Brianna Cross sat at a table next to the pool at the Cross mansion, not far from where her mother had died, singing to herself as she drew with crayons on a pad of paper. She was dressed in a fuzzy pink pullover sweater and blue jeans decorated with colorful appliqués of flowers and butterflies. Her long, dark hair was pulled away from her face and tied with a big pink bow.
“Are you cold, Brianna?” Summer Fontaine asked.
The little girl, engrossed in her work, didn’t respond.
Summer was stretched out on a lounge chair, wearing jeans and a pullover identical to Brianna’s. She looked up at the dark clouds that were moving across the sky. “I think it’s going to rain. I hate when it’s not sunny. It gives me the blues.” She looked at Brianna. “You want to come inside and see what’s on TV?”
“No,” Brianna flatly responded.
“Are you glad to be home?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have fun at your grandma and grandpa’s?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love me?”
Brianna paused in her work, delicately sorted through the crayons strewn across the table, selected a new color, and continued drawing.
“Brianna!” Summer stood and glared at the child. Summer’s full lips were painted in two shades of pink—dark rose around the rim filled in with frosted pearl. “Don’t you love me?”
The girl hunkered down closer to her drawing and ignored Summer.
Outraged, Summer clenched her fists by her sides and looked through the French doors into the family room where Kip was intently working. Summer stomped to the house, pulled open a door, rattling the glass panes, stepped inside, and roughly pulled it closed behind her.
Kip had stopped typing and was sitting facing the laptop computer with his hands clasped in his lap, his upper body slightly rocking back and forth. The monitor’s screen saver clicked on and colorful tropical fish began swimming across the screen.
Summer watched him, angrily tapping her tanned foot. A thin gold ring circled her second toe.
Kip continued rocking. He spoke without turning his head. “Do not bother me. I am working.”
“Working? You’re staring!”
He pounded his forehead with his index finger. “I’m thinking! I know it’s a difficult concept for you, but give it a try.”
“Bastard!” She walked up the steps that led from the family room to the arched corridor, the soles of her stiff sandals loud on the tile floor.
Still not looking at her, Kip said, “And I don’t like you tarting up my daughter like that.”
Summer spun around, her long blonde hair flying over her shoulder. “Tarting up? We’re wearing matching outfits. It’s cute.”
“Summer, you put makeup on her yesterday. She’s not your toy. She’s not your daughter.”
Summer’s fair complexion grew blotchy and her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what I am around here anymore. All you do is work. Brianna acts like she doesn’t love me anymore. She’s hardly said two words to me since the Tylers brought her home yesterday.”
“You’re the nanny, Summer. Your job is to take care of Brianna, not the other way around.”
“Is that so? She’s not the only thing I take care of around here. I took care of a little something last night, didn’t I?”
Kip shot a glance out the French doors at his daughter. She was still engrossed in drawing.
Summer wailed, “It’s like you’re mad at me lately. What did I do?”
“To begin with, you took down all the pictures of Bridget in the house.”
“I didn’t think it was healthy for Brianna.”
“You don’t want her to remember what her mother looked like?”
“All right. I’ll put them back.”
“Did you tell that publisher that you’re not writing that book?”
“Ye-es.”
Kip didn’t respond and continued looking straight ahead.
“I just thought it was a good way to make some money. I know things are tight right now.”
“Don’t be so concerned about my finances, okay?”
“I’m trying to do the right thing, Kip.” Tears spilled from Summer’s eyes. “I thought things would be different between us.”
“Brianna and I need a little time to adjust. Is that too much to ask?”
Summer wiped her face with the back of her hand. “You want me to live here like your girlfriend and not date anyone else, but then you tell me, ‘All you are is the nanny.’ What am I supposed to do? I have feelings too, you know.”
Kip rubbed his face with his hands. He stood and started walking across the room.
She thought he was approaching her. She pranced down the steps but stopped, dejected, when he headed for the French doors. “I’m going to fix my face,” she said hopefully.
He ignored her and went outside.
Brianna had got up from the patio table and was walking along the edge of the pool, looking at the sky. Kip swooped her up in his arms and twirled around with her. She giggled as she looked at the spinning clouds. He nuzzled her neck and squeezed her tightly.
“I missed you,” he murmured.
“Hold me up higher, Daddy.” She grunted and stretched her small arms toward the sky.
Kip obliged. “Why do you want to be so high?”
“I want to touch Mommy in heaven.” She arched her back and grasped at the air. “That’s where Grandma says she is. She’s there, isn’t she, Daddy?”
Kip looked up at the densely clouded, gray sky. He didn’t believe in God or heaven or hell. But he looked at his daughter, happy with the thought that her mother was everywhere and always with her, and he didn’t want to rob her of that small sense of security. “Yes, sweetheart. She’s there.”
The phone rang.
“Summer,” Kip called. “Answer the phone.”
“It’s still ringing, Daddy.”
Kip set his daughter down and ran to grab the portable phone from a small table next to a lounge chair.
“Hello?”
There was no answer, but the caller didn’t hang up.
“Hello?” Kip said more loudly.
Summer stood on the threshold of one of the French doors.
Kip angrily clicked the phone off and looked at her.
“Probably some crank,” she said, shrugging.
“It’s the third time today and I had the number changed two days ago.”
“I already know it by heart,” Brianna said from the patio table where she was again drawing.
“Already?” Kip smiled at his daughter. “You’re a smart girl, Brianna.”
“It’s not hard to find out an unlisted phone number,” Summer said.
“I haven’t heard you get any crank calls,” Kip said to her. “Why is that?”
“I don’t know.” Summer had taken off the pink sweater that matched Brianna’s and now wore a white, long-sleeved top of stretch velour.
“Maybe it’s because your boyfriend hangs up when I answer.”
Summer dramatically frowned. “Boyfriend?”
Kip laughed. “No wonder you can’t get any acting work if that’s the best you can do.” His smile turned sour. “Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
He walked toward her, his body stiff and his arms tight by his sides. “Whatever you do, don’t make the mistake of playing me for a fool.”
She protectively crossed her arms over her chest as he approached. “I’m telling you the truth, Kip.”
He stopped a few inches from her face and angled toward her, his posture still rigid. His face was now bright red. “Don’t lie to me.”
She flinched as he raised his hand above her head, still clutching her shoulders with her crisscrossed hands. “Kip—don’t!”
He picked a leaf from her hair and looked at her with amusement. “What? Did you think I was going to hit you or something?”
She rubbed her arms and bleated, “No.”
“You’re afraid of me.” He seemed to consider the notion.
“Don’t be silly, Kip.” She took a step away from him.
“You are. You’re afraid of me.”
“I’m done!” Brianna shouted as she waved the sheet of paper.
Grateful for the excuse to flee Kip, Summer walked to Brianna and took the drawing from her. She gasped. Kip quickly grabbed it from Summer’s hands.
Brianna explained her work. “That’s Mommy and that’s Slade Slayer. He hurt Mommy.”
Kip studied the five-year-old’s rendering of her mother wearing a bathing suit, lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Standing above her was a person dressed in black holding a crude gun drawn with silver crayon. The figure had short, yellow hair and a white gash to portray Slade Slayer’s snarl.
“My God.” Summer pressed her fingertips against her mouth.
“That’s Stetson.” Brianna pointed at a grayish black blob with four legs next to a large aqua square—the swimming pool. “I don’t think I did him too good.”
Kip seemed mesmerized as he studied the drawing.
“Brianna, did you draw pictures like that at your grandma’s house?” Summer asked.
She nodded.
Kip tore the paper in half.
Summer and Brianna both looked at him, stunned.
He tore it again and again into smaller and smaller pieces.
“Daddy!” Brianna protested. “My picture!”
“Kip!” Summer exclaimed. “Let her draw. It’s healthy. She has all that stuff bottled up.”
Brianna’s mouth opened wide and her face grew red. At first, no sound came out. Then she emitted a long wail and the tears began to flow.
Kip angrily crammed the pieces of paper into his jeans pockets. “I don’t see how that could possibly be healthy.”
Brianna continued to wail.
“You’re as bad as my in-laws,” Kip said. “All your psycho-babble. I’m not having it. I know what’s best for my daughter.” He reached for Brianna, but she ran from him and into Summer’s arms.
Kip stormed into the house.
Summer stroked the sobbing girl’s hair. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”