Just Not Mine (18 page)

“No.
I’m going to wait for June’s mum.”

Lie in bed all day and bleed and work herself up? That wasn’t t
he answer, and he sat, helpless, trying to figure out what was.

Josie’s car had been in the drive when he’d seen Charlie off, he re
alized. He’d barely seen her since their garden-digging session more than two weeks ago. Working, he’d guessed, and something else on the weekends. Not hiding from him, he hoped, but then, he didn’t seem to be much chop at dealing with distraught girls, so who knew.

He leaned down, brushed the
sweaty hair from Amelia’s face, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to get you help,” he promised. “We’re going to solve this. I’ll be back straight away.”

If Josie wasn’t there, well, he’d go to New World on his own, ask one of the clerks what to get, and he’d help Amelia deal with the rest of it, blood and all. Embarrassment be damned.

Josie sat over another cup of tea
and contemplated the rain blowing across her back garden. So much for her plan to get the vegies in.

She should have done it over the weekend, when the weather had been fine,
but the past couple weeks had taken too much out of her. Projecting supreme sexual confidence, being so devastatingly female when she was feeling anything but, when she was feeling bruised and battered inside, aching and vulnerable.
Not enough of a woman for me.

She’d
done it, because she always did it, because that was what a professional did. She’d convinced herself once again that she was a brilliant surgeon, not to mention a sexual predator who used men as playthings, who was amused by the struggles of her victims, who would never, ever be a victim herself. Had put in the long, hard days, then put her body through its own rigorous workout, the regimen that didn’t allow for heartbreak or laziness, that kept her in modeling contracts. Had fulfilled every single obligation, and had crawled into bed at the end of every brutal day too exhausted to cry.

She’d broken the news about Derek to Clive and Val at the studio, had left it to them to spread the word to the rest of the cast,
and to her agent to alert the rest of the world, and then hadn’t looked to see what the world had thought of it. Had tried, during the rare moments of quiet when she was driving, working out, to sort out her feelings about the breakup, and when they remained nothing but a messy, tangled knot despite her efforts, had given up.

Instead, she’d driven home this past
Friday night, since she wasn’t called for Monday. She’d gone fishing with her dad at dawn on Saturday morning, had gone to church with her parents and grandparents and had Sunday dinner afterwards with as much of her family as could be gathered for it, hadn’t eaten too much of her mum’s food, and had watched her mum bite her tongue about that. And, yes, had felt better.

Her parents hadn’t s
eemed surprised at the breakup, and they certainly hadn’t been disappointed. At least there was that.

“Best thing that could’ve happened, you ask me,” her dad had said, steering the ute back up the winding road with the boat hitched on behind. He’d been quiet when she’d told him, quiet ever since, but now that he’d digested the news, he was ready to give his opinion. “I haven’t said much, because I knew you loved the fella, and he was good to
you when you were ill. Credit to him for that. But he’s not in your class, and I was always worried he’d ask you to marry him. That would’ve broken my heart, because I’d have known he was bound to break yours. Better it happened now. Let him find a pretty face, let them admire each other and tell each other that’s enough. You’re meant for something better. For some
one
better. When I walk you down the aisle, I want to be giving you away to the man who deserves you. I want to know that he’ll care more about your happiness than he does about his own. That you’ll be his treasure, the way your mum is mine. That’s the man I can give you to with a whole heart. The man who’ll take care of you, because you’re his heart’s blood. Because nothing will matter more to him.”

“I’m not sure he’s out there, Dad,” she admitted, the hot tears
tightening in her chest, threatening the stoicism that had held them at bay during every disciplined hour of her long work week.

“He’s there,” he said. “You have faith. God
wouldn’t have made you so beautiful without making a fit partner for you as well. You wait for him.”

“Takes more than looks,” she said. “Derek was beautiful too, and you just told me how much that mattered.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, his tone sharp, his broad, tough hands so sure on the wheel. “You know I’m not talking about your outside. I’m talking about the part of you that was beautiful when you were a skinny kid, and will still be beautiful when you’re an old lady, and afterwards, too, when you’re an ancestor. Your spirit, and your heart. That’s what the right man will want. That’s what I’ll never stop loving in your mum, because that’s the part of her that will never change. Yeh, your man will care that your outside is beautiful, because he’s a man. But that’s not why he’ll love you. He’ll love you because your wairua is beautiful.”

“I
know you think I’m perfect, Dad,” she said, a choked laugh escaping, “but are you remembering that way I’m not? That perfect man who sees my inner beauty, isn’t he going to want kids, the way you did? I can’t give him that, and that’s going to matter. Maybe I can’t give any man enough, if I can’t give him that.”

“Bit
e your tongue,” he told her. “You’re more than enough for a good man. When he comes, the right one, he’s going to know it. Not a doubt in my mind.”

She
had
cried a little, then, had wiped her face on her sleeve, and her dad had backed the boat into its spot, and, when it was done, had held her close and let her cry it out, all the tears she hadn’t shared with anyone, the pain and the hurt and the fear of it.

He’d let her show her weakness, and had loved her all the more for it. And
still, she hadn’t shared her deepest fear, the one that was becoming a conviction now. That no matter what he thought, she’d never find a man who would love her the way her father did. Who would want the complicated, messy, imperfect parts of her. Who would want that most imperfect part of all.

None of that had got her vegies planted, but she’d spend today doing some research, she decided. On kitchen plans, and on some other things as well. Whether or not the right man ever came along, she wouldn’t waste her life pining for him. Whatever she’d lost, she’d been given more than her share, and she knew it. She just had to focus on that.

Now, she worked on her third cup of tea, thought about a slice of toast, and abandoned the notion. Tea was good. And afterwards, a smoothie made with nonfat yoghurt and berries and
flaxseed and a lot of other things that she’d tell herself were delicious, no matter how much she’d rather have had eggs. And sausage. And bacon, and potatoes, and tomatoes, and mushrooms. And toast. But she’d been a half-kilo over on her latest weigh-in, and a smoothie it was going to be.

She heard the doorbell, went to see who would be calling. Too early for the postie.

It was Hugh. The pretty good man she deliberately hadn’t thought about while her dad was talking, because he was her neighbor. He wasn’t looking like he’d come by to declare his love, though. He was looking soaked, and harassed, and worried.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, opening the door and urging him inside. “Car? Kids?”

“Kids,” he said, kicking off his jandals and standing in the entryway, dripping on her floor. At least she’d got a smile out of him. “Amelia. Sorry, I know it’s an imposition, but can you help?”

“
Of course. What is it? Something at school? She ill?”

“Not ill,” he said. “
And not at school. Started her period. Last night, this morning, I guess. I’m not sure. Too embarrassed to tell me much, or to have me help her, and I’m not sure what to do anyway. She says there’s blood, and she doesn’t have any … tampons, I guess.”

“Not tampons. Pads, f
or now. Hang on.” She went through into her bathroom, grabbed a few, went and found a plastic bag to stick them into, then came back to join Hugh. “And blood? Underwear, pajamas, sheets? Like that?”

He lo
oked a little appalled. “She wouldn’t show me. Huddled up in bed, crying. Would there be that much blood?”

“Oh, yeh. It can look like quite the battle scene if you let it go long enough. And she won’t be used to it. She’s probably got some cramps, too,” she decided. “Did she say?”

“Said she had a bellyache, last night,” Hugh remembered. “Didn’t eat much dinner.”

“Hang on.” Another detour for the
packet of Nurofen. “Let’s go,” she said. “Dr. Josie to the rescue. Good thing I work in a hospital.”

He laughed, and she
heard the grateful relief in it. “Do you actually have any medical knowledge?” he asked when they’d dashed across through the rain, had made it into his entryway. “I’ve been wondering how many patients survive a stay in your hospital, the way the entire staff seems to be focused on shagging everybody in sight. Bit distracting, I’d have thought.”

“That’s why they call it fiction,” she said. “But I think I’ve got just about enough expertise for this particular medical emergency. Lead me to the patient.”

Hugh took her into Amelia’s room, where the girl was still lying in bed, Josie saw. “Right, then,” she said briskly, going to the blinds and snapping them up, unlatching a window and shoving it open, making the room immediately appear more cheerful. “Congratulations.”

Amelia turned a t
ruly woebegone face to her. “What?”

“You’re becoming a woman now, aren’t you,” Josie said. “And that’s a beautiful thing, even though it doesn’t feel so beautiful just now.
But it will, once we chuck Hugh out, get you cleaned up, and then make him drive us to New World for a bit of shopping so you can get to school.”

She turned to Hugh. “Why don’t you go make breakfast? Something for Amelia to look forward to, eh. And you too, I’ll bet.
Go on. Get out. No boys allowed.”

She jollied Amelia out of bed, stripped the sheets with a brisk hand, saw the girl’s cringing embarrassment at the stains. “I’ll show you how to get these out,” she promised her. “Not a woman in the world who doesn’t have to learn how to remove bloodstains. But
first, go pop into the shower. Be quick, now.”

Hugh had barely got the bacon cooked when she was hustling Amelia into the kitchen.

“That didn’t take long,” he said. “All good?”

“
Yeh. We’ll chuck these in the washer, and we’re good as gold, hey, Amelia.”

“Yeh,” she said, although it wasn’t too enthusiastic.

“Cup of Milo, I think,” Josie said, went to the kettle to fix it. “And I’ll give you something for those cramps that’ll set you right. Get Hugh’s brekkie down you, too.”

That settled her down, as Josie had hoped,
although they had a bit more fuss after they’d finished the washing-up.

“I don’t want Hugh to come with us,
” Amelia said.

“Rubbish,” Josie
said. “He’s going to be doing the shopping, and he needs to know what to buy. This happens every month, for our sins.”

“He doesn’t want to buy those things,” Amelia protested. “It’s so embarrassing.”

Josie shot Hugh a look that, she was grateful to see, he had no trouble interpreting. “Nah,” he said. “No worries. Long as nobody thinks they’re for me. That’s the part that’s got me sweating.”

That startled a laugh out of Amelia, and Hugh grinned at her and
pulled in her for a quick cuddle, gave her a kiss on the top of her now neatly-combed hair. She stood stiffly for a moment, then her arms went around him tentatively, and Josie melted a little.

“It’s what Josie said,” Hugh told his sister, pullin
g back and smiling down at her. “Growing up. Being a woman. And it’s all good.”

“Thanks,” Hugh said when they’d dropped Amelia at school after what Josie had dubbed their Women’s World Class Trip. To Josie’s amusement, Hugh had pulled a little black notebook and pen out of his pocket and taken notes. Which was so … cute.

“Thanks isn’t really enough, though,” he said again. “Thanks for saving my life? I was in way over my head there.”