Just for Now (16 page)

“Never had a hangover before, eh,” he said sympathetically.

“No,” she sighed. “Not like this. Sorry. You must be
wondering who you’ve entrusted your kids to.”

“Nah,” he decided. “I like it. Makes you human. I was
beginning to wonder if you were an android.” He grinned down at her startled
look. “Not like you went on the piss while you were watching the kids. And
you’ll be apples by the time you drive me to the airport. If a bit tender,
still.”

“I will,” she promised. “If there’s any doubt of it, I’ll
call you a taxi. I wouldn’t endanger your kids, Finn. You know that.”

“I do,” he agreed. “And once I get a coffee into you, you’ll
be back to your perfect self.” He gave her another grin. “My android.”

“But I want to go!” Sophie wailed, sitting up in bed. “You
said we could! You
promised,
Daddy!”

“Be sensible, Sophie,” Finn told her firmly. “You and your
brother’ve had the bot ever since I got home, and Jenna’s been run ragged
looking after you. Even if you’re feeling better by tomorrow, Harry’s still not
too flash. I’m not having you up late tomorrow night, all that excitement. Or
letting Jenna wear herself out getting you to the park.”

“She could just take me,” Sophie argued. “You could get
Miriam to look after Harry.”

“Sophie! That’s dead selfish,” he rapped out. “I just told
you how knackered Jenna was. You’re sounding so spoilt, I don’t even want to
tell you the plan we’ve nutted out.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, beginning to cry. “I didn’t
mean to be selfish. I just want to see you play so
much.
I’ve been
thinking and thinking about it.”

“Aw, geez,” he said helplessly, sitting down on her bed and
pulling her into his lap. “I know it’s disappointing, darling. I wanted you
both to come too. But things happen sometimes. You know that. Do you want to
hear our plan?”

She nodded, still tearful, and he handed her a tissue.
“Blow.”

Once he’d cleaned her up, he went on. “You know that we’re
playing the Boks in Wellington next week. Jenna’s offered to take you both down
for the match. So you see, you’ll have your chance to watch your old Dad run
round the paddock in the black jersey after all.”

“Do we get to stay with you?” Sophie demanded.

“I’ll come stay with all of you, afterwards,” he promised.
“And we’ll have a wee holiday on the Sunday, come back Monday morning.”

“We have school Monday,” she reminded him.

“So you do. Think you can stand to miss a few hours?” he
asked seriously.

Her broad smile left no doubt of her approval. “I think it’s
a brilliant plan, Dad.”

“No more whingeing about tomorrow night, then,” he reminded
her. “No pestering Jenna to take you.”

“I promise.”

“You won’t forget to watch me on the telly, barrack for me,
will you?” he asked in mock alarm. “Not going to boycott me? You know you’re my
good-luck charm.”

Sophie threw her arms around him. “You know I’ll watch you,
Dad. I’ll even make Harry watch,” she promised extravagantly.

He laughed. “Nah. Harry isn’t a rugger bugger like you. No
worries. You just send me those winning thoughts.”

He put his finger on her forehead, and she reciprocated with
her own. “Bzzzzz,” they said together.

He gave her a hug and kiss, tucked her into bed again.
“Night, Sophie Bee.”

“Night, Daddy. I love you.”

“Love you too, darling. Sleep tight.”

He turned out the light, left the door open a crack. Met
Jenna coming out of Harry’s room.

“Did you tell her?” she asked.

“Yeh. She was disappointed about tomorrow, right enough. But
surprisingly, she’s willing to miss out on a bit of school to come see me play
next week.”

She laughed. “What a shock.”

“Harry OK?” he asked, serious again now.

“Better,” she nodded. “I gave him some cough syrup.
Hopefully he’ll have a better night.”

“I’ll go say goodnight, then.”

How had he got so lucky? He wondered as he closed Harry’s
door again and made his way back to the lounge for a last bit of quiet time
before game day. He may not have had an award-winning marriage. And Heaven knew
he’d stuffed up enough as a dad, hadn’t had a clue what he was doing most of
the time. But somehow, with enough help and plenty of good luck, he’d wound up
with the best kids a man could ask for.

Jenna felt as if she were dragging herself up the stone
steps to the big villa on Monday night. She’d cried quietly throughout the bus
ride to the Wellington Airport, then the hourlong flight home. Had sat numb, finally
drained of tears and emotion, on the Airporter bus back to Mt. Eden. She hoped
Finn had got the kids to bed on time. She couldn’t face them tonight.

She let herself in quietly, but not quietly enough. Finn came
to the door of the lounge while she was taking off her jacket and shoes. He
began to greet her, stopped short as she turned and he saw her face.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” he asked sharply. “Are you
ill?”

“No. Just a hard day. I’m all right.” She took a deep
breath. “Did the kids get to bed OK? Harry still doing all right?”

“Course.” He looked at the way she was hugging herself.
“You’re freezing.” He pulled his sweatshirt from its hook and handed it to her.
“Put this on and come sit with me a minute, warm up. I’ve got the heat pump on
in there. If there’s a problem, maybe I can help. Call someone.”

She laughed tiredly, but went with him into the lounge and
sank onto the couch. Pulled the sweatshirt around her, grateful for its
comforting size and warmth. “I don’t think your connections are going to help
with this one. I don’t even know why I’m so upset about it. I should be
relieved. I thought I would be.”

“Sounds like this problem requires alcohol. I’ll get you a
glass of wine, and you can tell me. I was having a beer anyway.”

He disappeared, came back with a generously poured glass.
“Pinot Noir. Your favorite. Where did you get off to today, anyway? Didn’t
realize you’d be gone by the time we got up.” He picked up his own beer bottle
and sat in the easy chair across from her, propping his stockinged feet on the
coffee table.

“Wellington. For my dissolution hearing.” She might as well
tell him. She didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it right now. The
thought made tears of self-pity well in her eyes again, and she dashed them
away impatiently.

He raised his eyebrows. “In person, eh. So it’s done?” At
her nod, he added, “Most people just apply once the two years’re up, wait for
the order to come in the post. What made you decide to go to the trouble?”

“Oh,” he realized at the look on her face. “Somebody has a
new partner, wants to get married again straightaway. And we know that isn’t
you.”

“Not exactly new,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness
out of her voice. “But yeah, they want to go ahead. And I was just as glad to
get it over with. I thought I was, anyway.” The tears threatened again. “I
don’t know why I’m reacting like this. It’s a long time to be in limbo, and now
that’s over. I’m free. So why do I feel so sad?”

“Because it isn’t what you expected, when you got married,”
he told her gently. “When you see it in writing like that, you remember all the
dreams you had. The way you thought it would be. And you know that dream’s
gone.”

She couldn’t hold back the tears this time. She groped for
the tissue box on the end table, wiped her eyes, got herself back under
control. “You sound like you know. But your wife died. Is that the same thing?
Does it feel like that?”

“Reckon it doesn’t, not if she died loving you,” he said.
“But she didn’t. So I’ve had those same feelings. You tell yourself, while
you’re married, that it’s all right. That nobody’s marriage is perfect. You lie
to yourself, eh. And then, when it happens . . .” He shrugged. “You can’t do
that anymore, can you.”

 “Some things you can’t close your eyes to,” she agreed. “No
matter how the person’s tried to explain it away.”

“I was right, then. He lied,” Finn guessed.

“Yeah. And then some.”

“He had someone else, and you found out. How?”

“The hard way,” she admitted. “Classic. An evening meeting
that got canceled, so I came home. And there they were, in our bed. You wish
you could walk away, forget what you saw. But you can’t. I realized that I’d
known all along, but I didn’t want to see. I wanted to believe that I had a
marriage.”

He nodded. “I know all about that.”

“It happened to you too? And you found them?”

“Nah. Thank God. Who knows what I’d’ve done. But after
Nicole died, I found out why she was on that road. Who she’d been going to
meet. And that it had been going on for a while. She’d probably have left us,
in the end. Well, she did at that, didn’t she? But it was all such a shock, I
was just . . . numb for a long time. Would have gone round the bend if it hadn’t
been for the kids. Even so, I drank too much, did some things I regret. It took
a long time to get myself right. To see that we weren’t suited. It wasn’t about
him. It was about the two of us, who we were. What she wanted that I couldn’t
give her.”

“But you’re so great,” Jenna protested. “I mean,” she went
on at his surprised glance, “such a good dad. And such a strong man. A good
man. Why wouldn’t she want that?”

“I could say the same thing,” he pointed out. “I can’t see
why your husband didn’t want you, either.”

“That’s different,” she assured him. “I wasn’t his type, trust
me.”

“Well, I wasn’t Nicole’s either, as it turned out. And she
wasn’t mine. She was Aussie, and a model, you remember. Very beautiful. A bit
spoilt, I realize now. We met over there, when I was playing. Had a
long-distance romance for a few months before we got married. But she wasn’t
prepared for what my life really was. She just saw the publicity, the travel.
She thought it'd be some kind of glamorous existence. Turned out she didn’t
like anything about it.”

“She hated living in Dunedin,” he
went on. “I was playing for the Highlanders at the time. It was too cold for
her, too small, too quiet, after Sydney. She was used to the bright lights, and
God knows Dunedin doesn’t have much of that on offer. Then, being married,
being a mum. She’d always had heaps of attention, men being after her all the
time, telling her how beautiful she was, taking her out. Even leaving out that
I was gone so much, I’m not the best at that. Pretty simple bloke. I’d rather
stay home, most of the time.”

“Of course you would,” Jenna said, outraged for him. “As
hard as you work.”

“That was the other thing. She resented giving up her
career, the modeling. She was starting to have some pretty fair success when we
got married. She didn’t like what having kids did to her body. And she couldn’t
do much from Dunedin anyway, not with a baby at home. When Harry came along, it
made it that much worse. I signed with the Blues, moved to Auckland so she
could have a bit of city life, hired Nyree. I thought she might be happier here.
But it wasn’t enough.”

“She must not have realized how much she’d need all that,”
Jenna mused, “if she said yes in the first place. You must not have, either.”

He looked at her wryly. “Three guesses why we jumped into it
so fast.”

“Oh,” she realized. “Sophie.”

He nodded. “We were careless. Stupid. But I wouldn’t have
given up Sophie, not for anything. Harry either.”

“So,” he shrugged. “Reckon I’m an expert on marrying the
wrong person. And on how bad it feels when you find out. You look at the
wedding photos, your wedding ring, after you take it off that last time,
remember all your high hopes. It’s like all that, all your feelings, were a
lie. When you find out she was seeing someone else, and lying to you about it.”

“You really do know,” Jenna told him. The combination of
fatigue and emotion had made the wine go straight to her head, and she had to
concentrate to set the empty glass back on the coffee table. “That’s exactly
how it feels. It’s all . . .” she made an expansive gesture. “Gone. Wiped out. And
I don’t know how to fill that space now. What my life is going to look like,
when it . . . starts up again.”

“It’s going to look better,” he promised. “It’s hard now.
Got to expect that, when you see the paperwork signed. Or in my case, when you
face life without your wife in the house. When you’re Dad, and you’re all there
is. But it gets better. Because you aren’t living that lie anymore. Not
spending all that energy trying to convince yourself it’s going to work out,
when you know deep down it isn’t. That whatever was there once is gone.”

“Shoot.” She was crying again. “Sorry.” She reached for
another tissue. “I hope you’re right. Thank you for talking to me, sharing that
with me. It helps.”

“No worries,” he smiled ruefully. “If hearing my sad story
helped you, I’m glad. All I can tell you is, you wouldn’t be normal if you
weren’t sad. Because it hurts.”

“Yeah.” She wiped her eyes again, got up with a watery
smile. “I need to take a shower and go to bed. And figure I’ll feel just a
little bit better in the morning.”

He rose with her, bent down to kiss her cheek. “Reckon you
will.” He gathered up her glass, his own beer bottle. “See you then. Sleep
well.”

“Still OK with bringing the kids down to Welly this
weekend?” Finn asked the following afternoon. He’d been gone to practice by the
time she’d come back from walking the kids to school, and although she’d fixed
him breakfast as usual, this was the first time they’d had to talk alone since
their conversation of the evening before. But now the kids were in the lounge
working on their homework and Finn was keeping her company in the kitchen,
filching bits of apple as she prepared a crumble for tonight’s pudding.

“Of course. That’s the plan. Unless you’ve changed your
mind.”