I stepped closer to
the curb.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
Jacob leaned slightly toward the open window.
Then he quietly said four words.
“Don’t trust the nanny.”
For a second, I genuinely thought I had misheard him.
“What?”
But before I could ask what he meant, the window went up.
The bus pulled away.
I stood frozen at the edge of my lawn as the red lights disappeared down the street.
My heart was pounding.
Surely he was mistaken.
Our nanny, Melissa, had been with us for almost a year.
She seemed wonderful.
Melissa was 28 and had come highly recommended by another family from Ethan’s school. She was punctual, organized, patient, and seemed to genuinely care about him.
She remembered when his library books were due.
She packed fruit instead of candy.
She knew exactly how to calm Ethan after a nightmare.
And Ethan adored her.
Or at least, I had always
believed he did.
I hurried inside.
I found Ethan sitting silently at the kitchen table.
His backpack was still on.
His hands rested in his lap.
He stared at the wooden surface without moving.
The entire house suddenly felt unnaturally quiet.
Somewhere down the hallway, I could hear a closet door opening and closing.
Melissa was there.
I sat beside Ethan.
“Sweetheart,” I asked gently, “did something happen today?”
He looked toward the hallway.
Then he whispered something that made my stomach tighten.
“Please don’t tell Melissa.”
Every hair on my arms seemed to stand up.
I lowered my voice.
“What happened?”
Ethan hesitated.
His lips pressed together.
