The Nanny Froze in the Doorway as the Iron Tipped Over the Crib
"Who do you think he'll believe?" she said, with the iron still hissing in her hand.
Renata has two weeks left on her visa, one job, and no family in this country willing to claim her. Priscilla Vandermeer has the house, the husband, and a voice that turns sweet the second the garage door opens.
She hears the cough from the kitchen first. A wet, panicked sound down the hall, and the dish towel hits the tile before she does. In the nursery doorway Renata stops cold: Priscilla is bent over the crib, ivory silk blouse, diamond studs catching the blind-striped light, her right thumb pressing the steam button on the heavy iron while the soleplate tips down toward the pale blue blanket. Steam curls up. The small figure in the onesie coughs hard and his whole face goes red.
Priscilla straightens, smiles, and says she was steaming a scarf. The scarf is draped over the rocking chair across the room.
Renata lifts him out and holds him against her apron. She says no. Priscilla's hand closes around Renata's bare forearm. "Who do you think he'll believe?"
Renata says nothing. Her free hand slides into her apron pocket.
For the full story — the letter Renata has been carrying since her sister died, the police call, and what happened to Priscilla in that nursery — read it in the comments below.
The phone she pulled out had been recording since before she walked through that doorway. Do you think a husband forgives this? The whole ending is in the comments.
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