I park my car in the shadow of the trees on one side of the driveway, leaving space for Joanne’s car once she gets here, and kill the engine. Peony doesn’t stir.
I climb out and open her door. “We’re home, sweetie,” I say softly, so as not to startle her. “I’ll just put you down for a nap in your bed, and by the time you wake up, Granny will be here.”
Peony doesn’t so much as blink open an eye at my voice.
I was at Picnic & Treats earlier when Joanne phoned and asked for my help. Athena has the afternoon off, and Joanne was looking after Peony, because Garrett has gone out of town for a week, which was news to me.
But then a medical-appointment spot opened up. She phoned to see if I could look after Peony for an hour or two.
And I was more than happy to help out. I haven’t seen Peony since last Thursday. Instead, I’ve come up with excuse after excuse as to why I can’t go for my usual walk with Garrett.
I’m not ready to see him just yet.
A litany of questions still burns on my tongue. Questions about how Garrett is doing. If he’s almost finished with his novel. I also wonder what he was talking about when he claimed the death of his two friends was his fault.
I never mentioned the last part to Emily when she came over with Ben & Jerry’s. And I didn’t mention it to Troy and Kellan on Friday night,during our weekly Game Night. A Game Night that only consisted of Troy, Jess, Kellan, Emily, and me, because Garrett, Lucas, and Simone were home with their kids.
I unbuckle Peony’s car seat harness and remove her and Poppy from the car. She stirs in my arms, her head on my shoulder, but otherwise remains comatose.
I carry her to the house, leaving my purse and her bag in the car. I unlock the front door, step inside the house, and key in the password to the security system, disengaging it.
A hollow silence stretches endlessly around me like a tomb. So different to what it usually feels like in Garrett’s home—especially now that Peony lives here.
I can’t tell if Athena is somewhere in the house, out of earshot. Or she might be in the backyard, enjoying the warm summer day.
I put my keys on the hall table, next to the vase filled with flowers from the garden, toe off my sandals, and walk deeper into the house. A few months ago, this place resembled a man cave. A nicely decorated one, but a man cave no less. Now, flower-filled vases decorate the hallway, living room, and kitchen. In the living room, floral cushions crowd the couch. Cushions that weren’t here several months ago.
The light sage throw that complements the cushions is another addition that had nothing to do with me. It’s like Athena is weaving herself into the family, becoming an important thread integrated into the delicate pattern. But at the same time, I can’t tell if she longs for Garrett the way I do, if she sees herself as one day being his girlfriend or his wife.
Before I stupidly, idiotically confessed I was in love with him, Garrett told me she hadn’t made any moves that suggest she sees herself fitting into his life that way. Maybe helping to decorate your employer’s home is part of the nanny job description.
I walk down the hallway to Peony’s bedroom. Her curtains are open, allowing the late afternoon sunlight to stream across the hardwood floor. I peek through the window into the backyard, but it doesn’t look as though Athena is out there.
I have no idea what Athena does during her spare time. I don’t thinkGarrett knows either. She’s private about what she does when she’s not working…like she’s private about a lot of things.
Peony blinks herself awake and slowly straightens in my arms.
I smile softly at her. “I take it you’ve finished your nap?”
She looks at the floor. “Daisy.”
“You want your elephant?” I’m grasping for bent straws here. Her panda is named after a flower, so it makes sense her elephant would be named after one too.
She nods, eyes puppy-dog wide.
Her floppy stuffed elephant isn’t on the floor or the bed or the bookshelf. Nor is it on the rocking armchair.
I lower Peony to the floor and walk over to the toddler bed. I get down on my stomach, peer under the bed, and pull out a board book, a red ball, and a yellow plastic donut-sized ring.
But no Daisy.
I search through Peony’s toy box, but it’s not here either. “Let’s look in the living room. She’s probably there.”
We head back to the living room. When a cursory glance around the room doesn’t result in Daisy, we look under the coffee table and behind the couch and on the bookshelves. But still no sign of the elephant.
“Any idea where you last saw her?” I ask Peony.
She takes one last quick scan of the room and takes off running down the hallway. I follow her.
