The Setup and the Substitute by Jiffy Kate

Chapter 10

Sophie

It’smy second day alone with Molly and Ryan and not to pat myself on the back prematurely, but things are going really well.

I know I’m getting off easy since the kids are in school all day but last night and this morning both went smoothly, so I’m feeling a little proud and a lot relieved. I worried their first night with Owen gone would be a lot of things—weird, scary, or sad with a healthy dose of acting out thrown in—but instead, it was really fun.

Last night for dinner, we made our own personal-sized pizzas from scratch and then we watched a movie. Bedtime was my biggest fear, but it ended up being a breeze. After their typical bedtime ritual of baths, books, and even more books, they both fell asleep pretty quickly. And everyone woke up happy this morning, so I feel like we’re off to a great start.

I pull up to Molly’s school for drop-off and wait our turn. It’s weird being on campus in this capacity and not as a teacher but I know I’ll adjust. If it wasn’t so close to the end of the school year, I might substitute during the day while the kids are at school. But it’s more important to be consistent for Molly and Ryan right now, so I don’t mind taking a break from teaching.

Finally, it’s our turn to pull up to the teacher on duty so Molly can be helped out of the car.

“Alright, Miss Molly,” I say, turning in my seat. “Have a great day and I’ll see you after school. Tell Mrs. Smith I said hi!”

“Bye, booger breath!” Ryan yells just as his sister reaches for her backpack.

“Bye, booger brains!” is her immediate reply.

Swallowing the laughter that’s threatening to erupt, I remind them of their conversation with Owen from last night. “Guys, what did your dad say about name calling?”

Ryan looks down at his feet dangling from his car seat. “Not to do it.”

“He also said if we want to use potty words, we can only say them in the bathroom,” Molly adds with a giggle.

“That’s right and even though your dad is away, we still have to follow his rules, don’t we?”

“Yep,” Ryan agrees. “Dad’s the boss!”

“But Miss Sophie is too,” Molly declares.

“Well, that’s true but your dad is my boss, so I have to follow his rules, too. And right now, we’re holding up the drop off line, so we’ll see you later, Molly. Have a great day!”

Taking Ryan to his preschool is less eventful, thank goodness, so after dropping him off, I almost head back to the house, but quickly realize I don’t necessarily have to. Owen has someone who cleans and does laundry. The groceries are delivered. Everything from this morning was tidied up before we left, so technically, I’m free until it’s time to pick the kids up from school.

Yesterday felt long when I spent the day wandering around the Thatcher house alone, trying to keep myself busy, so I decide to change things up a little today and drive over to my apartment.

When I step inside, I immediately feel relaxed, like I’m where I’m supposed to be. Owen’s place is great but this is my home, my personal space, and I’ve missed it.

I toss my bag onto the couch and walk straight for my balcony. The familiar smell of fresh beignets soothes my soul and brings a smile to my face.

For a brief moment, I wonder if Owen would enjoy being here. The kids, too, of course… But as my smile lingers, I think about how I haven’t seen Owen smile much since we’ve met and I’d like to change that.

How anyone can live in this city and not smile on the daily is beyond me.

It makes me a little sad, to be honest.

I bet Owen is even more handsome when he really smiles. Sure, I’ve seen glimpses of one under that scruff when he’s with the kids. But I know there’s more under his hard façade. The way he loves Molly and Ryan proves that. I think he’s so caught up in taking care of them that he forgets what it’s like to have a little fun.

I’m gonna make Owen smile one of these days.

My cell phone rings, breaking me out of my thoughts, and keeping me from getting too carried away with thinking about Owen. I consider letting it go to voicemail until I see it’s a call from Bennett.

Sliding my finger across the screen, I sit down in a patio chair and answer, “Hey, Ben, what’s up?”

“Morning, sunshine. How’s the new job treating you?”

“So far, so good. The kids are at school right now, so I’m just hanging at my apartment for a bit.”

“Now, that’s impressive,” he remarks.

“What?” I ask with a laugh.

“You’re actually getting paid to do nothing at your own place. I underestimated you, sis.”

I know he’s teasing but his words still sting. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first nor the last to do that, especially in our family," I grit out.

“Hey, now,” Ben chastises. “Don’t be like that. You know we love you.”

Love me? Yes, I know my family loves me. But respect my life choices and treat me as a contributing member of the family? The jury is still out on that one.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I was calling to remind you about brunch at Brennan’s on Sunday for Mother’s Day. I know you’ve been busy and I didn’t want you to get yourself in the doghouse.”

Oh, shit.

“I can’t make it,” I say, standing from my chair and walking over to the railing. “I’ll have the kids. Owen isn’t expected to be back until late Sunday night.”

“Bring them,” he says nonchalantly.

It’s a good thing I’m not taking a drink of anything because I’d be spitting it out through my nose.

“Oh, Bennett. Sweet, sweet Bennett,” I say, shaking my head even though he can’t see it. “If you think our mother wants two small children at her Mother’s Day Brunch, you either don’t know our mother or you need to be around more kids.”

Kitty Callahan wants to drink bottomless mimosas while her offspring shower her with gifts proclaiming their love and devotion.

“What are we getting Kitty this year?” I ask, hoping Eleanor has already got the ball rolling on this like she normally does.

“Spa Day at the Woodhouse Day Spa,” he says. “You can Venmo Eleanor. She sent an email earlier this week.”

Of course she has. My sister is always prepared and always on top of things.

“I’ll check it and send some extra flowers to make up for me not being at brunch.”

Ben snorts at that because we both know all the flowers in the world won’t make Kitty forget I’m missing Mother’s Day, her day. I’ll have some groveling to do for sure, but I’m not putting Molly and Ryan through a fancy brunch with my family.

“I’ll run as much interference as I can,” Ben promises. “Maybe I’ll bring a date to give her a distraction.”

Smiling, I chuckle. “You’re my favorite.”

“I know,” he says. “Don’t forget it.”

My phone vibrates against my ear, signaling another call coming in.

“I’ve got another call,” I tell him. “Talk soon.”

“Later, Soph.”

Glancing at the screen, I see it’s Molly’s school and my heart beats a little faster. I’ve already notified them I’m not going to accept any sub jobs for the remainder of the year, so it can’t be that.

“Hello?”

“Sophie?”

The voice on the other end of the call sounds familiar. “Yes, Cynthia, it’s Sophie. Is something wrong with Molly?”

“I have her here in my office,” Cynthia says. “She told Mrs. Smith she wasn’t feeling well and came to see me. She’s running a slight temp so I’m going to have to send her home.”

“Oh, goodness.” Turning, I walk back inside my apartment and secure the patio doors behind me. As I walk over to the front door, I grab my bag and I’m already slipping my shoes back on when I say, “I’m on my way.”

There’s a pause and then Cynthia asks, “Are you working for the Thatchers?”

I can tell by her tone she’s trying to figure out why I’m now on Molly’s authorized pick-up list.

“Yes,” I say, locking the deadbolt before quickly making my way down the stairs. “I’m filling in as their nanny for the time being. Just for a few months.”

The last thing I need is for rumors circulating around the school about me not teaching.

I also don’t want any rumors circulating about me and Owen, so it’s better to set the record straight while I have the chance.

“I’ll be there in about ten minutes,” I assure Cynthia. “Tell Molly I’m on my way.”

Twenty minutes later, when I have Molly secured in the back seat, I hop into the driver’s seat before turning to look at her. “How are you feeling?”

After dealing with kids of all ages over the past few years, I know they can spike a low-grade fever for various reasons, but taking in Molly’s pale complexion, I get the feeling this isn’t a fluke. Something’s wrong and I’m praying it’s nothing too serious. The last thing I want is to have to call Owen with an emergency during my first week on the job.

Heck, my first forty-eight hours.

“Not good,” Molly says, her head lolling to the side as she rests it against the booster seat she rides in. “I’m tired.”

Nodding, I take a deep breath and put the car in drive. “We’ll get you home and in some comfy pajamas. That should make you feel better.”

Too bad my mom wasn’t the coddling kind, or else I might know some trade secrets, but I’m going to have to wing this. I know what makes me feel better when I’m not feeling well, and I figure I’ll just modify them for a six-year-old.

Pajamas.

Hot tea.

Trash TV.

So, when we get home, I settle Molly on the couch with a super soft blanket, make her some tea with honey, and turn on her favorite Disney movie.

It doesn’t dawn on me until I’m sanitizing Molly’s bedroom and bathroom, just to be safe, that I’m going to have to disrupt her in a few hours to go pick up Ryan.

Going into the kitchen, I pull out the Thatcher Bible and flip through the pages as I try to decide my best plan of attack.

What if she’s really sick?

I mean, I know she’s sick, but what if it’s something that requires a doctor?

And what if Ryan gets it?

What is the protocol to keep siblings from getting each other’s cooties?

Leaning over the counter, I bury my head in my hands and take a moment to collect myself. I can do this. I’m a capable adult and I can handle a sick child. My Red Cross training, paired with all of my teacher training, has prepared me for this, but there’s nothing quite like real world experience to put things into perspective.

In an effort to not put anyone else in danger of catching what Molly has, I decide she’s just going to have to ride with me to pick up Ryan. All of Owen’s contacts are tempting, but I’d feel horrible if I unintentionally passed on the germs to someone else’s house.

“Hey, Molls,” I say quietly as I walk over to her and feel her forehead. She’s still warm to the touch. “How about we take some Tylenol to break this fever?”

She gives me a sad pout, but eventually nods her head.

That’s when you know a kid is really not feeling well, when they willingly take the meds.

After a dose of Tylenol and another hour of cuddling on the couch, Molly seems to be feeling a little better so, when it’s time to pick up Ryan, I don’t feel quite as bad about bringing her along. We even make a quick trip to a drive-thru ice cream shop for a little afternoon pick-me-up.

Ryan seems to be perfectly fine as he runs around the house, playing with dinosaurs and staying a safe distance away from Molly, like I instructed.

Owen is playing a late game on the west coast, so he called the kids earlier in the afternoon. I told him about Molly coming home sick and promised that I had everything under control. He sounded worried, but by the end of the call, he seemed appeased that it was just a seasonal cold, or something of that nature, and told me he would call the pediatrician to put me on the kid’s files as an authorized caregiver.

So, when I’m climbing into bed hours after the kids are asleep, I’m a little surprised when my phone rings and it’s Owen again.

“How’s Molly?” he asks, when I answer.

His voice is a little more gravelly than usual and the low hum does something to my insides, making them melt like butter.

“Uh, fine,” I say quietly, like me talking at a normal level would wake the house. “They’re both asleep and I gave her another dose of Tylenol before she went to bed. Ryan was his energetic self, so whatever it is, I don’t think the germs made their way to him.”

He exhales loudly and I can imagine him running a hand through his hair like he does. “That’s good,” he says, voice still low. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this during your first week on the job.”

“It’s not a problem,” I assure him. “I was just super worried about Molly, but she seems to be bouncing back. So, crisis averted.”

I hope.

“Thank you again for doing this,” he says, his voice the only thing I can hear in the quiet house. He must be locked away in his hotel room alone, because I can’t hear anything in the background there either.

“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell him, feeling that thing I always feel when I’m talking to Owen. Or looking at Owen. Closing my eyes, I try to shake the feelings coursing through my body. “You’re paying me. Besides that, I’m happy to do it. And don’t worry about Molly, I’m taking good care of her.”

“I know you are.”

There’s a long pause and I feel like he wants to say more, but instead, I get a stilted “Good night, Sophie”, before the call ends.

Sophie.

In my sleep I hear someone calling my name, but I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or if it’s real.

Rubbing my eyes, I turn to look at the clock on the nightstand and see it’s just a little after two o’clock in the morning.

“Sophie.”

The voice is louder this time and I realize I wasn’t dreaming and it’s Ryan who is calling for me from his bedroom. Tossing the covers back, I practically sprint the short distance to his room.

“Ryan?” I ask, quietly, walking over to his bed. “Hey, buddy. I’m here. Are you okay?”

At first, I wonder if he was calling out for me in his sleep but then I hear his sniffle. Flipping on the lamp on his nightstand, I see the tears.

“I want my daddy.”

Complete and utter sadness is written all over his little face and it makes a lump form in my throat. Slipping into the bed beside him, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and that’s when I feel the heat coming off him.

“Oh, no,” I say, pressing my cheek to his forehead. “You’re running a fever. Are you feeling sick?”

This question brings on more tears and pleas for his dad, which in turn breaks my heart.

“I’m going to get you some Tylenol, okay?” I ask, feeling a bit panicky that this bug is more serious than I thought.

Hurrying to the kitchen, I grab the medicine and a glass of water before jogging back to Ryan’s room. Quickly, I take the cap off and pour out a dose. “Can you take this for me, buddy?”

“I want my daddy,” he cries again.

Bending over, I brush his hair off his forehead and cup his cheek. “If you’ll take this for me, we’ll call him, okay?”

Sniffling harder, he slowly sits up and opens his mouth.

Once he’s downed the Tylenol and a few sips of water, he leans back on the pillow. Before he can start crying again, I go back to my room and retrieve my phone and pull up my recent calls. Owen was the last person I talked to before I went to sleep, so his number is at the top.

That’s when I think about what time it is. He’s on the west coast, so it’s two hours earlier there. Trying to remember what their schedule is like tomorrow, I shake my head and decide he’d rather me call than for Ryan to be upset, so I hit the number and wait for him to answer.

“Sophie?” he asks after a few rings, sounding sleepy and worried. “Is everything okay?”

Slipping back into the bed next to Ryan, I wrap my arm around him and pull him close. “I’m really sorry to wake you up, but Ryan is feeling sad and he wants to talk to you.”

“Is he okay?”

Sighing, I swallow and wince. “He’s running a fever. I haven’t checked it yet, so I don’t know exactly what it is, but he’s warm.”

Owen mutters what sounds like a swear under his breath and I hear some shuffling in the background. “Let me talk to him.”

Putting the phone on speaker I hand it to Ryan. I can see his lip trembling, but when he speaks, I can tell he’s trying to be strong and not cry. “Daddy?”

“Hey, buddy, are you not feeling good?”

“No,” Ryan says, his voice breaking a little. “Can you come home?”

Oh, God.

Way to hit right in the feels.

“You know I would if I could,” Owen says. “But I’m a long way away and we still have two games left to play. But I’ll be home as soon as I can and until then, you have Sophie and Molly. Will that be okay?”

At that, Ryan starts to cry and I can feel the agony Owen must be feeling. If my chest is aching, I know he must be dying and ready to charter his own flight back to New Orleans.

“I love you,” Owen says, his own voice sounding strained. “Please don’t cry, okay?”

Ryan continues to sob and Owen continues to soothe him, using all the best words and proving over and over that he’s such a great dad. After he’s said all he can say, he asks for me to take him off speaker.

“I can call my mom or sister if you need me to—” Owen starts, but I stop him.

“No, you don’t need to do that. We’ll be fine,” I say, glancing down at Ryan who’s now curled into my side, hugging his stuffed dinosaur. “Ryan will be fine.”

I’m not sure if it’s my Callahan resilience or the fact that I can’t stand to fail at something.

Or that I don’t want to let Owen down.

But there’s no way I’m letting his mom or sister bail me out, especially when it’s only been two days.

When I said I’d take care of his children, I meant it. We’ll get through this. And as I take a deep cleansing breath, I remind myself that kids are also resilient, and more than likely, Ryan and Molly will both wake up feeling great.

“Don’t worry about anything,” I assure him.

He sighs, but doesn’t respond, so now I feel like I’m the one telling Owen everything he needs to hear to feel better.

“If they’re both feeling bad in the morning, I’ll make an appointment with their pediatrician. More than likely, this will pass within the next twenty-four hours. And I’m sure Ryan will feel better as soon as the Tylenol kicks in and he gets some sleep. He’s already resting better.”

That’s not a lie, as I’ve been talking to Owen, I’ve also been gently rubbing Ryan’s back and he’s almost back to sleep.

“Sorry again for waking you.”

“No,” Owen says. “Any time. Call me any time.”

We both pause for a moment.

Owen probably doesn’t want to hang up, because he’s worried about his kids. And even though I really enjoy having his company, even if it is from hundreds of miles away, I know he’s tired.

“I hope this doesn’t affect your pitching tomorrow,” I tell him sincerely.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve pitched on no sleep before.” He chuckles and when I close my eyes, I can imagine the slight smile on his face. “This is nothing.”

A warmth spreads through my chest at that thought and I say the first thing that comes to mind. “You’re so good with them. I’ve never seen a more hands-on dad, especially one who has a job that demands as much time as yours.”

There’s a long pause and I’m afraid I’ve said too much.

“Thank you for saying that,” he finally says.

“It’s true, you’re like super dad.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” There’s a layer of modesty in his tone. It’s something I’ve noticed about Owen—he’s not one to boast or brag and it’s endearing.

“Sleep well.”

“You too, Sophie.”

When he ends the call, I place my phone on the nightstand and turn the lamp off. I’ll rest better here instead of going back to my bed and worrying about Ryan for the rest of the night.

As Ryan begins to softly snore, I drift off too.