw a yellow piece of paper was stuck to my shoe. It must have belonged to the guy who bumped into me, but he was gone, so I figured I would just hand it to Josh, one of the security guards at the hospital, in case the man came looking for it.

When I grabbed the paper to look at it, though, what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

It was a flyer advertising a nanny position for a five-year-old boy for some family who mostly lived in New York. They were conducting the interviews here in Boston, where they sometimes traveled, and if hired, you’d move to New York with them as a live-in nanny.

To move to another state was something I had never thought about. I always believed I would live and die in Massachusetts. And though New York wasn’t far by any means, it was far enough.

I could start over.

And I was qualified. I had worked with children my entire career, and my degree in childhood education wouldn’t go to waste. It wouldn’t be like teaching in a classroom where I had to manage and care for thirty children, and it wouldn’t be like it was here, where I was watching the children slowly get sicker and sicker without being able to do a damn thing about it.

It was one child.

One healthy child in need of a good caregiver, and I could be that.

At this point, I didn’t care what the salary was, or even that they would be covering room and board. My decision was made, I stuffed the paper back into my purse and walked out of there. I wasn’t feeling tired anymore.

I was feeling restless and hopeful and scared.

Hopefully, I wouldn’t come to regret the decision to uproot my entire life once again. The saying “Famous last words,” rang in my head like a bad omen…

---