Read Online Kelly McClymer-Must Love Black by Kelly McClymer - Free Book Online
Authors: Kelly McClymer
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hard heart and the ball bounces with an extra edge.
No way was I getting myself in Laurie’s crosshairs in a game where winner takes all and grinds the others into the dirt. If I had to force the girls to have Mr. Pertweath’s kind of fun, I’d at least have to identify an activity that we could get through alive.
Swimming, maybe. My year on the swim team had taught me that repetitive exercise submerged in a pool can shrivel the fingers and toes and senses—or free someone from the weight of grieving and allow the grounded to fly. The twins were definitely grounded, as I noticed when they filed back in from their music lesson and refused to talk about what they had learned, if anything.
I didn’t push it. Music could be fun, but it sounded like the twins didn’t find it enjoyable. I didn’t see how I could turn it into fun retroactively. So I concentrated on what Icould do: help them get the butterfly pictures they needed for Camp CSI. It wouldn’t count toward fun in Mr. Pertweath’s book, but it was what the twins wanted to do. And if the butterfly garden was as good for spotting gardeners as it was for spotting butterflies . . . well, then checking it out was what I wanted too.
CHAPTER SIX
Life in other people’s houses, by other people’s rules, can be quite unexceptional—until your own values charge you with one duty while the household rules bring you up short of that duty. Then, a life of sufferance is no different from a choke collar for a disobedient dog.
—Miss Adelaide Putnam to Daisy, the chambermaid,
Manor of Dark Dreams,
p. 52
Back in our domain the twins gathered their camera and tripod for our foray into the wilds of the butterfly garden. I was curious to see what it looked like. I’d never heard of such a thing, which underscored the difference between these kids and me: They lived in a world I couldn’t comprehend.
Triste grabbed two pairs of binoculars, which struck me as curious. Did you have to hunt butterflies from afar? Weren’t they just there, flitting around on the flowers?
I quickly looked at the Nanny Notes binder to make sure our butterfly expedition wouldn’t break any rules. Lady Buena Verde had been clear on the most important rule: Keepthe girls out of the way of the patrons. But the garden wasn’t explicitly off-limits, and it didn’t seem disruptive to go down and take some quick shots. We walked quietly through the wide marble hallways, past modern sculptures and exotic flower arrangements on antique tables that were scattered here and there.
We didn’t see anyone else, and as the girls led me through the maze of the house with the skill of veteran housebreakers, I started to relax. I might not know the drill, but they did.
We paused at a window in the conservatory and scoped out the butterfly garden below. The sight took my breath away, but I didn’t let on to the twins. I was the nanny, not the ninny who oohed and aahed over a garden designed to attract butterflies.
As we stood at the window, we heard voices in the hallway. A quiet murmur, perhaps of a spa patron. Then the voice of Lady Buena Verde, clear in her command. “Now I’ll drop you off at the sauna for a wonderful refresher after that grueling tarot session.” The patrons and Lady BV passed the entry to the conservatory without looking toward us just as Lady Buena Verde declared, “Chrysalis Cliff is committed to helping you improve your mind, spirit, and body. Our staff is top quality. Ask for anything you need. Enjoy yourselves, ladies.”
I tensed, but the voices faded and the danger passed in a second. I looked at the girls. They were holding hands and biting their lips. I raised an eyebrow, as if the close call hadn’t rattled me as much as it had them. “Next time we should wear camouflage and paint those cool black smears under our eyes.”
“Good idea.” Triste didn’t smile. Did she know I was joking?
Rienne cleared that up. “I think we’d stand out more in camouflage,
No way was I getting myself in Laurie’s crosshairs in a game where winner takes all and grinds the others into the dirt. If I had to force the girls to have Mr. Pertweath’s kind of fun, I’d at least have to identify an activity that we could get through alive.
Swimming, maybe. My year on the swim team had taught me that repetitive exercise submerged in a pool can shrivel the fingers and toes and senses—or free someone from the weight of grieving and allow the grounded to fly. The twins were definitely grounded, as I noticed when they filed back in from their music lesson and refused to talk about what they had learned, if anything.
I didn’t push it. Music could be fun, but it sounded like the twins didn’t find it enjoyable. I didn’t see how I could turn it into fun retroactively. So I concentrated on what Icould do: help them get the butterfly pictures they needed for Camp CSI. It wouldn’t count toward fun in Mr. Pertweath’s book, but it was what the twins wanted to do. And if the butterfly garden was as good for spotting gardeners as it was for spotting butterflies . . . well, then checking it out was what I wanted too.
CHAPTER SIX
Life in other people’s houses, by other people’s rules, can be quite unexceptional—until your own values charge you with one duty while the household rules bring you up short of that duty. Then, a life of sufferance is no different from a choke collar for a disobedient dog.
—Miss Adelaide Putnam to Daisy, the chambermaid,
Manor of Dark Dreams,
p. 52
Back in our domain the twins gathered their camera and tripod for our foray into the wilds of the butterfly garden. I was curious to see what it looked like. I’d never heard of such a thing, which underscored the difference between these kids and me: They lived in a world I couldn’t comprehend.
Triste grabbed two pairs of binoculars, which struck me as curious. Did you have to hunt butterflies from afar? Weren’t they just there, flitting around on the flowers?
I quickly looked at the Nanny Notes binder to make sure our butterfly expedition wouldn’t break any rules. Lady Buena Verde had been clear on the most important rule: Keepthe girls out of the way of the patrons. But the garden wasn’t explicitly off-limits, and it didn’t seem disruptive to go down and take some quick shots. We walked quietly through the wide marble hallways, past modern sculptures and exotic flower arrangements on antique tables that were scattered here and there.
We didn’t see anyone else, and as the girls led me through the maze of the house with the skill of veteran housebreakers, I started to relax. I might not know the drill, but they did.
We paused at a window in the conservatory and scoped out the butterfly garden below. The sight took my breath away, but I didn’t let on to the twins. I was the nanny, not the ninny who oohed and aahed over a garden designed to attract butterflies.
As we stood at the window, we heard voices in the hallway. A quiet murmur, perhaps of a spa patron. Then the voice of Lady Buena Verde, clear in her command. “Now I’ll drop you off at the sauna for a wonderful refresher after that grueling tarot session.” The patrons and Lady BV passed the entry to the conservatory without looking toward us just as Lady Buena Verde declared, “Chrysalis Cliff is committed to helping you improve your mind, spirit, and body. Our staff is top quality. Ask for anything you need. Enjoy yourselves, ladies.”
I tensed, but the voices faded and the danger passed in a second. I looked at the girls. They were holding hands and biting their lips. I raised an eyebrow, as if the close call hadn’t rattled me as much as it had them. “Next time we should wear camouflage and paint those cool black smears under our eyes.”
“Good idea.” Triste didn’t smile. Did she know I was joking?
Rienne cleared that up. “I think we’d stand out more in camouflage,
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