Just for Now (10 page)

“I know that one,” Jenna said with pleasure. “Will you sing
it to me tonight?”

“If I remember,” he said dubiously.

“I think I do,” she said. “I can look up the lyrics. After
dinner, we’ll have a bit of a practice, all right?”

“I’ll be off, then,” Ben announced as they arrived back at
the house. “See you, kids. And Jenna. Cheers for the cake. If you change your
mind at all, Finn has my mobile number.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him apologetically. “But I don’t
think so.”

“Jenna has a boyfriend, eh,” Ben asked Finn the following
day on the way to the team’s Eden Park practice facility.

“Not that I know of,” Finn said in surprise. “Turned you
down, did she? Is that what she said?”

“Not exactly. Said she was ‘unavailable.’ Whatever that
means. Pity. That cake was choice. And she isn’t bad herself. Some other
reason, d’you reckon? Not a lesbian, is she? That’d be a bloody waste.”

“None of your business. Or mine. But I doubt it. Maybe she just
didn’t like you, did you think of that? Or could be she thought you were a
cheeky kid, and she’s looking for a man.”

“Like you?” Ben asked slyly.

Finn looked across at him. “No,” he said firmly. “Watch what
you’re saying.”

“Come on. It hasn’t occurred to you? You can’t tell me that.
Because I thought I saw something there, looking back.”

“Did you pay any attention at all to that sexual harassment
training at the start of the season?” Finn asked. “About unwelcome attention?
There’s a reason you boys need to watch those vids.”

“How d’you know it’d be unwelcome?” Ben argued.

“I’m her employer,” Finn said irritably. “That’s the
definition of unwelcome. Because she’s not in a position to say no, not while
she’s working for me. Well, she is, of course,” he amended. “But she may not
think so.”

“It’s not a good position to put her into,” he finished in
exasperation. “Bad idea.”

“I can think of a few positions I’d like to put her into,”
Ben said with a grin.

“Shut up,” Finn said sharply.

“What? Just a bit of fun.”

“Not funny. You asked her, and she said no. Drop it.” 

“Come
on,
Dad. Come
on,”
Sophie urged from her
spot on the lounge floor, her hands gripping the edges of the coffee table. Conditions
in Canberra were dreadful, the winter wind and rain lashing not only the
players, but also the spectators in the open stadium. Fans huddled miserably
under raincoats and ponchos, but nobody in the capacity crowd of 25,000 seemed
to be interested in leaving with the score standing at 23-21 with only ten
minutes to play in this semifinal match. Ominously, the Blues’ first-five had
been forced out of the game fifteen minutes earlier with a knee injury, and his
replacement had already missed a post-try conversion that would have tied the
game.

Even Harry was watching now. “If they don’t win, what
happens?” he asked Sophie. “Do they still get to play next week?”

“
No,”
Sophie said in exasperation, watching anxiously
as the Brumbies mounted another attack on the Blues’ try line. “It’s the
semifinal,
Harry. The Brumbies would go to the final, not the Blues. Dad
told
you.”

She exclaimed in relief as the Blues’ captain, Drew Callahan,
stole the ball and the Auckland team took possession. Over and over, the Blues
charged ahead, to be met every time by fierce resistance from the Brumbies’
forwards. One particularly ferocious collision, a commotion on the field, and
the camera panned to a player in a blue jersey lying motionless on the turf.

“Who is it?” Jenna asked, eyes straining to sort out the
figures in the ruck. “Can you see, Sophie?” She looked down, realized Sophie
was sitting rigid, hands over her mouth.

“Hey, now.” Jenna dropped to the floor herself, put her arm
around the little girl, saw the tears beginning. “Look,” she said as her eyes
searched the screen. “It’s not your dad. See him, there?”

“It’s the No. 11,” she added, just as the announcers told
the viewing audience that the injured player was Kevin McNicholl, the right
wing, and the trainer signaled for the gurney. The three of them watched as McNicholl
was loaded onto the contraption and wheeled off to a round of applause from the
spectators.

“He’s moving,” Jenna told Sophie. “That’s good. Look at the
replay. I’d say a concussion, wouldn’t you?” She saw that Sophie’s tears hadn’t
abated, hugged her more tightly. “Come on, now. He’s going to be all right. And
they’re starting to play again. You want to watch this, don’t you?”

“I thought it was Dad,” Sophie said in a small voice, her
eyes still streaming.

“It wasn’t, though,” Jenna told her gently. “Look at your
Dad. Look how hard he’s working. He’s fine.”

“What if it is, though?” Sophie sobbed. “What if something
really bad happens to Daddy?”

“Well, something does happen, lots of times,” Jenna pointed
out practically. “But he seems pretty tough to me. He’s been playing a lot of
years, right? And he’s still out there, not missing many games at all, from
what I’ve seen. He wouldn’t want you to be crying now. He’d want you to watch
him, don’t you think?”

Sophie nodded, her sobs turning to sniffs as the Blues
continued to play with a replacement who had come off the bench for the missing
No. 11. She groaned when the substitute first-five missed a penalty kick that
would have won the game for the Blues in the final few minutes, and she and
Harry both cried out in dismay when the final hooter sounded leaving the score
unchanged, signaling an abrupt ending to the Blues’ season.

Jenna felt dejected as well. In the short time she’d been
watching, she had come to expect the Blues to win their games, and knowing that
the team wouldn’t be going to the final caused her own heart to sink. Watching
Finn as he congratulated the Brumbies players and put a consoling arm around
the replacement first-five, she could see the disappointment and pain he
couldn’t quite hide behind his stoical mask.

“Well,” she said to a drooping Sophie and Harry, “they did
their best. You know that. It’s too bad, but you know what your dad says.
Losing’s part of the game too. You can tell that they hate it, but they
couldn’t do any more than they did. They got unlucky with the injuries, didn’t
they?”

Sophie nodded, her face somber.

Jenna gave her another hug. “Let’s get you into bed, both of
you. Sophie, do you want to come to Harry’s room with me? It’s late, but I
think we could use a chapter from
Charlotte’s Web
tonight, don’t you?”

Harry bounced up, his mood shifting quickly as always. “What
do you think will happen to Wilbur?” he asked. “Will they sell him?”

“Once you go to the toilet and get in bed, we’ll find out,
won’t we?” Jenna asked.

“Come on, Sophie,” she urged. “You’ll feel better once you’ve
washed your face. And tomorrow, we’ll go pick your dad up at the airport. You
can tell him how much you love him. That’ll make him feel better too, don’t you
think? Because I’ll bet he’s pretty sad himself, right now.”

“What’s this?” Finn asked gently the next day, dropping to a
crouch to hug his children in the International Arrivals area of the Auckland
airport. “Those tears aren’t for me, are they, Sophie Bee?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Sophie sobbed. “I’m so sorry you lost. I
wanted you to win
so much.”

“Yeh. We wanted that too,” Finn told her. “But you know you
can’t always win.”

Jenna could see the evidence of the hard-fought match in the
cuts and bruises on his face, the stiff way he and his teammates carried
themselves. She thought she’d have been able to tell that they’d lost, even if
she hadn’t known it already. Just from their body language.

“Were you very sad, Daddy?” Harry asked.

“We were all very sad,” he admitted. “We’ll have to barrack
for the Crusaders now, though, won’t we? We’ll watch together next Saturday
night, eh. Send them our good thoughts.”

“And you know what this means,” he added, as he hefted his
duffel and took a child’s hand in each of his to lead the way out to the
carpark. “Means I get to start training with the All Blacks this week instead
of next. Give me that much more time with the squad before we meet the
Wallabies. I’ll get to see some of those Brumbies boys again. We’ll see how
they do against the ABs.”

“Yeh,” Sophie agreed, brightening a little now. “They’ll be
sorry then, won’t they, Dad?”

“Hope so,” he grinned at her.

“How are the injured players doing?” Jenna asked him once
they were back in the car again. Finn had raised no objection to her driving,
seeming content to stretch out and relax in the passenger seat. “That
concussion didn’t look good.”

He grimaced. “Yeh, that was a fair knock. He was only out
for a bit, but you hate to see that. They’ll keep a pretty close eye on him for
the next couple weeks. May rest him for the first game or two with the ABs. Kevvie’s
played some hard footy anyway, this season.”

“Just like you,” Jenna pointed out. “At least it looks that
way to me. Will they rest you?”

“I hope not,” he said with alarm. “I’m in good nick. Least I
will be by the time we start practicing again. Bit sore today.”

“We’ll take care of you, Daddy,” Sophie promised. “Jenna
made a chocolate cake for you for tonight.”

“Lucky me,” he said seriously. “I’ll be looking forward to
that.”

“Not sure that’s much of a consolation prize,” Jenna told
him with a smile. “But it was the only thing I could think of.”

It would do, Finn thought. But it wasn’t the only thing he
could’ve come up with. He shifted wearily. The loss still gnawed at him, and the
couple of beers he’d had the night before hadn’t done much to drown his
sorrows. Sinking into a willing woman would definitely have helped, though. He
needed to find a new girlfriend. And Jenna, unfortunately, wasn’t giving him
any go-ahead signals. Anyway, it would make his life too complicated. She was
doing a proper job with the kids, and that was the important thing. He didn’t
want to risk mucking that up.

“Sophie seemed pretty upset about the loss,” he remarked to
her later that afternoon, sitting in the kitchen over a cup of tea and watching
her marinate chicken for that night’s dinner. “Did you have a hard time with
her last night?”

Jenna nodded as she squeezed a lemon into the ziplock bag
and squeezed the bag shut, shaking it to mix the marinade. “It was tough on
her. Especially the concussion. She thought it was you, at first. It terrified
her. Then the loss too. But mostly, I think it was the injuries. She worries
about you.”

He frowned. “I know she does. Not much I can do about it,
though. If you start worrying about being injured, holding back, you’re
useless. That’s the beginning of the end.”

“I can see that. But . . .” He could see her hesitate as she
looked at him, before turning her attention back to the chicken pieces she was
sliding into the bag. “I do need to ask you. Can you tell me more about what
happened to your wife? Because I think that’s what worries Sophie so much. That
she could lose you too.”

“I reckon you’re right. I told you that Nicole died a few
years ago, eh.”

“Yes, but not how,” she pointed out. “Was she ill for a long
time? Is that what was so traumatic?”

“Nah. The opposite. It was sudden. And pretty awful. It was
a car smash. She crossed the center line on Highway One, up in Northland.
Nobody knows why.”

“Oh, no,” Jenna said with obvious distress. “Was anyone else
hurt?”

“Nah. She clipped another car. Overcorrected, ended up
rolling the car. No seatbelt. Nicole was always a bit careless about things
like that. I’ve been so thankful she didn’t have the kids with her. I never
trusted her with the car seats. It was bad enough as it was. But I still have
nightmares about that.”

“I’m sure. How horrible. But if she was alone . . . were you
off playing somewhere?”

 “Safa. Pretoria. It took ages for them to tell me, and then
for me to get back. About thirty-six hours. Luckily, Nicole had arranged for
Nyree to stay with the kids. And both Nicole’s parents and mine came pretty
quickly. But as you can imagine, it was a rotten time. Lots of high emotion.”

“And Sophie,” he sighed. “Sophie was four. By the time I got
back, she’d gone quiet. Harry was little, not even two yet. Don’t think it had
as much of an impact on him. But even though she’ll tell you she doesn’t
remember, I reckon it did something to Sophie.”

“It’s a hard thing to measure,” Jenna told him. “People tend
to think that, because kids don’t remember them, traumatic events in their
early years don’t register, somehow. But we’re finding, more and more, that
that isn’t true. And for a sensitive child like Sophie, I can imagine it would
have had a big effect.”

“Jenna!” Harry burst into the kitchen. “I’m
starved.
When’s
tea?”

“Can you say excuse me?” Jenna asked. “I’m talking to your
Dad right now.”

“Sorry,” Harry said. “Excuse me. Jenna, I’m starved. When’s
tea?”

She couldn’t help smiling. “OK, but next time say it first.
Look at the clock. What time is it now? Where’s the little hand?”

“On the four,” Harry said, disappointed. “That means four
o’clock, right?”

“Four-fifteen, because the big hand is on the three,” she
agreed. “More than two hours to go, buddy. How about an apple? And look in the
snack compartment. I think you’ll find some cubes of cheese in there. That
should hold you until tea.”

“OK.” Harry opened the fridge and removed two cubes of cheese
from the low compartment, then went to check the fruit bowl. “I’ll have a
kiwifruit. And could Trevor come over to play, d’you reckon? Since it’s so long
till tea?”

“Up to your Dad,” Jenna said. “He may need some quiet time
today.”