Highest Rank #61 in Fanfiction! Juliette McGill finds the perfect position as a nanny for a young boy with special needs. Only when she arrives at the family's home in British Columbia, she discovers that the boy is not quite what she expected and t...
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I checked Harry's breathing and pulse probably every fifteen minutes for the next several hours as he lay motionless next to me in my bed. I kissed his hands and stroked his face, yearning for him to wake up. I now believed that Theodore was capable of anything so there was a lingering fear that he had done something to Harry that would truly damage him or his brain beyond repair. I would only know for sure when he returned to consciousness.
I was exhausted but I couldn't sleep a wink. Instead, I sat and watched Harry, mesmerized, marveling at his angelic face, weeping for his terrible experience of life thus far, wondering if he would be the same when he woke up. I stared in awe at the angle of his jaw, now obvious to me that it belonged to a mature man and not a seventeen-year-old. His undershirt stretched across his broad shoulders and moved slowly up and down, the only visible sign that he was still breathing, except for the puffs of breath that occasionally burst through his lips. And his lips - they were such a perfect shape and thickness, reminiscent of the morning glories my mom planted near the back windows every spring.
I couldn't find it in myself to be ashamed for giving him a thorough eyeballing even while he had no way to cover himself up. At least I didn't check inside his boxers, but I confess the thought had occurred to me before I scolded myself and reminded myself that I was not a pervert.
It was then that I remembered the envelope. "Yes!" I breathed in excitement. I pulled it from its hiding place and looked around in paranoia, hoping to God in heaven that Theodore hadn't lied about the nanny cams; it wasn't legal to have them in my room, but that didn't mean he hadn't put one in anyway. I took a deep breath and opened the clasp. I pulled out a huge pile of papers and folders. I opened the very top folder and found a marriage certificate for William Arthur Blake and Anne Elizabeth Styles, August 18, 1997.
Next I found the most important piece, Harry's birth certificate. I broke into tears of joy upon seeing it.
Harry Edward Styles Male, Single Birth February 1, 1997, 6:43 AM Victoria General Hospital
Mother: Anne Elizabeth Styles Father: William Arthur Blake
"Oh my god!" I gasped out loud. "Theodore isn't Harry's father!"
I glanced at Harry to check his pulse again, and it was strong. "Wake up," I softly encouraged him but he didn't flinch. I turned my attention back to the mess in front of me. "So Harry's parents weren't married when he was born, but they got married about six months later," I mused.
I shuffled through the papers, trying to figure out Theodore's connection to the whole mess. Then I remembered something. Theodore hadn't actually introduced himself as Theodore Styles. So who was he? And why did he have custody of Harry or at least act like he was his father?
I kept digging, next pulling out a death certificate for William Arthur Blake, dated October 7, 1998. It listed the cause of death as an automobile accident. There was a rush of emotions through my body, still absorbing the knowledge that Theodore wasn't Harry's father and now learning that his biological father was dead. I wondered what happened to his mother. I sifted through the pile, looking for a birth certificate for her or a certificate of death, but didn't readily find one.
The next thing I came across was another marriage certificate, also for William, but the marriage was between him Julia Chadwick in 1975. I wondered how long he was married to her and when and why they had gotten divorced.
Pulling out another page, I found a birth certificate for one Theodore Michael Chadwick, dated September 14, 1974 and only Julia Eleanor Chadwick was listed as his mother. The father was listed as unknown. Attached to the birth certificate was a certificate of adoption. I honestly felt as if I had opened a treasure chest, and I couldn't believe how many pieces of the puzzle were fitting into a what had been a very sparse picture until now. I read the top line of the certificate of adoption.
Name of child as shown on birth certificate: Theodore Michael Chadwick. September 14, 1974 Single Birth Place of Birth: Seattle, Washington Full Maiden Name of Natural Mother: Julia Eleanor Chadwick Full Name of Father: Unknown Name of Child After Adoption: Theodore Michael Blake Adoptive Father: William Arthur Blake Adoptive Mother: Natural Mother Retains Maternal Custody
So Theodore was Harry's step-brother, 23 years older, but no blood relation to him. Why the hell was he posing as Harry's father? None of this even make sense.
The next two papers were almost identical to Theodore's, except these two were for a Benjamin Thomas Chadwick, born two years earlier. Again, the birth father was listed as unknown and William had adopted Benjamin and gave him the surname Blake.
"What the hell?" I murmured. Was Dr. Benjamin Blake Theodore's brother? If so, I wondered where he lived since I hadn't been able to find any doctor by that name in Victoria or Vancouver, except for the kindly old Dr. Blake at the university. Whoever the real Dr. Benjamin Blake was, he had written a prescription for Harry within the past year and that would be another important piece to this complicated puzzle.
My head was swimming with all the new information. There was so much more to read, but Harry began to stir and I turned my attention completely to him. I shuffled the papers into a pile and set it on the night stand. I scooted closer to him and slid my hand against his cheek. "Hey, how are you?" I asked as he blinked several times before opening his eyes about half way.
"Tired," he said, his voice hoarse and weak. "Thirsty."
I went to the kitchen to get him some cold water and brought it back to find him sleeping again. "Harry," I said softly. "I want you to drink something," I encouraged him. He woke up again enough to take a few gulps and went back to sleep. I nuzzled into his side and we slept that way for several more hours.
The next time I woke up, his eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling. I turned on my side to face him. "How do you feel?"
"Better, I guess," he said, sounding kind of absent. "I really have to pee."
I giggled. "Well then you'd better take care of that. And you should brush your teeth, too since you threw up last night. It's not good for your teeth."
He went down the hall to his bathroom and then climbed back in bed next to me. "Are you hungry?" I asked.
"Not yet, but maybe in a little while," he said. He was silent for a long time but the gears were turning in his head. Finally he spoke again in a muted whisper. "He tried to kill me."
"What?" I said, sitting up. "After you left here, or...?"
"No, he took me to a hospital," he said. "I just mean he could have killed me by making me take all that shit."
I chuckled, never having heard him swear before. "Why did you?"
He looked at me as if I had asked him the dumbest question ever. "I took them because I was afraid he would send you away."
"I told you I'd come back for you," I gently chastised him. And then my indignation gave way to trembling lips and a sickness of heart. "I thought you were dead," I said, succumbing to tears and then sobs. I leaned over him and hugged him around his chest and he enveloped me in his arms.
We held each other for a very long time and the atmosphere shifted. It was this sudden realization that blanketed us as we clung to one another. We were no longer child and nanny, student and teacher; we both understood in those moments that we were equals, equals in age (almost), maturity, and in our stand against Theodore, who had without any further doubt, become our common enemy.
