If she’d only lasted two more weeks.
James shook his head at the injustice. Bad timing seemed to run in his family. Knowing his luck, when he was old and grey, he’d probably cark it during the countdown to New Year’s…5, 4, 3, 2, 1…Happy New—Croak.
He shook his head again, this time trying to shake out the morbid thoughts that sometimes popped into his head. They’d started appearing after Jackson was born; intrusive thoughts springing out of nowhere that made him question his sanity. Sleep deprivation, he was told. And stress. It was as though his mind tried to prepare him for the worst at every available opportunity, so that if something untoward happened, it wouldn’t be as much of a shock. The mind was a crazy thing, even for the non-insane.
When Jackson was satisfied with the three cabins, he ran outside and then…
Oh no.
‘Jackson, not another one. That’s not ours.’ James scooped up his child just as he’d landed on the porch of cabin number four. Jackson thrashed in his dad’s arms and screamed. ‘This one belongs to someone else, mate. C’mon.’ James carried his heavy, crying son off the porch, eyeing an apology to the couple who’d approached the doorway. They didn’t seem perturbed, but neither did they seem impressed. Oh well, what could he do, short of handing out information brochures on autism to every person he came across?
As usual, James’ mother was ready with her help, dashing into cabin number one and back out to the porch with Jackson’s favourite toy, a stuffed fabric owl. A pink one, at that. ‘Here we go,’ she said, handing the toy to Jackson. He grabbed it, holding it tight to his chest.
James wished his son would do that to him. He was affectionate sometimes, in his own way, but never the way he was with Owly.
‘You go settle in and I’ll watch him out here if you like,’ Marie said. Jackson wriggled out of James’ hold and placed Owly on the grass beside the path, rocking him side to side and pressing the bouncy spring sound on his machine.
‘Thanks.’ He took the two steps to the porch with one stride, turning around briefly to double-check his son, then entered the cabin. With military precision he arranged things in Jackson’s room the way he’d like them, unpacked their belongings, and freshened up in the bathroom with a splash of water on his face. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Subtle speckles of grey were becoming visible in the dark hair on his temples. He was only thirty-eight, but time seemed to be slipping away faster and faster these days. He rubbed his jaw between his thumb and fingers, easing the tension from the clenching he often forgot he was doing, but that his dentist said he needed to deal with. He ran his hands through his thick wavy hair, and a random memory crept into his mind…
She’s here already? James spread the remaining hair mousse through his waves to tidy them, then washed his hands quickly. He checked his teeth and adjusted his shirt to show the right amount of chest, not too much, not too little, and headed for the front door.
He could see her silhouette through the glass, her long hair merging with the curve of her shoulders, a few strands lifting to the side by way of the breeze. He opened the door and smiled, her heart-shaped face a vision of feminine beauty. ‘Good evening.’
‘Good evening to you too.’ Her white teeth gleamed under the outdoor lamp and he wanted to take hold of her then and there and pull her close, wrap his arms around her body and tell her all he wanted to say with one kiss. But it was only a first date, and that wouldn’t be appropriate.
‘I’ll grab my keys,’ he said instead, then led her to the car and opened the door for her.
‘It’s a beautiful night,’ she said.
‘Beautiful indeed,’ he replied.
James took a deep breath and tried to erase yet another memory from his mind. Why couldn’t the brain have a delete key like a computer?
Voices chattered outside and he went back to check on Jackson. His son made soft, lyrical sounds, clearly having some kind of private conversation with Owly. He had his own language, and it was only through his tone that James was privy to at least some idea of what his child might be trying to say.
His mum was talking to another woman. A younger woman, with her back to him. The woman took a punnet of strawberries from her shopping bag and handed them to his mother, then took one out and offered it to Jackson. He eyed her hand cautiously at first, then plucked the fruit from her grasp. Strawberries were his favourite. James was about to say that out loud, to thank the woman for her generosity, but as she turned to the side her heart-shaped face and her smile sent his heart plummeting to his stomach. He froze.
The woman turned around completely and caught his gaze, her carefree smile giving way.
Emma.
Chapter 3
Emma never thought she’d see those dark brown eyes again. But there they were, right in front of her, staring, unblinking.
‘James?’ She phrased it as a question though she knew the answer.
He crossed his arms, his biceps tight aside his chest. ‘What are you doing here?’
Emma glanced sideways at the woman she’d been talking to, who looked a tad confused, then back at him, her heart pounding. ‘I um, I work here. I’m running the place temporarily for my parents.’
‘Your parents own the place?’
Emma nodded, shifted on the spot, an uncomfortable twinge tightening her muscles. ‘I’d, ah, better go and leave you to it.’ She smiled at the woman and the boy, though he didn’t look at her, then turned away.
‘Wait.’ James stepped off the porch. ‘We don’t see each other for over five years and that’s all you’ve got to say?’
She’d been dreading the possibility of this moment catching up with her. Emma scratched her head and squinted as the afternoon sun caught her eye. ‘I really should go, I have to get these inside.’ She held up the bag of fruit and fresh bread, but it was her that needed to get inside. The air was thick with untold secrets and she could hardly breathe.
The older woman knelt down to the boy and spoke to him, making an effort to join in his play, obviously trying to shield him from any argument and give James a chance to talk to Emma.
Emma walked but James rushed up beside her, then turned back briefly. ‘Mum, can you watch him?’ She must have nodded because James walked alongside Emma’s fast steps. Her skin buzzed with the closeness of his presence. ‘Emma, wait. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?’
She kept her focus ahead. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now. I have to go.’ She picked up her pace until they reached the garden beside the playground.
‘Stop! Emma, just stop.’ He grasped her arm and she glanced at it then looked him in the eye. His gaze bore into hers and she trembled.
‘Not here, please, James.’
‘Then over here.’ Still holding her arm he led her through the small garden and behind a thick tree. ‘I’m not leaving till you talk to me.’
‘Look, James, I’m busy. It’s my day off, and I need to get some things done before work tomorrow.’ She removed her arm from his grasp, though his touch lingered hot on her skin.
‘I think explaining why you left the man you supposedly loved without an explanation should factor in your To Do list, don’t you?’ He crossed his arms again.
Emma sighed and looked at the ground where tree roots bulged beneath, as though they too were trying to unearth secrets from time gone by. ‘I told you, I took a job interstate and couldn’t handle the idea of a long distance relationship. It was easier that we had a clean break.’ Big. Fat. Lie. Although Emma had hated to do it, the alternative was worse, and she hadn’t been prepared for the consequences, not then, not now.
‘I don’t understand why you had to lie. I know you didn’t go to Melbourne. I heard you were living and working in Sydney. I wouldn’t call Welston to Sydney a long distance relationship.’
He’d looked her up? But she’d done her best to become invisible.
‘Look, not now. I have to go.’
‘So you keep saying. I guess you�
��re used to walking away.’
Emma sucked in a sharp breath. It hurt her to think of the past, and she knew it hurt him, but it had been for the best. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. She expected him to probe further but he just stood there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, awaiting a response. His eyes were darker than she remembered, and fine lines crinkled at the corners.
‘Go then. Just go.’ He flicked a hand towards the pathway. ‘I’ll be here for a week. That’s plenty of time for you to get your act together and do what you should have done five years ago.’ He turned and stormed off.
Each beat of her heart pumped guilt, dread, and pain throughout her body. She was about to walk off the way she’d been desperate to go, back to the cottage, but couldn’t bring herself to look away. She watched him, his back to her, as he marched back to his cabin, and it was only then that it hit her. He has a son? Did that mean he also had a wife? Oh, what did it matter? She’d left him, he deserved someone better. Someone who could be the person he needed.
Emma tightened the grip on her shopping bag and walked to the one bedroom cottage behind the reception office, her home for however long she was needed here. She plonked the bag on the kitchen countertop and sighed. Crap. She forgot to take the fresh bread to her parents’ place behind the walking track. Her dad was expecting his favourite sourdough and olive bread, and she didn’t want to keep a sick man waiting. Especially the way he was with the brain damage after his stroke. He would snap at her for the slightest thing. It hadn’t affected his intelligence, mainly his mobility and inhibitions, meaning he had none of either. Yesterday he’d told her that the colour of her skirt looked like puke. At first she’d laughed, but when he mentioned how she had put on a couple of kilograms it had hurt. People weren’t supposed to say things like that out loud, especially not your own father. She was still slim but had rounded out somewhat over the past few months. Her mum had said it was good to see some healthy meat on her, trying to make her feel better about her father’s remark, but that night she’d cried.
Just like she was going to do now.
Chapter 4
Emma dabbed her face with a cold cloth to reduce the redness, then sculled a glass of water. Seeing James again was overwhelming, and combined with her father’s delicate state, her emotions were bubbling up beneath the surface into a rolling boil. When the day was over she’d call Jen and have a good chat; the last thing she wanted was to keep anything else bottled up inside.
Emma slid her sunglasses on, grabbed the bag of bread and her keys and stepped outside, the afternoon sun low on the horizon giving the beach a warm glow. She followed the path around the cottage and glanced to her right. Her mother was walking in her direction.
‘Em, oh good. I saw you earlier and thought you were maybe ducking inside to the bathroom before bringing the bread over, but when you didn’t come out I thought I’d come check.’
‘It’s okay, you didn’t have to come. I was just on my way over.’ Emma handed her mother the shopping bag. The homely scent of fresh bread gave her some comfort, but so did the fact that it wasn’t necessary to visit her father right now. Though that brought guilt along with it. ‘Do you need me to come over and help with anything?’
‘No, all is good. Your father’s sleeping right now so I thought I’d get some fresh air while I can. The home nurse will be visiting tomorrow, and now that his INR levels and medication dosages are all sorted he should be a bit more stable from now on. Hopefully.’
Emma nodded in relief. ‘Good. Don’t forget to take up Penny’s offer for some respite, she’ll look after him for a day or so here and there.’
‘I know, but he’s not overly keen on having my sister nurse him. It doesn’t bother her one bit, I know that, but he’s got his pride. Easier to have someone not in the family do the sensitive jobs.’ She glanced in the direction of her house.
‘Yeah, I guess. But Penny is such a good nurse, if he gets too much, just call her. She’ll be happy to help.’
‘I will.’
Emma sniffed and adjusted her sunglasses.
‘Are you okay?’ her mother asked, stepping closer.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ Emma rubbed her nose with her knuckle.
‘No you’re not.’ Barbara lifted her daughter’s sunglasses. ‘Your eyes are a bit red, have you been crying?’ The soft skin of her mother’s hand connected with her forearm.
‘Oh, don’t worry, it’s nothing, I’ll be fine.’ Emma looked away.
Barbara tightened the grasp on her arm, turning her daughter’s gaze back to her. She eyed her with a look that said: I’m your mum and you can’t fool me. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but I saw you talking to someone near the park. None of the guests are being inappropriate, are they?’
‘Not at all, no, he was just…’ the love of my life I tried so hard to forget. ‘Do you remember that guy I was seeing, back in Welston? Things had started getting serious but then…’
‘James?’
‘Yes.’
‘That was him?’
Emma nodded with a sigh. ‘He’s still angry.’
‘You haven’t told him? Oh, Em, the poor guy. He should know.’
Her jaw tightened. ‘It was better this way. You agreed, remember? And so much time has passed, I don’t think it’s worth dredging up what’s been and gone.’ She crossed her arms. ‘He’s got a kid now, a little boy.’ Regret twinged inside. She’d always thought he’d make a great father.
‘Does he have a wife or partner?’
‘Don’t know. I didn’t see anyone, just his mum.’
Barbara drew her eyebrows together. ‘It can’t be coincidence, him being here. You should seriously think about talking to him, get things out in the open.’
Mum and her signs. She was always looking out for serendipitous moments and situations that supposedly aligned at the perfect time, which we were supposed to recognise, then act on, to ensure our lives orchestrated themselves into a harmonious symphony. Little miracles, she called them. She would probably buy a lottery ticket if some sort of numerical coincidence presented itself to her. ‘I saw the numbers 126 on a car’s number plate, and now I’ve randomly checked my watch and it just so happens to be 1:26! It’s a sign! Jackpot here we come!’
Emma managed a small smile. They sure could do with a lottery win right now. Her parents had a lot of equity in the holiday park to draw on if needed, but the aim was to sell it so they could retire. They’d had a good run, not as long as they’d thought, but they’d loved keeping this place going. As soon as the construction of the extra two cabins and games room was complete, they’d be able to put the place on the market and enjoy a financially worry-free retirement. But it wasn’t like they were just selling a house, it was a whole way of life and it could take a while to find a buyer.
‘I’ll be busy working tomorrow till Saturday, might not get much of a chance. He leaves Monday,’ Emma said. A breeze whooshed past her and she almost lost balance.
‘You’ll have weeknights, and then Sunday. Don’t let him leave without seeing if you can resolve things. I know it seems easier to keep a secret the longer time goes by, but some secrets are meant to be told.’
‘Then they wouldn’t be secrets.’
‘Exactly. Think about it, okay?’ She placed her palm on Emma’s cheek.
‘I’ll think about it.’ I’ve thought about it. Now, time to move on…
The light snap of a screen door nearby turned Emma’s focus to the reception office. The petite Amelia emerged carrying a pile of towels, her Tarrin’s Bay cap on her head. ‘Hi, Barbara. Emma. How’s Don?’
‘Fine, thanks. All going okay in the office?’ Barbara planted an ‘everything’s great’ smile on her face.
‘Yes, don’t you worry about a thing. Emma and I have got it covered, haven’t we?’ Amelia replied.
Emma nodded in confidence. The business perhaps, but her personal life? She sometimes wished she could take a vacation from it and have someone else ha
ndle her dilemmas for a couple of weeks. Wanted: reliable employee with a caring nature who likes a challenge and is capable of managing daily personal crises and complaints from dissatisfied persons (namely, ex-boyfriends), while maintaining a professional and confident persona and staying sane. Apply within.
A telephone rang and Amelia turned around, her silky, black ponytail swishing swiftly like a flamenco dancer’s skirt. ‘Oh.’ She turned to Emma and held up the towels. ‘Would you mind taking these to a guest while I grab the phone?’
Emma took the towels. ‘Sure, which cabin?’ Please not number one, please not number one.
‘Number two.’ She smiled and dashed to answer the phone.
Phew. Number two she could handle, but number one… She wondered how she’d get through this week with James here. Maybe he wouldn’t need any assistance and she’d only see him on check-out. Oh, no she wouldn’t. He’d be checking out Monday and that was her day off, along with Sunday. It was possible they could go the whole week without bumping into each other. Possible, but unlikely.
Emma left her mother to walk a while on the beach with her mobile gripped in her hand in case of emergency, and headed along the pathway to deliver the towels to the guests in number two.
She passed children having fun on the playground equipment on the grassed area next to the sand, and thought of her students. Her ex-students. She missed them, but it was good to have a break from the responsibility of looking after twenty-four children every day. A mother took hold of her two children’s hands and ushered them onto the sand towards the water, while a boy of about five kept losing his hat when he went down the slippery slide.
Emma’s gaze returned to the path in front of her, and she almost bumped into James. He stepped off the path, his body stiffening. She stopped and looked at his son and wanted to smile. He had his father’s nose; strong and definite, a nose that said: you can trust me. ‘I didn’t know you had a son,’ she said before she could stop herself.
Miracle In March Page 2
