Miracle In March (21 page)

‘You're doing a great job, son.' Martin gave a firm pat with his hand, and a subtle nod of his head. ‘You're a good father.'

A lump formed in James throat. He brought his hand up to his father's and gave it two light pats. ‘I had a good teacher.'

Emma decorated the wrapped gift with a ribbon, then placed it on the reception desk for Amelia to find the next morning. She smiled, glad she'd been able to get it finished by the end of work today. Amelia would love the drawing of the beach and headland with Tarrin towering above the holiday park, and it had turned out quite well, if she did say so herself.

She had thought of giving the drawing to James, but wasn't sure if that was getting a bit personal, and it could also be seen as a goodbye gift. She was still deciding whether it would be goodbye, see you later, or something else. But the more she thought about it, the more she thought it was probably best to continue on with her original plans and do what was right for her, first and foremost. They had each other's number; they could always get in touch if necessary, but everything seemed too sudden. At least with two days off starting in a few minutes, she'd have time to ponder everything and see James off when he left on Monday, get a sense of how they would leave things. And tomorrow when she'd be at Jen's party, he'd surely be focused on saying goodbye to his grandmother on what would have been her birthday, so it certainly wasn't the time to discuss other matters.

Emma switched off the desk lamp and locked the drawers, wiped down the countertop and eyed the other thoughtful gift on the desk. The one she'd been given by a guest who had checked out this morning; a six-year-old girl and her parents. The girl had made a little gift bag for Emma containing a few items she'd found and also bought: two seashells, a flower (which would of course wilt and die shortly, but it didn't matter), a miniature pack of playing cards, a whistle, and a cylinder of bubbles to blow. It wasn't every day that guests gave gifts as thanks for enjoying their stay, but apparently the little girl had thought of the idea herself. It had touched Emma's heart, but had also reminded her of the fact that she'd never be able to have a daughter of her own. After they'd left, she'd held back tears. They would often come and go unexpectedly, like changes in the weather. Just when she thought she was over it and had accepted her fate, something would happen and trigger the emotions again. She knew it would ease with time, like grief. She was grieving for something she never had, and never would.

Before closing up, Emma thought of Jackson and had an idea. She took the container of bubbles from the gift bag and brought it outside with her. She didn't have to walk to the cabin, Jackson and James were at the playground and Jackson was using leaves and twigs to make a shape around Owly as he lay helpless on the spongy ground. James' parents sat at a nearby picnic table with takeaway coffees in their hands.

‘Hi,' she said to James, her voice catching a little in her throat at the memory of the night before, how they'd come close to letting go and letting their history take over where it had left off.

‘Off duty?'

‘Till Tuesday.' Emma breathed out with a whoosh and a smile. She waved a hello to Marie and Martin. Both Martin and James had warm colour in their cheeks, their week in the sun starting to show.

‘Thought I'd come by and see if Jackson was interested in bubbles?' She held up the cylinder.

James looked surprised. ‘You know what? I don't think he's ever experienced them. Let's see what he thinks.' He moved closer to his son. ‘Hey, buddy. Look at this.' He pointed to Emma and she pulled out the handle and blew through the circle, a glossy elongated bubble growing and releasing itself into the air. Jackson didn't notice, until she blew a few more and they floated around him. He gazed up at them, his eyes taking on a surprised and wondrous look, his mouth gaping.

James stuck his finger into one and it popped. Jackson flinched. James did it again and said, ‘Pop!' then laughed. A wide grin stretched across Jackson's face, and he pushed his hands against the bubbles, laughing as they disappeared. He stood and left Owly in his virtual prison while he chased bubbles around him.

Emma eyed James and cocked her head towards the sand. He nodded. They could use them to try and entice him over to the sand.

As Jackson enjoyed the delight of the experience and Marie Gallagher took photos, James scooped up Owly as Emma blew bubbles further away from Jackson so he would follow them. She walked along the grass, Jackson following the bubble trail, swatting and leaping to catch them. She kicked off her shoes as she neared the edge where grass gave way to sand.

James already had bare feet, and so did Jackson, he had mentioned he was getting him used to being without them so his soles would desensitise to different textures. Emma stepped onto the sand and blew more bubbles, reaching up to pop them with her finger. Jackson glanced at the ground, aware he was veering into the unknown, and stayed put at the border, still reaching up on his toes to try to catch the bubbles. He made an urgent grunting sound as some were too far away to catch.

‘James,' Emma said. She pointed to the owl and then to the sand. ‘Maybe if he sees it on the sand?'

James put the toy close enough for Jackson to be near him but far enough away that he couldn't reach without moving forward. Emma blew bubbles in Owly's direction, and James made the toy jump up and pop them with his nose. They both laughed, encouraging Jackson to join in the fun. The boy was clearly mesmerised by these magical floating things, his fingers curled and wriggled in front of him, itching to pop them. Emma handed the bubbles to James and approached Jackson. She held out her hand in a non-threatening way, and waited. ‘Let's go rescue Owly from the bubbles.'

James pretended that Owly was getting bumped on the head by the bubbles and kept collapsing, then James would rescue the toy and cuddle him. The next time he did it, he made the toy fall further away, and collapsed onto the sand himself, pretending he couldn't reach far enough to get Owly. ‘Jackson, help me get Owly? I can't reach!'

Emma couldn't contain her grin at James' enthusiastic attempts.

The boy's face creased with concern.

‘Quick, Owly needs us!' Emma had no idea if he could understand what she was saying, but she had confidence he probably could. For many with autism, comprehension wasn't the problem, expression was. They didn't know how to respond to the information bombarding their brain.

Emma tried to reach Owly too but stopped short. ‘Oh no! We need Jackson's help!' She held her hand back to the boy and he grasped it, and with a gentle little tug she led him forwards, enough that he would feel the pull but not enough that it felt forced. He stepped one foot onto the sand and winced. ‘Good work, Owly is going to be very happy when you get him.' Jackson put another foot on the sand, his toes curling and feet becoming rigid. ‘That's it, almost there.' She tugged a little more, continuing to try and reach Owly with her other hand. James had given up trying to get the toy, his eyes were fixed on his son, his mouth open and his eyebrows raised. She noticed out the corner of her eye someone filming the moment on their phone.

Jackson took two more steps and squealed, but a different squeal, one of excitement, though he still looked a little terrified. Then in a flash, he dashed towards Owly, scooped him up into his arms and held him tight, then rushed back to the grass with another squeal like he was running away from a wave crashing onto the shore. He tumbled over on the grass in relief and laughter.

Emma's heart soared. Moments like these were what made life wonderful. She eyed James with a ‘we did it' smile, and he blew bubbles towards her. She let one fall gently onto her hand, then popped it with a blow of air from her mouth. James blew more bubbles, and Emma glanced towards Jackson just in time to see the fluffy toy hurtling towards her like a meteor. It narrowly missed her head and landed on the sand. She pointed down to it then looked at Jackson. ‘Oh, he's back! Owly loves the sand.'

Jackson inched forwards and stepped onto the sand, finding his footing, then rushed to Owly and picked him up again, returning just as fast to the grass and tumbling onto it.

‘Again?' James asked, hands on hips, as Emma took over the bubble blowing.

Jackson threw the toy in the air then chased after it onto the sand, rescuing the owl then going back to roll on the grass. Repetition saves the day.

They stood there playing the game over and over, each time watching Jackson's small feet scurrying across the sand, leaving footprints she bet James never thought he'd see. She finally looked up to see who was filming the scene unfolding — her mother. Barbara Brighton stood there with glossy eyes, hands poised on the phone as it captured the significant moment. Emma glanced towards James' dad who stood strong nearby with a small, but definite, unmoving smile. Marie had a hand on her heart, and James…well, she'd never seen him so happy. This gorgeous little boy was his life, and she wanted nothing more than for them to be happy and healthy. If it meant that she would need to leave them be, then she would do it.

In this moment, she got it.

With James, everything would revolve around the giggling, tumbling boy in front of them, and so it should. He needed his father, and would continue to do so. James had been given this gift, this responsibility, and she knew he would do anything for the son she would never have been able to give him.

She knew then that regardless of what may happen between them, now or in future, she would leave Australia for a while and experience new shores for herself, step into new cultures and landscapes, and have the experiences she wanted to have. It would be easier for James now, he no longer held the anger he'd carried for so long, and she'd been able to provide a small ray of help and hope for his son during their time in Tarrin's Bay. Helping his son walk on sand for the first time was in no way making up for hurting him, but as James looked at her with eyes of gratitude, she knew it mattered.
She
mattered. She never felt more alive than when she was helping someone, knowing she'd made a difference. And if they left now and never saw each other again, she would find comfort in the fact that things had ended on a positive note.

As Jackson sat on the edge of the grass and sprinkled sand over Owly's head like rain, Emma approached her mother.

‘Sweetheart, that was so lovely to witness.' Barbara held up her phone. ‘I got it all on video, so I'll forward it to you and you can…' she trailed off as James came over.

‘You must be Mrs Brighton.' He held out his hand, and Emma realised that they had never officially met, as her parents had been travelling when Emma had first got together with James.

Her mother took his hand. ‘Please, call me Barbara.' He smiled. ‘I'll get Emma to send you the video I took.'

‘That would be awesome, thank you.' He glanced at his son again, the smile still lighting up his face.

Marie and Martin came over and introduced themselves, and Emma and James exchanged awkward glances as they stood there surrounded by their respective parents, minus her dad. She hadn't expected them to meet in this way.

They chatted a few pleasantries, then Emma's mother touched her arm. ‘I'd better head back to your father, I just wanted to come down and ask if next time you're out shopping, could you maybe pick up some DVDs your dad would like? He's much happier when he's watching movies, and I haven't figured out all that download nonsense yet.'

‘Sure. I'll pick some up on my way to the city tomorrow,' she replied.

‘You're not heading home, are you?' asked Marie.

‘No, I'm still going to be helping out here for a while. I'm off to my friend's birthday party tomorrow in Sydney.'

‘Oh, I see.' Marie's face slackened a little, and Emma remembered tomorrow would have been Nonna Bella's birthday too. ‘I'll be back in the evening,' she added, mostly so James would know she'd be about so perhaps they could talk a bit, and she could let him know she still planned to go travelling. ‘And I'll drop those DVDs around sometime, Mum. Tell Dad I'm onto it.'

Barbara thanked her and farewelled the group, and scurried back up the hill to her patient; the man she'd vowed to love and cherish till the day she died.

‘I can't remember the last movie I watched,' said James. ‘Except for animated ones.' He chuckled.

‘Actually, I haven't watched one for a while either,' Emma added.

‘You two should go,' suggested Marie. ‘Tonight! It's Saturday, why not head out of town to the cinema and enjoy yourselves, we'll take care of Jackson.' She rallied her husband's support by sliding her arm around his back.

‘I think it would be a splendid idea,' Martin said.

Huh? Both James' parents were now keen for their son to go out on a date with the woman who broke his heart? Her helping Jackson must have been more significant than she'd thought.

James exchanged an awkward glance with Emma, but his eyes held eagerness. ‘Could be fun,' he said.

‘It could,' she replied, clasping her hands behind her back and swinging side to side.

‘Then it's settled.' Marie clapped her hands together. ‘You kids go get organised, and don't you worry about a thing.'

No backing out then. It would have been so much easier to talk to James about her plans tomorrow night, rather than having to manoeuvre her way through what seemed to be a date, or a test, or whatever it was. But despite her new resolve, that part of her, that teenager, and that young woman who'd fallen in love with him, couldn't wait to settle into a seat at the cinema and share an armrest with the man standing right next to her.

‘This is the unhealthiest food I've eaten in five years!' Emma took a big bite of her humungous, processed pizza roll that she'd bought at the cinema for dinner in front of the big screen. ‘Yum!' she mumbled with her mouth full.