Page 6 of Mountain Men’s Nanny

“Maybe we should formalize learning to give Lexi a bit of structure. Would you like that, Lexi?” I asked her directly.

“No,” her answer was definitive and clear.

“It might be fun to learn stuff, like math and spelling,” I offered.

Gideon walked over and sat on the single-seater couch in front of us. He clenched his jaw in discomfort and scratched at the short stubble that dusted his face. I was seeing him fully for the first time, noticing his features with nothing else to look at. His short, dark hair was messy and ruffled, his thick forearms resting on his thighs as he leaned forward to plead my case to Lexi.

“Hey, I want to learn all this cool stuff too, Lex,” he said. Her name instantly made his face gentler, his demeanor warmer.

“Then you can do school,” Lexi said, blowing up her cheeks and folding her arms tightly across her body. “I want to go play outside.”

She hopped off the couch, stomped toward the door, and waited for us to give in and follow her. Clearly used to getting what she wanted, when she wanted it. My interference was unwelcome, and Lexi didn’t have the maturity to hide it.

“Sure, we’ll play outside,” I coaxed. “We can play outside after we do some math. Okay?”

Gideon looked at me sympathetically. He didn’t need to say it; he was on my side on this one.

“No. I want to play outside right now. I don’t want to do math,” Lexi said, stomping her feet.

Her voice was rising. I had worked with children every day as a nurse. They were scared, in pain, and they cried and threw up; they didn’t stomp their feet defiantly. I had worked with hundreds of children, but none of them were anything like Lexi.

“Let’s give it a try, Lexi. Something new. You might like it,” Gideon said.

He sat up straight, not moving, not giving in, and even while seated, he stood his ground.

Lexi turned to look at him. She was shocked, obviously feeling betrayed by the one person in the room she trusted to be on her side.

“Are there any notebooks and pencils? We can start with a short math lesson before we go outside to play,” I said.

Gideon stood up and walked to a cabinet to get some paper and pencils while Lexi looked first at him and then at me, her lips trembling and her eyes glazing over with tears. Her little body was quickly filling up with a rage I knew she couldn’t contain much longer. I felt powerless. There wasn’t a medication to prescribe, a test to suggest, or a soothing word to offer. I just watched and braced myself for the inevitable tantrum.

“I won’t do it!” Lexi shouted, marching up to Gideon, easily snatching the book from his hand and throwing it to the ground before stomping on it. “I won’t, I won’t, I won’t! And you can’t make me!”

Gideon looked scared, panicked. Watching a big, burly man like him reduce to visible panic because of the tantrums of a little girl was strange, but I felt the same way. I knew what to do in life and death situations; I was trained to handle that. But tantrums were new to me.

Lexi shook the tumbled mop of curls on her head fiercely, her face red with rage and her little fists clenched with a ferocity I had never imagined a child could hold. She screamed and cried, tears flooding her cheeks.

“You said you wanted to be my friend, but you don’t. You’re so mean to me!” she cried.

Gideon couldn’t just stand there and watch anymore. He rushed to her while I sat frozen in my seat.

“Oh, don’t cry, Lexi,” he soothed. “Brie is only trying to help. She’s our guest here, so let’s do things her way a little bit, okay? Think of it as an adventure.”

I knew I had to say something, make it better somehow, and while it might not have been my best idea, I turned to bribery.

“We’ll learn something fun. We’ll learn how to cook,” I said brightly.

Lexi nodded her head, her face still buried in Gideon’s chest, little shoulders trembling.

“And we’ll make a cake,” she said softly, her sobs subsiding.

Lexi wriggled out of Gideon’s arms and took my hand as she pulled me toward the kitchen. Waiting a moment longer would’ve given me the chance to change my mind, making her sit down and do her math instead.

I followed her, nodding my gratitude to Gideon, and looked around the kitchen. Everything was unfamiliar.

Most of the pots in the cabinets looked new and unused. The pantry was stocked with rows of canned food, a small packet of flour, and not a measuring cup in sight.

This cabin was the ultimate bachelor pad. Every food they ate was labeled quick and easy, and far from what I had in mind for the first dinner I would make here.