by Amy Andrews
* * *
Lola, holding her goldfish bowl, recovered first.
Naturally.
‘How come you’re in my mummy’s bed?’ she asked Patrick.
‘Well...’ He slid a sideways look at Miranda as he cleared his throat.
Miranda jumped in. ‘Patrick was too tired to go home last night so he slept here instead.’ She held her breath. Lola generally took explanations at face value, too wrapped up in her own world to dig too deeply into anything that didn’t have an immediate bearing on it.
Ruby was a different prospect. Miranda could see her green eyes assessing the situation a little more closely. She chewed on her lip with her two new front teeth, which had finally arrived a few weeks ago. ‘You could have thlept with me, Daddy.’
Patrick forced his best daddy grin on his face. ‘You two were hogging the bed,’ he protested lightly. ‘There wasn’t any room for me and my big feet.’ And then, deciding the best defence was offence, he said, ‘You’re up early, Rubyloo. Were the beg bugs biting?’
Lola giggled. ‘No, silly.’ She held up her goldfish bowl. ‘Something...magical...’ she breathed the word out, garnishing it with a brand of reverence only a five-year-old girl could ‘...has happened.’
Miranda took in the two fish, still apparently not the best of chums, and plastered the biggest look of surprise on her face she’d ever faked. ‘Wow! Two fish? But...’ she spread her hands dramatically, ‘...how’d that happen?’
Both little girls shook their heads. ‘Ith a miracle,’ Ruby whispered, her eyes large.
Patrick shook his head. ‘It’s the mermaids, I reckon.’
‘Mermaids?’ Lola squeaked.
‘I reckon they knew that Bud was lonely and sent him a friend.’
‘Really, Daddy?’ Ruby asked, her voice hushed, her eyes glowing with excitement.
He nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘But...’ Lola frowned at Ruby ‘...we didn’t see a mermaid.’
Ruby’s face fell as she looked at her friend. ‘No,’ she agreed. And then they both looked at the adults for an explanation.
‘Mermaids are like the tooth fairy, right, Miranda?’ Patrick said, getting into the groove of the fantasy.
‘Right,’ Miranda agreed, her heart still fluttering madly at the situation they were in. And shouldn’t be.
‘You never see them, they come when you’re asleep. But they visit fish at night. All the time.’
Miranda dug her finger discreetly into his leg. He’d made up enough for one day. Embellishment was a bad idea—always keep it simple. She made a mental note to tell their teacher about the mermaid story, which would surely come up next week at school.
Both girls were looking at him expectantly for more but Patrick wisely heeded Miranda’s prompt. ‘Who feels like pancakes?’ he asked.
‘Yay!’ Both girls cheered in unison.
Patrick breathed a sigh of relief over how easily distracted five-year-olds were. ‘Well, go on and feed the fish and get dressed, and we’ll meet you in the kitchen in five minutes,’ he announced.
Miranda watched the girls hurry to the door, half of her grateful for their hasty exit, the other half worrying that the fish were about to be displaced from their bowl with each tsunami-like wave of the water. Lola stopped abruptly and turned at the entrance, the water sloshing precariously, fish still in situ.
She looked at her mother, her gaze suddenly shrewd. ‘Why aren’t you wearing your pyjamas?’
Patrick heard the little strangled gurgle at the back of Miranda’s throat as she stared blankly at her daughter. He bit the side of his cheek. He shouldn’t laugh, it wasn’t funny. He had a pretty good idea that Miranda was going to be distinctly annoyed. But she looked very cute when she was flummoxed.
‘I was...hot,’ Miranda said lamely.
Lola rolled her eyes. ‘You should have turned the fan on, Mummy.’ And then she shimmied out of the room after Ruby.
Miranda let out a breath as her daughter’s blonde curls finally disappeared from view, and she dropped her forehead into her palms.
Patrick’s chuckle surrounded her as he said, ‘You should see your face.’
Miranda’s head snapped up. ‘You,’ she said, pushing his arm, ‘were supposed to leave. That was the deal.’
‘Hey,’ he half laughed, half protested. ‘I had every intention. I must have just drifted off...’
Miranda flicked the sheet aside and slid out of bed. ‘This is bad,’ she muttered as she picked up her discarded bra and undies off the floor.
Patrick watched her climb into her underwear, admiring her as she wrapped all her fineness in red satin and black lace. ‘It’ll be fine.’
Miranda shot him a thunderous look. ‘Well, don’t just lie there—we have pancakes to make. And some damage control to do.’
‘Ah...yeah...I’m going to need a minute.’ He grimaced.
* * *
As it turned out, there wasn’t really any need for damage control. The girls helped Patrick make the pancakes and they all sat around the table, eating them as if Ruby and Lola sprang them naked in bed together every morning.
Which, of course, they probably would should they take the relationship to the next stage.
Miranda shivered at the thought because sitting here amidst the cosy domesticity of Saturday morning breakfast, Lola chatting away ten to the dozen, she wanted that. Her heart ached for it so badly she could barely breathe every time she looked at Patrick and Lola interacting.
This was what she wanted.
What she’d always wanted her entire life. A family. A true working unit. A mum and a dad and two children living in a gingerbread house in an enchanted forest.
Well, maybe not quite...but definitely not what she’d had. A single mother, an absent, resentful father, a dysfunctional household.
Maybe Patrick was right. Maybe they could have it sooner rather than later. She glanced at him and he chose that moment to look her way in his rumpled clothes from yesterday and smile, and she drew in a deep shuddery breath at the enormity of it. She smiled back.
‘Are you going to be my mummy?’
Startled by the comment, Miranda dragged her gaze off Patrick and onto his daughter. Ruby may have been five but she was an intuitive little thing. Unlike Lola, she was very in tune with people’s emotions, sensitive to undercurrents. She glanced at Patrick and he gave a slight shrug.
‘What...makes you say that, Ruby?’ she hedged, noticing that Lola had stopped chatting and was now listening intently.
‘Jamie Biddle theth his daddy hugth his mummy in bed a lot.’
‘That’s not the only criterion to being a mummy,’ Miranda said tentatively.
‘He theth they thmile at each other a lot too.’
Patrick suppressed the quick grin that rose to his lips by pressing them together. ‘How would you feel about that, Ruby-loo?’ he asked, casually ignoring Miranda’s frown in his peripheral vision. ‘About Miranda being your mummy?’
Ruby put her arms on the table and balanced her chin on sticky, maple-syrup palms. She looked adorable as her brows drew together in fierce concentration. ‘I already have a mummy.’
‘Yes, you do,’ Miranda said, jumping in quickly. Maybe Katie didn’t deserve to be part of her daughter’s life, running away as she had and not coming back, but, being a mother herself and the child of an aloof mother, Miranda felt some sympathy for Katie.
And she never wanted Ruby to feel torn.
‘And she will always be your mummy.’
‘But we...’ Patrick indicated them all by swizzling his finger around in the air between them ‘...could all still become a family.’
‘Patrick,’ Miranda murmured.
Her eyes had narrowed and she shook her head at him almost i
mperceptibly, but Patrick wasn’t dissuaded. He knew she wasn’t ready for this to be discussed but sometimes there were openings that were too good to ignore.
Ruby’s eyes opened wide.
Patrick ignored Miranda’s disapproval. ‘Miranda could be like a...second mummy.’
‘And you could be my daddy?’ Lola interjected, cottoning on quickly to what was in it for her. Having never really had a daddy to begin with, Lola had obviously decided that numero uno spot was his for the taking.
Patrick felt the innocent question sock him right between the eyes. He’d always imagined himself with three or four kids but when Katie had run out on him, just getting through the day had taken up all his energy—there had been no time for happy family daydreams. Suddenly he felt like that was back in play. ‘If you like.’
Ruby regarded him with solemn eyes. ‘What about Grandma? Grandma would thill live with uth?’
Even though Miranda hated the prematurity of this discussion—there was a knot in her stomach as big as a football—she couldn’t bear the uncertainty in Ruby’s sweet little voice. ‘Absolutely,’ she said, her voice firm, her smile genuine. ‘Grandmothers are the most important part of families, aren’t they, Lols?’
Lola nodded solemnly but her busy brain was already thinking way ahead. She put her arm around Ruby’s shoulder. ‘When you get married, could we be flower girls?’
Miranda stood abruptly. Okay, enough now. They were tempting fate and she didn’t want it to go any further. ‘All right, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’ She started gathering dishes. ‘We’ll think about this all again at Christmas time. You girls need to go and wash your hands,’ she said briskly.
The girls slipped out of their seats without protest, seemingly unconcerned about the deep and meaningful issues that had just been discussed. ‘Come on, Rubes, let’s go and practise our flower-girl walk,’ Lola said as they scampered away.
* * *
Miranda let the dishes clatter to the table as she watched them skip away. She turned on him, hands shoved on hips, temper simmering. ‘You’ve created a monster.’
Patrick shrugged. ‘There was an opening. I was just testing the water.’
‘They’re practising their flower-girl walk,’ she hissed.
He grinned. He knew she was mad but maybe this hadn’t been such a bad thing. ‘So let’s not disappoint them. Let’s move in together.’
Miranda gaped at him. ‘Are you crazy? That is not what we discussed.’
They’d discussed dating openly for a period of time and then when Ruby and Lola were used to that they’d start spending nights at each other’s houses with the girls in tow.
‘We need to slow it down.’
Patrick wasn’t so sure after last night. He was beginning to think they should be doing the opposite. He finally knew what he wanted and she was standing right in front of him. He walked round her side of the table, pulled her, resisting all the way, into his arms. ‘Maybe we need to speed it up.’
Then he kissed her deep and hard.
By the time Miranda broke away she was breathing heavily, and scraping her thoughts back together proved to be a task almost beyond her. She flopped onto the chair behind her, her knees not quite as strong as she’d like.
‘So much could go wrong,’ she said, looking up at him.
Patrick could see the plea in her smoky green eyes as she begged him to understand.
‘We don’t have a normal situation,’ she continued. ‘And I’ve rushed headlong into something before and Lola suffered the consequences.’
Patrick sank into the chair next to her, his thighs bracketing the outside of hers as he reached for her hand. ‘What we have is not like that, Miranda. I know it’s scary but we can’t be afraid to be happy because things haven’t worked in the past.’
Miranda nodded because she knew he was telling the truth. ‘I’m not saying we shouldn’t do it,’ she said. ‘I just don’t think we should rush.’
Patrick frowned because her hand shook and her voice trembled. She seemed so...scared. ‘What are you afraid is going to happen?’ he asked.
Miranda’s biggest fear loomed in her mind and instead of pushing it away like she had for the last six months she gave it voice. ‘I’m afraid Katie will come back and throw everything into chaos.’
Patrick blinked, taken aback by the revelation. ‘Waiting won’t change that,’ he said. ‘That can happen any time.’
Miranda nodded. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear but it was true nonetheless. ‘I know.’
What she wanted to hear was him saying that by hook or by crook he wouldn’t allow her anywhere near them. Sometimes the memories of her childhood, of her mother pining for a man who had divided loyalties, were still very powerful. She didn’t want to be in that situation.
But she was torn. She didn’t have the right to keep Ruby’s biological mother out of Ruby’s life and the part of her that was a mother didn’t want to either.
Patrick slid his hand along her jaw, cupping it, raising her face until she was looking at him. ‘Are you...? Do you think I’m still in love with her?’
Miranda shook her head because he’d told her he wasn’t and she believed him. ‘I just don’t think you fully appreciate how difficult blending families can be. How much strain it can put on a relationship.’
‘Hey.’ He stroked his thumb along her cheekbone. ‘Who’s getting ahead of herself now? Why don’t we cross that bridge if and when we get to it?’
‘I know.’ She gave him a small smile. ‘Sorry. Put it down to the whole daughter-of-a-home-wrecker paranoia.’
Patrick didn’t realise until this moment just how much Miranda’s upbringing had scarred her. ‘You and Ruby and Lola will always come first for me, and if Katie ever does show up again and wants to cause trouble then I will fight tooth and nail to keep this family together. I will protect that with my life.’
A huge lump blocked Miranda’s throat and tears stung her eyes. ‘I know,’ she whispered.
Patrick smiled. ‘Now can we speed this thing up a little?’
Miranda rolled her eyes and pulled back from him. ‘We’ll talk about it. After the divorce.’
Patrick leaned back in his chair. ‘Okay. But you know I’m not going to take no for an answer, right?’
She snorted. ‘Yeah, I figured.’
He sobered again, leaning forward and reaching for her hand. ‘It’s going to be fine, Miranda. I promise. I know you’ve lived cautiously for the last few years, we both have, but, trust me, it’s going to work out for us.’
Miranda smiled as she linked her fingers with his. ‘I’m going to hold you to that.’
* * *
And for three days Miranda actually believed that he was right. That things were going to work out. They were expecting the official divorce papers to arrive this week and then, maybe then, she’d feel like things were more set in stone. For someone who had lived a lot of her life under the cloud of uncertainty, stone was a good thing.
Then whammy number one hit.
She was working the emergency theatre on Tuesday afternoon when she went to the entrance to accept her next patient. The anaesthetic nurse always took handover from the ward nurse, asking the patient a lot of questions they’d already been asked at least a dozen times. She then accompanied the patient to the anaesthetic room, where they went through the same questions again.
Miranda knew it frustrated patients but it was better to go through the same things over and over than to wake up with an amputated right leg instead of the intended left one.
Her patient that afternoon was a man who’d been involved in a jet-ski accident on the Brisbane River. He’d sustained a badly fractured humerus close to the elbow joint that required pinning and plating.
The emergency room nurse smiled at
her and handed her a chart as they exchanged some brief pleasantries. Miranda said a brief hello to her patient before signalling her colleague to begin the handover. ‘This is twenty-four-year-old Mal Anderson who—’
Miranda didn’t hear the rest as she frowned down at the chart with the familiar name. It took a couple of seconds to compute. Oh, my God!
‘Mal?’ She looked down at her patient properly. His golden curls were obscured by the theatre cap all patients had foisted on them for their stint in the operating theatre, but his bronzed face looked as carefree as it always had.
He blinked up at her for a moment, his forehead crinkled then she watched realisation slowly dawn. ‘Mirry?’
Miranda didn’t know what to say. She’d known things had been going too smoothly to be true but never in a million years had running into Lola’s father popped up as a possibility. She’d been convinced Katie would be the fly in the ointment.
He smiled at her, the same toothpaste-ad smile he’d flashed her six years ago that had made her feel special, the centre of attention, and his eyes still startlingly blue. For a moment she could see Lola in him so clearly it almost stole her breath.
But his ugly words came back to her, negating all his blond good looks, and his presence at this time in her life just made her jittery. Wary and vulnerable.
‘Oh, my God,’ he said. ‘How are you?’
Conscious of her audience, Miranda gave him a noncommittal ‘Fine’ before excusing herself to get back to the handover. When it was done she plastered a smile on her face, nodded at the orderly to wheel the trolley and asked Mal what he’d been up to.
By the time they reached the anaesthetic room and Mal was wheeled into position a minute later it was plain he was still chasing waves. But he’d gone global, getting himself a job as a photographer on a famous surfing magazine.
She remembered that he’d always been taking pictures. That he’d taken a bunch of her. That she had them in an old box somewhere. She hadn’t thought about them in years.
