Just for Now (14 page)

“Nyree’s cousin Miriam will come on Monday, give me my day,”
Jenna assured her. “That’s all I need. With the kids in school and without Finn
here to cook for, there really isn’t that much to do. But we could all use some
company. And I’ll take a rain check on the sleepover at your house. Who knows,
some other road trip, I might need it.”

“Let’s make it a date, then,” Siobhan decided. “Friday night
sleepover. And let’s have coffee one morning next week too. Tuesday suit you?”

“I’d love to,” Jenna said with pleasure. “On both counts.”

Well, look at that, she thought as she and the kids waved
goodbye fifteen minutes later. Nanny or not, she’d made a new friend. The best
kind. One who made her laugh. Who would have guessed?

Jenna juggled the pile of clothes, pushed the door open with
her backside. Sophie looked up in shock from her cross-legged position on the
bed, then slammed shut the pink, bejeweled notebook she’d been writing in and
shoved it under her pillow together with her pen.

“Sorry,” Jenna said calmly, taking the armload of clothes
across to Sophie’s dresser and setting it down on top. “I didn’t realize you
were in here, or I’d have knocked. Somehow.” She smiled. “Maybe I wouldn’t
have. I need to grow another hand. Can you help me put these away, please?”

Sophie got off her bed reluctantly, came across to lend a
hand. Jenna saw her cast a glance back at her notebook, one corner still showing
under the pillow.

“You know,” she told the little girl, opening the top drawer
and handing Sophie her neatly folded underwear, “I think it’s a wonderful thing
to have a private book, a place to write your private thoughts.”

She saw Sophie’s eyes fly to hers, continued in a
conversational tone. “Of course, private means that nobody else is allowed to
read what you write. Unless you invite them to, of course.”

She opened the next drawer, gave Sophie a stack of shirts.
“Which is why,” she finished, “I’d never
read
anybody’s private
notebook.”

“You wouldn’t?” Sophie asked her doubtfully.

“Nope. I sure wouldn’t. I wish I’d had the good idea of
getting a notebook like that, when I was seven or eight, say. It would have
helped when I was mad at my mum, that’s for sure. To have a place to write it
down.”

She put away Sophie’s socks, refolded a pair of jeans and
added them to the bottom drawer, giving a quick tidy to the contents while she
was at it.

“You were mad at your mum? Really?”

“I sure was,” Jenna leaned back against the dresser to look
down at Sophie. “Lots of times. When she hurt my feelings, or I thought she
wasn’t paying enough attention to me.”

“Even though she cooked you dinner, and washed your clothes,
and everything?” Sophie asked. “You were still mad sometimes?”

Ah.
“Even though. I don’t think that was really so
ungrateful, do you? I mean, I did know that she did those things. And I helped
as much as I could. At least I hope so. But I couldn’t help my feelings, could
I? It would have been nice to have a notebook, a safe place to talk about it.
Like you. When did you start writing in yours?”

“My birthday. Last year. I always made lists. When I was
little, I mean.”

Jenna fought back the smile that tried to creep out at that,
listened as Sophie went on. “Once I learnt to write, in Year One. That’s why Daddy
gave me the notebook. He said it would be a place for my lists. And my
drawings, and anything I wanted to put in it. He said it was special, just for
me.”

“That was a very thoughtful present,” Jenna told her. “Your
dad’s pretty special himself, isn’t he?”

Sophie nodded emphatically. “He’s not like other dads.
Nobody else’s dad is an All Black. Nobody at my school.”

“That’s a big honor, I know,” Jenna agreed. “But it must be
lonesome sometimes for you too.”

“He
has
to go, though,” Sophie argued. “That’s his
job.”

“It is. But it can still be hard, can’t it? I’ll bet it’s hard
for him too, to leave you and Harry.”

“He says he misses us,” Sophie said in a small voice.

“I know he does,” Jenna said firmly. “He calls you just
about every night, I know that. I’ll bet he needs to hear your voice as much as
you need to hear his.”

“D’you really think so?”

“I really do,” Jenna assured her. “You can ask him on Sunday,
when he comes home. But I’ll bet he says yes.”

“Now,” she said briskly, straightening up again. “You’ve
been in your room since you got home from school. And I could use a hand with
dinner. Do you think you could come set the table for me? I could use the
company, to tell you the truth.”

“OK. I can help.”

“Thanks.” Jenna smiled down at her, rested a hand briefly on
the top of her head. “Let’s go get to it, then. And we can plan what we’ll do,
tomorrow night when Caitlin and Ethan come over. You can help me make a menu.
We’ll make a list.”

 “So good to be back.” Finn stretched his long legs out
under the kitchen table on Sunday evening and sighed. “Long time. Long trip.”

“Your internal clock must be completely out of whack,” Jenna
sympathized. “More than twelve hours’ difference. Does it feel like breakfast
time?”

“It does. And strangely enough, I’m hungry.”

“I kind of anticipated that. I made a Greek lasagne for tonight.
Not exactly breakfast food, but I thought it might be satisfying for the day
after a game. Give me forty-five minutes, OK?”

“Choice,” he said appreciatively.

“Sorry you lost, Dad,” Sophie said, coming up to stand next
to him.

He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Even the
ABs lose now and then, darling. We did our best, but some days even that isn’t
enough. The Springboks were in form, and we weren’t quite clicking.”

“I thought the ref robbed you,” Sophie said stoutly. “He
totally missed that knock-on by Franck. They shouldn’t’ve had that last try.”

“Nah. Can’t go blaming the ref. It goes one way as often as
it goes the other. Just have to chuck it into the loss column and let it
motivate you for next time.”

Jenna paused in her salad preparations at the sound of a
phone ringing. Hers, she realized. She wiped her hands on a tea towel and
picked it up. Jeremy’s number leapt out at her from the screen. It had been
more than a year since she’d seen those digits, but there was no way of mistaking
them.

“Hello?” She moved out of the room as she spoke. She had a
feeling that this wasn’t going to be short.

“Jenna.” Jeremy’s familiar voice, once so dear to her,
sounded strained. “How’re you going?”

“I’m fine. What can I do for you?”

He sighed. “You still haven’t forgiven me. Wish we could
move past this.”

“I’m working on it. But it’s not easy. I’m assuming there’s
a reason you called. Is it to do with the dissolution?”

“Yeh. The two years are up on the tenth of September.”

“Yes,” she couldn’t help pointing out. “I do recall that
date.”

“Yeh. Anyway. I’d like to speed up the process a bit. Which
we can do, if we appear in Family Court instead of applying through the post.
Would you be able to do that? I’ll schedule it at your convenience, of course. And
my lawyer will prepare all the paperwork.”

“And the difference is, what? I’d assumed we’d just send in
our petition in the normal way.”

“If you do it in court, it takes effect immediately. We’d be
done. Walk out with our marriage dissolved, able to move on.”

“Ah. Move on to what?”

“Marriage,” he explained, sounding a little shamefaced. “But
it’d be better for you too,” he hastened to point out. “You can’t have enjoyed
these past years either, waiting to make it official. Wouldn’t it be good to
have it done and get on with your life?”

 “Yes,” she admitted. “It would.”

“I’ll pay for your return ticket to Welly,” he assured her.
“I realize it’s an inconvenience. I don’t even know where you’re living now.
Just that you left.”

“Auckland,” she said resignedly. “And I’ll take you up on
that, since you’re the one who wants this. What date are we talking about?”

“As soon after the tenth as you can do it.”

Jenna consulted the calendar on her desk. “The fourteenth is
a Monday. That’d work for me. If not then, the following Monday.”

“The fourteenth should work. I’ll be in touch, let you know.
And Jenna. Thanks. You’re awesome, as always. I really appreciate this.”

Yeah. Awesome. She ended the call and sat for a minute
holding her phone, made a note on her calendar. So awesome that here she was, alone.
And about to become unmarried as well.

Finn looked up as she came back into the kitchen.
“Everything all right?”

“Sure.” She busied herself with sliding the pan of lasagne
into the preheated oven, then went back to her salad. Her hands were trembling
as she sliced the carrots, she realized with surprise. She swore under her
breath as a vegetable skittered out from under her knife. Not a good sign. She set
the sharp implement down and took a deep breath.

Finn moved Harry from his lap, where he’d been reading him
his dinosaur book. “Look at the pictures for a minute, mate, while I talk to
Jenna,” he commanded his son.

“What’s happening?” he asked her in a low voice, coming up
beside her at the kitchen island. “Anything I can do?”

She blinked the tears back. “Sorry. I’m all right. Something
I wasn’t expecting, that’s all.”

“Need a hand?”

She began to refuse, then looked down at her hands, still
gripping the edge of the island. “Would you mind slicing some vegetables for
me? I’m not doing too well right now. I may need a little help to get this
dinner on the table.”

“Course. Just tell me what to do.”

She began to relax, his solid presence nearby comforting her
as she moved around the kitchen, warming the loaf of Turkish bread and setting
the table. Luckily, she wasn’t required to make much conversation during
dinner. Sophie and Harry had plenty of news for their father, and he was
clearly happy to be back amongst his family again, laughing at their stories
and asking questions. The bedtime routine went more quickly than usual as well with
Finn chipping in, to her relief.

“Sit with me for a bit, if you don’t mind,” he offered.
She’d come out of Harry’s room just as he was closing Sophie’s bedroom door.
“I’m not going to be able to sleep for hours yet. I’d like the company.”

“Actually, I think I need some quiet time. Thanks for all
your help tonight, though.”

“Anything I can do,” he promised. “Just ask.”

“Do you have time for a schedule check, before I take off?”
Jenna asked Finn the next morning when he came back in after walking the kids
to school.

“Course.” He watched with amusement as she made them each a
fresh cup of tea and picked up the pages she’d set ready. “You are the most
orderly person I’ve ever known.”

“Except you,” she pointed out. “I’ve never seen you set
anything out of place yet.”

“Yeh, I pick up after myself. But you pick up after
everyone.”

“No, I don’t. I make sure everyone picks up,” she corrected
him. “There’s a difference.”

“Whatever it is, I like it,” he decided. “Now. Schedule?”

“You leave for Buenos Aires when?”

“Sunday afternoon. Can you and the kids give me a lift to
the airport? Around eleven. And d’you mind collecting me again, Tuesday week?”

“Of course.” She made a note of the times. “What else this
week?”

“Barbecue at Drew and Hannah’s on Friday night, as we won’t
have a practice that day.”

“Just you? Or you and the kids?”

“Just me. So you’ll be on your own with them.”

“I’m pretty used to that by now,” she assured him. “Anything
else?”

“I thought I’d take the kids out to the pub on Saturday
night, before I leave. We’ve missed a fair few Dad Times here, and we’ll be
missing a couple more. Thought it’d give you another night off, too, before
you’re stuck again, ten more days.”

“OK. Friday and Saturday night out, Sunday afternoon to the
airport. Check. Otherwise, you’re home?”

“Otherwise I’m home,” he agreed. “Putting the oven’s
capacity to the test.”

“I think I can handle that. But you tell me.”

“Oh, sorry,” Nat said regretfully that evening over a rainy-evening
dinner of mulligatawny soup and salad. “I made weekend plans already.”

“OK. I’ll find something else to do. Good plans? Date?”

“Yeh,” Nat said with satisfaction. “One of my students’
dads, can you believe it? Came in for a parent-teacher conference, and . . .”
She shrugged. “Sparks flew.”

“Guess you weren’t telling him his child was out of control,
then,” Jenna said dryly. “That’s the only time sparks ever flew during my
parent-teacher conferences.”

“Fortunately, he has a well-behaved daughter. So it was all
good. And amidst all the mutual complimenting, he managed to ask me out for a coffee,
‘to get my advice.’”

“And you gave him your advice,” Jenna guessed.

“Gave him more than that,” Nat said, a satisfied smile
growing.

“How long has it been going on?” Jenna asked. “You haven’t
said anything.”

“Well.” Natalie shrugged. “You know how it is. Or, you
don’t,” she corrected. “But trust me. When you’ve been single as long as I
have, you want to be sure before you start getting chuffed about it. It’s been
a couple months now, though. Not a long time, but feeling more . . . more solid
every week.”

“He’s dead nice,” she sighed. “And I know that sounds
boring. But it isn’t. He’s an engineer. His wife went off with somebody else,
year or so ago. More fool her, I say.”

“Long enough ago that he’s not in the rebound stage,” Jenna
said. “He can’t get his dissolution yet, but he isn’t reeling through those
first months, either. That’s great news, Nat. I’m really pleased for you. And
if my coming over on Mondays gets inconvenient, say the word.”