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Without second thoughts, I grabbed the bottle of water along with a neat glass cup and made my way towards them.
Dad knew we barely had anything so…
When I was at a distance, I intentionally slowed my pace. I didn't know whether it was the water or the sudden nervousness that clammed my palms.
“…She doesn't seem to be getting better. I've employed different strategies and therapists but she's unresponsive to any.” Mr. Throne’s voice was considerably low, another strange thing was the emotion in it. Sadness.
It was as clear as day. It dripped through each of his words as I placed my ear against thin air to eavesdrop properly.
“How long now?”
“It happened when she was three. A year and a half later, she's changed so much.”
I didn't need anything to know that the conversation was about his daughter. But what happened? Last I knew, Sophie was fine.
“So you stopped therapy?”
Therapy?
The bottle of water almost slipped from my fist but my reflexes were faster.
“For a while yes,” Mr. Thorne sighed. “She wasn't getting better anyway. I wanted to give her a break.”
“And the nanny? I hope she isn't complicating issues?” Father's voice was soft — tender even.
“Not at all. Sophie is quite used to the nanny, but even the nanny has informed me that she’d be away for a month to take care of her sick mother.”
Oh. With narrowed eyes, I stood rooted in my spot, still trying to figure all this out. Therapist? Sophie? What exactly was going on?
There was silence for a while as I was left to my thoughts. When was Dad going to let me know about this?
“Have you found another nanny?”
Mr. Thorne’s sigh this time was heavier. “Not yet...” He trailed. “Sophie is a special child and I have to carefully handpick the best for her.”
Dad didn't seem to have anything to say after this. The silence that stretched after this almost forced my feet in their direction. But just as I moved to do so, Dad started.
“My daughter, Evie, just graduated. Double major in psychology and special education.” There was a slight pause before he cleared his throat.
I could imagine him readjusting himself with both palms against his knee. That was usually the stance he took when he was serious.
“It has been my daughter’s dream before, and since her mother’s death, to work as a special education teacher in a particular academy. Despite her double major in special education and psychology, there are certain requirements she needs to meet to work in her dream school, the most important being a minimum of two years requirement working as a special educator for children.”
I swallowed thickly. I knew what would come next.
“How about Evie helps you and Sophie out while your Nanny is away?”
I didn't expect him to reply immediately, but the silence that stretched after made me fear that his reply would be negative. Fear because I wanted it to be positive. Beyond the money he’d most likely pay and the experience, I wanted to help Sophie.
“I apologize, James, but I'm not sure that's a great idea.”
My heart sank. Of course, he's a billionaire. He could afford any professional he wanted. Why me, a recent graduate with no experience?
“Ethan, please, think about this. You’ve tried different professionals in the past, but none yielded results. How about you try something different this time— someone different. Plus, Evie won't be a strange face to Sophie.”
I wouldn't. I’ve known Sophie for half her life.
Mr. Thorne heaved, his voice getting heavier with each word. “I know, but—”
