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The next day, I had carried out my work in the office fluidly. Callie had requested to stay home from school. It was the first time she ever requested, and I'd obliged her. I had seen how much happier she was at the thought of staying home and had vowed never to allow her to be near people who made her feel less of herself.
The next couple of days had me interviewing highly profiled professors and nannies to take her on. The candidates had all brought glowing resumes and I'd chosen the very best with adequate years of experience.
After the first few days, however, I discovered a problem. Callie didn't get along with the personal tutor who had been teaching her a couple of times a week. She hated the woman's guts and refused to listen to anything the woman said. On such occasions, when the woman had called to complain, I had no choice but to ask, “Why do you think she is refusing to listen?”
“I'm afraid it's beyond me. We just don't get along, and I've tried to understand her. She doesn't talk like a kid and her direct words hurt. She pays little attention and likes things to go a certain way.”
The tutor sounded like she was close to tears, and I shook my head because I knew what was about to happen. Of course, the woman quit.
I brought in a second tutor and sure enough, she gave the same unflattering comments about Callie. I knew something had to be done.
It's now 10 a.m. and I am at my desk contemplating my next course of action. My mind veers back to Paislee, I sigh. I have tried to take that woman off my mind and the plans of poaching her too. She made it obvious she doesn’t want to be in Callie's life. I wonder why, because even a blind man can tell she loves Callie. She had gone out of her way to give a personal opinion about Callie's mental state and had looked after her in classes.
Several reasons have come to mind. One of them being the moment we'd shared in my office, which has haunted my dreams every single night. I have been unable to get that memory out of my mind despite trying as hard as possible to move past it. Paislee looked like a vision in the clothes she had worn. Everything about her that evening screamed at me to take her in my arms and claim her. She had been sensual, coy, and breathtaking. Everything we'd done that evening had seemed like foreplay of some sort, a sensual dance.
I shake my head softly as if to try and dispel the thoughts. I am not going to think about that. I'm not going to focus on the chemistry that sizzles between us. I need to think of Callie first. Surely, I can ignore my baser urges for her sake. I am certain that with Paislee being Callie's nanny, there won’t be any more problems. Paislee has to come around. Callie needs her.
Picking up the telephone, I call Mr. Beatles, who picks up on the first ring.
“Hello, Mr. Vaughn. It's great to hear from you.”
I frown because I am not sure I share the sentiment.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Beatles. I trust you are well.”
“I am doing quite well, thank you. And how about my student, um, Callie?”
“She is well,” I respond. “I am sure you are aware that she is no longer a student at your institution. I sent you an email in effect to that.”
“I received it. But I was hoping that you'd erm, have a change of mind.”
“That will be a cold day in hell.” I say.
“I, uh, um, well... That's good to know.”
“I, however, called for an entirely different reason,” I tell him ignoring his fumbling.
There's a notable pause on his end and I fight the feelings of guilt that gnaw at me at what I'm about to do. This is for Callie. I tell myself.
“I need your help.”
“Oh, wow.” Mr. Beatles utters in surprise. “What for?” He asks, sounding like he is ready to do just about anything I ask of him.
“It's about Paislee, I mean, Miss Donovan.”
There is a pause that has me wondering what the heck the man is thinking. Even though I am sure his thoughts can’t be further from reality.
“What about Miss Donovan?” He asks in a tone that is surprisingly calm.
“I need her.”
I close my eyes, a little embarrassed at the slip-up.
“I mean, Callie needs her.”
“I'm afraid I'm not following,” Mr. Beatles says slowly, sounding genuinely confused. He isn't alone. I am just as confused as he is. In this moment, I can't tell if I need Paislee's presence in my home solely for Callie's benefit or if there is a little part of me that craves Paislee for myself. I’m also aware that the answer is nestled deep down if I dig hard enough, but I am not going to.
“Paislee Donovan is an incredible teacher that my daughter is fond of. I had proposed a business arrangement not long ago to her.” I quietly confess.
