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I notice a young teenage girl standing beside us on the sidewalk. “Hi,” I greet, confused. She wears a similarly perplexed expression. “Who are you?”
“I’m Lucy. I’m their after-school sitter.”
That’s odd. If she has a sitter, why did she need me? “I’m Luke. It’s nice to meet you. I didn’t think Jillian had childcare today. That’s why my nephew and I came here.”
“Oh. I normally only stay until their grandma comes over to make them dinner. But I didn’t realize she’d have someone else do that today.”
I try to think about this for a moment. She seems upset. Maybe she was counting on the money. “The bambino has pink eye. She probably didn’t want you to catch it. Plus, her mother is away. I’m sure it slipped her mind with having to manage the kids on her own.” I reach into my back pocket and retrieve my wallet, finding three twenty-dollar bills. “Here. I’m sure she didn’t mean to stiff you.”
Her eyes bulge as I place the cash in her hands. How much does a babysitter make, anyway? I would think with three kids it would cost more.
“I can’t take all of this,” she says, thrusting two of the twenties back at me.
“You keep two of them for your trouble. And for being there to help their mother. I know she appreciates it.” I point at the ground where the two maniacs continue their pretend tussle. “Especially with this one.”
The young lady, who appears to be in her mid-teens, snickers, beaming up at me. “Thank you. I love helping Jillian.”
“Enjoy your evening off. And say a prayer for me.” I wink.
The teen laughs nervously, giving a short wave as she returns back the way she came.
“Your mom left some cookies inside for a snack.” I tickle Truitt as we walk inside. “Come on, boys, let’s have some milk and cookies,” I shout.
“Yes! Gammy makes the best chocolate chip cookies,” Caleb shouts. The boys fly by us, already perched on the stools by the kitchen island once I’ve rejoined them.
“Myla, do you do your homework with your snack or after dinner?” When no response comes my way, I lean toward herbrother. “I’m not sure your sister likes me. But it’s good not to be so trustful of strangers.”
“Myla doesn’t talk,” Caleb says as easily as if he’s saying he’d like two cookies instead of one. “And she does her homework on the bus.”
Unable to stop myself, I glance back down at Myla. She’s deposited her baby brother on the floor, but I have no doubt she heard Caleb. Her features no longer have the sweet disposition from moments ago. I won’t dare say anything else to steal her joy. “Myla, I’m putting your cookies and milk on the counter. Do you think Tartanuga would like some?”
Her face abruptly flicks over to me just as I hear Caleb screech, “Tarta who?”
“Turtle,” Mimmo translates.
“His name is Truitt, not turtle.” Caleb laughs out loud.
“It’s my nickname for him. He likes to do things at his own speed.” I chuckle.
“Yeah. Slow.” Caleb says as he leaps from the barstool and makes a mad dash for the cookies, apparently tired of waiting for me to finish making small talk.
“How many, Myla?”
She looks at me with her head tilted in confusion.
“I trust you more than Tarzan here. How many cookies does your mom let you have?”
“Four. No, five!” Caleb yells.
My eyes land on his sister, who is shaking her head, holding up two fingers.
“I knew I could count on you.” I bend down to Caleb. “I trust you to hand out two each. Well, maybe only one for Turtle. I’ll pour the milk.”
The kids get quiet as they devour their snack, and my heart feels full, watching Mimmo and his new friends. Snap out of it, Luca. This is a one and done. A favor for a friend. You can’t evenmeet her at the park, for fear someone could see you with them. Just leave this be.
“Do you have homework?” I ask Caleb. “Maybe Mimmo can help.”
“Nope. Kindergarten is great. You just color and play.”
