Miracle In March (3 page)

‘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.

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 handle 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.

James slipped his hands in his pockets. ‘There's a lot you don't know.'

‘It's Jackson, right? Your mum told me outside your cabin, before I knew she was your mum.'
God this is awkward.

‘My son is not your concern.' He wore a frown as expertly as his casual but classy cargo pants and fitted white t-shirt. His hands not budging from his pockets, she couldn't help but be drawn to the corded muscles and veins of his forearms, and further up, the firm, rounded muscles of his biceps. Jackson ran circles around him, holding onto a small red device of some kind. He pressed it and it made a laughing sound, contrasting with the mood of the moment. ‘It looks like you have a delivery to make.' He gestured to the towels, then turned away and took hold of his son's hand.

She stood still for a moment. It was bizarre seeing James with a son. She wondered if Jackson had a middle name starting with J too, like James.
James John Gallagher
. JJ, she used to call him sometimes, but only when she was feeling flirty. It had been a long time since she'd felt flirty with anyone; the idea of it was as foreign to her now as the idea of being able to escape overseas on an adventure. It simply wasn't the right time anymore. So much for her careful planning.

Emma continued along and walked up the steps of cabin number two where a woman sat on the chair, her pregnant belly bursting beneath the fabric of her dress. ‘Hi, you needed some extra towels?' Emma smiled.

‘Yes, that was quick, Thanks! I'll just…' She gripped the sides of the chair in an attempt to lift herself up.

Emma held up a hand. ‘Don't get up, shall I put them inside?'

The sound of a toilet flushing made her wait, she didn't want to invade their personal space. A man with dangly, dark curls emerged and greeted her. ‘
Bonjour, mademoiselle
.' He smiled.

‘
Bonjour
,' Emma replied, her smile widening. ‘I've taught a bit of French to first-graders when I worked as a teacher,' she added.

‘Ahh, wonderful!' he said. ‘You've been to France, no?'

Her gaze dropped to the floor. ‘One day.' She handed him the towels, and he went back inside.

‘Thanks again,' the woman said. ‘I'm needing a few extra lately to roll up and put either side of my body in bed, helps support this lump of a thing!' She patted her stomach.

‘Not much longer to go?'

‘Seven weeks, though I don't know how much more I can handle.' She sighed. ‘My blood pressure isn't behaving. I've been instructed to take it easy and rest until delivery.'

Emma eyed the pile of books beside her on the table. ‘I take it you've got a bit of reading planned to pass the time?'

‘I've come prepared.' She patted the books. ‘But I'm getting a bit bored. I have to keep reminding myself I can't do what I used to do, and I've been told I should take advantage of the peace and quiet now while I have it.' She gave Emma a curious glance. ‘You got kids?'

Emma shook her head and glanced away. ‘No. Wasn't meant to be, I guess.'

‘Oh, there's still time. You can't be much older than thirty.' She smiled.

‘Thanks for the compliment, but I'm thirty-seven.' Emma smiled back. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?'

‘Not that I can think of. I'm all set for an adrenaline-filled adventure holiday right here.' She patted the arms of her chair.