A Change In Tide (Northern Lights Book 1)

by Freya Barker

  We don’t talk long after that. Steffie gets a call and needs to head out, and I’m left feeling adrift, with just the smallest niggle of hope in my heart.

  Her words follow me around the entire rest of the day.

  -

  I’m out in my vegetable patch, pulling off a cucumber to go with the fresh strawberries and lettuce I already picked. A few spring onions, some chicken, pine nuts and that raspberry balsamic vinaigrette, and I have a meal. I love summer. Love how, when you pick your crops carefully, you can eat homegrown the entire season. Saves money, too. Sure it takes a little time, but there is nothing more gratifying than just walking outside and picking what you need. I happen to think gardening is soothing, although it wasn’t always that way. I never really even considered going through the trouble of growing anything myself, when it took much less time and effort to hit the produce section at the grocery store. But I’ve changed. A lot, and not all in ways I like, but this change I like. Getting in touch with my ‘earthier’ self has been a good experience, and I enjoy discovering new things I’m good at. Even if it’s just growing veggies.

  I’m lost in thought when I round the side of the cottage, almost bumping into Jared’s bulk, bent over giving the dog a pat.

  “Careful,” he rumbles in a low voice when he straightens up, grabbing my upper arms to steady me.

  “Hey,” I manage, once I catch my breath. I look down accusingly at Griffin, who never bothered alerting me or barking. He’s usually very protective of me. I didn’t even notice him leaving me in the vegetable patch. Traitor. “Everything alright?” A glance at his face makes it clear someone hasn’t been sleeping a lot. I bite down a grin.

  “Actually—no,” he says, running his hand through his longish hair. I’m immediately alert.

  “Jordy okay? The baby?” My eyes slide over his shoulder to his house across the water.

  “He won’t nurse. She can’t get him to latch on and she’s been crying half the day. Don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. I called the hospital and they gave me a number of some kind of breastfeeding place? Stupid sounding name...Leche something?”

  “La Leche League?” I offer.

  “Yes. Anyway, I tried calling, got the answering machine and decided to ask you instead.” He looks a little, no, correct that, a lot uncomfortable.

  “Sure,” I say, looking at the vegetables in my basket. “Let me just put these...wait, have you had dinner yet?” I ask him, and he shakes his head in response.

  “No. Haven’t even had a chance to think about it,” he confesses apologetically.

  “Hold this,” I say, shoving the basket in his hands before running inside to grab the chicken I roasted this afternoon. It was meant to last me a couple of days, but now I’m glad I did the whole chicken. It should be enough to feed all of us.

  “Thanks,” Jared says when I fall into step beside him on the trail around the bay. He’s still carrying the basket of vegetables, after refusing to hand it back when I came outside with the chicken. I’m not sure if it’s the sight of the burly man with a basket hooked over his arm, or the promise of a delicious armful of newborn baby to snuggle with, that has me smiling all the way to his front door.

  Jared

  I can’t deal with tears. Not when everywhere I turn, someone’s crying. Fuck, by the time the sun starts setting, I’m ready to start crying my damn self.

  The moment I spot Mia coming down her steps and rounding the side of her house, I turn to Jordy, who’s sniffling on the couch, trying to rock Ole in submission. He’s not having it. Right. That’s enough of that. By the time I get to her cottage, her dog is waiting; his tail wagging and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. For a moment, I forget why I’m here when she comes around the corner at a stiff clip, almost bowling me over. Okay, not quite, given I’m about twice her size, but I wobble. A little. I tell her to be careful, but have to steady myself holding on to her and end up steadying her instead. The smell of strawberries warmed in the sun wafts up from the basket she has clutched in her hands, and the sight of her clear green eyes, in a much healthier-looking face than last time I saw her, has my breath catch. She’s quite pretty, with that halo of short, unruly curls framing her flushed cheeks.

  It takes me a minute to respond when she asks why I’m there, but before long, I have her walking back to my place beside me. From the occasional glances I direct her way, she’s not at all unhappy about it. I can’t quite figure her out.

  “Hey, honey,” she says softly when we walk inside to find Jordy, still with tears coursing down her face. They only increase at Mia’s gentle inquiry and before I can blink, she’s sitting beside my sister, wrapping her and the baby in her embrace. I grab the chicken she abandoned on the coffee table and carry the lot to the kitchen, wishing for the first time I didn’t have an open concept house. What I wouldn’t give to be able to close a door and maybe watch some TV or something. Instead I mindlessly wash and rinse Mia’s harvest as I listen to the soft murmur of her voice from the living room.

  “Could you put on the kettle for tea?”

  I turn around to find Jordy apologetically eyeing me from her perch on the couch. Alone.

  “Where’s Mia?”

  “Changing Ole’s diaper.”

  That puts a smile on my face. I’ve had that unpleasant task the past couple of days and let me tell you, my gag reflex is alive and well.

  “You’re so transparent,” she accuses me with a smirk. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your distaste for my son’s excretions.” I shrug. No use in denying the obvious. I love the way his little warm body smells snuggling under my chin, but when he produces, the stench is overwhelming. My sister swears it’ll get worse when he starts eating solids, and I sure as shit hope that won’t be for a good long time. Or at least until Jordy’s able to do her own baby’s damn diaper changes.

  She looks a little better. Still flushed and her face a little swollen from crying, but her eyes don’t look lost.

  “You okay, Pipsqueak?” I ask, as I put the kettle on the stove and pull down a couple of mugs and her teabags.

  “Better,” she says. “Mia’s going to help me feed. She says the baby looks a little jaundiced.”

  “Do we need to take him to the clinic?” I’m instantly on alert.

  “No need,” Mia says, as she comes walking into the living room, carrying my nephew face down on her crooked forearm like a football, his little legs dangling on either side and his face resting on her upturned palm. Totally relaxed. I’m taking mental notes for next time he decides to bring down the house with his little temper. “I was just telling your sister it’s not unusual for babies to turn a little yellow. Her milk is just coming in and it’s not quite as rich as the colostrum, so he’ll need a little more to get the same satisfaction. It’s just a transitional phase.”

  I have my hands up when she starts talking about milk and whatever the hell that other thing is.

  “Whatever,” I mutter dismissively, drawing a chuckle from my sister. “Want some tea?” I ask Mia, promptly changing the subject to the women’s amusement. Mia just nods and I’m struck at her ease around Jordy and Ole. No sign of the pale anguish I’ve seen on her face more than once. Instead, she looks almost serene as she expertly positions Jordy before placing Ole in her arms. I quickly turn when my sister flips down one side of her ugly ass nursing bra, exposing her breast so Ole can latch on. It’s getting easier, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make feel a little weird. Not that I can’t see the beauty of it, a mother nursing, I just need to get over the fact it’s my sister.

  Jesus. If my teammates could see me now, I wouldn’t hear the end of it. Changing diapers, burping, washing spit rags and onesies—making fucking hot beverages. Yeah, they’d get a good chuckle out of it.

  By the time the tea is ready, Ole is nursing contently and both girls are watching him with tender expressions. I need to see if there’s a good action movie on TV tonight. I have a sudden craving for something rich in
testosterone.

  The baby is peacefully sleeping on the couch, surrounded by pillows to hold him in place, and I’ve put his little cot by the window, as per Mia’s instructions. Apparently the kid needs sunlight and frequent feedings. Makes sense to me; that’s enough to get me through my days as well. Maybe babies aren’t as complicated as I thought. He certainly doesn’t look complicated, he looks relaxed as his little tongue pokes out and his mouth still makes those little sucking motions. I lean my head back and absentmindedly scratch Griffin’s head.

  I let the dog in to feed him the leftovers of our impromptu dinner, while Mia is helping Jordy take a shower. Griffin had scarfed down the chicken and some leftover rice, before he sauntered over, sniffed the baby and plopped down in front of the couch. He lifted his head when I sat down, before dropping it down on his front paws and closing his eyes.

  This is nice.

  I must’ve dozed off, when I feel my hand, which I’d put protectively on Ole’s stomach to prevent him from falling off, lifted and placed on my leg. My eyes shoot open to find Mia carefully lifting the baby up, trying not to wake him—or me apparently.

  “I’m just going to put him in his crib and head home,” she whispers when she sees I’m awake. “Jordy’s resting and you should grab a nap as well.” She disappears toward Jordy’s bedroom, where we’ve temporarily set up Ole’s crib.

  I rub my hand over my face to clear the sleep from my eyes and push myself upright.

  “I’ll walk you back,” I tell her when she returns.

  “No need,” she says with a sharp shake of her head. “I’ll be fine, and besides, the baby could wake up any time. I suggest he feeds on demand for now. I’ll pop back over tomorrow morning to check on Jordy. I’m more concerned about her, she running a low grade fever. Might be an infection, so she needs to drink lots. Every time she nurses, she should do so with a glass of water beside her.”

  Once again I’m taking mental notes of everything she says, realizing how terribly unprepared and uneducated I am on the subject. Talk about a steep learning curve.

  “I’ll just sleep here on the couch where I can hear them,” I suggest, following her and the dog to the door, where I reach past her to open it, and flick on all the outside lights at the same time. “And I’ll watch from here until you get inside.”

  She slips past me out the door, with her head turned away, but I don’t miss the roll of her eyes. I silently watch as she makes her way down the trail, occasionally disappearing behind a tree or some brush, with Griffin following faithfully behind her. When she emerges on the other side, walks up her steps, and raises a hand in my direction before disappearing inside, I finally close the door and turn off the outside lights.

  I fall asleep the moment I lie back down on the couch, only to be woken up what feels like mere minutes later, to the sound of my nephew’s lusty cries.

  I guess this diaper is mine. Shit.

  EIGHT

  Mia

  It’s been a busy week.

  I smile when I catch myself thinking that. I don’t think I’ve had a busy anything in a decade. It feels good, being needed, feeling useful.

  I’ve spend almost every day at my neighbours’, checking up on Jordy and Ole. The baby’s getting a bit better; no longer quite as yellow and he appears to be a strong little boy. Other than the first few days, when she was sore and her boobs were leaking like faucets, Jordy’s feeling a lot better too. She’s becoming more confident and the little one seems to be able to sense that.

  As for me, it feels nice to have a friend right across the bay. Especially when I only see Steffie a few times a year. My fault, clearly, since there’s no way I could envision heading to the big city any time soon. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought. Any visits are dependent on her.

  I jot down eggs on the grocery note I’m compiling. I haven’t been since my little meltdown in the store and am not particularly looking forward to heading out. But Griff’s food is almost gone, and I’m down to stale crackers and homegrown veggies, which frankly, isn’t cutting it. Jordy asks me almost daily to stay for a meal, but since I brought over that chicken and salad a week ago, I’ve avoided it. It’s tempting enough to come here every day and snuggle with Ole’s little warm body, while chatting with Jordy. It’s the kind of contact I’ve been missing, which is why I have to be cautious not to latch on to them.

  I haven’t seen much of Jared the past few days, he leaves before I get there, but he’s been home at night. I’ve seen his car come back—not that I am looking. Yet another reason to keep some distance; I’m not good at hiding my fascination with him.

  Anyway, I promised Rueben, who is away for a few weeks visiting his daughter in Colorado, that I’d try to keep up my weekly visits to town. When I checked with Jordy yesterday, to see if she needed anything from town, she practically begged me to get some proper pads. Apparently Jared’s brought home a dozen boxes of panty liners, telling her he bought in bulk because he had no wish to repeat the experience. She didn’t want to point out panty liners wouldn’t do the trick, so instead she’d been making do...with three or four stacked at a time. She mentioned Jared was going to take her and the baby into the clinic for an appointment this morning, but she wasn’t sure if she was going to feel up to making any more stops, so I told her not to worry; I’d pick up some pads on my run.

  Having delayed long enough, it’s almost noon, I tuck my list in my purse, grab my keys, and my grocery bags, and determinedly ignore the bite of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. As an afterthought, I pick up the bucket with kitchen waste, destined for the compost bin beside the shed, and step outside.

  “You stay, buddy, I’ll be back soon,” I reassure Griffin, who tries to follow me outside, and quickly close and lock the door. I glance across the water to the other side to notice Jared’s car already gone, and make my way to the shed. With the waste emptied into the bin, I close the lid and leave the bucket to rinse out and take inside when I get back. I’m about to toss my bags in the car, when the crunch of gravel has me turn around to find a familiar car driving down the hill.

  “Hey,” Jared calls out through the rolled down passenger side window. “Need a ride into town?” I lean down to see if Jordy is in the car with him.

  “Where’s your sister?” I ask, when I see the back seat is empty.

  “Back home. She and Ole are taking a nap. She was tired after her appointment,” he explains. “Anyway, when I told her I’d run out to grab some supplies, she mentioned you were heading into town. Thought I’d see if you were still here. We can save on gas.” He’s leaning over the centre console, smiling easily.

  The anxiety that had been building up in my gut, eases slightly at the prospect of not having to brave town alone, but another type of tension fast takes its place. Being in his proximity is creating its own brand of anxiety, which I’m not sure I’m able to ignore. He catches my hesitation and leans even further to shove open the passenger door. Not wanting to make an ass of myself, and secretly relieved for the company he’s offering, I tuck my bags under my arm, and get in.

  “What did the doctor say?” I ask, as he turns the car around and starts driving toward the road.

  “The baby’s lost a little weight since birth but he says that’s normal.”

  “It is,” I interrupt. “He’ll put it back on, and then some, in the coming weeks.”

  “Yeah, that’s what he said. Anyway, other than that, he seemed pleased. Assured Jordy the baby looked good and said she was healing well. Was curious about you, though,” he says, and I can feel him turning his eyes on me. “He admitted never having heard of you, when Jordy mentioned you’d been taking care of her. Said he was surprised, since he knows every midwife in the region.”

  I detect a hint of accusation in his comments and try not to let it sting. Of course, he has every right to question the validity of my claim, given that I’ve been in and out of his house, taking care of his family. I take a deep breath.

  “I got my
degree at McMaster University and practiced in Toronto for seven years before moving here.” I’m leaving out huge chunks of information, spanning about thirteen years, but what I do give him is enough to check my credentials. To my surprise, he reaches out with his free hand, covering my folded ones in my lap and gives them a light pat.

  “I wasn’t doubting you,” he says, his voice dipped low, and I can’t help glancing up at him. His eyes, peeking at me from under his ball cap, hold the middle between blue and gray, and show no suspicion at all. “And I don’t think the doc was either, given the way you had things firmly in hand during the delivery. It’s just curiosity,” he assures me, and I feel compelled to give him just a little more.

  “I had to give it up years ago,” I admit, turning my head to glance out the window, or maybe I just don’t want to give myself away with my eyes. “I just never knew how much I missed it.”

  My words are met with silence and when I finally take a peek at him, I notice he’s staring straight ahead, his mouth in a firm line.

  “Yeah, I hear you,” he finally says. “I wish I didn’t know what that feels like.”

  His words intrigue me. My first reaction is to ignore it for the platitude it might appear to be, but I can tell from the look on his face he’s dead serious. He may not know my story, but he clearly has one of his own—lost something he loved as well. I’m the one curious now, but the set of his jaw keeps me from asking. I’m not ready to share—not sure if I’ll ever be—so I can hardly ask him to open up.

  The rest of the drive takes place in silence, but it’s not unpleasant. Each of us is lost in our own thoughts, and I don’t even feel the familiar pounding of my heart when he pulls into a vacant parking spot in front of the grocery store.

  Jared

  “I, uhh...have to grab something here,” she says, nudging her head in the direction of the feminine products aisle. Her voice is tight and the fact her knuckles are white as she hangs on to her cart, like it’s her anchor, doesn’t escape me. Still, I nod for her to go, pretending to be interested in the sale items on the end display, just so I can keep an eye on her.