Just for Fun (8 page)

“No.” He was firm now. “I’ll cope with Oliver. This is my
responsibility. And it has nothing to do with what’s legally ordered.” He cut
her off as she began to argue. “It has to do with getting them out of there,
and into something better. He’s wearing buggered rugby boots. And pajamas two
sizes too big.” He struggled to express the distress those pajamas had caused
him. “He deserves better. They both do. Emma didn’t ask for this.”

“I think that’s exactly what she asked for,” Claudia said
sharply. “If she dropped her drawers for you two seconds after meeting you.”

He stared at her in shock. “And how long was it before we
had sex? If you’d fallen pregnant, what would you have expected me to do?”

“That was different. We were dating. I wasn’t some groupie.”

“And neither was she. It wasn’t like that.” He was in
dangerous territory, he knew, but he couldn’t help coming to Emma’s defense. “Anyway,
it doesn’t
matter.
What matters is that we’re having the blood tests on
Wednesday, so I won’t be home to dinner. And I’m giving them tickets for the
game on Saturday,” he went on, wanting to get everything out there now. Since
it had all turned to custard anyway.

“Oh, no. You’re not expecting me to get to know him. Or that
. . . woman.”

“Of course I am. They’re both in our lives now, like it or
not. Sooner or later, he’ll be here. Every week, I hope, if I can make that
work. And the only way to do that without a court battle is if we have a civil
relationship with Emma.”

“I need your help with this, Claud.” He softened his voice, reached
for her hand. “We’re meant to be partners, aren’t we? This is one of those times,
one of those unexpected things that happens in life, that we need to get through
together.”

She held his hand, but he could sense the reluctance in her,
the unmistakable pulling back. “I just don’t know,” she said slowly. “I’m not
ready for this. She’s not sitting in my section, is she?” she asked in sudden
alarm.

“That’s where all the seats are, that I get,” he said,
exasperated again. “You know that. It’ll be a chance to get to meet them in a
neutral setting. Think of it that way.”

“No.” She shook her head, the silky hair swaying. “Not yet.
If they’re coming on Saturday, I’m staying home.”

“I’d like you to be there. For me, as well as for this.”

“No,” she repeated. “Not yet. Give me a chance to get used
to this, Nic. I’ll watch the game, here. But I’m not going to sit next to that
. . .” She broke off, seeing the danger in his expression. “And be friendly,
like this is some kind of normal social occasion. She won’t want to meet me
either.”

“She’s going to want to get to know the woman who’ll be
looking after Zack, while he’s here,” he pointed out. “And I’m sure she’s none
too comfortable with that idea, either. He’s her world. That’s plain to see.”

“That’ll mostly be Rose, surely,” she objected.

“Not if it’s at the weekend. Which’ll be hard enough, with
my playing schedule.” He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes, suddenly
feeling alarmingly weary again. “I don’t know. I don’t have the answers yet. I
only learnt all this myself a week ago. And I’m shattered from the game, and
the journey,” he admitted. “But I wanted to tell you now. Share it with you.”

She nodded stiffly, got up and picked up both plates. “Let’s
go to bed, then.”

That was it? Those were all her questions? She hadn’t seemed
the least bit concerned about the relationship he’d had with Emma. Was
any
woman
really that secure? Her lack of fuss was rational, he supposed. The whole thing
was in the past, after all. But it didn’t seem . . . normal. And she had barely
even mentioned Zack. Not as a child. A person. Well, he supposed it was good
that she was focused on maintaining their own relationship.

But later, when he reached for her, she pushed his hand
away. “Not tonight. I’m not feeling very close to you just now.”

He sighed, rolled over, punched the pillow a few times. It
had been a long week in the hotel. Too much work, and too much upheaval. He
could’ve used the comfort of her body tonight. He might be able to convince
her, with a little more effort. But he was suddenly too tired to make it.

Nic was pacing up and down on the pavement in front of
the doctor’s office when Emma hurried up, holding Zack by the hand.

“I was afraid you weren’t going to turn up,” he said with
relief.

“Sorry. Work. Traffic. Collecting Zack . . .” She trailed
off. She was always rushing, never seemed to be quite organized enough, to be able
to get anywhere exactly when she was supposed to, the way other people did. Due
to sheer fear, she usually made it on time to work, if only just. 

He nodded. He wasn’t going to berate her, she saw with
relief. She felt like she couldn’t handle another criticism today. She was
nervous enough about this as it was. What would he say when he saw how much
Zack hated needles? Not to mention whatever was going to happen next. Her life
was careening out of control again, and she hated the sensation. She tightened
her hold on her son’s hand as Nic held the door to the clinic open for them.

“Mum,” Zack complained. “You’re squeezing too hard.”

“Sorry.” She loosened her grip and took a deep breath,
trying to calm the nerves that had had her jumpy all day. It wasn’t going to
help Zack to see her anxious.

“Go sit and look at a magazine for a minute,” she told him
now. “Do you see the kids’ area over there?”

“I want to stay with you.” He was the one squeezing now at
the familiar sight of a doctor’s waiting room. She didn’t try to convince him,
just focused on giving the receptionist their details, once Nic had finished
checking himself in.

“We’ll pop you into a room straight away,” the woman said.
“Just be a sec.”

“Cheers,” Nic said gratefully.

“I never get that,” Emma told him in a low voice as they
moved to the line of chairs. “Seems like we wait forever, where we go.”

He shrugged, but sure enough, a technician was calling them
now. The sound of Nic’s name had heads turning and curious looks cast in their
direction, Emma saw, and she realized the reason for the quick processing.
Well, whatever it took. Zack didn’t need any excuse to get more nervous.

As she’d expected, Zack quailed at the sight of the chair
with its attached armrest, the rows of test tubes. He was hanging back now,
pulling at her hand.

“Who’s going first?” the technician asked cheerfully.

“That’d be me,” Nic said. He winked at Zack. “Come over here
and sit by me, mate. Keep me company.”

“I want Mum,” Zack objected, lip already trembling. He pressed
closer to Emma. She scooted the single hard chair closer to the one Nic had
settled into and pulled Zack into her lap, bending her head to kiss the top of
his, her arms going around him securely. This was too hard, she thought in
despair. All of this. For Zack, and for her.

Zack’s face went white when he saw the technician fit the
needle to the test tube in a gloved hand. “It’s jabs,” he said in a reedy
voice. “Isn’t it?”

“Not too bad,” Nic said encouragingly. “What I do is, I
think about a footy problem. And before I know it, it’s over.” He looked into
Zack’s eyes, got the boy focused on him instead of the band the technician was
putting around his arm, or the needle resting on the tray. “Just now, I’m
thinking about that Rebels wing. Miller. Those quick moves he’s got, inside the
22. How he moves his head just before he offloads. How I have to tackle if I’m
going to get him.”

“You think it, in your head?” Zack asked.

“Write it too,” Nic said. “Got an exercise book, for when I
watch the films, when I look at their form.”

“But doesn’t the coach tell you? He always tells us.”

“The coaches aren’t on the paddock with me, on the night,”
Nic explained, holding the cotton ball to the crook of his elbow and noting
with satisfaction that Zack hadn’t even watched the blood-drawing process. “Your
turn,” he said as the woman finished applying the adhesive tape. He stood to
let Zack take his place.

The boy shrank back in his mother’s arms. “It’s a needle,”
he said, eyes welling. “I saw.”

“Over in a sec,” Nic promised. “Come sit here, mate. And
let’s see what you remember from Monday.”

Unwilling to disappoint his hero, Zack disentangled himself
reluctantly from Emma and climbed into the chair.

“Give us your arm,” the technician coaxed. “And look at your
dad there.”

“He’s not my dad,” Zack corrected her.

“Sorry. Your mate, then,” the woman said. She glanced at the
printed order sheet, then looked at Nic in sudden speculation.  

Nic squatted next to the chair, took Zack’s other hand in
his. He felt the cold little fingers trembling, saw the effort the boy was
making to be brave in front of him.
Your dad.
He cleared his throat.
“This is a quiz. Pay attention, now. When you get the high ball, near your own
try line, what do you do?”

“Kick it away,” Zack said. He jumped at the feeling of the
tight tourniquet on his arm, and Nic tightened his hold on his hand, looked
intently into the eyes, so like his own, raised to his.

“And why d’you do that? Why would you just give it straight
back again?” Nic demanded as he saw the technician insert the needle, felt the
boy jerk.

“Because,” Zack said in a trembling voice. “Because you want
to keep the play away from your territory.”

“Well done,” Nic congratulated him. “And what’s important
under the high ball?”

“Watch it,” Zack said.

“Focus,” Nic agreed. “And practice catching. Over and over.
Want to do some of that, next time?”

“Yeh,” Zack breathed. “Will you take me again?”

“Too right I will.”

“And we’re done,” the technician said briskly. “Hold this
cotton to your arm, like this.” She demonstrated the pressure. Zack blinked in
surprise, placed his fingers obediently over the white stuff.

The woman moved quickly to cover the spot with tape. “That’s
you done, then,” she said. “Let’s get your mum up here. This
is
your
mum, isn’t it?”

“Course it is. Don’t be scared, Mum,” Zack said
encouragingly as he climbed down from the chair. “Just think about something nice.
It doesn’t really hurt.”

Emma smiled down at her son, watched Nic shift across to the
chair she’d just vacated, saw with relief that he was taking Zack with him, keeping
him from focusing on the needle, or the blood filling the tube. He continued to
engage Zack in conversation during the short time it took to get her own blood
drawn, and they were on the other side of the door again quickly enough,
waiting as Nic paid the bill for all three tests.

“Thanks,” she told Nic as they waited outside the toilets
for Zack to make a suddenly urgent stop before the promised café visit. Fear
and its relief, she knew, had caused his overactive bladder. She was just glad
he’d made it in time. “You did that really well. He does hate jabs. He’s
usually pretty brave, but he has a thing about needles.”

“No worries. I know what diverts my own mind.” He smiled
down at her. “When I’m trying to forget something else. I reckon he may be the
same.”

“Rugby will do it,” she agreed. “I think I’m going to duck
in for a moment myself. Will you wait for Zack?”

“Course.”

He’d been nervous too, Nic admitted to himself while he and
Zack waited in their turn for Emma. Nervous that she wasn’t going to turn up,
that she’d changed her mind, that he really was going to have to get that court
order. Whatever Claudia thought, he could see how torn Emma was by all this. He
reminded himself never to underestimate how fiercely she would fight to protect
her son.

“We should leave for Mum’s at about nine,” Claudia told
Nic on Saturday morning, moving briskly into the kitchen area where he sat
lingering over his toast at the breakfast bar. “I said nine-thirty, as you
wanted to do the morning.”

She was ready to go, he saw. Already made-up, and dressed in
casual but snug crop pants that flattered her willowy, elegant figure. “Done
with this?” she asked, reaching for his plate.

He held onto it. “In a minute. Geez, Claud, you could at
least let me finish first.” He took another sip of tea, looked out the
floor-to-ceiling windows at the terraced garden, the sun shining on the foliage
in the large square planters set around the spacious patio area. “It’s a gorgeous
day out. Want to bunk off here, run away to the beach with me?”

“Mum’s expecting us,” she reminded him.

“Maybe we could do it tomorrow,” he suggested.

“That won’t work. You’ll be lying on the couch half the
day.”

“Maybe she could come here. While I lie on the couch. Come
on,” he coaxed. “We could swim, fool around in the water. Find a quiet spot to
get up to a bit of no good.”

“You have a game tonight.”

“And I need to relax, get right for that. Long Bay in the
sunshine sounds perfect.”

“It’ll be full of people,” she objected. “If I wanted to
watch Polynesians play rugby, I’d be coming tonight, wouldn’t I?”

“Sorry,” she amended at his shocked expression. “It’s been a
long week. I’m getting a lot of pressure on the Fonterra deal. And all the
wedding details . . .” She trailed off. “I need to get the guest list sorted. I
need to tick this off the list, make some progress.”

“If it’s really Zack you’re upset about, we should discuss
it,” he said. “We hardly got started, the other night.”

“Nothing to discuss. Not till you get the results, and talk
to Oliver again. Are you going to get ready to go? We need to leave in fifteen
minutes.” She motioned at him, and he heard the
click
. “Get a move on,
Nic, or we’ll be late.”

“Did you just snap your fingers?” he asked incredulously.