Miracle In March (22 page)

‘I know! Isn't it great?' James bit into his too, and found himself surprised by a burst of attraction to Emma in her moment of culinary enthusiasm. ‘And the orange bubbles are bringing out my inner child.' He gestured to the jumbo-sized cup that housed his fizzy beverage.

‘You'll probably end up hyperactive with all that artificial colouring.'

‘Hmm, watch out.' He winked, and the lights dimmed as the movie previews screened.

Emma took her napkin and laid it on her lap. ‘Don't want to drip hot pizza toppings onto my white capris.'

‘I guess I should do the same.' James placed a napkin on his lap, though it didn't cover all of it. ‘Maybe I should have grabbed more.'

‘Don't worry, I have tissues if we need extra cleaning materials.'

‘Always prepared, aren't you.'

‘Of course.'

They ate and watched the previews, and had finished their meals by the time the movie started. Emma took a sip of her lemonade bubbles, or as he'd called them —
nude
bubbles — and settled back into the seat, crossing one leg over the other.

He noticed the way her thigh curved smoothly over her leg, the inner side of her knee facing him. His hand buzzed with the urge to touch her, to rest his hand on her leg like old times and enjoy the warmth beneath his skin. But he returned his focus to the screen.

At one point during the movie, Emma nudged him gently and said, ‘Do you remember when…' and he had barely registered what she was saying, simply pleased she was slipping back into the memories of their past. The good memories. The ones they'd made together and would have made more of had she not left.

‘Want one?' Emma took a packet of Tic-Tacs from her bag and held them up.

‘Only one?' he asked.

‘Okay, you can have two.' She tipped the packet onto his palm but overdid it and a pile of the tiny pellets tumbled out.

‘Have you forgotten how to do maths?' he asked with a quiet chuckle.

‘Shush, you.' Her fingers tickled his palm as she gathered up the Tic-Tacs. All of them.

‘Hey.' James wrapped her hand with his, pulling it close to his chest. ‘Where's my share?'

A smile lifted one corner of her lips. She put the mints back into the packet, bar two, and placed them carefully onto his palm. ‘One. Two. There you go.'

He popped them both in his mouth and bit into them. ‘Thanks.'

She leaned closer. ‘You're not supposed to bite them, then the pleasure of eating them will be over too quickly. You're supposed to suck on them and take your time.'

He couldn't take his eyes off her. The taste of the Tic-Tacs faded away and he could only think of tasting her lips. ‘Sometimes it's best to just jump right in and don't hold back.'

Man, what had gotten into him? Being back in a movie theatre after all this time had brought back his inner teenager. He wanted to drape his arm around her, pull her close, and kiss in the back row till the credits finished and the cleaner came in.

‘And sometimes,' she jabbed his chest with her finger, ‘it's best to savour the moment, slowly, and carefully.'

‘Then can I have another one?' He held out his hand.

She narrowed her eyes, then softened them and popped a Tic-Tac right into his mouth. He slid it around with his tongue and forced himself not to bite into it. Slowly, she wanted to take things, at least according to her Tic-Tac analogy. He would have to cull his desire, let the night unfold at the speed she wanted, to have a chance of making it work.

* * *

She'd wanted to kiss him. Desperately. Right when she'd heard the crack of the Tic-Tac as he bit into it. She'd wanted the minty sweetness to swirl between their mouths as they kissed and snuggled in their seats. But she didn't let it happen. She didn't want to keep giving in to her desire and losing sight of what was best. Tonight would be a simple, friendly little outing, and it would finish with a kiss on the cheek — nothing more — a hug, and they'd go off to their respective beds for the night. Tomorrow she would tell him about her travel plans. Not tonight. Tonight was for fun, an escape from the decisions and dilemmas of real life.

And although she didn't want to lose her inhibitions by having a touch of alcohol, the brightly coloured cocktail had called to her when they'd arrived at the beachside bar back in Tarrin's Bay.

James had opted for a martini, and after downing their drinks and mingling with a few locals and holidaymakers, they walked outside and crossed the park onto the beach. Emma slid her arms into her cardigan.

The ocean hummed and whooshed as they walked along the sand, the beach completely deserted. The good thing about this beach, cradled by the beachside cabins and caravan park, was that it was quieter and smaller than the others in Tarrin's Bay. Most tourists flocked to the main beach at the entrance to town, which was patrolled regularly. But here, now, this beach was theirs and theirs alone.

‘I can't remember the last time I walked on the beach at night.' James slid his hands into his pockets.

‘It's so beautiful here.'

‘Yeah.' James spoke with a downward inflection, like he was sad about something.

‘Welston has nice beaches too,' she said, thinking he might be thinking that he'll be out of here in a couple of days.

‘True, but not like this one. There's something about it. It's small and intimate, like it belongs to whoever happens to be walking on it at the time.'

Emma breathed in the cool night air and revelled in the expanse of her lungs. ‘So I guess it's ours for now.'

‘It is. We should christen it.' He stopped, found a twig and scraped it into the sand:
JJ & Em's beach.
‘Now it just needs some sort of tagline.'

She laughed. ‘It won't last forever you know. We'd need a more permanent sign.'

He glanced at her, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. ‘The water may wash it away but I'll remember it. We'll know it's ours.'

Emma took out her phone and snapped a photo with the flash. ‘Not that clear, but here's another way to remember it.'

‘I've already stored it,' he tapped at his temple, ‘in here.'

‘Well, just in case you need a reminder.' She jiggled her phone and he smiled.

They continued walking, each step cushioned by the sand as it gave way slightly. It was like their relationship: present, in some form, but fragile. Always changing form. Push too hard and it will give way. Avoid it and someone else may eventually step in and allow it to crumble away.

‘So, my family's moving to Queensland,' James blurted.

‘Oh?'

‘They want me to join them. Found a good school for Jackson from a contact there who may be able to fast track an enrolment.'

Emma swallowed a lump. ‘Right. Well, that would be good then, I guess.'

‘Could be.'

‘You haven't decided yet?' she asked.

‘Nope. It's all a bit sudden. I need to weigh up the options.'

‘Decisions can be so hard,' she said, feeling the truth of that statement weighing down her words.

Although she had decided one way or another she would continue with her travel plans, part of her wanted to tell him not to go, and she hated herself for it. Jackson was the priority here, not her. And
she
was going away, he could do whatever he wanted and she had no say in it, no right to object.

‘Anyway,' his voice lightened. ‘No need to talk about it, it's Saturday night, and one should never make important decisions on a Saturday night, ain't that right?' He smiled and swung his arms back and forth.

Phew. She'd started to wonder whether she should talk about her own plans too, but the moment had gone. ‘Good idea. And hey,' she nudged him, ‘what happened to the orange bubbles bringing out your inner, hyperactive child?'

‘Oh yeah. I must have become immune to the artificial colourings in my old age.'

She whacked him on the arm. ‘If you're old, then that means I am too. So I'll have none of that talk, please.' She put on her teacher's voice.

He raised his hands. ‘Fair enough.' Then he stopped and looked towards the playground. ‘I've got an idea.'

He grasped her hand and led her up the sandy hill, over to the deserted playground that looked kind of eerie and sad without the usual laughing, boisterous children and sun-drenched bright plastic.

‘Are you looking for your inner child?' she asked with a chuckle.

‘Yes. And I've found him. Over here.' He walked over to the swings and sat on the slack rubber, and it moulded to fit him. ‘It's a tight fit, but I think it'll cope.' He looked up to the bar the swing was suspended from, as if checking it wasn't about to collapse on top of him. ‘Oh, and your inner child, she's there.' He pointed to the swing next to him with a cheeky grin.

‘Is that so?' Emma stepped to the swing. ‘Maybe it won't cope with the weight of both of us at the same time.'

James reached over and jiggled the metal chains of her swing. ‘Ah, I think it'll survive. C'mon.'

Emma glanced around, checking no one was watching the park manager about to have a late night swing on the children's playground. ‘Okay then, just a quickie.' She caught his eye and laughed. ‘I mean, a quick swing.'

‘I know. What did you think I thought you meant?' He feigned seriousness then broke into a smile. ‘Alrighty, let's see who can get the highest.' He swung his legs forwards, gathering momentum, and Emma did the same, though her delicate swings were no match for his powerful ones.

Emma's hair rushed backwards and forwards as she swung, the unfamiliar sensation bringing memories of childhood to her mind and smile to her face. Cool air whipped around her, and as each swing took her upwards she felt light and free, weightless, for a moment.

‘Fun, eh?' James said.

‘I'd forgotten how much fun this is!' She giggled like a child.

James adjusted his swings so that eventually they matched hers, and they each rose forwards at the same time, watching each other. ‘You reckon you can jump off from up here? Like the older kids do?'

The ground covering was springy, but Emma scrunched up her nose. ‘Hmm, not sure. Don't want to twist my ankle or anything.'

‘Then I'll go first, and if I survive, I'll try to catch you when you jump off. Yeah?'

‘Okay. Yeah,' she said hesitantly.

James swung for a count of three, then as he swung forwards and went high in the air, he let go of the chains and leapt forwards, landing in a crouching position. ‘Woohoo, I've still got it, baby.' He grinned and gave himself a clap.

‘I'd clap too, but…' she shrugged as she gripped the chains.

‘Your turn.' He curled his fingers towards his body, urging her to jump.

‘Okay, here goes. One, two…' she swung forwards, ‘three!' She let go and jumped off, crashing into James and falling forwards onto him as he tumbled backwards onto the ground.

‘Whoa! You've got some power behind that swing, Em.'

Warmth radiated from his body and seeped into her as she lay on top of him. Had they not been in a public playground she may have been tempted to stay in said position a little longer. She scrambled up and laughed. ‘I hope I didn't give you any bruises.'

James pushed himself up. ‘A little bruise never hurt anyone.'

She scratched her arm, unsure what to do next.

James twisted sideways and looked down at the beach. ‘See that rock?' He pointed and she nodded. ‘Race you there on the count of three. Ready?'

She shook her head and giggled at his inner child's persistence, then readied her arms in running position.

‘One, go!' He dashed forwards.

‘Hey! You didn't get to three!' She ran after him.

He slowed a little till she caught up, then picked up speed again.

Emma found it hard to run as she laughed, and as they neared the rock he slowed again, allowing her to catch up. She reached the rock and sat on it just before him. ‘Oh God, I'm so unfit!' She panted.

He sat on the rock next to her. ‘Let's call it a tie.'

‘Oh no, I won, thank you very much.' She crossed her arms.

‘Okay, okay, you won.' He casually hung his arm around her shoulders and gave it a congratulatory squeeze. She turned her head and her laughter subsided. He moved his arm and lowered his head. It reminded her of the night she left him; all she could remember was the confusion and despair in his voice, and then his head hanging low and heartbroken.

After a moment of silence, she spoke up. ‘I can't say it enough, James, but I really am sorry for leaving like that. I feel if I say it enough it might make it all okay. Make up for it, somehow.'

He looked her in the eye. ‘It
is
all okay.'

‘I mean, for me. You've been amazing how you've forgiven me, understood where I was coming from. I'm still just finding it a little hard to not feel guilty around you.'

‘Em, really, it's okay. I want to put all that behind us.' He kept his gaze on hers.

Damn, his dark eyes were so hypnotic, it was like there was a pendulum swinging in front of her, and a voice, instead of saying, ‘You are getting sleepy', saying, ‘You are falling more and more in love with this man'. Anticipation sparkled in his eyes, a strength of will gave firmness to his jaw, and he seemed to be waiting for some kind of response or sign to give him permission to kiss her.

The intensity of his gaze became too strong to maintain and Emma tore herself away from his focus. She turned her wrist. ‘Oh, it's getting late.'

He brushed his fingers against her hand. ‘But maybe it's not too late. For us.' She shivered at his touch, at his suggestion. ‘What do you think?'

Emma looked away, and stood.

‘Emma?'

‘It's just…' She crossed her arms over her stomach and cupped her elbows with her hands. ‘I just don't feel… I'm enough, for you.'