Such Great Heights - Sydney Logan Page 0,5

the chance to witness your first meltdown.”

With a nod, I follow Mr. Healey toward the living room. Mrs. Langham is already there—flipping through her sheet music and looking like she’d rather be anywhere else but here.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Langham. I’d like you to meet Olivia. She’s the new nanny.”

The woman eyes me up and down. “Another one?”

Mr. Healey sighs. “Yes, another one.”

Mrs. Langham sadly shakes her head but says nothing. I say hello and sit down on the couch just as Ryder walks into the room. After helping his son onto the piano bench, Mr. Healey joins me.

Without prompting, Ryder begins to play. It’s a haunting melody, with what sounds like complicated scales and chord transitions. I’m sure I should recognize the song, but all I can think about is the fact that I am apparently the nanny to a musical prodigy.

And he’s smiling.

Suddenly, Ryder hits a wrong note, and the room grows eerily quiet.

Mrs. Langham nods toward the keys. “That transition is tricky. Let me show you.”

The teacher places her fingers on the piano.

Ryder’s smile fades, and I watch in horror as he angrily pulls the hinged cover down over the keys and smashes the piano teacher’s fingers. Mr. Healey jumps to his feet as the woman’s piercing scream sends a chill down my spine.

Then Ryder turns his big blue eyes toward me.

And he laughs.

I can’t help but admire the speed at which Mrs. Langham runs out the door. She doesn’t even take her purse. I vaguely hear Mr. Healey ask Hazel to have it delivered to the woman’s home and to assure her that he’ll take care of any medical bills.

That’s considerate. No doubt the poor woman has a broken finger or two.

What have I gotten myself into?

Ryder’s still seated at the piano, his fingers drifting along the keys as he plays. He seems calm and very unconcerned . . . as if what just happened was nothing out of the ordinary.

Mr. Healey sits down next to me and buries his head in his hands.

“So, Olivia Stuart, with your degree in elementary education, what do you suggest?”

“Honestly? A child psychologist.”

He winces as if I’ve slapped him across the face.

“I’m sorry to be so blunt. But . . . he’s violent, Mr. Healey.”

“I know. The violence . . . it’s new. I mean, he threw some things at the other nannies—like when he flung the pillow at you—but those were just tantrums for the most part.”

“How did you punish him?”

Mr. Healey laughs bitterly. “Punish him? Natasha would never let me punish him. And now that I’m trying to set some boundaries—”

“He’s rebelling.”

Ryder finishes the song and transitions right into a new piece. I’m not familiar with this one, either, but that doesn’t keep me from being in complete awe of his talent.

“He's a prodigy, you realize.”

Mr. Healey smiles softly. “He is quite good, isn't he? If only everything was as easy as piano.”

The defeated look on his face nearly breaks my heart. The man is clearly at the end of his rope. I wish I had an answer, but what do I know about disciplining a child? I learned during my student teaching that how I would discipline and how a parent disciplines could be two very different things.

“What have you tried since your wife's . . . absence?”

“Time-out, which is completely ridiculous. He kicks and screams, and I have no idea how to handle it. After a few minutes, I end up pulling him into my lap and rocking him until he falls asleep. It’s not effective at all . . . or maybe, it’s me who’s ineffective.”

“Mr. Healey, I’m obviously not a parent, but in my classes, they emphasized consistency. Boundaries. Ryder’s never had to follow the rules—”

“Oh, there were rules. Natasha had a mile-long list of them. Keep all the toys in the toy box. Alphabetize the bedtime stories on the bookshelf. Eat organic food. Go to bed promptly at eight. No finger-paints. No candy. No cartoons.”

“No fun.”

Mr. Healey shakes his head. “Fun wasn’t encouraged at all. That would have required my wife to actually spend time with her child. Ryder did have play dates, however. Every Saturday at 1:00.”

“Well, that's something, at least.”

“Play dates were at the park, and Hazel took him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He tugs on his tie, loosening it. “So, he needs to be punished for hurting Mrs. Langham. Don't you agree?”

“Most definitely. I don't think time out is the answer, though.”

“I know what my dad would’ve done to me.”

“Mine, too.” I wasn’t spanked much