Miracle In March (19 page)

‘Oh I am, honey, I am!' She fanned her face again. ‘Don't you agree Emma?'

Emma nodded. Drew was many an Australian woman's fantasy — the down to earth celebrity who had a heart of gold. But despite this, if she could choose, she knew exactly who would win her heart, and he was standing right next to her, the heat from his hands still lingering on her neck.

‘Well, good for you guys, glad you enjoyed the night,' James said. ‘Did you get his autograph too?'

‘You betcha.' Marie pulled out a signed postcard with a professional photo of Drew, guitar in hand, on the beach. ‘If people had known he was playing, the café would have been swamped, I'm sure. Jonah said that he sometimes visits discreetly, surprising patrons with an impromptu performance and a free round of drinks.'

‘Is he living here again?' Emma asked.

‘Not sure, it's all a bit hush-hush, but some say he may have a house somewhere in the area.'

‘Probably one of those rich ones up in the hills,' said Martin.

‘Anyway, couldn't wait till morning to tell you. What have you kids been up to tonight?'

Emma looked at James and a silent awkwardness hung between them.

I was just about to get it on with your son.

‘Um, Emma was teaching Jackson how to draw faces, and she brought some of her own artworks to show me.' James moved to the coffee table and showed them Jackson's handiwork, then Emma's.

‘Impressive,' said Martin, eyeing the landscape drawings.

‘Wow, Emma, you have quite a talent.' Marie touched her arm.

‘Thanks.' She smiled.

They oohed and ahhed (well, Marie did) over the drawings, and James offered them a cup of tea.

‘Oh no, we better get going, love,' said Marie. ‘Talk more tomorrow.' She and her husband opened the door.

‘And don't forget to think about that opportunity,' Martin said to James.

‘Martin,' Marie whispered, giving him a light whack on the arm.

James' lips became tight and he scratched his head. ‘Well, goodnight Mum, Dad.' He stepped onto the porch to see them off and Emma smiled and waved goodbye. They walked along the moonlit path to their cabin, and James stepped back inside.

‘Sorry about that,' he said.

‘It's okay, I can understand your mum's excitement.'

James slipped his hands into his pockets and swivelled side to side, seemingly unsure how to bridge the gap between where they had been a few minutes ago and where they were now.

Maybe some small talk would help. ‘So, what's this opportunity your dad mentioned? Something for your business?' Emma asked casually.

James' lips became tight again and he twisted one corner of them to the side. ‘Oh, nothing.' He waved her question away. ‘Anyway, do you want a drink of something, or a snack?' He moved to the kitchen.

With the bright light filling the room and having just been in conversation with James' parents, the mood had now changed. Emma didn't know if they could recapture the purity and perfection of the moment between them that had now passed.

‘Actually, I should probably head home. Working again tomorrow.'

James rested a hand on the kitchen counter. ‘You sure?'

‘Yeah, and I bet you need some sleep before Jackson wakes at the crack of dawn.'

He nodded. ‘So you're off work on Sunday and Monday, is that right?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, I guess I'll see you around. Tomorrow maybe.'

‘Uh-huh.' She nodded, grabbed her bag and drawings, and stepped through the door when James opened it for her.

Should she give him a goodbye kiss? Or would that dampen the power of the one that had almost evolved into unbridled ecstasy only moments before?

She hovered on the porch, then the squeak of the door next door caught her attention. Lizzie emerged in her nightgown, stretching her arms up to the sky.

‘Oh, hi guys,' she said. ‘Just getting some fresh air before bed. You coming or going Emma?'

‘Going.'

‘See you later then. Sleep well.' Lizzie yawned.

‘You too.' Emma stepped off the porch and gave a little wave to James. ‘Thanks for tonight,' she said.

‘Thank
you
,' he replied.

As Emma walked along the path, the salty scent in the air filled her nose, and the night breeze lifted all traces of James' warmth from her skin. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. It had felt so,
so
good, but maybe the interruption had been a sign, an obstacle, a ‘hey girl what do you think you're doing?' from the universe. Maybe this weekend would simply be closure from her hasty departure five years ago. A chance to let any remaining embers of attraction run their course and burn out, to make way for new life, new flames, and — what James' dad had said — new opportunities.

Emma left the reception office just after twelve thirty pm, and glanced over at the park in case James was there with Jackson, but she couldn't see him. She made her way along the path and up the hill towards her parents' house. She would have to try and see James after work today, Saturday night. Two more days and he'd be gone.

‘Hi, darling,' her mother said when she opened the door. ‘You look lovely.'

‘Oh, Mum, I look the same as I always do in my work uniform.'

‘Exactly. Lovely.'

She kissed her mum on the cheek.

‘Hi, Dad,' Emma said. ‘How are you?'

‘Bloody brilliant,' he replied. Emma didn't know if he was being sarcastic or not. ‘How's construction going, is Bob behaving himself?'

‘It's his day off, today. Saturday, remember?' she said.

‘Every day is the same to me.' He flicked his good hand.

‘Well, someone commented on our Facebook post about Bob's photo,' Emma said. ‘Reckoned he looked hot.' She laughed.

‘Oh, that's good,' Barbara said.

‘Why is it good?' her dad asked.

‘Because he says he can't get a wife, and maybe Facebook will help,' Emma explained.

‘Huh?' Her dad said. ‘How can he get on Facebook then?'

‘What do you mean, Dad?'

‘If he can't get wi-fi. How can he get on the internet to access Facebook?'

Emma burst out laughing. Her dad's hearing issues were at least creating some light entertainment. ‘
Wife
, Dad, not wi-fi!'

‘Oh!' Barbara laughed.

‘I thought you meant he couldn't get Internet,' he said. ‘Maybe he needs to go on one of those Internet dating things.'

‘He says that's his last resort.'

‘He ain't getting any younger,' Don Brighton remarked. ‘Last time I saw him his wrinkles were giving mine a run for my money.'

‘Dad!' Emma was glad Bob wasn't around to hear him.

‘Anyway,' Barbara clapped her hands together. ‘How are you going with James?'

‘Um…' Emma replied. ‘Well, we're getting along okay, so that's good.'

‘Just okay?'

‘Pretty good, then. His son is really cute.'

‘What happened to the child's mother?' Barbara asked.

Emma's insides twisted. ‘Um, let's not talk about that.'

‘What should we talk about then?' her dad asked. ‘I know, what do James' parents do?'

‘Why?' And why were they so interested in Bob and James and James' parents? Were they trying to avoid another awkward discussion about the park and Emma's personal issues?

‘Just making conversation. Are they retired?'

‘James' dad was a lawyer, like him. His mum, a librarian.'

‘Huh?' her dad said again. ‘How does that work?'

‘How does what work?'

‘You know, did she have him via a test tube or something?'

‘Don, what are you on about?' Barbara asked, her face creased with confusion.

‘I'm all for modern day marriages, but I'm just wondering how they managed, with her being a lesbian.'

Oh no! ‘
God, Dad, I didn't say lesbian! I said
librarian
!'

Her mother lowered and shook her head. ‘We will have to start speaking more clearly, love.'

Emma laughed again, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Forget her artworks, maybe she would have to start documenting all these faux pas from her dad and put them into a book:
Post-stroke Humour
.

‘Anyway, let's have lunch, shall we?' Barbara placed the cutlery on the table and they sat down.

After a relatively peaceful time eating lunch, her mum said, ‘So, isn't it around the time to get your latest test results? Where are things up to?'

‘I already got them, Mum. All good.'

‘What? When?' Her mum placed her hand on her arm.

‘All clear?' her father added. ‘Well, that is fabulous news. Good to see those doctors are earning their ridiculously high paycheques.'

Emma smiled, glad her dad could have some good news. ‘I got the results a month or so ago.' She leaned closer to her mother. ‘Around when the, um…'

‘Oh.' Barbara covered her mouth with her hand. She glanced at her husband then back again. ‘When the stroke happened?' she whispered.

Emma nodded.

‘Oh, love, you should have told us.'

‘I couldn't, it seemed unimportant compared to what was going on.' Emma fiddled with her collar, heat crawling up her neck.

Barbara took her daughter's hand, tears welling in her eyes. ‘This is wonderful,' she whispered. ‘We need to celebrate. Did you have anything you wanted to do?'

Emma kept silent, and shrugged.

‘What about a nice weekend away sometime, or a pampering day at the spa?'

Emma bit her lip.
Or a trip to Paris.

‘Is everything okay?' Barbara asked.

‘Yes. It's fine. I was just, ah…'

‘What are you not telling me?'

Emma took a deep breath. ‘I was going to book an overseas trip, when it happened.'

‘Overseas? And so you had to cancel your plans? Oh dear, sorry Emma.' She shook her head. ‘And you've never been overseas. Why don't you still go?'

‘I can't. I need to be here. You both need me.'

‘Em,' she said. ‘We can hire a park manager in the meantime, until we sell the place. We'll manage.'

‘But they'll need training, and it'll cost more money. No. I'll stay.' She exhaled a short, sharp breath. ‘You were both there for me when I needed you. I want to do the same. I owe you.'

She dared to glance at her father, whose eyes remained still.

‘You don't owe us,' he whispered. ‘We just want…' his eyes became glossy. ‘We just want you to be happy.'

‘Oh, Dad.' She leaned over and grasped his hand. ‘I am happy.'

‘But you need to experience the world. We've done that. You should leave us old withering codgers and go off on the trip of a lifetime.'

Emma laughed, and almost burst into tears at the same time.

‘He's right, Em. Don't let life get away from you.'

She didn't know how to respond.

‘And in terms of James. If you're meant to be with him, it will work out somehow. But don't hold back for him either, otherwise you'll regret it.' Barbara gathered the plates.

‘Shouldn't I wait for a sign or something, Mum?' she asked.

Her mother shrugged. ‘Stuff the signs in this case. Sometimes you just need to do what you need to do.'

What did she need? What did she want? Emma still had to figure all that out. Before her dad's stroke and reuniting with James it was easy: five years in remission — go overseas to celebrate. Now there were her parents to consider,
and
James. She didn't want to mess things up a second time with him.

After lunch, James took Jackson to the bathroom in the cabin and pointed to the sand tray against the wall.

‘Let's try the sand again, yeah?' James already had bare feet, there was hardly any need for shoes around this place. He slowly stepped into the tray, his feet taking up nearly the whole thing. He exaggerated a smile. ‘Ooh, this feels great!' He wriggled his feet and sand spread between his toes. ‘Jackson's turn?' He stepped out and pointed to the tray.

Jackson gave a high-pitched sound then grabbed Owly from the vanity where he was keeping the soap company, and moved towards the tray. He gently placed the toy inside the tray, and he squealed and gripped his hands tightly together, then flapped them about. ‘Ooo, ooo,' he said with his lips in a forced pout.

‘That's it, good work Jackson! Ooo, ooo,' he echoed. Was he just making sounds or was he trying to mimic an Owl's night-time call? Either way it was all progress.

James bent down and moved Owly's tiny feet around as though he was enjoying the squishy feeling of sand. Then he pressed the applause button on the Sound Machine and added his own clap for the toy's accomplishment. Jackson squealed and jumped.

‘Okay, now Jackson's turn.' He moved Owly to the side and gestured for Jackson to step into the tray. James lifted his own foot to remind him, then pointed to his son's foot. ‘Jackson step in?'

Jackson edged closer and grabbed his father's hand, something that always made James proud. A simple touch evoked such strong paternal feelings for his boy. ‘Yep, put your foot in.'

Jackson lifted his foot and James' anticipation lifted with it.

C'mon, buddy, you can do it.

Jackson stepped into the sand, one foot only, and gripped his father's hand tighter.

‘It's okay, I've got you. You won't fall.' The boy stood rigid with one foot in and one foot out. ‘Other foot now.' James tapped the foot that still rested on the bathroom floor. Jackson lifted it and stepped completely into the sand tray. His toes curled and clenched as though he was walking on broken glass. ‘Good boy! Feels good doesn't it?' James smiled and encouraged him to move his feet, stepping on the spot with his own as an example. ‘Stomp, stomp, stomp. Can you do that?'