“Karla.” The man shot Brad an apologetic look before cupping his wife’s elbow. Brad’s gaze flitted between the pair as the incessant questions ricocheted in his head. Did he look like a dad who’d been there from conception through to birth? He didn’t have the first clue about anything the woman was talking about.
Glimpsing Sophie coming through the doors, he gave a short smile. “I’ve got to go. All the best.”
With Jarrod settled in the car restraint, and the purchases in the boot, Brad heaved a sigh. “I can’t do this, Soph.”
“Yes, you can. And you will. That boy needs you.” She reached across the console and patted his knee. “You’re not in it alone, okay?”
He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to dispel the fog that seemed to be a permanent fixture in his brain. Scenery flashed by, matching the blur of jumbled thoughts. The biggest question was – how? How was he going to manage everything? And was he supposed to be thinking about school like the woman at the store had mentioned? Jarrod seemed mighty young for Brad to be contemplating his future education. He could only think about one day at a time, not something five years ahead.
Oh, how he wished his father was still around, so he could pick his brain over a drink on the back deck of their house. The house they’d grown up in before Mum moved up the coast and started running the B&B with Damien. He missed those simple moments of talking man-to-man. Dad with his lemonade. Him with a beer. And Dad imparting wisdom, not judgement. What would he say about this predicament?
Probably something along the lines of, God is never far away, son. He is our ever-present help. You only need to ask.
Growing up a preacher’s kid, he’d heard it all. He’d been surrounded by church and God-stuff his whole life and had ridden on the coattails of his parent’s faith. But their faith and their prayers had never been for him. He wanted fun and excitement, not religion and rules. He was the black sheep. The rebel. The one who could manage without all that.
But was he coping? An emphatic No! echoed through his mind. Not one iota. Sure, Sophie was helping navigate the choppy waters of parenthood, but she couldn’t help the turmoil raging within him.
God, help me. It was a silent plea that he tossed out, in the hope that God might miraculously see his plight and come to his rescue.
Chapter 18
Brad woke to a strip of light shining underneath the bedroom door and a dry, furry mouth. After splashing water on his face and rinsing his mouth out, he pulled on a clean t-shirt and jeans and headed into the kitchen.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Sophie glanced over from the couch.
“What time is it?” Brad squinted against the bright lights in the kitchen.
“A little after seven.”
“I slept for three hours?” A glance out the window affirmed that night had fallen while he’d slept. After an arduous day at work, he’d crashed the minute he’d arrived home.
“Like a baby.”
“That’s the stupidest comment ever.” He shot a glare at his sister while he pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it with some milk from the fridge. “You know babies don’t sleep, right? Exhibit A.” He pointed to Jarrod lying on his back underneath the arch of soft toys dangling from the baby gym.
Sophie unfolded her legs and sauntered over to the kitchen, perching on a stool at the bench. “Well, however you slept, I’m glad you did. You needed it. These past two weeks have been hectic. In saying that, Jarrod has been an angel.”
Leaning a hip against the sink, Brad took a drink and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “You tidied up, thanks.” He eyed the spotless benchtops. The sparkling sink. Books were stacked neatly on the coffee table. The living room was tidy. And there were no empty pizza boxes or beer bottles in sight.
“No problem. Just trying to help where I can.”
Help. He was never usually one to ask for it, but this time he desperately needed it.
“I have a proposition.” Sophie rested her elbows on the bench and her chin in her hands.
Brad quirked an eyebrow. Sophie’s ideas were usually out there. He recalled her hair-brained ideas growing up that usually resulted in one, if not both of them, getting into trouble. Like the time they jumped off the roof onto a trampoline and into the pool. Or the time Sophie urged him to go faster on a go-kart because a girl he had a crush on would give him a kiss if he didn’t crash. The girl wasn’t there, and he ended up with skinned knees and elbows after a spectacular tumble.
“I’m going to move in here and help take care of Jarrod.”
Placing the glass of milk on the bench, Brad folded his arms. “How’s that going to work when you’re a shift-worker?”
“I’ve spoken to my boss and explained the situation, and requested some set shifts.”
“Soph …”
“Brad, it’s not a secret you can keep forever. It’s not like you can hide a baby. Sooner or later, people are going to start asking questions about the child restraint in the back of your car, and why you have spit-up on your shirt.”
He glanced down, wiping at his chest.
“There’s nothing there right now, but you get my drift.”
He did. But couldn’t they keep it quiet a little longer?
“And what about Hannah?” Sophie’s expression conveyed more than her words.
Hannah. What was he going to do about the only woman he’d allowed to get close to him? The one who’d ignited a spark in the ashes of his heart. He hadn’t been treating her fairly as of late, and he owed it to her to reveal the truth as to why he’d been distant. But not yet.
He wasn’t sure what he was afraid of. Judgement from others that he’d been so reckless in sowing his wild oats. People thinking he couldn’t be a decent father. The list could go on. Given that he’d spent the better portion of the past few years drinking himself into oblivion, he certainly wasn’t father-of-the-year material. He hadn’t touched a drop since Jarrod arrived in his life. But people weren’t so easy to forget.
Sophie leaned forward and folded her arms on the bench. “So, here’s the plan.”
“Do I get a say?”
She shook her head. “My boss has approved time off if I need it. I’ll work some set shifts, but if I need extra time off, she’s happy to give it to me. I have stacks of hours owed to me, so it doesn’t matter.”
A lump formed in his throat as Sophie outlined her plan to take time off from her job to move in with him and care for Jarrod while he worked. “I’ll be the favourite aunt.” She grinned.
“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” He cocked his head to the side.
“How could I not? Jarrod is adorable! And …” she shrugged. “I want him to know that he is loved beyond measure and has a purpose. He’s going to have enough to deal with knowing that his mother didn’t want him.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Brad scratched the side of his jaw. Every time he thought of Laura, his blood boiled. How could a mother not want a child? It didn’t make any sense. He wondered if she would ever return for their son. Given how flighty she was, he doubted it. But if she did, he’d need to be prepared to negotiate custody. And that was one more colossal thing to add to everything else consuming his thoughts.
“… I’ll get my things in the morning.”
Brad blinked, refocusing his attention on Sophie. What had she said? Something about moving in. He nodded as if his mind hadn’t been elsewhere.
“And then we’ll tell Mum.”
“Soph, I need time.” How much more time do you need? You made a mistake. You’re now a dad. Own it. End of story. How pathetic that he was pushing thirty, and he still couldn’t face up to his mother. He still carried the scars of his parents’ admonishments from his teenage years.
“The weekend.” Sophie pushed to her feet and rounded the bench to give Brad a hug. Pushing on her toes, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to catch a few hours’ sleep before the little one begins his nightly party. Until then, you can be th
e man of the house.”
Right. Sophie was only messing with him with that nickname, but he knew it was time for him to step up. To be the adult. To be the dad his son needed him to be. And if that included telling Mum about Jarrod before he was ready, then so be it.
Chapter 19
Brad checked over the pram for what seemed to be the hundredth time, pulling the sunshade in place and ensuring there was still enough airflow for Jarrod. He re-checked that the straps were snug, but not too tight, and pressed a hand to the back of his son’s neck making sure he wasn’t too hot. The baby bag was full of spare nappies, wipes, a dummy, and a bottle in case he got hungry on their sojourn.
Fifteen minutes later, he was out the door. What an ordeal. He was only thankful he wasn’t driving somewhere and then would have to use the pram as well. Just getting out of the house was time consuming enough without having to pack everything in the car. How did people do it with more than one child? With twins?
Hooking an earbud in one ear, he selected a playlist on his phone and headed out.
A few streets from home, he crossed over at the traffic lights and fell into step behind a group of people walking along the footpath. The bay opened out to his right; the water was a welcome sight after being cooped up inside for so long. He returned the nods and smiles from others passing by as they gazed at Jarrod in the pram. It seemed a baby was an attractive accessory.
Every so often he would peer through the window in the top of the pram to see if Jarrod was okay. As it was his first time adventuring out without Sophie, he kept a moderate walking pace. He wasn’t willing to run out of fear that Jarrod would bounce around too much, even though several other women jogged by pushing sports prams. Maybe another time he’d be game.
He passed a playground where the laughter of children filled the air, and he wondered what Jarrod would be like at that age. The thought made him smile, as he imagined outings to the park, pushing him on the swing, catching him at the bottom of the slide and spinning him on the merry-go-round. He recalled with fondness the fun times he’d shared with his dad over the years before he became busy with ministry. His father had been a good role model, and he only hoped he could live up to that for his son.
Brad pressed the brake on the pram and sat on a bench seat overlooking the water. Jarrod was awake and tracking the soft toy dangling from the pram. Brad lifted him out and cradled him on his lap, shielding his face from the sun with one hand.
“Look at the boats out there,” he said. “One day we might go on one.” He could already imagine being on the open water with the wind in his hair, the sting of salty water against his skin and his young son by his side. He chuckled to himself. It felt strange talking to someone who couldn’t talk back. But everything he’d read had indicated that talking to a baby, and even playing games like peek-a-boo, were all good for their brain development.
He chatted for a while, giving a running commentary on the weather, people walking by, the breeds of dogs he saw, and even his work.
“Do you make it a habit of talking to yourself?”
A brown dog appeared in the corner of his eye. He followed the taut lead up over a slender arm and latched onto the gaze of the brunette owner. His heart jerked in his chest. He’d forgotten how beautiful she was.
“Not usually.” Brad chuckled. “At least I know I won’t be interrupted with this one.”
Hannah sat beside him on the bench and tied Louie’s leash around the arm of the seat. “Babysitting?”
Brad uncrossed his ankles and lowered his gaze to Jarrod who was clasping his index finger in his tiny hand. Did he want Hannah to know the truth? He’d been avoiding her for this very reason. He knew he needed to tell her. But the fear of rejection and disappointment was too strong. “My sister’s nephew,” he blurted. Coward. He wasn’t exactly wrong. But he wasn’t being truthful, either.
He saw the slight dip of Hannah’s eyebrows as she tried to figure out the connection. Family trees were more intertwined vines or jungles these days, so hopefully, she’d be satisfied with his answer and not ask any more questions.
“He’s adorable,” she said, before peering at him from beneath delicate eyelashes. He longed to tuck her hair behind her ear, to caress her cheek, to taste her lips. But he couldn’t.
You’re adorable. Her soft smile snagged in his chest.
“What’s his name?”
“Jarrod.”
She nodded and gave a small chuckle that whispered over his skin.
“What?” It was his turn to frown.
“It kind of suits you,” Hannah said, with a wave of her hand before a hue of pink crept over her cheeks.
“What does?”
“The baby. It’s a surprising contrast from seeing you in your khakis and covered in dirt.” With a sigh, she stretched her legs in front of her, while Louie plopped down onto the ground at her feet. “Do you eventually want children of your own?”
Brad blinked at how quickly the conversation had escalated. How had they gone from talking about his work attire to talking about children?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I’m not wanting to scare you away.”
“No, that’s fine,” Brad said, repositioning Jarrod against his chest as he started to whimper. “I …” Children had always been a vague thought for somewhere in the future. A distant dream. For when he’d settle down. But, how quickly all that had changed when Laura arrived on his doorstep. “One day,” he said.
He’d apologise for his untruthfulness later. He needed time to sort through his shortcomings before he had this conversation with Hannah. Admitting to her that Jarrod was his son was not something he was ready to deal with right now.
Louie ambled to his feet and barked at another dog approaching with its owner. Running her hand over his back, Hannah tugged on the lead. Brad took the distraction as his opportunity to stand.
“I should get going before this little fellow cracks it. He’s surprisingly loud for a small thing.”
Hannah stood with him and rested her hand on his arm. “Is everything okay, Brad?”
His gaze shifted to her face where the concern in her eyes twisted something inside, and the impulse to run away hit him hard.
“Yeah, everything’s a bit crazy at the moment.”
“You’ve been a little distant, and I’ve been concerned about you. Let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”
“Sure.” Ignoring the hurt in her eyes, he gave a tight smile and gently positioned Jarrod in the pram before securing him with the restraints. Tucking the soft blanket around him, he promised Hannah he’d be in touch.
As he turned and walked away, he only hoped he was man enough to honour his word. He’d already lied by omission. He didn’t want to ruin things further.
Chapter 20
Brad paced in the living room holding Jarrod to his chest, rubbing circles over his son’s back. The baby had been unsettled since after dinner, and Brad had been up all night trying to settle him. He seemed congested, and a barking cough was concerning.
Sophie was on the evening shift at the hospital, and he’d attempted calling her twice, to no avail.
“Shh.” Panic crept in as Jarrod continued coughing. His face was a mess of tears and he looked set to explode. Nothing would settle him. He refused his bottle, and his cries were reaching a hysterical pitch.
Worry invaded Brad’s thoughts as he paced back and forth, wondering who to call. Knots of anxiety twisted in his stomach as Jarrod continued screaming and coughing.
With a glance around the living room, he grabbed the nappy bag and his phone before racing out to the ute. After buckling Jarrod into his car seat, he hit the gas, and made the trip to the hospital in record time.
“My son,” he announced to the triage nurse as he raced through the doors of the emergency department cradling Jarrod to his chest. “He’s not well. He’s coughing and has been crying for hours. I can’t settle him. Can someone help him, please?”
“Let me get some details,” the middle-aged nurse said, passing a clipboard through the window for Brad to fill out some paperwork. She glanced up from typing their names into the computer. “Are you related to Sophie?”
Brad nodded. “She’s my sister.”
“Lovely girl. Always so friendly and cheerful.”
Jarrod began coughing again. Brad ran a hand through his hair, eyeing the near-empty waiting room. “Can someone see him, please? I’m really worried.” He was glad the nurse found Sophie to be friendly, but he wasn’t here for small talk about his sister.
After what seemed an eternity, the nurse ushered Brad into a room.
“You can sit on the bed while I take your son’s vitals. A doctor will see you shortly.”
As the nurse placed Jarrod in a nearby crib and attached various monitors to him, Brad looked around the room. Brightly coloured decals of jungle animals and trees were plastered over the walls. Various machines beeped from throughout the ER.
“Is he going to be okay?” Helplessness engulfed him as he watched Jarrod’s tiny body being poked and prodded. His chest rapidly rose and fell as he struggled to breathe. His distressed cries filled the room.
After what seemed an eternity, a man, not much older than Brad, strode into the room. Wearing navy trousers, a white button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves, and a stethoscope around his neck, he introduced himself as Dr Marshall.
He fired off a barrage of questions which left Brad’s head reeling.
“And his immunisations are up-to-date?”
“I think so.” Brad nodded, indicating to the health record on the bedside table. Sophie had taken Jarrod for his six-week check-up, and he’d had the appropriate immunisations according to the vaccination schedule. Other than that, he didn’t know what else he should be doing.
Remnants of the Heart (Winds of Change Book 3) Page 9
