The Doctor's Fake Nanny

By: Tiana Cole

“I don’t care what you think, it’s not going to happen. If you want to get a lawyer, get a lawyer. Nothing is going to change. Now if that’s all, I’ve got more important things to do.”

He hung up the phone with a level of agitation that I could physically feel permeating the room and I glanced quickly in his direction before continuing my quest for cleanliness.

“I apologize for my daughter. She hasn’t learned yet that some questions are not appropriate to ask.”

“It’s really okay. She’s right, my skin does look different than hers. It’s only natural that she would want to know why.”

Dr. Wyatt looked both uncomfortable by my mentioning the obvious fact that I was black while the two of them were white and slightly annoyed at my contradicting him. I had a feeling he wasn’t all that used to being disagreed with. About anything.

“Well, I’m glad she hasn’t offended you. That being said, may I ask what you are doing in my home?”

Now it was my turn to be uncomfortable. Just why exactly had I decided to walk right into this home like I owned it? If I wanted to get the job this might not be the best way to go about it.

“Yes, I mean, of course. That’s a natural question. I’m here for the interview. For the position to nanny your daughter? I rang the bell a couple of times but nobody came so I, well, I just sort of came in.”

“Well, that’s awfully tenacious of you. But you’re here and Sophie seems to like you so far, so let’s conduct the interview as planned. If you’ll follow me to the office? And you can stop cleaning now.”

I felt my face flush as I followed Dr. Wyatt down a long hallway, a mess of Sophie’s things still in my hands. I set them down in the first bin I saw along the way, making a note of how I might better organize the storage in this place. If I got the job, that was, which seemed like a pretty big if.

“This is it, just in here.”

It looked like something from a movie. A large mahogany desk sat in front of floor to ceiling windows and the walls appeared to be made entirely of built-in bookshelves. Those shelves were full of the medical journals I would have expected of a man like him, but also a wealth of fiction that surprised me for some reason.

All of my favorite novels were on those shelves, everything from Austin to Vonnegut to Fitzgerald. I wondered if he really read those books or if he just had them there to impress people who wandered into his office. Still, it was impressive. I had to give him that, however grudgingly.

“Please, take a seat.”

I hesitated, suddenly overcome by an urge to just turn and run. I didn’t want to sit across from this man. I didn’t know if I was actually strong enough to take on everything I had planned, and I knew that if I sat down and had this interview, I would be committing to it. I didn’t have any time to think about it further, though, because Dr. Wyatt was looking up at me with a mixture of expectancy and impatience.

I sat. I was all in, whether I was sure I wanted to be or not. I could see that he was ready to ask his questions and I had to be able to give him the answers he needed in order for him to hire me.

“Well, first thing’s first, Miss…?”

“Kayla. Kayla Evans.”

“Alright, first thing’s first, Kayla. Do I know you from somewhere?”

I took a deep breath and shut my eyes briefly before answering him. This was it. It was time for everything to start, for better or for worse.

Chapter Two


“Hey, girl.”


“Wait. Why are you whispering? What’s wrong, you in some kind of trouble?”

Yvonne, always the skeptic and very much a mamma bear with her friends, sounded like she was on red alert. She was such a good friend to me and I felt terrible that something I was doing was making things harder on her. I just didn’t see any other way. Especially not when I had already gotten the ball rolling.

“No, no, nothing like that. I just don’t want to be overheard.”

“Who would you be overheard by? Where are you?”

Her voice was suspicious and it made me laugh. It felt good, that laughter. It was the first genuine laughter I had experienced since first seeing little Sophie and her fabulously fashion forward outfit.

“I don’t want to be overheard by one David Wyatt, M.D. I’m currently living in his guest house.”

“So you got the job.”

I wanted her to be excited for me, but instead her voice was dull, almost disappointed. I knew it was hard for her. I had quit the job where we had met and become fast friends and now my crackpot plan had led me to move into the home of the enemy. It was oddly exciting for me, made me feel like a spy in some kind of crazy suspense movie, but to Yvonne it just spelled bad news.

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