Miracle In March (6 page)

They turned into Park Street, the main street of town, planning to get a coffee before buying things they needed and hiring fishing rods. They passed a takeaway food shop, a restaurant, an old-fashioned bookstore, and approached a busy café with alfresco dining.

‘Café Lagoon. I've heard they have good coffee.' Marie eyed the menu on a stand out front.

James remembered coming here years ago. He looked at Jackson who'd done well to cope with the walk and the sensory stimulation that abounded in the street. His face was tight though, and he gripped Owly close to his chest. He made soft, high-pitched noises, and James knew they wouldn't be able to sit in the café. ‘I'll get something to take away and find a quiet spot in the park. But you two go in if you like.'

‘Oh, no, dear, we can't do that. We'll join you outside, won't we Martin?'

His father didn't look overly pleased, but agreed.

They approached the counter where three staff members bustled about, and a young man came up to the cash register. ‘Hi, mate, what can I get for you?'

‘I'll have a cappuccino, and can I get a freshly squeezed juice for my boy? Apple and raspberry, thanks.'

‘Sure thing. Does the little man want anything to eat as well?' The barista eyed Jackson and smiled.

‘Oh, no, he's on a special diet. Unless you have anything gluten- and dairy-free?' Worth a shot. So far, his attempts to buy things at cafés had met with the discovery that there was the odd gluten-free item, but usually things weren't also dairy-free.

‘Yes, we do actually.' Jonah — according to his name tag, pointed to the cake display. ‘Apple and berry crumble muffins. Would he like one of those?'

James shrugged. ‘We'll give it a try. I'll have one too. Take away. Thanks.' He smiled.

‘No worries.' The young man exuded a calm but vibrant enthusiasm.

‘Mum, Dad, what do you want? I'll get it all on my card.'

‘You sure, honey?' asked Marie.

James nodded, and his parents placed their order. Jackson tugged on James' hand and he knew he'd have another few minutes before he got distressed.

‘Open for dinner, are you?' Martin said, on looking up at the blackboard menu and café information.

‘Sure are, till late every night. No rest for me.' Jonah grinned.

‘We should pop in for dinner, love, what do you think?' Martin turned to his wife.

Marie nodded. ‘Tonight, or later this week?'

Jonah raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, if you come in on Friday, you'll need to reserve a table. There'll be some live music. I think it'll make for a memorable night,' he said.

That counts me out, James thought. But most nights he was too tired to go out anyway, so a home-cooked dinner in front of the TV had become the norm. Though it would be nice to have someone to share it with occasionally.

‘Oh, sounds wonderful! Let's book in, Martin.' She rested her hands together on the counter. They put their names down and Jonah said he'd see them on Friday, and gave James a sticker of a smiley face in case Jackson wanted it.

Even though Welston was a smallish city, nothing beat a true-blue small Aussie town like Tarrin's Bay. The local business owners and staff were always friendly, and the air seemed full with peace and acceptance. Two things that scored high on James' list of values nowadays.

If it wasn't for Emma, he'd possibly consider moving here. But if she was going to hang around long-term, it could get awkward. Welston was great, but maybe it was time for a change of pace. He could go up north where his parents had lived for a while when he'd been at university in Sydney. Or he could go further south. Wherever he decided upon, he'd have to decide soon, because with Jackson turning five at the end of the year he'd need to figure out his options for education. He'd wait till he was six before trying some sort of formal schooling, but next year he hoped to try him out at a small or special needs preschool and give him some experience being around other children, though the idea terrified him because he knew what he was like. Anyway, there was no need to decide immediately, he needed to enjoy a few days away and clear his head. Though how he would do that with Emma in the same vicinity he had no idea.

They crossed the road, Jackson stepping cautiously on only the white stripes of the crossing, and entered the green expanse of Miracle Park.

A miracle would be nice…

They sat at a picnic table and Jackson gulped down his juice. He picked at the muffin for a while, until he must have decided he liked it because he took a huge bite and James had to remove half of it from his mouth to prevent him choking.

‘It's all or nothing with this guy,' James joked.

‘If he has half the appetite you had at that age then he'll be fine,' his mother said. ‘Bottomless pits, boys' stomachs.' She shook her head with a smile.

James patted his. ‘Too right.' He bit into his muffin and revelled in the alternating soft and crunchy texture, the warm sweetness reminding him of Nonna Bella's home-baked goodies. Something he'd never have the pleasure of enjoying again. ‘Didn't Grandpa John propose to Bella here in this park?'

Martin shook his head. ‘Apparently, this was where they had their first date. He made a wish on her behalf in the Wishing Fountain. He proposed at the lookout near the beach, the one near Tarrin himself. That's why we're spreading her ashes there on Sunday.'

‘Oh. I didn't realise,' James replied. ‘I just thought it was her favourite place.'

‘It was. Because of what it meant to her,' Marie said.

James wondered if he'd known enough about his grandparents. Had he been a devoted enough grandson? Should he have taken more time to listen to their stories and learn about their past while he was busy working hard at school, surfing, going on dates, and then working hard, yet again, at university?

It was only after becoming a parent himself that he'd realised how important family was. Sure, they were annoying at times, but the reality was; he wouldn't have coped with raising Jackson if they hadn't moved back south to be near him. He was lucky. His parents were there if he needed them, though he didn't like to admit he needed anyone.

I can do it myself,
he'd told them when the reality of being a single parent became apparent.

And he could, but everybody needed a little respite now and again. And now, he realised, he craved more than just the odd bit of time out. The desire for good conversation, a few laughs, and good company inched its way into his mind. The last time he'd had that was a few months ago, when he'd caught up with friends in Sydney before Christmas, leaving Jackson with his parents. In the past, fun and freedom had been a regular occurrence, now they were as elusive as the unspoken words from his son's mouth.

* * *

When Jackson's appetite had been taken care of, he left Owly with James and ran over to the Wishing Fountain. With one hand holding his Sound Machine (laughter button on repeat) and one hand on the fountain's rim, he ran around in circles, mimicking the laughter from his device.

‘Don't get dizzy, Jackson!' Marie called out.

The boy stopped every now and again to jump in the air, then run around in the other direction, tracing the rim with his hand.

Forget about getting dizzy, James was more concerned with getting the Sound Machine wet. Heaven forbid if anything should happen to his son's most prized possession.

‘Cool!' A boy of about eight came up to Jackson, pointing to the machine. ‘Can I have a look?'

Jackson ignored him and stood still, looking at his machine, pressing different sounds.

‘Is there a burping sound?' the boy asked, laughing. He tried to take a closer look, and James instinctively stood, ready to intervene if necessary. ‘Oh look, there is!' the boy pressed the burp and a revolting belching sound emerged.

Damn it, why did he have to do that?
The burp was
never
pressed. Jackson hated it with a vengeance. A few people walking by turned their heads to see who had been so vulgar, not realising it was a recorded sound, and the boy laughed heartily. Jackson grunted and stamped his feet.

‘Don't you think it's funny?' the boy asked, and pressed it again.

Jackson lifted his hand and gave the boy an almighty push, squealing from the effort. The boy stumbled backwards a little but didn't fall.

‘Jackson, no. Come here.' James swooped in and took hold of the machine, pocketing it, then picked Jackson up. ‘Mustn't push people.' His four-and-a-half-year-old body wriggled beneath his father's grasp.

A woman approached, checking that her son was okay, then caught James' glance. ‘Doesn't your son know not to go around pushing other kids?' she huffed. ‘Disgraceful. He needs to learn some discipline.' She shook her head.

‘I'm really sorry, he didn't mean it, it's just that…' He was about to explain his son's condition but she'd already walked out of earshot, tugging her son along with her. James sighed, and Jackson wriggled free. What would he do when his son was too old and big to be carried? He was already getting heavy.

Jackson pounded James' pocket with his fists, and James gave in and handed back the machine, but led him to the picnic table where Marie wore an expression of concern and Martin wore one of…embarrassment.

‘Should have stayed at the cabin,' James said, frustration hardening his voice. Would he ever be able to take Jackson somewhere without him having a meltdown? This one was only small compared to others, but in public even the small ones seemed huge. He was doing everything he could for his son's growth and wellbeing, but sometimes it didn't seem enough.

When Jackson had calmed down and was having a private moment with Owly, James checked his emails on his iPhone. He scrolled through the usual unimportant delete-worthy ones, and his finger hovered above one with the subject: VIP package enquiry.

He pressed it open and read it. He'd put an enquiry form on his website a couple of months ago to take expressions of interest for his new law business training package that he planned on launching soon, when he could spare the time to finalise the details. This potential customer had looked at his available programs for law graduates wanting to start their own firm, and said he didn't want any of them. He wanted the best package available, and when would it be ready please?

James didn't think anyone would want it. He'd be charging a bucketload for it as a high-end product for lawyers to maximise their profits through learning the foolproof management systems he'd developed, and marketing techniques to rise above the pack. His other self-study programs taught the same things, but this one was to include personal coaching, on-call access to him to help implement the systems, and an annual retreat for members only. He'd come up with the idea to leverage his knowledge and experience when Jackson's high level of care required him at home more than the office. It had been a blessing in disguise, and last year he'd out-earned his income from when he was in practice, yet he was working fewer hours. It was something he could do at home, around Jackson's needs, while still paying the bills and having plenty left over. Other law professionals had caught on, asking how he had done so well in his business in such a short time, so he thought his skills might be worth charging for.

James considered what to say in his reply. He didn't have a set launch date in mind, and the plans had been delayed with all the family upheaval of late, but maybe it was time to put the next level of his business in motion and give him something else to focus on besides Jackson. His existing products were all automated and earned him passive income. But he still needed to keep his finger on the pulse and maintain connection to the industry, not to mention give him some much-needed intellectual stimulation.

He thumbed in a reply on his phone's screen:

Thanks for your enquiry. The VIP package will be launching within 48 hours.

What was he doing? Was it really ready to sell? He'd done the work, but needed to get some of the technical things sorted out and commit to a schedule for the coaching and annual retreat. That was what was holding him back. He'd done occasional workshops to teach the basics of his program, selling his packages at the end of the event, but that was only a day being away from Jackson. This would be longer, though only once a year, and he'd have to arrange babysitting during his coaching sessions in case Jackson needed attention during them. It didn't sound professional to have a screaming child in the background of a business call.

He looked at his parents, sitting here in the park with him, loyal and devoted. Then he looked at Jackson and a future of never-ending appointments and programs and health care needs flashed before him. He was financially stable already, but the extra money from this program if it really took off would be phenomenal. And he'd still be there for Jackson the majority of the time, so there was no need for guilt. He needed a new challenge, and there was obviously demand for his services. Yep, he just had to trust that it was the right move. If he waited for perfectionism he'd be waiting a long time.

James reread his reply and nodded to himself. Then he hit ‘send'.

Emma pressed ‘post' on the Tarrin's Bay Beachside Cabins Facebook page, and the photos of the construction works appeared on the screen.

‘Bob our Builder is working hard as you can see! Stand by for an announcement next week regarding advance bookings for our two new cabins.'

Bob had given her permission to post the picture and his name, all for the sake of marketing. He said maybe having his picture on the internet would help him find a wife, and suggested to Emma that when her time was up running the cabins, she could perhaps produce a TV show called
The Builder Wants a Wife
. ‘Farmers have all the luck, why not builders?' he'd asked. The guy was in his late forties and divorced; his wife had apparently not been suited to small town life, while Bob wouldn't live anywhere else.