Miracle In March (11 page)

‘Me!' Stacey flung her arm in the air like she was answering an important question in science class.

‘Sure you don't want to get in the cab with us?' asked her friend.

‘Nah, I'm not ready for beddy-bye's just yet.' She laughed and snorted, which would normally have made James cringe but only made him burst out laughing and give her a high-five.

‘Not that kind of beddy-bye's anyway,' she mumbled.

‘Don't worry, I'll make sure she gets safely home before I head back to Gazza's.' James promised, waving the party-poopers off.

‘Ur so nice,' she slurred. ‘James is now my favourite name.' She used her finger (complete with sparkly nail polish) to write his name in the air in front of her. ‘James. J-A-M-E-S. I'm such a good speller.' She laughed again and doubled over, and James led her by the elbow to the bar where they enjoyed a final drink and some more ridiculous conversation.

In the cab on the ride home on the way to Stacey's flat, James' phone beeped.

You gonna walk me inside?

He exchanged a blurry glance with the woman seated next to him whose free hand rested on his thigh.

I promised I would get you home safely,
he replied, amazed that his spelling was intact, but then realising that maybe he just thought his spelling was intact and it really wasn't.

He paid the driver and got out of the car with her, and the driver asked, ‘You want me to wait while you walk her inside?'

James paused, looked at Stacey who was having trouble standing on her heels. ‘No, I'll get one a bit later.'

He walked up the steps with Stacey and into her building, and followed her straight into her bedroom. She pushed him onto the bed, unzipped herself from her dress, and crawled on top of him.

Emma became a distant memory as he gave in to his moment of weakness, waking the next morning with not only a shocking headache, but a vague concern that he'd forgotten one very important precaution. He was more worried about the risk of an STD, thinking she may have been on the pill, but a few tests gave him the all clear. A month later he found himself having a serious conversation with the woman he barely knew who'd given him the night off from his grief.

‘More juice?' James asked Emma, holding up the bottle.

‘Yes please.' Emma held her glass under it as he poured. ‘Jackson seems to be enjoying those strawberries.' She cocked her head in his direction.

‘Thanks for bringing them.'

She smiled.

They chatted about small things for a while, until Emma turned her wrist. ‘I guess I should head back soon.'

He'd forgotten it was a workday for her, just when he was starting to relax around her again and enjoy the peace of the beachfront while Jackson was occupied. He had a sense that he didn't want her to leave. Then again, he still had to finish his work for the day too.

Emma stood and took her containers and bag, then crouched down near Jackson. ‘See ya, little man.' She smiled and waved, even though the boy didn't respond. Emma didn't seem offended in the slightest. Of course she wouldn't be.

‘Thanks for lunch,' James said.

‘Thanks for…' Emma stalled. ‘Thanks.'

He knew she meant more than just the use of his cabin and his company.

He walked her out and as she stepped off the steps and onto the path, he had a thought.

‘Emma?' he said, and she glanced up at him with her beautiful brown eyes. ‘I'm having a barbeque here tonight. With my family. Would you like to join us?'

She glanced away then back again. ‘Oh. Well, that would be nice. Though…' She gestured discreetly to the next cabin. ‘I don't think your sister is very fond of me,' she whispered.

James leaned on the porch railing to get closer to her. ‘Sorry, they knew about us. But I'll tell them they have no need to hold a grudge. I mean, I won't tell them the details, I'll just say we've worked things out and there's no hard feelings. That okay?'

She nodded.

‘It won't be an issue. Six thirty?'

‘Deal. What can I bring?'

‘Just yourself. I've got this one covered.'

* * *

‘She's having dinner with us?' Lizzie asked, as James met her and André at the door to their cabin after they'd returned from lunch on the beach.

‘Yes. Everything's okay now, I'm not angry with her anymore.'

‘Just like that?' Lizzie raised her hands.

‘Just like that.' No point telling her the details and how he hadn't accepted her apology at first.

‘Wonderful! The more the merrier, yes?' André smiled, and stepped aside for Jackson to rush past him and into their cabin.

‘So what was her excuse?' Lizzie wouldn't let up. She was the type that needed full, expository details of every given situation in order to feel satisfied.

‘Whose excuse?' James' mother approached, followed by his father.

Lizzie turned around, the arch in her lower back getting more pronounced with the increasing weight of her belly. ‘Emma's.'

‘You've talked to her?' Marie came up the steps onto the porch, and James nodded.

‘So what
was
her excuse?' Martin crossed his arms.

‘Look, it doesn't matter. I just wanted to let you know she'll be joining us for the barbeque tonight. Be nice to her, okay?' James went into his sister's cabin to deal with a brief Jackson issue (no DVD's in cabin number two — disaster!), and when his son was occupied with pulling tissues repeatedly out of the tissue box and placing them in a neat pile, he found that his whole family had migrated into the living room.

‘So she
did
have a good reason for leaving suddenly?' Marie asked. She shared a similar curiosity to her daughter.

‘Geez, can't anyone trust me when I say it's all sorted?' He plonked himself on the couch and flipped open a tourist magazine, though the content might as well have been a medical textbook; he wasn't paying attention.

‘It's just such a change to go from being so upset with her to inviting her to dinner,' Marie said.

‘I agree,' said Martin.

‘And isn't it better that we know so we don't accidentally say anything wrong tonight?' Lizzie would probably start using her ‘delicate condition' to get the truth out of him next.

‘Was it another man?' asked Martin.

‘No!' James stood and tossed the magazine on the coffee table. It landed with a slap, startling Jackson. ‘Sorry, buddy.' He walked to the kitchen counter and leaned on it, his body tired from all the drama and the afternoon slump dragging him down.

‘For heaven's sake, just tell us, we're your family!' Lizzie said.

‘She had cancer, okay? Cancer with a capital C! Happy now?' He shook his head and turned away, grabbing a glass and filling it with tap water. Silence. ‘What? You do know what cancer is don't you?' He sculled the water, wishing it were beer.

‘Cancer? But why…how did she…' Marie's face creased with confusion and concern.

‘She can't have children. Because of the treatment she had. And she didn't want to burden me with that and get in the way of me having my own. So there. That's the big secret.'

Martin leaned a hand on the kitchen table, while Lizzie took a seat next to James and André rubbed her shoulders.

‘She still should have told you,' Martin said.

‘Dad, please. She knew I wouldn't leave her side and that's why she couldn't tell me.'

‘Goodness me.' Marie touched a hand to her heart. ‘The poor lass.'

Lizzie clasped her hands over her belly. ‘Crap. And while I was being nasty she was probably looking with envy at this huge lump I'm carrying.'

‘Wait, what do you mean you were being nasty?'

‘She was walking on the beach and came up to me. But I fobbed her off. God I'm an idiot.' Lizzie lowered her head.

‘Great. No wonder she was worried about accepting my dinner invitation.'

Lizzie groaned with apparent regret.

‘I still think she should have explained her reason for leaving. I'm sorry for her, but still. It's always best to be honest.'

James didn't bother rebutting his father's comments. He wasn't exactly the king of empathy.

‘Martin, just think what the poor girl must have gone through. She must have had a thousand fears running through her mind at a time like that.' Marie came up to James and placed her arm gently around his back.

Jackson pressed the screaming button on his Sound Machine and though James was used to random loud sounds invading his eardrums, he flinched. ‘Better go. Looks like the tissues have run out.' He went to the floor and shoved all the tissues back in the box then placed Owly in front of his son. ‘Time for Owly's nap at our cabin?' He flattened his palms together and tilted his head, resting it on his hands in a sleeping position. Communication with Jackson had to be visual, and sometimes he had to draw pictures or use pre-printed flash cards to help his son understand daily routines.

Jackson made a ‘shh!' sound with his finger over his lips, cuddling Owly close to his side. He'd started doing that lately whenever he wanted his favourite toy to have a nap.

‘I'll fire up the barbeque at six.' James stood.

‘I'll help,' said André.

‘I'll be the one hiding behind the potted plant,' Lizzie said. ‘Though it will look like more of a garnish in front of me.'

James chuckled, glad that his sister had lightened up and could see the humour in the situation. Some days humour was his only saviour. He stepped towards the door, then glanced at his dad with a hopeful expression.

Marie must have noticed. ‘We'll make her feel welcome, won't we Martin?' she sidled next to her husband and grasped his arm.

‘See you tonight,' Martin replied.

* * *

James marinated the chicken tenderloins and put them in the fridge, and checked that the sausages were defrosting at a suitable rate on the kitchen counter near the sink. Then as Jackson supervised Owly and adjusted his blanket, James sat at the table with his laptop and mentally turned on the work switch in his mind.

Right. Time to get this sorted.

He proofread the web copy on his sales page, checked all the links were working, added the buy now button code into the HTML of his website editor and made sure the check-out system linked properly to his PayPal account. He then crafted a launch email to send to his database, utilising the copywriting skills he'd learned in the marketing course he'd done, the same skills he'd teach to clients of his program. It was amazing how a simple but significant change of words could mean the difference between making a sale and not making a sale. Just like with law, when he'd learned how to give a closing statement, words were everything. But more than that, the way the words were said and the emotion behind them were crucial. It wasn't about deceiving people, it was about connecting with them to help them find what they were looking for, whether it be the truth, a solution, or an opportunity to improve their life and business. He'd felt the emotion behind Emma's words last night. She had connected with him, got through to him, even if it had been a bit delayed. Yes, words were very important, and he hoped he'd get the chance to say the right ones with Emma this week.

James hovered the cursor over the ‘send' button. Click. Email sent. Product launched. Now to see if it would take off. And now to see where the rest of this week would lead him in the unpredictable, ever-changing journey of his life.

There was nothing quite like the enticing smell of an Aussie barbeque. The aroma of spices, onions and meats cooking on high heat became stronger as Emma walked the pathway to James' cabin, each step bringing both gladness and apprehension. Glad things seemed to be okay between her and James, and apprehension that his family might not be as forgiving.

The sky was still bright blue and wouldn't get dark for another hour or two thanks to daylight saving. People in the distance walked slowly along the shore as many often did at this time, for pre-dinner exercise, though she wasn't sure strolling counted much as exercise. There'd be yoga on the beach tomorrow evening. Emma decided she might give it a try. She hadn't done a yoga class in a while but the few that she had done she'd found both relaxing and invigorating.

‘Good evening.' James looked up from his barbeque duties and a thin haze of smoke wafted around him.

‘Hello. Hi, André,' she said, catching the eyes of both men on the porch.

‘We're enjoying our stay very much,' André said. ‘You have a beautiful place here.'

‘Glad to hear it.' She smiled and made her way around the porch to the steps, meeting James at the top.

‘I've got this,' André said, and James put down his tongs and wiped his hands, then held a hand out for Emma to welcome her inside.

‘This is Emma,' he said.

His mother smiled and approached, holding out her gentle hands and clasping Emma's between them. ‘Nice to officially meet you, Emma. I'm Marie.' Her eyes held understanding and kindness in their soft gaze.

She knows.

‘And this is my husband, Martin.'

James' tall father stepped forwards and held out his hand, taking hers and giving it a firm, confident shake. ‘Hello.'

‘Hi. Thanks for letting me join you all for dinner.'

‘It's our pleasure,' Marie said. ‘You may have met Lizzie already?' She gestured to her daughter seated at the table.

Gulp.
‘Yes. How are you, Lizzie?' Emma held out a hand so Lizzie knew she didn't have to get up from her chair to greet her.

‘Tired but good.' She smiled. ‘Thanks for the extra towels, by the way.'

‘No worries. Anything else you need just let me know.'