Falling for Grace

by Kate O'Keeffe

  “And my sister, Brooke, she’s about to have a baby. Her partner is Logan. He’s American so you have that in common, I suppose. Oh, that’s right, you’re Scottish. Okay, so not that. You’re both men, I suppose. Will that do?”

  He strokes my hand. “Relax, Grace. It’ll all go just fine. I’m good with parents.”

  “You’re right. It’ll be okay. They’ll see how much we love each other and forget the whole fake relationship with pregnant Vanessa thing.”

  He laughs. “Exactly.”

  As we reach the house Sam turns to me. “Ready?”

  I nod, nerves pinging around my body. “Sure. Why not?”

  “You’ll be fine.” He gives my hand an encouraging squeeze before we get out of the car.

  Before we even get to the end of the path the front door is flung open.

  “Gracie,” Dad says walking down the path and pulling me in for a hug.

  “Hey, Dad.” My voice is muffled by the hug. “This is Sam. Sam, this is my dad, Roger.”

  The men shake hands, Sam smiling broadly, my dad quite obviously sizing him up.

  “It’s great to meet you, Roger. Your daughter has told me a lot about you.”

  “Has she now?” He raises his eyebrows at me. “Well, it’s great to meet you too, Sam.”

  “Grace!” Mum appears and pulls me in for a hug. She turns to Sam. “And you must be Sam. Well come here and give me a hug.” She grabs hold of him and gives him a squeeze. “I’m Jennifer. Come in. You can’t spend all evening standing on the doorstep now, can you?”

  I glance at Sam who smiles back at me. So far so Mortimer family.

  We reach the living room where Brooke and Logan are sitting, waiting for us. Logan stands and greets me with a hug and Sam with a handshake, looking him up and down with lightly veiled suspicion.

  “Hello, Sam,” Logan says, his voice formal.

  I shoot him a pleading look. Since Brooke and Logan fell in love a little over a year ago Logan has watched out for me, offering me advice. Although I love him for it I don’t want him to get all big brother protective on me with Sam right now, despite his good intentions.

  Brooke pushes herself out of the chair, her belly even larger than it was when I last saw her. And she was huge then.

  We hug and I introduce her to Sam.

  “Hello Sam.” She sits back down and pats the seat next to her. “Let’s have a chat.”

  Sam shoots me a concerned look. Brooke’s the kind of person you don’t mess with. She’s tough and speaks her mind. She won’t hold back with Sam.

  I smile encouragingly at him, even though I know he’s about to be grilled like a fish.

  “Grace, honey,” says Mum. “Come and help me in the kitchen.”

  I look at Sam, now wedged between Logan and Brooke on the sofa. He shoots me an ‘I’ll-be-fine’ look so even though I feel a little like I’ve just fed him to the hounds, I follow Mum into the kitchen.

  “Well? What do you think?” I ask as soon as we’re out of earshot.

  “He’s very good looking.” Her voice is guarded.

  I beam. “Isn’t he? And so nice. You’ll see. He’s a great guy.”

  “You’re obviously very taken with him.”

  “Yes. I’ve never felt like this before. Mum, he’s wonderful.”

  Concern clouds her face. “What about this girlfriend of his? I know you’ve said their relationship is a sham, but I have my concerns. Especially now they’re saying she’s pregnant.”

  “Please believe me, Mum. It’s not real.”

  She dons gloves and leans down and pulls the roast out of the oven.

  “Can you put the vegetables in the bowls, honey?”

  I tip the broccoli, carrots and peas into their respective bowls.

  She turns and faces me. “Honey, I’m just concerned about you.”

  I smile. “I know you are. Trust me, he’s great. We’re great.”

  Dad is standing in the doorway, apprehension written across his face. “I don’t like the idea of my daughter having to sneak around, like she’s doing something she oughtn’t.”

  “Look, Dad. I know this isn’t exactly the ideal way to start a relationship. I get that. But he’s who I want. Once this is all over you’ll see. He’ll be a regular boyfriend.”

  “I hope so, Gracie. For your sake,” Dad says, his voice softening a fraction.

  “How long are you going to have to pretend, do you think?” Mum asks.

  “Only until his and Vanessa’s movie comes out. Then we can tell the world.”

  Mum shoots Dad a look.

  “Really, it’s no big deal,” I assure them. “We love each other.”

  Mum smiles. “Well then we can’t do anything but support you, can we Roger?”

  “Just . . . be careful, okay?” Dad responds.

  I grin at them both. “I will. You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’d better get back to the living room. I imagine Logan and Brooke are giving poor Sam a tough time.”

  Dad chuckles. “The guy doesn’t stand a chance.”

  I reach the living room and am surprised to find the three of them laughing together on the sofa as Sam regales a story.

  “. . . and it turns out she was from Poland.”

  Brooke laughs, wiping her eyes. “Oh, that’s too funny.” She looks up and spots me in the doorway. “Grace. Sam was telling us an absolutely hilarious story.”

  “I can see.” I smile at Brooke and Logan. “So, I take it he passes?”

  Logan pats Sam’s back. “He’s a good guy.”

  I grin at Sam who winks back.

  I hear shuffling and turn to see my teenage brother, standing awkwardly behind me.

  I give him a hug. His arms remain firmly at his sides. “Dylan, come meet Sam.”

  Dylan lumbers over to Sam who stands up and shakes his hand.

  “Great to meet you, Dylan,”

  “Hey. I’m . . . ah . . .” Dylan turns beet red. “Portal 51. It’s all right.”

  Brooke laughs. “That’s high praise, Sam, coming from Dylan.”

  Dylan shoots daggers at Brooke.

  “I’m glad you like the show,” Sam replies. “You know there’s a new series coming out soon.”

  “Yep, April fifteenth.”

  He laughs. “You know more than me. I think you’ll like it. There’s a lot of cool stuff in this series. A few twists.”

  Dylan’s face lights up. “Yeah? Like what?”

  “I can’t tell you much, but,” he leans in, speaking conspiratorially, “something . . . transformational happens to Ella.”

  “I knew it! Jake said there’s no way that could happen.”

  “Who’s Jake?”

  “He’s my mate from school, thinks he knows everything.”

  “Well, now you know he doesn’t.”

  A sense of warmth suffuses my belly. Sam’s managing to win my entire family over with very little effort. He’s right; he’s good with parents and siblings, even the slouchy, glum teenage variety.

  * * *

  Savannah and I are sitting on a blanket in Wellington’s beautiful Botanic Gardens, enjoying the warm sun in a spot sheltered from the city’s famous wind.

  She glances at her watch for quite possibly the twentieth time since we arrived. “What time did you say she would be here?”

  I smile. “Relax, Savannah. She’ll be here soon. And she’s going to adore you. Trust me.”

  This is the second time I’ve seen Savannah since she outed herself as my sister, and she looks beautiful in a pale pink shirt and a cute pair of jeans. We’ve discovered we have a lot in common—she loves chocolate brownies, can’t stand olives, is an avid reader, and is almost as clumsy as me—and I can see us becoming good friends.

  “God, I hope so.” She twists the edge of her shirt. We have that in common too: nerves.

  I spot my mother between the flowerbeds. “Here she is,” I announce as I push myself up.

  Savannah jumps up beside me like a
jack-in-the-box, nervously wiping her hands on her jeans.

  Mum walks towards us. She looks so serene I swear I can see little bluebirds dancing around her head singing a happy tune.

  She greets me with a hug then turns to Savannah. “Savannah. How lovely to meet you.” She collects a surprised—and greatly relieved—Savannah in a long hug.

  She pulls away and holds Savannah at arms’ length. “Now, let me have a look at you. Lovely. Just lovely. You look a lot like your mother.”

  She regards Mum in surprise. “You knew her?”

  “Oh, yes. She came to our house for a meal a few times. Mike—‘Dad’ to you two—always felt sorry for her. Said she was lonely.”

  I let out a laugh. “I can see how he tried to fix that for her.”

  Thankfully Savannah laughs too. “I’m not sure it worked out that well.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Mum replies. “Look at the two of you.”

  I notice Savannah visibly relax.

  But not for long. A moment later my dad arrives with Dylan and Logan, supporting a very pregnant looking Brooke.

  Geez, my whole family is here? Savannah’s about to be Mortimer-ed.

  I glance at Savannah. She looks like she’s about to meet the firing squad.

  “Mum, what are they doing here?” I hiss out of the corner of my mouth.

  “They all wanted to meet the newest member of the family,” she responds as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

  “Yoohoo!” Mum waves. “Over here!”

  Within moments Savannah’s being simultaneously hugged by each member of the family—except Dylan, of course, who hangs back, hands in pockets, doing his usual sulky teenager routine. She answers their questions and smiles at them all, albeit in a slightly manic way.

  “You okay?” I ask when she’s finally released by Brooke.

  “Yeah. I’m good. They’re all—” She pauses, searching for the word.

  “A bit much?” I offer, aware how my family has the tendency to come across as an overenthusiastic mob on steroids.

  “Maybe,” she concedes, shrugging. “In a good way, though. I’ve never had a family. It was just me and my mum. This is weird, scary . . . and totally amazing, all at the same time. Does that make any sense at all?”

  “I guess.” Although I’ve often dreamed of having a family who stays out of my business and lets me get on with my life, I can’t imagine not having this. And now Savannah is a part of it too.

  I smile to myself. Who’d have thought it? My stalker is my new sister.

  I stand back and allow my family to do their thing. Mum is taking it all in her stride, smiling and nodding as Savannah answers questions and shares her life story.

  Dad is busy telling her how she has my eyes, the shape of my face, how welcome she is to be a part of our family.

  Brooke, of course, is sizing her up, peppering her with questions in her ‘older-sister-I’m-the-boss’ kind of way as Logan looks on, dark and manly, backing up his woman.

  Dylan hangs back, his fists jammed in the pockets of his black jeans in habitual fashion. Leaving the throng, I wander over and stand next to him.

  “What do you think, Dyl?” I ask.

  He shrugs, pulls a face. “She seems okay.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, she does. Do you think you want another sister?”

  “Guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” he sulks.

  “I suppose not.”

  “I thought our family was complicated enough.”

  I smile, watching Savannah, relaxed and happy, sitting on the picnic blanket eating a piece of watermelon and laughing at something Dad is saying.

  “I guess a bit of complication can be . . . amazing.”

  Chapter 22

  I’M AT A CLIENT’S house the following morning, rifling through her wardrobe looking for clothes that actually suit her body type—it’s slim pickings—when my phone rings. I glance at the screen. Mum. That’s the third time she’s called in the last fifteen minutes.

  “I’m so sorry. Would you mind if I take this call? It may be urgent.”

  She waves me off, not taking her eyes from her reflection. “Sure. Go.”

  “Hey, Mum. How are—”

  “Oh, thank goodness I’ve got you,” she interrupts, gushing. “Your sister has gone to the hospital. The baby’s on the way! Grace, you’re about to become an auntie!”

  I sit with a heavy thud on a nearby chair, clutching the phone to my ear. Brooke is having her baby? My big sister is about to become a mum.

  “Grace? Grace, are you there?” Her voice is a little panicked.

  “Yes, yes. Sorry. Are you at the hospital with her now?”

  “I drove her here. I’m . . . waiting outside.”

  “Ah.”

  Ever since my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer she’s hated hospitals and avoids them like the bubonic plague. And I don’t blame her one little bit.

  “She’s up there in the ward now. She’s asking for you.”

  “Is Logan with her?”

  “He’s in Christchurch, trying to get a flight back home. Grace, I really think she needs her sister.”

  “Right. Yes. I’ll be there.”

  “Good. I knew we could count on you, honey.” I can hear the relief in her voice. “Follow the signs with the picture of a pregnant woman and you’ll find the maternity ward.”

  “Gotcha. Thanks.”

  I hang up and walk back into the bedroom where my client is still admiring her reflection.

  “I would never have thought to have put these together, you know. I love it.”

  “You look sensational, Karla. Look, I’m going to have to cut this session short, I’m afraid. Let’s schedule something in for later in the week. We can finish off your wardrobe and then go shopping.”

  “Oh.” She has a sour look on her face. “Why?”

  I grin. “My sister is having a baby.”

  Her face softens. “Well then, you’d better get going.”

  Five minutes later I’m out the door and on my way to the hospital, not only worrying about Brooke but about Mum too.

  I drive like a maniac through the streets of Wellington, reaching the hospital and duly following the pregnant woman signs. I park up outside the maternity ward.

  “There you are.” Mum greets me with a long hug. I can almost feel the tension leaving her body.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes. Don’t you worry about me,” she replies, brushing my concern away. “It’s your sister we’ve got to think about right now. Even though she’s being all very A-type about this…”

  I roll my eyes, smiling. Brooke is the poster child for the A-type, driven personality, that’s for sure.

  “… I know she needs you.”

  “Is Dad on his way?”

  She nods. “He should be here soon.”

  “Good. I’ll head into the ward, then.”

  A nurse helps me locate Brooke a few moments later. She’s perched on the end of the bed, dressed in one of those incredibly unattractive hospital gowns, staring out the window.

  As I enter the room she turns to me and her face breaks into a relieved grin. “Grace, you’re here.”

  She takes my hands in hers and I prop myself up on the side of her bed.

  “How are you doing, sis?” I take in her cool-as-a-cucumber appearance. No doubt she has her birthing plan mapped out to the smallest detail.

  She is such a first-born.

  “My contractions are regular. I’m timing them. I’m hoping I can hold off until Logan gets here.”

  “You will. What’s the latest on his arrival?”

  “He’s on the next flight out of Christchurch. He thinks he’ll… ooh…”

  She grimaces as she grips the side of the bed, her face turning pink.

  “I need to get up. Got to . . . walk this one . . . off,” she explains through gritted teeth as she paces the room. She does those short little breaths I’ve
seen countless women on TV do when they’re acting out a birth.

  Once the contraction has passed she returns to the bed. “That was a big one. What was I saying?”

  “Logan,” I prompt.

  “Oh, yes. He thinks he’ll be here by about three.”

  I glance at my watch. Here’s hoping this baby doesn’t decide to make an entrance in the next one hour, fifty minutes.

  “How are we doing in here?” A midwife with a kindly face enters the room.

  Brooke smiles at her. “Just fine, thanks, Wendy. This is my sister, Grace.”

  “Nice to meet you, Grace. Now.” She turns back to Brooke. “Any further contractions?”

  “I’ve just had one. It was a biggie.”

  “Good, good.” Wendy replies.

  “How long do you think it will be now?” Brooke asks.

  “Why? Have you got somewhere else you need to be?” Wendy jests, flashing Brooke a grin.

  She laughs. “I want my partner here for the birth and he’s stuck in the South Island.”

  “It’s hard to say, love. With the space between your contractions it will probably be some time yet. But, you never know. Now, you hold tight, I’ll be back shortly.”

  Brooke nods as Wendy exits the room. Gone is her usual composure, her ‘I’m-in-control-here’ attitude. Instead she looks… afraid.

  Feeling about as useful as nipples on a man, I say, “You’re doing a great job, Brooke.” I put my hand on her shoulder.

  “Thanks. I only wish Logan were here.”

  “He will be.” I glance at my watch again. One hour, forty-five minutes until ETA. Come on Logan.

  A young woman enters the room with Wendy at her side.

  “Brooke, this is Doctor Jones. She’ll be delivering your baby today.”

  My eyes almost pop out of my head. This is Brooke’s doctor? She looks like she should be braiding her friend’s hair, talking about Barbie dolls.

  “Hey girls,” Dr Jones says brightly.

  “Hi, Doctor.” Brooke smiles back at her, appearing entirely unfazed by this female Doogie Howzer about to bring her precious baby into the world.

  “Wendy tells me you’ve had a few contractions. Mind if I take a look-see down there, find out what’s going on?”