Just for Now (32 page)

“Mrs. Ferguson yelled at me for not listening. And Caitlin
played with somebody else, at recess, and I didn’t have anybody. And I
miss
Daddy.”

The sobs intensified as Jenna held her closer, her hand
going again to smooth Sophie’s hair. “Shhh. I know you do, sweetheart. I know.”
She pulled Sophie into her lap, rocked her as if she were a baby. “It feels
like he’s been gone a long time, and you miss him so much.”

Sophie nodded vigorously against her, burrowing closer.

“He misses you too,” Jenna told her. “He loves you, and he’s
missing his girl. But he’s doing what he has to do. He’ll be home, just as soon
as he can. And we’ll watch him on Sunday morning, right?”

“Right,” Sophie said, her sobs easing a bit. “I’m his good
luck charm. I have to watch.”

“That’s right,” Jenna encouraged her. “Your dad loves you so
much. And I have an idea. Why don’t you write him a letter, right now? Tell him
how you’re feeling. Tell him about your day. Because your dad’s always with
you, you know,” she said gently, pulling away a bit so she could look into
Sophie’s woebegone face. “He’s always in your heart. You hold him there. And he
holds you in his.”

“Really?” Sophie asked, her eyes searching Jenna’s.

“Really,” Jenna promised. “And there’s nothing in this world
that can ever take him out of your heart. Or take you out of his.”

Sophie sniffed, then got up and went to her desk. “I’m going
to write to him, then. And tell him about my bad day.”

Jenna got up too. “You do that, and we’ll put it into the parcel
we send him tomorrow.” She let herself out of the room, seeing Sophie already
engrossed in her task, and headed to the kitchen. She still felt shaky, but less
like an abject failure. Baked potatoes and fish fingers tonight, she decided. She
might be able to eat a baked potato.

Jenna reached for the remote to pause the DVD as the phone
rang. Seven-thirty. Finn, then, almost certainly.

Harry got to the phone first. “Daddy!” He listened a moment,
then said, “No, we had a very, very bad day. Sophie yelled, and Jenna yelled.
They hurt my ears. And everybody cried. Jenna cried and cried, Dad. It was
really scary. And then we all had time out.”

He held out the phone. “Daddy wants to talk to you, Jenna.”

She’d just bet he did. “Hi,” she said to Finn. “Let me start
out by saying we’ve all calmed down considerably since then.”

“What happened?” he asked with concern. “Something with
Sophie, eh.”

“Yeah. Rough day,” she sighed, moving into the kitchen where
she could talk more freely. “And I’m afraid I didn’t handle it as well as I
could have. I let her push my buttons. Harry was right. I yelled. But we’ve had
a good talk, and she’s written you a letter to go in your next parcel. She’s
missing you, that’s all.”

“It must have been quite the scene, to make you yell,” he
commented. “I’ve never heard that before.”

“Not my best moment,” she agreed. “I apologized, and so did
she. I think we’re all good. I’m going to turn the phone over to her now, though,
let her tell you. She may still have things to get off her chest.”

“Sophie.” She walked back into the lounge, held out the
phone. “Why don’t you go into the other room to talk to your dad? That way you
can tell him everything that’s on your mind.”

“Dad?” Sophie’s voice was tentative.

“Sophie Bee,” Finn said. “Sounds like you’ve had quite a
day.”

“Did Jenna tell you what I said?”

“Nah. Do you want to tell me?”

“Do I have to?”

“Not if you don’t want to. Jenna said you two had worked it
out, and that you were both feeling better now. Anything you do want to say to
me, though?”

“I miss you, Daddy,” she burst out. “I want you to be here,
with us. I wish you were here. It’s not fair.”

“I wish I were there too, tonight,” he said truthfully.
“Would you want me not to be on the squad, though?”

“No!” she said with shock. “You’re an All Black, Dad.”

“Too right I am. And you know what that means. It means I
have to go where they tell me, do my best for the team wherever I am. And it
means that I need my family to help me do that. You can be sad that I’m not
there. And when you are, you can talk to Jenna about it. You can write and tell
me, too, or tell me on the phone the way you’re doing now. But you aren’t
allowed to say mean things to Jenna.” His voice was firm now. “She’s doing her
best to take care of you. You need to do your best to help her. Because that’s
how you help me. Will you promise to do that?”

“I promise, Dad. I didn’t mean to make her cry. D’you think
she still likes me?” He could hear the tears again now, and his heart melted.

“You’re a good girl. Jenna knows you’re trying hard, and I
know too. She still likes you, I promise. Jenna said you wrote me a letter, eh.
Will you draw me another picture, too, put that in my next parcel? You may want
to draw Jenna one as well. That would make her feel better, I’ll bet. Can you
do that?”

“Yeh,” Sophie promised. “I’ll draw both of you a picture
tonight. I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Sophie Bee. Now put Jenna back on, OK?”

 “You must feel like a referee,” Jenna commiserated. “Don’t
you need to get on the bus?”

“In a minute. You sure you’re all right? I keep hearing
about all this crying, and it’s got me worried.”

“Just a bit off color today,” she admitted. “It’s made me
weepy. We’re watching
Beauty and the Beast
now, and we’ve all cheered
up. Tomorrow’s another day.”

“After we ring off,” he ordered, “I want you to ring Miriam,
arrange for her to come tomorrow.”

“I don’t need to do that,” Jenna objected. “The kids will be
in school.”

“You need an evening off,” he said firmly. “And tomorrow’s
only . . . Thursday there. Days to go till Monday, and the weekend coming up.
Have Miriam get the kids their tea. Go spend the evening with your friend, or
go to the pub, or something. And Jenna. Go to the spa tomorrow, get a massage,
or a  . . . a facial, or whatever it is you do. Put it on my bill. It’s time
for a mental health day, I reckon.”

“Miriam may not be available, though,” she protested.

He sighed. “Then arrange one of those playdates. You’ve had
other kids over enough, you must be due some time of your own. Promise me
you’ll arrange it. One way or another. I’m going to ring you tonight and ask,”
he threatened. “You’d better say you have.”

“Or what?” she asked with a smile.

“Hmm. Wish I had something better to offer than I do, on
that score,” he admitted. “But we’re only halfway through this thing. I need
you fit for the rest of it. Do you promise to arrange all that?”

“I promise. I will. And thanks.”

She hung up, wiped away the tears that had surfaced at his
kindness. She’d worried, on some level, that he’d blame her for what had
happened. She hadn’t been any too pleased with herself. But he’d seemed to
understand how far her patience had been stretched today. She wondered for the
hundredth time if she should tell him. And for the hundredth time, quailed at
the prospect of breaking the news on the phone. It was only a couple weeks. And
it would be so much better when they could talk face to face, when she could
read his expression, see what he was really feeling.

She picked up the phone again and punched the speed dial for
Miriam. A massage, and an evening off. She felt her spirits lift at the
prospect, her doubts and fears receding.

Finn stuffed the phone back into his pocket, picked up his bag
and headed out of the hotel room toward the lift. He needed to get his skates
on, or he really would be late getting on the bus.

Everyone on the squad with a partner or kids was feeling the
same way just now, he reminded himself. Nothing on earth came without a price
attached. Not even the All Blacks.

 “Where are you calling from?” Jenna asked with pleasure,
ten days later.

“Hotel lobby. Trying for a bit of privacy to talk to you.”

“In the lobby? Doesn’t sound too private.”

“Standing in the passage, next to the loos,” he admitted.
“Not too scenic, but quiet. Anyway. Sophie said you were feeling a bit crook again
yesterday. Are you better now?”

“It’s just something I’ve been fighting.” Well, actually, a
baby that had been fighting
her.
She welcomed every bout of morning
sickness as proof that her hormones were still doing their job, responding to
her continuing pregnancy. She’d feel even more reassured, she hoped, after her first
appointment with the midwife on Thursday.

“I’m glad,” Finn was saying. “Get Miriam in to help you as
much as you need her, though.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. Time to move the conversation
away from her queasy stomach. “I don’t know why we’re talking about me anyway.
How are
you
feeling? That game looked brutal, when we finally saw it on
tape delay last night. Sophie was pretty worried. She kept calling them ‘the
filthy French.’”

He laughed. “Yeh, they have a bit of a reputation. They’ve
been known to cross the line into dirty play. Eye-gouging, going after the
wedding tackle. We kept them in line this time, though.”

“Those boots,” she guessed.

“Maybe a bit,” he acknowledged with a smile in his voice.
“Got the win, anyway. That’s the main thing.”

“So are you hurt? Take a picture in the mirror and send it
to me. I want to see.”

“A few stitches,” he admitted. “No worries. It looks worse
than it is.”

“A picture,” she demanded. “As soon as we hang up and you go
back to the room.”

“Right,” he sighed. “I should ask you for one too. That’d be
more worth looking at.”

“I look the same, though.”

“And I haven’t seen how you look for four weeks,” he pointed
out. “You may recall that I wasn’t allowed to bring any photos of you with me. At
least you’ve seen me on the telly. A photo isn’t the same as having you here.
But I’ll take what I can get.”

His words warmed her. “So what did you do today to recover?
Besides eat. I have that one figured out.”

“Pool day. We went to a big place in the suburbs. They roped
off a couple lanes and the diving pool for us. A lot of clowning around, pretty
ridiculous. But it was fun. The boys let off a bit of steam after last night,
loosened up in the water. It was good.”

“Did you dive?”

 “Only off the low board. You still have the record there.
But I’ll have to tell the kids, I jumped off the highest platform. It was a
fair way up there, too.”

“Is there a picture of
that?
I’d love to see it.”

“The film crew was taping, yeh. Because the clips of the
squad with their shirts off are always the most viewed, for some reason. I’ll
see if I can get an advance copy for you.”

“Can’t imagine why people would want to see that,” she
agreed. “Do send the clip to me, if you can. The kids would love it. And
I’d
love to see you in your togs. It’s been a long time for me too.”

“I’ll do my best. Only seven days to go till we see each
other in the flesh. And I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to your
flesh.”

“You sound like a cannibal,” she laughed.

“Feel like one too. I miss you every way a man can. That way
most of all. But also—not sure how much longer I can take rooming with Lackie.”

“Driving you crazy?” Jenna asked sympathetically. “What’s he
doing?”

Finn groaned. “He’s a bloody pig, that’s what. Not a bad
kid, but you should see his side of the room. Dirty clothes in heaps, dirty
dishes, stuff everywhere. Nightmare. You’d think a man with two kids would be
used to a bit of mess, but you’ve got me too spoilt. Turns out his mum still
comes over and cleans up after him, can you believe it? The bloke’s 22.”

“Remember when I interviewed?” she reminded him. “And I told
you I believed in kids helping with chores and keeping their rooms clean? Behold
the rationale.”

“And you were so right. Because I hate to think of my kids
living that way.”

“Weren’t you messier, though, when you were that age?”

“Hope I wasn’t that bad. But probably not as good as I think
I was.”

“Too bad they didn’t match you up with another seasoned
citizen,” she commiserated.

“Nah. They never put the oldies together. That mentoring
thing again. Babysitting, more like. Want to make sure the young boys aren’t
slipping out and getting on the piss. Or bringing girls back to the room.”

“You aren’t allowed to do that?” she asked in surprise.
“Well,
you
aren’t, obviously. We had that conversation too. But, nobody
is?”

“Nah. Too much opportunity for things to go wrong. There was
a horror story a couple years ago with one of the Baby Blacks. The Under-20s,”
he explained. “In Safa for the world championships. They lost in the final, got
pissed in a club afterwards, drowning their sorrows. One of them had a girl in
his room that night, and it ended in a rape inquiry. He wasn’t charged, and who
knows what the true story was, but I reckon it ended his chances in Super Rugby.
That’s the extreme result, but heaps of things can go wrong. No girls in the
rooms, no going out on the razzle without the team. And that’s me, the chaperone.
The Morality Police.”

“The dad,” she agreed.

He laughed. “Can’t escape it, I reckon. Anyway, I’m used to
it. It’s not too bad. Except the mess. That’s getting to me, a bit.”

“You have a day off again tomorrow, right?” she asked. “No
training? Hopefully you won’t be spending too much time in the room. What’s on
the agenda?”

“Versailles in the morning. Then we get on the plane for
Edinburgh. Back to practice again the next day, prepare for that final match.”

“Versailles? That sounds great.”

“My tenth Northern Tour, remember? And probably my fifth
trip to Versailles. I’m looking forward to Scotland, though. We didn’t go last
year. Good tucker. You’d be surprised.”