Winning the Lottery - 32. Chapter 32 - Help arrives

This ranch house was to be their temporary home for six weeks or more. The Nebraska Child Protective Services deemed that to adopt a child from Nebraska state residency was mandatory. (The ranch, having been in the Deacon family for generations helped meet that requirement.) And, until the adoption was approved by the court, removing the children from the state could lead to charges of felony kidnapping. The ranch seemed as good a place as any to set up a legal, interim home.

Besides the main house, two temporary structures had been installed on the periphery of the property for the security minders.

So, home sweet home for six weeks or so.

Brad declared, “This place is cool, dudes!” in an almost perfect imitation of Marco.

Don looked at Marco and raised his eyebrows. Marco returned the look with a sheepish smile.

Johnny was focussed on Rufus, he didn’t express an opinion on his new home one way or the other.

Angie looked around cautiously.

“What do you think, Angie?” asked Don.

She gave that question some serious thought, and said, “It’s okay. Can we all have the same bedroom?”

“For now, yes,” said Marco. It was already very clear that Angie had some serious anxiety issues. And who could blame her? Given the tragic and sudden disappearance of her parents, combined with the natural leadership expectations bestowed on eldest girls, she was dealing the best way she knew how. By taking charge and being in control. This sometimes translated into her being a tad bossy.

It didn’t take a PhD in psychology to figure that out. The question, however, was what to do about it. Brad was easy going—perhaps a little too easy going—and mostly followed unquestioningly Angie’s dictates.

Johnny didn’t care; he just sucked up affection like a sponge. He adored Don and was constantly asking for hugs and to be picked up and held.

Brad had a serious case of hero worship for Marco and shadowed him everywhere when he could escape Angie’s smothering.

Nebraska nights are very dark and crystal clear. Stars fill every corner of the sky, so close you can almost reach up and touch them. The first night on the ranch Marco grabbed a blanket and spread it on the grass. He got everyone to lie on their backs and he pointed out the major stars and constellations. He told stories—simplified Greek myths—about them that fascinated the children (and Don). This activity became a regular occurrence, and it didn’t take long for the older children to learn the names of several of the night sky’s major players.

The next morning a big Ford F350 dually drove into the yard. It was Dusty from the main ranch. He explained that it was his job to check on this homestead every week to ‘keep things up.’ “You want me to bring a couple of horses over?” he asked, luckily out of the earshot of the children. “You could keep ‘em in that pole barn over there.”

It was a good idea, but Don, who was used to looking at situations from a cost-benefit point of view, thanked Dusty for the offer and said they’d think about it. Horses were fun, yes. And looking after them encouraged responsibility. As Winston Churchill said, “There is nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse.” However, the downside was that horses were like kids and puppies, you could get attached to them real quick. Then what would happen when they had to leave Nebraska and say goodbye to the horses? The children didn’t need more ‘losses’ in their lives.

Don and Marco were learning quickly that parenting required all kinds of decisions that weren’t necessarily cut and dried. Finally, in compromise, it was agreed that Dusty would bring the horses over once a week on a ‘borrowed’ basis.

That evening, after the logistics of dinner, baths, stories, goodnight kisses, giving thanks and tucking ins were completed and the kids were finally asleep, Don and Marco had a chance to talk.

They needed help....maybe. A nanny, Mary Poppins, kind of help. Someone with superpowers who was part psychologist, part medical doctor, part nutritionist, part recreation director, part executive assistant....

They phoned cousins Derrick and Gabe, who were always sensible about these things. (After all, it was they who found Robert the Magnificent.)

“Write down what you want and expect, then phone that famous Nanny school in England,” they suggested. “Be clear about what you need, and you’ll find somebody perfect.”

Each of the men approached the problem in their unique way. Marco said he could write an algorithm to analyse the options. Don lamented that he no longer had an executive assistant to whom he could delegate the task.

It didn’t take long for ranch life to evolve into a routine. The children spent a lot of time outdoors. Dusty would bring the horses over on Wednesdays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays they took the children to a community swimming pool over in Scottsbluff. Marco was determined to teach them to swim before they went to Hawaii and ‘all that water.’

He also initiated balancing exercises on boards over a fulcrum so the children would eventually find balancing on a surfboard easier.

The boys seemed healthy and well adjusted. They played games, they loved stories, they ran off their youthful energy outside with Rufus. Angie remained well behaved, but anxious. She worried if her brothers were out of sight for more than a few minutes. She arranged the food on her plate so that nothing was touching. She always stepped over the second step up to the porch because it creaked. When they baked she insisted that the measurement of ingredients was absolutely precise. When they played checkers she made sure the disks were exactly centered on the squares. In other words, she was obsessive-compulsive. Don and Marco were at a loss over it. Was it just a ‘normal’ childhood coping strategy, or was it the start of a deeper, crippling pathology?

They waffled about hiring a nanny finding it difficult to admit they needed help. Determined to succeed on their own, they were loath to bring in an ‘outsider.’

The decision was forced one night when Don and Marco woke up to a cry from the children’s room. They donned robes and went to investigate. Angie was in Brad’s bed comforting him.

“What happened?” asked Marco.

“Brad was having a bad dream,” replied Angie as Brad sobbed quietly in her arms.

“Has this happened before?” asked Don gently.

“I can take care of him!” Angie said defiantly. But she reluctantly admitted that Brad had ‘bad dreams’ almost every night.

There was absolutely no doubt now they needed help. Marco expressed the situation succinctly. “Don, we can’t fuck this up!”

Although determined to be full-time parents, they finally admitted that it wasn’t necessarily best for the children if they tried to make a go of it alone. They spent the remainder of the night analysing their needs. They decided on a full-time ‘nanny/assistant’ employee, but not someone who lived-in. Instead, they would provide offsite, nearby, housing as a perquisite.

Early the next morning they phoned the famous English nanny school. The placement officer of the school listened to them carefully and asked several clarifying questions. Unfortunately, graduates of the school are snapped up quickly, and she knew of no immediate candidates. She did promise, however, to ‘look around’ and see if she could find somebody that suited. She was not optimistic of immediate results, but she committed to calling back ‘either way.’ Don and Marco agreed to wait 48 hours before pursuing other avenues.

The phone call came the next morning. A young woman, Gwyn Williams, miraculously met all their qualifications! Gwyn was a graduate of the Early Childhood Education Program at the University of Cardiff in Wales. Subsequent to that she attended the prestigious nanny program in Bath, UK. Her references were impeccable, her work ethic unimpeachable. She was available immediately.

It all sounded too good to be true...

And it was.

Gwyn was available only for a temporary assignment. Why? Because she was five months pregnant!

Nonetheless, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and Gwyn’s CV was emailed to them. Marco and Don read it over carefully. There was a picture included. Gwyn in her official nanny uniform wearing that ring funny little brimmed hat. Mostly, she was unremarkable, except for lively eyes which seemed to shine with mischief. Marco said he had a good feeling about her. Don agreed. Certainly, she’d be an immediate help, especially with Angie and Brad’s anxieties, and she would fill the gap until they were permanently settled in Hawaii. But would she want to come to the middle of Nebraska in her delicate condition?

Apparently, yes. They set up a Skype interview. Gwyn had done her homework and knew there was an excellent medical clinic an hour’s drive from the homestead. She even agreed to have Cousin Gabe, who was a doctor, look over her medical records. Gwyn’s was a normal, healthy pregnancy, and Gabe concluded there was minimal risk to living an hour’s drive from the clinic. Providing, he added, that she had regular medical care. In any case, her duties wouldn’t be physically taxing and were primarily psychological in nature. Don and Marco, after the interview, and Gabe’s feedback, had a good feeling about her. They offered her a six week position. She accepted with alacrity.

A few days later, temporary American work visa in hand, Gwyn flew (luxurious first class) British Airways, to Chicago where she changed to a private jet for the two hour flight to western Nebraska.

Don and Marco left a reluctant Angie, and a horse happy Brad in Dusty’s care—it was Wednesday, and therefore horse day—and took Johnny with them to the airport in Scottsbluff to met Gwyn. As soon as she’d descended the steps of the little jet, all three ‘men’ were enchanted by her. She was outgoing, vibrant and no-nonsense all in one package. She was tall, Don estimated about 5’ 9”. Her face wasn’t necessarily ‘beautiful’ but it was animated, so that you wanted to focus on it. She made eye contact, not in an aggressive way, but in a way that told you that you were the most important person in her world at that moment. Within two minutes she, Don, Marco and Johnny were ‘best friends’ and interacting like they’d known each other for years.

She was effusive in her praise of Johnny, but not patronizingly so. She clearly had an instinct for the arts of tact and of ‘balance.’

They climbed in the large SUV for the ride to the homestead. Johnny fell asleep almost immediately. Gwyn took the opportunity afforded by Johnny’s somnolence to address the ‘elephant in the room.’

“Right,” she began, “You probably want to know about this spot of trouble I’ve found myself in.”

“Well,” responded Don tentatively, “We wouldn’t be human if we weren’t curious, would we? But it’s not our business, really. As long as you can fulfill your contract we’ll be happy.”

“I think you deserve a little more than that, after all, we’ll be cheek by jowl for the next few weeks. It’s a matter of trust, isn’t it?” said Gwyn.

She was quite matter of fact explaining that she had met a ‘wanker’ in a bar on a weekend trip to Paris. They went back to her hotel room. She threw caution to the wind. When she woke up in the morning the ‘wanker’ had disappeared. Soon after, she discovered she was in ‘the family way,’ and there was no doubt in her mind that she was going to keep the little sprout. Her employer wasn’t pleased and suggested she look for another job. (“I mean, they couldn’t fire me, could they? But I knew they’d make my life a misery, so I left without a fuss in exchange for an excellent reference... ‘Coz I really was good at my job, wasn’t I?”)

“So,” she declared, “Here I am! And happy for it!”

Gwyn, of course knew the outline of the situation with Don, Marco and the children, but she took the opportunity of the ride home to flesh out some details.

The car eventually turned into a drive and Gwyn saw the little ‘village’ ahead. There was a main house, a couple of modest outbuildings and two caravan-like houses that Don explained were for the security detail.

The car pulled to a stop in front of the main house and Gwyn’s new life began...

Gwyn’s point of view:

I was enchanted from the get-go! It was pandemonium, and it was bloody marvelous! Kids, dogs, cowboys and assorted others seemed to be everywhere and all talking at once.

The little girl, obviously Angie, rushed out and hugged Don’s waist, relief written all over her little face. The boy, obviously Brad, hugged Marco. “Dude!” said Marco by way of greeting.

The dog, Rufus? poked his nose in my crotch causing me to jump back.

“Dude, your dog’s being rude!” said Marco to Brad.

Brad admonished Rufus, “Bad dog! Come here!” and Rufus complied happily, tail wagging.

A cowboy, Dusty? observed the goings on from the porch, leaning casually against a pillar, arms crossed. He looked the Marlboro man in his tight jeans and Stetson hat.

From one of the caravans near the trees a woman emerged and sauntered over. “Our security supervisor,” Don said.

Somehow introductions were made. I was, apparently to be called “Miss Gwyn” by the children. Otherwise, everyone was on a first name basis. What a contrast from my previous job! I’d worked for snooty, pretentious gits who insisted on calling me ‘Nanny Williams’, and I was address them as ‘Lady Patricia’ and ‘Lord Persom’ (he was an earl), and the children as ‘Lady Elspeth’ and ‘Lady Sarah.’ They were sweet girls, but never really allowed to be children. Instead, they always had to be immaculately dressed, occasionally seen, and never heard. In contrast, Angie, Brad and Johnny looked, and acted, like a group of ragamuffins. But they were happy, exuberant little ragamuffins. Best of all, Don and Marco were beaming with pride.

I couldn’t help smiling, and a feeling of joy washed over me. Somehow, in the midst of all this confusion and noise and wide open country, I felt completely liberated! Like I’d been freed from jail! It made me feel clean and tall and confident and beautiful.

What a strange, wild, informal, magical place America was! What a contrast from what I was used to.

My dad was a vicar at a small parish just north of Cardiff. I had three younger siblings who, although boisterous at times, were expected to ‘restrain’ themselves. As the eldest I was expected to be ‘responsible.’ And I was responsible. A responsible child, a responsible student and a responsible employee. Until Paris. I wasn’t responsible in Paris, was I?

So here I was on a temporary assignment in the middle of this vast country, surrounded by mayhem, vowing to myself I would never leave this warm rag-tag group. They might think they were sending me back to England in six weeks time, but they had another think coming. I’d found ‘our’ spiritual home; the babe and I were staying with this family, and I had six weeks to convince them of that fact!

Dusty, from the porch called out, “Anybody hungry?” and was met with a chorus of ‘yesses.’ We all trooped into the charming little house where we used both the bathroom and kitchen sinks to wash our hands, everyone running around higgledy-piggledy. In the middle of the kitchen table was a platter piled high with...sandwiches? Well, there were chunks of bread with meat and lettuce and cheese here there and everywhere. Dusty pointed out, “The kids made the sandwiches!”

Don enthusiastically declared, “They look delicious! Well done guys!”

Marco said, “Dudes! Totally awesome...thank you!”

“Grab a plate and dig in everybody,” ordered Dusty as he pulled a variety of beverages out of the refrigerator.

Lady Patricia would have succumbed to an apoplectic fit at such a sight. I thought, very uncharitably, Stupid cow needs to get the poker out of her arse!

I dug in like everybody else, and the sandwiches were the best I’d ever tasted!

In spite of the seemingly randomness of the situation, I noticed that the children knew their table manners. They said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. They were reminded gently not to speak with their mouths full and complied obediently. Rufus, although begging, was not fed from the table. Don’s phone chirped with an incoming message which he ignored until the meal was finished. So, it was an easy-going household, but it had its rules.

Once lunch was consumed and the clear up done (once again, the children were expected to do their bit), Dusty announced that he had to be getting the horses home. Don excused himself to check his phone messages. Marco volunteered that he and the kids take me on a tour of the grounds.

We’d just admired the stream when the roar of a huge lorry pulling a house, similar to the two already sitting on the property, drew our attention.

“Ah,” said Marco, “Your house has arrived.”

“My house? I thought I’d be in the main house with you?”

“No, we thought you’d like your own space, and privacy. I think you’ll like it, it’s a park model RV. They come all set up with everything you need. Even dishes and linens!”

Like it! I’d never lived in anything more than a shared room or tiny bedsit in my life, and they were giving me my own little house! “It’s wonderful!” I gushed fighting back tears.

“It’s going to be set up just over there,” pointed Marco. “Should be ready in about an hour.”

Don called out from the main house, “While they’re setting up Gwyn’s house, c’mon in here I’ve got something to show y’all.”

He’d just received, via email, the photos of the house on which they had a purchase option in Hawaii. We all gathered around the computer to look. It was magnificent. Breathtaking! All open plan and high ceilings with fans. There was a gorgeous courtyard pool, and the house itself was situated on a long white sand beach. I counted six bedrooms on the floor plan.

“Don, it’s perfect!” said Marco reaching down and hugging Don from behind and kissing his cheek. I noticed there was no reluctance to show affection in front of the kids and me (a virtual stranger, really).

Marco’s accent kept changing. In the UK we’re very attuned to speech patterns and Marco’s seemed to switch from what I’d dubbed ‘California Hippie’ to ‘Educated Middle Class’ quite randomly.

“What do you think, Dudes?” he asked, the California accent back. “Castles beach, Kailua! Primo surfing right outside our door!”

“Cool!” declared Brad.

“Um...it’s nice...” said Angie tentatively. “Can we still share a bedroom?”

“Well, that’s certainly negotiable,” said Don, giving me a speaking look. I’d certainly noticed Angie’s obsessive-compulsive quirks and insecurities and realized that I had my job cut out for me. That, after all, was why I was there.

“Listen, guys, do you like the house?” asked Don

Imagine that, I thought, He’s including the children in the decision!

Angie looked at Brad for an almost telepathic approval and, receiving it, said simply, “Yes.”

“Excellent!” said Don.

“Outstanding!” said Marco.

“Angie, Brad,” I said, “Why don’t we go watch the men finish setting up my house while your dads talk to the estate agent in Hawaii,” I said.

Don and Marco looked at me gratefully while the children and I trooped out the door with Brad pulling me along by the hand and Rufus jumping around excitedly.

Back to Don and Marco:

“She’s a keeper,” said Don.

“Totally,” agreed Marco. “Too bad she’s only here for six weeks.”