A Nanny Named Nick
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Miranda Lee
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Chapter 1
FROM the street outside came the low rumble of a motorbike as it burbled into the kerb. Thirty seconds later, the bikeās owner appeared in the bar doorway, his tall, broad-shouldered silhouette momentarily blocking out the noonday sun.
Dave glanced up from where he was sitting alone at a table, cradling a schooner of beer. His eyes widened as recognition struck.
Good Lord. Nick! Nick was back from wherever it was heād disappeared to nearly eighteen months before.
Dave wasnāt sure if he was pleased or not. He liked Nick. A lot. He enjoyed his company more than that of any man heād ever met. But there had been a measure of relief in having his nephewās biological father vanish off the face of the map.
Dave had known right from the start that he should not have allowed Linda to coerce him into finding her a suitable sperm donor for the baby sheād suddenly been determined to have.
But heād been afraid that if he didnāt do what she wanted his headstrong kid sister would simply go off and sleep with someone highly unsuitable.
Her long-term live-in lover had just been tragically killed while on a photographic assignment in Cambodia, and Linda had decided to fill the great hole in her heart and her life by having the baby that Gordon had always promised her but never delivered.
Not just any old baby, of course. Sheād wanted her child to inherit the sort of genes that Gordon would have passed on if heād lived. Consequently, the sperm donor was to be nothing short of a creative genius. And a perfect physical specimen as well. Sheād seen some damned programme on TV about an American clinic which had āsmartā sperm to give to women who wanted good-looking, gifted children and sheād thought the concept quite wonderful!
Naturally, there wasnāt such an advanced-thinking clinic in Australia. Neither had Lindaās foray to Sydneyās sperm bank found even a remote match to her prerequisites for the prospective father of her āgiftedā progeny.
So sheād turned to her big brotherāwhich she only did in moments of dire needāflattering his male ego by saying he must know of someone in his circle of smart, sophisticated friends who would fit the bill. Some clever, creative, unconventional fellow who had looks to burn and no qualms about giving some unknown woman the seed of his loins.
Dave had immediately thought of Nick.
Though most wouldnāt have.
He smiled wryly to himself as the man in question strode further into the bar, bringing his not inconsiderable physical assets under the overhead lighting.
Tall. dark and handsome was hardly an adequate description. It did fit, superficially. Yet it was far too bland to encompass the complex man Dave had found Nick to be.
When peopleāand especially womenāfirst looked at Nick, they never associated him with either intelligence or creativity, except of the most basic kind. Dave could appreciate their mistake. It was difficult to see past that incredible body to the real man inside, or past the highly sexual gleam in those brilliant black eyes to the brains behind them.
Nick was not what he seemed. Aside from his well-disguised IQ he also looked a damned sight younger than his thirty-five years, which meant he could get away with wearing collar-length hair, skin-tight jeans and a black leather jacket with a fierce-looking eagle emblazoned across the back. Dave was barely two years older than Nick, but knew heād look damned stupid in that get-up.
āOkay if I use the piano, Hal?ā Nick asked the barman.
Hal nodded, and those who werenāt long-time regulars stared in amazement as this macho-looking bikie walked over to the battered upright piano in the corner, slapped his leather gloves down on the lid, sat down at the scratched wooden stool and began to play a Chopin polonaise.
His long, lean fingers flew over the keys, passionate and note-perfect in their execution. The hotel patrons grew silent as they listened, amazed and intrigued. Classical music might not have been the usual fare offered in this setting but they recognised the brilliance of the player and the contradiction in terms of what they were seeing and hearing.
Nickās fingers flew faster till finally the climax of the piece was reached in one last dramatic, flamboyant flourish of notes. For a few moments, he bent over the keyboard as though exhausted, eyes closed, his unruly black hair falling forward.
But then he straightened, pushed back his hair, closed the piano, stood up and gave a mock bow to his partially stunned audience. Dave began to clap, soon followed by the rest of the Saturday afternoon drinkers.
Nick turned to smile at his friend, then indicated he would get a beer before joining him.
āI see you havenāt lost your touch,ā Dave complimented Nick when his friend scraped out a chair and sat down.
Nick laughed. āYouāve got to be kidding. Rusty as hell, I am. There again, I havenāt touched a piano since I was last here.ā He lifted the beer to his lips, drinking deeply. āAh,ā he said appreciatively as he wiped the froth from his top lip. āThat hits the spot. Itās damned hot outside for early November.ā
āLong time no see, Nick,ā Dave said, trying not to sound accusing.
āSure is,ā Nick agreed. āYouāre looking well, Dave.ā
Dave smiled ruefully at the lie. Heād once been a handsome young man, but life now found him overweight and his light brown hair was thinning. Not that he cared too much; his life didnāt revolve around his looks.
āWhereāve you been?ā he asked his friend.
āAround and about.ā
Dave shook his head and sighed. āI see you havenāt changed. Just as communicative as ever.ā
Nick grinned. āCome now, Dave, thatās not true. You and I have had some of the longest chats in history at this very table. Weāve discussed everything from A to Z. Weāve theoretically solved the worldās environmental problems, picked every politician alive to pieces and critically analysed just about every book worth reading!ā
āThatās not what Iām talking about and you know it. Damn it all, Nick, you could have at least had the decency to inform me before you just took off for destination unknown. I thought we were mates.ā
āWe are. But you know me. Never stay anywhere for long. I get bored.ā
Dave wasnāt quite sure how long Nick had been a regular here before his disappearance. Only a few weeks, he supposed. It just seemed longer. Nick was a very interesting man to talk to. Heād been to so many places, had seen so many things. Heād done a myriad of jobs as well, from oil-rig worker to short-order cook, from chauffeur to brick-layer. You name it and heād done it.
āSo how long can we expect to have the privilege of your company this time round?ā
āGod knows. A week. A month. A year. Depends.ā
āOn what?ā
āHell, Dave, donāt ask me. I go with the flow.ā
āIāll bet it was a woman,ā Dave muttered.
Nickās normally carefree face froze, his dark eyes piercing Dave with a dagger-like glare. āWhat in hell are you on about?ā
Dave was taken aback. This was a side of Nick heād never seen before. The sudden switch of mood from easygoing to coldly aggressive was quite startling. Everything about the man had changed in an instant. His whole demeanour from his body language to his voice, which had dropped to a gravelly growl.
āNothing to get het up about,ā Dave hurried to reassure him. āI was just hazarding a guess to the reason for the swift exit from Sydney last time. I thought maybe one of your women might have tried to put the hard word on you for some kind of commitment.ā
Nick visibly relaxed, immediately back to being the old familiar Nick again, his very engaging smile carrying a degree of amusement. āOne of my women, Dave?ā He leaned back in the chair and took another deeply satisfying swallow of beer. āYou make it sound like I have a harem.ā
āDonāt you?ā
āNot at all. Iām a one-at-a-time kind of guy.ā
āYeah, right, Nick. One night at a time, donāt you mean? Iāve never seen you with the same woman in here two times in a row.ā
Nick shrugged. āVariety is the spice of life, you know.ā
āLucky devil. Still, if I looked like you Iād probably be the same. Though to be honest I think I prefer my own quiet and largely celibate lifestyle. Women are nothing but trouble. So you didnāt do a flit because some lovesick dolly-bird was putting the pressure on you for baby bootees and wedding bells?ā
āHeavens, no. I never get tangled up with that type of female. Lord preserve me. It was a lady, though,ā he admitted, āwho brought me back to Sydney.ā
āReally? Iām all ears. She must be something to bring you back for a second serve.ā
Nick laughed. āYou wouldnāt believe me if I told you.ā
āIād believe anything about you.ā
āSheās a nun.ā
āA nun,ā Dave repeated, shaking his head. āGood God, Nick, arenāt there plenty of available women in the world without you hitting on some poor naive creature in a convent?ā
Nick laughed. āSister Augustine is rising eighty.ā
āOh. In that case, perhaps sheās just safe.ā
āShe practically raised me.ā
āNo kidding? Do tell.ā
āNot much to tell. Her order used to run an orphanage and kidsā home in Strathfield. I was dumped on their doorstep one day thirty-five years ago when I was a few weeks old, with a note saying my name was Nick. The nuns, and especially Sister Augustine, brought me up. They gave me the surname of Joseph.ā
āWhy werenāt you adopted out if you were so young?ā
āI was supposed to be, but the story goes that every time a couple wanted me, they would take tea with Sister Augustine, after which they would suddenly change their minds and choose another baby. Lord knows what she told them. Maybe that I was mentally deficient, or something equally deflecting. Sheās always claimed she never said anything detrimental at all. She claims it was Godās will that I stayed with them. Anyway, by the time I was around two the nuns stopped showing me to prospective parents and I was safe to be spoilt rotten by them all.ā
āSee? You had women falling in love with you even back then.ā
Nick smiled. It was a soft, sweet smile, giving Dave a glimpse of yet another side to Nick. His sensitive side. āI think they were just lonely,ā he said. āEspecially Sister Augustine. Her maternal instinct was probably starving for someone of her own to mother. Which reminds me, Daveādid I do the trick last year for that couple who couldnāt have a child? Is there some bouncing baby boy or cute little girl to gladden that poor womanās unhappy heart?ā
Dave was taken aback at Nickās bringing up this subject. After his abrupt disappearance, Dave had never imagined Nick would return, let alone ask about the outcome of his generous act eighteen months before.
Dave wasnāt sure what to say. Heād lied to Nick about who it was whoād wanted a sperm donor back then because he hadnāt thought Nick would be too wrapped in helping a single woman wanting a baby, let alone Daveās own sister. So Dave had invented an infertile married coupleāfriends of friendsāwho were having trouble getting a decent donor from traditional sources.
The temptation to lie again was strong.
Dave pondered his dilemma before rushing into an answer. It didnāt seem likely that Nick would ever meet Linda and son. No doubt heād take off again soon. But, given the slight possibility of an accidental meeting, he could not risk Nick knowing heād fathered a child somewhere. Nick might take one look at Lindaās boy and jump to the right conclusion. Then there would be hell to pay.
āEr ... Iām sorry, but no, it didnāt take,ā he lied again. āThe woman in question was not all that young, you know, so maybe it was all for the best.ā
Nick nodded slowly. āYouāre probably right. Actually, I did find it a little unnerving later to think I had a child somewhere whom I would never knowāand who would never know me in return.ā
A mental picture of Lindaās incredibly beautiful baby boy popped into Daveās mind. Rory was Nickās offspring through and through: jet-black curls covered his head and his wide dark eyes were bright with intelligence. At nine months old he was already crawling, and even pulling himself up onto furniture. His legs were long and his body strong.
Just like Nickās.
Whilst sentiment whispered to Dave that it was a pity Nick would never know Rory and vice versa, common sense demanded he keep father and son apart. Linda would kill him, for one thing. Sheād demanded everyoneās identities be kept secret all round. No doubt she wanted to live the fantasy that Rory was Gordonās child.
To be honest, Rory looked nothing like Gordon despite Lindaās lover also having been tall, dark and handsome. Gordon had been more of a pretty boy, with an elegant frame. Lindaās baby was the spitting image of his real father, whose body was all macho muscle and his facial features chiselled in granite. One look at sire and son together and anyone without preconceived ideas might put two and two togetherāand get big trouble!
No, Nick could never be told the truth, Dave reaffirmed to himself. There was no reason to feel so guilty about it, either. What Nick didnāt know wouldnāt hurt him. If Nick had wanted to be a father for real he could have been one by now. He could have married as well.
Dave looked over at his handsome and highly intelligent friend, and wondered why he hadnāt. What was it that had set him upon a rolling stone, swinging bachelor lifestyle? Had something happened in his past to turn him off the idea of family and commitment?
Could be, Dave supposed. There were a lot of emotionally damaged people out there these days.
Nevertheless, Nick didnāt look at all emotionally damaged as he sat there, sipping a beer, his long legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed. He looked happy with himself, and totally relaxed.
Dave sought a more simple explanation for his friendās rather selfish choice of lifestyle. Maybe that unusual upbringing by nuns hadnāt given Nick the example of a normal family life which would make him want it for himself. Heād admitted being spoiled to death. Perhaps heād grown up never having to satisfy anyoneās needs but his own.
Still, that was only speculation.
āNick?ā
Nick took the beer away from his lips and placed it on the table. āYep?ā he replied equably.
āHow come youāve never married and had kids?ā
Was he wrong or did Nick stiffen again, showing another glimpse of that briefly uptight creature Dave had spotted a while ago?
āWhy do you ask?ā came Nickās curt enquiry.
āJust curious. Youāre a good-looking guy. And youāre certainly not gay, from what Iāve observed at first hand. Most straight men get married at some time or other.ā
āMarriage is not for me,ā he said, again quite curtly. But then he smiled, and the old Nick was back once more. His black eyes gleamed and his mouth was lightly mocking. āI could ask the same of you, Dave. Why havenāt you a wife and family?ā
āI did have a wife. Once.ā
Nick just stared at him. He looked quite shocked. āWhat happened?ā
Dave shrugged. āNothing drastic. Just divorce. But it turned me off marriage for life. As for kids... The truth is I canāt have any.ā
āOh, God. Thatās rotten luck, Dave. Youād have been a great father.ā
āWell, thatās a matter of opinion.ā
Actually, Dave was not one of those men who related easily to children. Or babies. Heād made it perfectly clear to Linda from the word go that she wasnāt to expect him to babysit except in cases of extreme emergency. Heād told her quite firmly that if she was silly enough to become a single mother on purpose, then the responsibility was hers and hers alone.
Linda had scoffed at ever needing her brotherās non-existent babysitting abilities. The dear girl had gone into unmarried motherhood with rose-coloured glasses, only to discover it wasnāt nearly as easy as sheād thought it would be.
Postnatal depression and an inability to breastfeed had been dismaying starters, gradually followed by the grim acceptance that good parenting was not something that miraculously happened on the birth of oneās baby, however wanted and loved that baby might be. There were some women who, while they loved their offspring to death, just werenāt cut out to be with them twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
This realisation had depressed Linda all the more.
But, Linda being Linda, she hadnāt wallowed in her own weaknesses for too long. Sheād hired her widowed neighbour to be Roryās minder during the day and had gone back to work. She wasnāt totally happy with the situation, but she was at least sane.
Lindaās experience confirmed to Dave that the Sawyer siblings were not natural parents, and that being childless was not the end of the world.
To be perfectly frank,ā he told Nick now, āIām not unhappy with the status quo. Iāve always been married to my job. And children have never been a priority with me, even before I knew I was sterile. My wife was right to divorce me. She now has a new husband and three incredibly noisy boys.ā
āSo how is the job down at the paper?ā Nick asked.
āFlat out as usual. I came here straight from the office. Worked all night and all morning getting Sundayās edition ready. Iām just about to go home to bed and I donāt intend resurfacing for the next twenty hours. But first I think Iād better visit the Gents. That beerās gone straight through me. Mind my mobile, will you? When youāre a journo they never leave you alone for too long. If it rings, answer it and tell whoever it is that Iām in a coma.ā
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