Just for Now (30 page)

She’d lain on the examining table, dread filling her as she
looked at the monitor with the midwife, searching for the pulsing white blip
that wasn’t there. No matter how hard she willed it to appear.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said gently. “There’s no heartbeat.”

“The baby died?” Jenna asked in a small voice.

“I’m sorry,” the midwife repeated. “This one just didn’t
work, for whatever reason. I know it’s hard. But there’s no reason to think
that you won’t be able to have a baby.”

There was every reason, though, Jenna thought bleakly. This
had been her one chance. And it was gone. Her baby was gone.

“What happens now?” she asked.

“We’ll do a D&C,” the midwife told her. “Do you want to
ring your husband?”

Jenna shook her head. “He’s on holiday. And I can’t reach
him.” She saw the midwife looking at her oddly, and knew what she was thinking.
On holiday, without her? But Jeremy and Alan were on their annual weeklong
camping trip. And Jenna had most definitely not been invited.

“Anybody else, then?” the woman asked her. “You’re going to need
somebody to drive you home, afterwards.”

The tears threatened again. “My friend drove me here. She’s
waiting. She’ll take me home.” Home to her empty flat. No husband. No baby. There
wasn’t going to be any baby. She lost the battle, felt the ticklish tears crawling
across her cheeks, falling into her hair as she lay on the table.

“You can try again,” the midwife assured her. “In a few
months, your body will have recovered. You’re young and healthy. These things
do happen, and most women go on to carry babies successfully to term.”

Jenna nodded. She wouldn’t explain. She couldn’t. That she’d
got lucky, literally, on their third anniversary. This had been her one chance.
And she hadn’t been able to make it count.

She forced herself to breathe more deeply now as she continued
to run, pushing herself up the hill to the Domain. That was then, and this was
now. She’d done the research, since it had happened. The midwife had been
right, she knew. Miscarriages were all too common, and generally had no effect
on the chance of a successful future pregnancy. And she couldn’t help thinking,
irrational as she knew it was, that this was Finn. If anybody could father a
healthy baby, surely it was Finn.

Because she wanted this baby. She knew it down to her core.
Even more than she’d wanted the first one, if that were possible. Never mind
that it hadn’t been in her plans. That she might have to do this on her own.
That she’d be the single mother her own mother had been.

No, not that. She might be a single mother, but she was
going to love this baby. She was going to take such good care of it. And Finn
would too, she thought desperately. Surely he would. He’d implied that he
hadn’t wanted Sophie at first, and what had happened there? No daughter had
ever had a more devoted father. Surely he’d want this baby just as much.
Eventually, once he’d got used to the idea.

But she couldn’t tell him. Not now. Not yet. Not until she
was sure. Until she knew this baby was going to live. Until she saw its heart
beat, and knew she’d be keeping it. He’d be leaving in a week anyway. She
wasn’t going to tell him before then. It was too soon.

“Going to miss this,” Finn said, sliding a hand down her
body as she lay next to him on Saturday afternoon. “I’m thinking we’d better do
it some more before the kids get home. Since it’s going to have to last us for
a while.”

“I’ve decided what you remind me of, by the way,” he told
her, rolling to his side and pushing himself up on one elbow to fondle a breast
as he looked down at her. “You’re like a gorgeous dish of ice cream. Vanilla,
with a few bits of strawberry. And I love ice cream. Could eat it every day.
Wish I weren’t leaving so soon.”

“Monday.” Her breath hitched at the feeling of his hand on
her. “It’s coming up so fast. And five weeks is a long time.”

“Not so long.” He leaned in for a long kiss. “I’ll call you
every night that I can. Morning, my time. Before practice, I reckon. Talk to
the kids, talk to you.”

“That’d be nice. What will you be doing at night?”

He shrugged. “They come up with some kind of activity for
us. Sometimes it’s a film, other times something silly. Just to keep the boys
busy. Stop them getting too restless, embarrassing themselves and the team
while we’re over there representing En Zed. It can get a bit boring, still, in
the evenings. Specially round about Week Four. I may have to make a second
call,” he mused. “Before bed my time, once the kids have gone to school for
you. So I can say everything I’ll want to.”

“I know we haven’t talked about this,” she said
hesitatingly. “And I have no idea what goes on. But I suspect that you get more
than restless. And I’m not interested in sharing you. If you can’t manage that,
tell me now.”

“Ah. Wondered when this would come up. Nah. Wasn’t there
some fella who said, why go out for hamburgers when you have steak at home?” He
grinned down at her. “Reckon you’re steak. Eye fillet, I’d say. I don’t cheat
anyway. But knowing I’ve got this steak dinner to come back to . . .” He kissed
her again. “I won’t mind waiting for that.”

She smiled into his eyes. “Paul Newman.”

“Pardon?”

“The actor. Paul Newman. About his wife, Joanne Woodward.
They were married about fifty years, until he died. And I’m betting that’s one
big reason.”

“I know how you feel about it,” he assured her. “And for the
record, I feel the same way. In case you were wondering whether I’d care. We’ve
both been through that. You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to go through
it again.”

“Well, if I’m steak, you’re . . . what’s better than steak?
Lobster, I guess. That’s what you are. Lobster.”

“Because you’ve made such a wide comparison,” he smiled.

“Because I’m smart enough to know a good thing when I find
it,” she countered. “And I’m guessing all this food talk means you’re hungry.
I’ll go make you a sandwich.” She rolled out from under him toward the side of
the bed.

He grabbed an ankle, pulled her back across the sheet to
him. “Oh, no. Not letting you out of bed yet. I can wait a bit. What I really
want now is something else.”

She smiled up at him. “Oh, yeah? You know I’m always happy
to give you what you want. All you have to do is ask me.”

He groaned. “Definitely steak. I’m thinking, though, they may
feed us lobster when we’re in France. And I’m out of practice. Reckon you are
too.”

“What?”

“Have you ever eaten lobster?”

“No,” she confessed. “Never. Not in my budget.”

“Then I’ll explain it to you,” he said, leaning in for
another kiss, his hand moving down her body, caressing the soft skin. “You
crack the claws. Then you have to suck the meat out of the shell. Using your
lips and your tongue, but carefully. Delicately. You don’t want to miss any,
either. Because lobster’s choice, and you want to savor it. So you go slowly.
And you make sure you get every last bit of that meat. All the way to the end.
I’m thinking we could both use some practice. Just in case.”

“I’m going to be selfish here,” he told her, moving lower,
kissing and biting his way, his hand finding her breast again. He smiled
against her at the sound of her moan. “Going to do my own practicing first.
Then I’ll give you a lesson.”

She woke on Monday morning to the feeling of Finn sliding
into bed with her, pulling the duvet back over them both.

“What time is it?” she asked sleepily.

“Early,” he told her. “Six.”

“Violating our rules,” she pointed out.

“Nah. I’ll only stay a minute. But I need a bit of privacy
to say goodbye to you.”

She reached out to stroke his unshaven cheek. “I hate this.
I know you have to go. But I still hate it.”

He kissed her gently. “Me too. Always. Now more than ever.
But I’ll call you. And it’s not forever. Only five weeks.”

But would he want her, after those five weeks were up? She
pushed the thought aside, focused on the here and now. On his big body, solid
and comforting next to her.

“I’m going to miss you,” she told him, feeling the prick of
the tears that came so easily these days. She looked into his blue eyes, warm
now as he gazed back at her. “But we’ll be watching you. Just don’t go getting
yourself hurt, all right? We don’t want to see that. That’s not allowed.”

“Understood.” He ran a hand over her hair. “I’m pretty
tough. Pretty hard to knock down for long.”

“That’s what I’m going to be reminding Sophie,” she agreed.
“And what I’m going to be holding on to myself.”

“I’ll tell you too. Don’t work too hard,” he warned her.
“It’s a long time alone, even with Miriam’s help.”

“I won’t. And now you need to get out of here, before Harry
wakes up and comes barreling in.”

He gave her one last kiss, his hand moving down her body.
“Should’ve come in here last night,” he grumbled. “Whatever we said. That was a
stupid rule. I hate leaving without making love to you again.”

She sighed against him. “Me too. But we can’t. I’m going to
get up and fix you breakfast, and we’re going to drive you to the airport. And
the rest of it, we’ll just have to save for later.”

“I don’t want you to go, Daddy.” Sophie was sobbing in the
Departures lobby, her arms around his waist.

Finn crouched down, big and distinctive in his black Adidas
warmup suit, the silver fern blazing over his heart. “Here, now. You know that
this is my job. And that I need your help, and Harry’s, to do it. I need you to
talk to me every day so none of us gets too lonesome. And to do well at school,
help Jenna at home.”

“And to watch you play,” Harry reminded him, his own tears
falling now too. “I’ll watch this time, Daddy. I promise.”

“That’s my boy.” Finn reached out to gather him into his
arms. “But if you need to read the dinosaur book sometimes, that’s OK too. I’ll
understand.”

“Sophie Bee.” He gave his daughter a final cuddle. “You’ll
be watching too. I know that.” He held a gentle finger to her forehead, watched
her reciprocate, trying her best to check her sobs. “Bzzz,” they said together.

Finn stood up reluctantly. “Take care of them,” he told
Jenna. “And yourself, till I get back. I’ll ring when we get in.” He ached to
hold her again, but contented himself with reaching for her hand, giving it a
squeeze. He felt the moisture in his own eyes. Geez, he hated this. It got
worse every time.

“Bye,” Jenna said through the lump in her throat. “Be safe.
I mean it, Finn. Be safe. And we’ll be here to meet you in five weeks.”

He nodded, then turned to the Business Premier counter.
Before this got any harder. Before he got back into the car and drove all of
them home again.

“Jenna!” She drifted out of an uneasy sleep to the sound of
the wailing cry. “Jenna!”

Harry, she realized. She sat up, immediately regretted it as
the tide of nausea rose. She reached for a water cracker from the plate next to
her bed and nibbled it as she pulled on her dressing gown. Feeling a little
steadier, she got up and made her way through the dark hallway to Harry’s room.

He was sitting up in bed and sobbing in terror as she turned
on his bedside lamp and sat beside him, pulled him into her arms. “What is it? Was
it the dream?”

“It was the taniwha,” Harry sobbed. “He said he was going to
eat me. I want Daddy.”

Jenna stroked a hand over his hair. “It was a dream, buddy.
Just a bad dream. There’s no taniwha.”

“I want Daddy,” Harry insisted through his tears. “He won’t
come when Daddy’s here.”

“Shhh, now. Your dad’s in Ireland, remember?” This was the
third night Harry had woken her. It was time to do something about this.

“We’re going to beat this thing,” she told him firmly. “I’ll
tell you what. Tomorrow, after school, you’re going to draw a picture of that
mean old taniwha. And you’re going to tell me your dream, and I’ll write it
down. We’re going to post it to your dad. He can be thinking about making it go
away too. Telling it not to come after his boy any more.”

He began to quiet against her. “The taniwha will be scared,
if Daddy talks to him.”

“He’ll be very scared,” she agreed.

“D’you promise?” he begged.

“I promise,” she told him, reaching for a tissue and wiping
his face. “Now, lie back down. I’m going to sing you a song to bring you sweet
dreams.”

“
Hine e Hine
?” he asked, allowing her to tuck him in
again.

“That’s right.” She switched off the light, kept his hand in
hers as she began the Maori lullaby, its sweet melody and the poetic language
soothing her, too, as she sang.

“E tangi ana koe, hine e hine.

E ngenge ana koe, hine e hine . . .”

“Good night,” she whispered to Harry as she finished singing
the last verse and bent down to kiss his cheek. “Sweet dreams.”

“How are you, buddy?” Jenna asked as Harry came bouncing
into the kitchen the following morning, no trace of the night’s terrors visible
on his beaming face.

“Hungry,” he pronounced.

She laughed. “Weet-Bix, coming up. Where’s Sophie?”

“Here,” Sophie announced, coming in and climbing into her
chair.

“Morning,” Jenna smiled at her. “Wow. Let’s do a ponytail
after brekkie, OK? Looks like your hair had a party last night.”

“Do you remember having a bad dream in the night, Harry?” she
asked as she poured milk on their cereal and went to the refrigerator for the
juice.

He nodded, breaking the biscuit apart with his spoon. “I
remember you coming into my room and singing me a song.”

“Do you remember what we talked about, too? About drawing a
picture and writing the story, and sending it to your dad?”

“I kind of remember,” he said doubtfully.