All The Little Moments (8 page)

Lane knelt down in front of the girl, pulling a pen out of her pocket. “I was wondering if I could be the first to sign
your cast?”

Ella nodded eagerly. “Okay.” She held it up, uninjured hand supporting the
heavy cast.

Lane drew a large,
simple flower.

Anna chuckled.

Not looking up, Lane simply said, “Hey, I’m an artist with patients, not so much with
a pen.”

“I like it,
Nurse Lane.”

“I knew you’d appreciate me, Ella.” Lane was adding some detail Anna couldn’t see. With a flourish, she finished. “There!” She
stood up.

Anna laughed out loud at the sight of Lane’s
phone number.

“If you have any broken bone concerns, Ella,” Lane said with utter seriousness, “you can
call me.”

Ella bounced a
little. “Okay!”

“But if not, I’ll see you in a week.” Lane looked at Anna, smiling as she folded her arms. “And if not, feel free to call me if you want a tour of the hospital on your first day, Anna.” She held Anna’s eyes for a second, then looked back to Ella. “Now, be careful on those monkey bars!” She threw them both a casual grin, turned, and
walked off.

Ella slipped her free hand into Anna’s as they both looked after her. “I
like her.”

Anna looked down
at her.

“Me too,
Ella Bella.”

CHAPTER SIX

Being in such a silent
house could be unnerving, especially when guilt was gnawing
at you.

Anna snuck down the hallway and tiptoed up to Toby’s cot. All she could see was the back of his little brunette head and a fist flung up next to it, fingers curled around his thumb. He was fast asleep and snoring softly. Carefully, Anna picked his pacifier up and moved it to the far corner of the cot. Lately, he was waking up less and less without it, slowly not asking for it during the day. It was a quiet war, a battle of wills, and Toby—a stubborn toddler who she had learnt could throw a fit one second and bat his big beautiful baby blues at you the next—was losing. The truth was that Anna would have been content to let him have all the little comforts he wanted. But her mother had told her that Jake and Sally had almost completely weaned him off it, so Anna was trying to get back
to that.

Quietly, she padded out and walked to Ella’s room, pushing the door open slightly; Anna had learnt quickly that a shut door and no hall light apparently invited monsters. She rested one hand on the doorframe and one on the door handle, leaning in to see the light falling across the bed. She smiled softly as she looked at Ella, who was sprawled on her back, arm in its cast over her head. It was Saturday night, and, after having to keep the cast dry in the bath with a plastic garbage bag, Ella was already fed up with her broken wrist and it had only been twenty-four hours. But she was out cold now, vulnerable, completely trusting that, in her sleep, she would be
kept safe.

Assured that the kids were asleep and everything was calm, Anna made her way down to the kitchen. She pulled out a half-empty bottle of white, grabbed a wine glass, patted her pocket to make sure what she really wanted was there, and headed out the back door. The screen door shut quietly behind her but she made sure the back door stayed open so she could hear sneaky six-year-old footsteps or baby cries. Finally, with a sigh, Anna sat down on the back step, set the bottle down next to her foot and leant against the banister, the wood digging into
her shoulder.

One sip, the wine rich on her tongue, and Anna guiltily put the glass down and fumbled for her packet of cigarettes. Lighting one, she slowly blew the smoke out and tilted her head to watch it drift slowly upwards. She blinked sleepily and took another drag, staring at the
stars overhead.

Anna could look at stars
all night.

Another sip of wine, and her jangling nerves began to settle. Her mother would kill her if she could see her now. When Anna was sixteen, her mother had caught her with a packet of cigarettes and then had stood behind her yelling father with her arms crossed, an incredibly disappointed look on
her face.

It hadn’t stopped Anna at the time, but she had smoked less, seen it as less of a rebellion, not as fun. She’d learnt to hide it better, too. By her second year of college, she had pretty much stopped. Smoking became a secret vice she succumbed to when she
felt guilty.

Hayley had found her once in the place they had shared together. Anna had poked her head out of their tiny bathroom window in an attempt to hide the smell. Yet, still, Hayley walked in, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. Apparently, she had been able to smell the smoke all the way from the living room. Hayley had simply looked at her and asked, “What did
you do?”

This time, Anna had broken her brother’s daughter. There was even a cast to
prove it.

She was logical. She knew these things happened. Sick and injured people surrounded her at work. She knew children broke bones, caught terrible diseases, fell down. And nine out of ten times, they got right back up again, none the worse
for wear.

But she’d seen the parents as she floated through pre-ops, had seen the guilt, the terror. They tore themselves apart with blame and angst. “These things happen” was a token line she heard said
a lot.

So yes, Anna
 
knew
 
she wasn’t to blame. But, still, it was barely past the fortnight mark of being the kids’ guardian, and she’d already broken one of them. Anna bit at her thumbnail, then took
another drag.

This, right here, was one of the big reasons she’d never wanted kids. Anna snorted. Now here she was, instant family, just add Anna—and one of the members was broken, literally. And she had used part of the time Ella had been broken to flirt with an incredibly attractive emergency nurse. Who had flirted with her first. And had given Anna her number—kind of. But whoever had started it, surely it was breaking some kind of
guardianship rule?

Therapeutic smoke filled her lungs. She needed to ask her mother if she’d ever been this overrun with guilt any time she or Jake had hurt themselves. Jake had broken his arm twice as a kid, both times falling out of a tree, and Anna had once fractured her tibia, something she remembered blaming Jake for at the time. She had a vague recollection of riding her bike down a dirt track and him poking a stick at
her wheel.

Anna stared up at the sky again with a wry grin. God, she’d been mad. She’d missed the beach that summer because of him. Granted, he’d spent the entire time at home with her, feet up on the coffee table next to hers, decorating her cast and watching movies. He had even let her play with his
precious Nintendo.

A lump swelled in her throat, and her eyes burned. Her head, for one second defeated by her feelings, dropped to rest on her palm, cigarette smouldering near
her hair.

Fuck, she missed her brother. She missed talking to him, hearing his laugh. While accidentally calling him had ripped a new hole in her, she kind of wanted to do it again just to hear his voice, like a balm—the sound could wash over her and take her away for just a minute. All she wanted was to have a conversation with Jake. She wanted to ask him about raising kids, and if he was mad Ella had broken her arm while under Anna’s care. She would have loved to ask if he thought that she was doing okay with Toby—and did he think they could be happier or that she could be doing
anything better.

She sucked in a deep breath and sat up straighter. Her eyes felt swollen, but her cheeks were dry. She let out a slow breath, a shuddering noise. Sometimes it felt as if she let herself fall into that feeling, she’d never crawl out. And she just couldn’t let that happen. Not with the kids, not with that terrifying loss
of control.

Pulling at her phone, she looked down at the text she’d received that morning
from Kym.

Anna! Coffee? Tomorrow? I’m free all day, like morning or afternoon or whatever. I don’t want to sound like the desperate widow, but I am. So hang out with
me? Coffee?

Anna knew it was getting late, but she figured it’d be okay to text Kym back anyway. She glanced at her watch, and her eyes widened in amusement. It was just going nine. It wasn’t late by any means in her old life. How these kids had
changed her.

She sent a
quick reply.

Coffee, say, two? Though I have no idea where to go in this city. I know lots of nice places in
Brisbane. ;)

And a quick text to
her mother:

Hey Mum, can you come over and watch the kids from two tomorrow for a couple of hours? I thought I’d get coffee with one of the women
from work.

She sipped her wine as she stubbed out her cigarette, hiding the butt in the packet. Her phone gave a
single bleep.

Well, I know you know where the hospital is. Two streets over, Campbell Drive? There’s a coffee place called Campbell’s. Meet you there at two? Their coffee is not as bland as
their name.

Anna smiled and texted
Kym back.

Campbell’s it is. I’m looking forward to it, bland coffee
or not.

And she
genuinely was.

Anna was looking up at the sky again, finding shapes in the stars, when her phone gave another bleep. Looking down at it,
she snorted.

Her mum.

Oh thank God, you’re not turning into a hermit. I’d love to have Fella and root for
the afternoon.

Smirking at the hilarity of autocorrect, she waited. Sure enough, it bleeped again six minutes later. Anna sipped her wine
in amusement.

Ella and Toby! I hate touchscreens. How do you communicate like this all the time? Call me from
now on.

“So my husband caught a tragic disease because he thought he was the new Crocodile Hunter and was in the north hunting them or something, which I found despicable. He got a cut on his leg, and played the hero, and didn’t get it seen to. It got infected, then spread, and, eventually, he went septic. Turns out he had some underlying kidney thing. They gave out, and
bam
,
he died.”

Anna tried to stop her mouth from dropping open.
“That’s terrible.”

Kym shrugged, “Tragic rating of nine, I’d say. We’d just started trying
for kids.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Your turn.” Kym looked at
her expectantly.

Anna drew in a deep breath. She could do it like this, this half-joking, off-the-cuff way that they were sharing. She put her half-finished coffee on the table. “Okay. My brother and his wife died in a car accident, leaving behind two tiny children. My girlfriend of the time, Hayley, and I flew over for the funeral, and when they read the will, we found out he had named me guardian of
the kids.”

Kym’s eyes widened, but she just kept looking at Anna, waiting
for more.

“I never wanted kids, ever. It was why Hayley and I worked; we wanted the same things. But I agreed to take them on, and so Hayley left me. Now I live in my dead brother’s house and am attempting to raise his kids in a city that I hate.” Anna picked her glass back up.
“No offense.”

Kym leant back in her chair. “Whoa.” A playful smile crossed her lips. “Wait,
you’re gay?”

“That’s what you focussed on in
all that?”

“Yeah, well, the rest was too much like a soap opera. I’m glad it’s not just my life that reads
like one.”

“Nope, you’re not special
at all.”

“Obviously.”

Surprisingly Anna was enjoying this. She barely knew Kym, and Anna was the kind of person who normally took a long time to warm up to someone enough to share intimate details. But here? Sitting in a coffee shop, rain pouring down outside, with a woman who could somehow get the grief she felt? Kym was funny, dry in a way that Anna enjoyed. There was no pity party, no woe-is-us. There was just truth and a joke and the odd eye contact that spoke volumes. It made her comfortable, able
to share.

Maybe Melbourne wouldn’t be
so bad.

“Your husband was
in Iraq?”

Kym nodded. “Yeah, for years as
a medic.”

“And he ignored the highly inflamed, infected
leg wound?”

“Don’t get
me started.”

“Well, he did amazing work over there, I’m sure. My brother was there too, serving.” Anna still had trouble saying Jake’s name. It was something she found herself tripping over. “He spoke highly of
the medics.”

“How long did
he serve?”

“Six years. He moved into administration when Sally fell pregnant with Toby. He didn’t want to take the
risk anymore.”

“Were you and
Sally close?”

Anna ran her finger around the rim of her glass, eyes downcast.
“We were.”

“That must’ve been hard, losing your brother and
a friend.”

“It
really was.”

Kym tilted her
head, waiting.

“Sally and I got along the second we met. We used to stay up for hours drinking wine and just chatting. J—he loved that we were close. Since we were so close, he wanted me to like
his wife.”

“You and your brother were best friends?” Kym’s look softened. “That must have
been nice.”

“My father was a structural engineer; we moved a few times as kids. We stopped trying to make new friends every time and
just…glued together.”

“That’s actually really sweet. I don’t have
any siblings.”

“How did you meet
your husband?”

“He needed an evaluation post upon returning
from Iraq.”