Falling for Grace

by Kate O'Keeffe

  A look-see?

  As Wendy prepares Brooke for her examination I move to stand by her shoulders. There are some things even sisters as close as Brooke and me don’t need to see.

  After inspecting Brooke for a moment, Doogie’s juvenile face breaks into a broad grin. I almost expect to see gaps, her grown up teeth just beginning to poke through.

  “You’re an awesome seven centimetres dilated Big whoops for you!” she exclaims.

  Big whats?

  “It might not be too long before we’ll be meeting the newest member of your family. Get excited!”

  I let out a nervous laugh, my eyes darting between Brooke and Cheerleader Doogie. How can she not be feeling totally freaked out by this woman? I know I am and I’m not the one about to pop.

  Racked by a fresh contraction Brooke grabs for my hand, temporarily stopping the blood supply to several of my fingers. I squeak in pain, which I’m thankful is drowned out by Brooke’s moans.

  “Wow! Champion! They’re coming thick and fast now, aren’t they?” Doogie looks excited.

  Sweat beading on her forehead and top lip, pink from the exertion, Brooke nods. “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Well okey-dokey, sister. I’ll be back in soon. Keep up the good work.”

  Once Doogie and Wendy have left Brooke smiles at me. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “You mean about your doctor being fresh out of nappies?”

  She shakes her head. “She’s who I’ve got. Go with it, all right? I’m trying to be really Zen about this whole experience.”

  I laugh. “You? Zen?”

  My sister is a lot of wonderful things: Zen is not one of them.

  Her phone buzzes with a message. I pick it up off the table and hand it to her.

  “It’s Logan. He’s on a flight, landing in an hour,” she says, relief written across her face.

  “Great.”

  “Now, distract me. I don’t want to think about what’s to come right now. Tell me about something, anything.”

  “Well,” I begin, a smile spreading across my face, “I’m in love with Sam.”

  “In love?” She almost shouts, making me jump.

  I flush, embarrassed. “Is that so preposterous?”

  “Of course not. Sorry. I’m really . . . aaarghh!” She grits her teeth, breathes through it, then picks up where she left off. “ . . . happy for you.”

  “Brooke, he’s amazing. He’s so loving, so thoughtful. The other day he sent me two dozen red roses with a note saying, ‘For the love of my life’. He’s here right now but leaving tomorrow.”

  I stop and notice her grinning at me. “Grace, I’m so, so pleased for you. You deserve some happiness. I remember when Logan and I were in Queenstown together and we first… oh.”

  She’s hit by another contraction. She cries out in pain, heaves herself off the bed and begins to pace the room once more. Only just recovered another one hits. By the time that’s over she looks completely wrung out.

  Concerned, I say, “I’ll get the doctor. Hold tight.”

  I dash out of the room, spotting Wendy at the nurses’ station.

  “Wendy, I’m not exactly experienced with this sort of stuff but I think we need the doctor. Brooke’s contractions are coming thick and fast.”

  Wendy comes back into the room with me, takes one look at Brooke and says, “Righto, love. I’ll go get the doctor. You hold tight.”

  Shocked at how exhausted she looks—and vowing to only ever give birth with the assistance of copious amounts of drugs—I rush to her side.

  “Doogie’s on her way,” I soothe, stroking her damp brow.

  “Who?” She asks, panting from the pain.

  Oops. “I mean Dr Jones.”

  She laughs weakly. “Oh, I get it. That old TV show about the kid doctor. Because she looks like a prepubescent girl. Funny.”

  Doogie waltzes into the room, examines Brooke, and declares, “Champion! We’ve got a baby ready to come on out.”

  Brooke shoots me a look part excitement—and part sheer, unadulterated panic.

  “You’re going to do great, sis,” I reassure her.

  And she does. At her request, I remain in the room with her—head end only, thank you very much—wiping her brow, reassuring her, holding her hand. Although I may never gain full working order of the hand she clutched again, it was worth it to be there for her when Logan couldn’t.

  A mere seventeen minutes go by and a pink, wrinkled little baby enters the world, announcing her arrival with a sharp cry.

  “My, god, Brooke. You did it!” I gush.

  She grins at me. Her hair is a tangled, sweat-sodden mess and she looks like she’s just run back-to-back marathons. I’ve never seen her look so beautiful.

  “I did, didn’t I?” She beams from ear to ear.

  Wendy wraps the baby up and hands her to Brooke. “Meet your daughter.”

  “My daughter?” she replies, her eyes glistening. She gazes at her baby, her face full of love for this tiny new life in her arms.

  “Look, Grace,” she says, her eyes never leaving her daughter. “Look at what Logan and I made.”

  I lean in and gaze at her—my new little niece—tears streaming down my face. “She’s beautiful, Brooke.”

  The door to the birthing suite opens with a bang, shocking us out of our baby-daze. In strides Logan, thoroughly frazzled, his long legs bringing him to Brooke’s side in seconds. “My darling, darling girl.”

  Brooke looks up into his eyes. “Logan, you’re here. Meet our daughter. Mia.”

  “It’s a girl? Oh, honey. I can’t believe I missed the birth of our daughter.”

  He leans in and kisses Brooke, then plants a tender kiss on his new daughter’s head.

  “Hello, Mia. I’m your dad,” he says quietly.

  Her name is Mia? A fresh lump rises in my throat.

  He turns to me. “Thank you so much for being here, Grace.”

  “Of course,” I reply, smiling.

  Logan turns back to Brooke and Mia.

  Watching the new family makes my heart swell. As they huddle together, warmth spreads through my body. I want this with someone, really want it. Finally, I feel I can—with Sam.

  Looking at the new father, Brooke asks, “Want to hold her? Though you have to give her back. Fast.”

  Logan takes his daughter and cradles her in his big hands.

  “Hello, my little girl,” he coos and my heart almost breaks. Logan’s a big guy, strong and muscular. Seeing him holding his tiny daughter with such tenderness, such love, only adds to that lump in my throat.

  He hands his daughter back to Brooke then drops down onto one knee.

  I look at him, aghast. Should I be here for this?

  I edge towards the door. I needn’t have bothered: Logan and Brooke are oblivious to anyone but one another—and their tiny new daughter, Mia.

  “Brooke, honey. From the moment we met . . .” He breaks off, choking up at the sight of his new family. Regaining his composure, he continues, “You know I love you. God, how I love you. Will you marry me?”

  He pulls a ring box out of his pocket and opens it.

  Brooke gasps.

  She looks from the ring—huge, huge diamond, very impressive—and back to Logan, tears welling in her eyes once again. “Yes, Logan. Oh yes!”

  She pulls Logan down into an emotional kiss as I sneak out of the door, closing it softly behind me.

  I call Sam.

  “It’s a girl.” My voice quavers with emotion.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. Congratulate them from me, okay?”

  My phone beeps. It’s a message from Mum, wanting to know what’s happening. In all the excitement, I completely forgot about her standing outside the hospital.

  “I’d better go. Mum’s waiting outside.”

  “Outside?” he questions.

  “It’s a long story.”

  I hang up from Sam and dial Mum’s number.

  “Hi, Mum,” I say, close to
tears. It’s not every day your sister gives birth and gets engaged, after all.

  She peppers me with questions. “Honey, what’s happening? You sound upset. How’s Brooke? Is everything okay?”

  I hear Dad’s voice in the background, say a little prayer of thanks he’s there with her.

  “It’s more than okay, Mum,” I reply, trying in vain to steady my voice. “But none of it’s my news.”

  I glance through the door window at the little family snuggled up on the bed together, the new parents gazing adoringly at their child.

  “Pass me to Brooke. I need to know what’s going on!”

  I poke my head around the door.

  “Sorry to interrupt. Mum wants to talk to you.”

  “Of course,” Brooke replies, looking serene and happy.

  I hand her the phone.

  “Hi, Mum,” she says with a croaky voice. “Yes… Okay… A daughter…. Mia . . .. I know, I love you too…. And there’s some other news as well… See you in a second.” She hands me back her phone. “She and Dad are coming in.”

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise and smile. It seems my mother’s fear of hospitals is no match for the birth of her first ever grandchild.

  Chapter 23

  “DO YOU HAVE TO GO?”

  “I wish I didn’t, believe me.”

  I’m wrapped in a sheet in Sam’s hotel room on the eleventh floor, peering out at the view. I can see yachts dotted across the sparkling Wellington harbour as clouds as fine as cotton wool stretch across the pale blue sky.

  I turn and look at him as he packs his bags, ready to leave the country. It’s a gorgeous day, the sort that makes you feel good to be alive, but all I can think about is how Sam’s returning to Los Angeles today.

  For the first time since we met we will officially be in a Long Distance Relationship. A Long Distance Secret Relationship.

  The thought makes me shudder.

  I try to swallow away the lump rising in my throat as I watch him fold his clothes and lay them out in his suitcase.

  I sigh. Trust me to fall in love with a high-profile international star in a fake relationship with one of America’s favourite daughters, who lives thousands of miles away in another hemisphere.

  Oh yeah, that old chestnut.

  I’ve thrown on Sam’s Rangers Football Club T-shirt —his favourite Scottish soccer team—and little else. I slump on the bed, leaning up against the plush headboard.

  “Why can’t you stay?”

  He looks up from his suitcase, drops what he’s doing, and walks over to me. He puts his hands on the bed on either side of me and kisses me tenderly on the lips.

  “It won’t be for too long,” he says.

  “Three weeks is too long for me. Three days is too long for me.”

  “I know. I’ll be counting down the days to Hawaii.” He kisses me again. “And you have Mia to keep you occupied. I’ll see you before you know it.”

  He kisses me again. It’s long and slow, making my body tingle from top to bottom.

  Sam has a gap in his schedule in three weeks—twenty-two days, to be precise. We’ve planned a short getaway together in Hawaii. It’s almost half way between LA and New Zealand, so it’s a logical place for us to meet.

  Although I’m going to be busy with Estil and plan on spending a lot of time with my new niece, three weeks feels like a lifetime away.

  After a deep, sensuous kiss, he pulls away, leaving me panting. “You can’t do that to me,” I say, reaching for the button on his jeans.

  He glances at his watch. “We don’t really have time.”

  “Oh, I think we do.”

  I pull Sam’s shirt over my head, loving it as I see his eyes darken with desire, his eyes sweeping over my naked body.

  He pulls off his own T-shirt, exposing his sculpted chest and stomach. My breath hitches. No matter how often I see him, my body always responds.

  “When it comes to you, Grace Mortimer, I’m powerless.”

  * * *

  Having bid farewell to Sam I arrive at Brooke and Logan’s house mid-afternoon, doing my best to swallow down my deep sense of loss.

  On the way, I went to the city’s largest department store and bought up most of the baby department for Mia. I was snivelling and wiping my eyes like someone with a pollen allergy stuck in a field of flowers. The shop assistant shot me an odd look when I handed over my credit card, that’s for sure.

  Logan opens the door. He’s dishevelled and unshaven but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier.

  He hugs me. “Hi, Grace. It’s good to see you. They’re in the living room.”

  He holds the door open for me and I walk down the hall. Brooke is sitting in a high-backed chair, her long curly hair piled up on her head, gazing into her daughter’s eyes. She’s making soft cooing noises, oblivious to me as I stand and watch the beautiful mother-daughter exchange.

  Quietly, not wanting to disturb them, I place the large bag of presents on the coffee table.

  Logan puts his hand on my shoulder. “Go say hi. I’ll make a cuppa.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “A ‘cuppa’?”

  Logan is American and was somewhat baffled by our Kiwi colloquialisms when he first arrived here. It’s good to note his progress.

  He shrugs. “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Right?”

  Brooke looks up at me. Her face creases into a smile. “Auntie Grace.”

  I grin. I like being an auntie. No, scrub that: I love being an auntie. Even though it’s only been a few days, I’m fairly sure I’m going to be the best one ever.

  Brooke returns her gaze to baby Mia. “Isn’t she beautiful? I know I’m not meant to say that, being her mother and all.”

  I crouch down beside her. “You can say it. And she totally is.”

  “Want a hold?” she asks.

  “Oh, yes.”

  Brooke hands me Mia. She’s so light, so warm, so tiny. I take in her mop of black hair, a genetic gift from her dad, her fine features and pale skin from her mum.

  “Hello, little Mia. Remember me? I’m your Auntie Grace.” I look back up at Brooke. She has that contented new-mother glow: happy but exhausted.

  “How’re things going, sis?” I ask.

  “Just look at her.” She lets out a contented sigh.

  “Yeah, she’s the cutest.”

  “She’s a good baby. She breastfeeds well, she’s an amazing pooper.”

  I pull a face.

  “It’s important,” she protests.

  “If you say so.”

  “You’ll understand when you and Sam have a baby.”

  I freeze.

  “She’s not a great sleeper, but that’ll come in time, I’m sure,” she adds.

  I barely hear her. When Sam and I have a baby?

  There’s something in the way in which it simply rolls off her tongue, the way it seems like the most natural thing in the world to her.

  A smile creeps across my face. When Sam and I have a baby.

  Suddenly having what Brooke has—a partner who loves her, a beautiful little baby—seems completely within my reach.

  * * *

  It’s been eleven days, four hours and thirty-seven minutes since Sam left. Yes, I’m counting.

  I’ve managed to get through it pretty well by keeping myself busy: working and hanging out with Mia. I’ve sewn more clothes in the last eleven days than I usually do in a year. And now? Now I’m bored.

  I miss Sam’s touch, his smell, his laugh. Hell, I think I even miss the way he makes porridge. Sure, we Skype, text and talk on the phone every day, but it’s not a patch on the real thing.

  “And I have some good news,” he says down the phone.

  “What?” I ask quietly. I’m in the kitchen of my apartment, trying to have a private conversation while Tiffany and Rangi are canoodling on the sofa in the living room.

  “Malcolm wants me to spend some more time with him on the project we’re looking at.”

  “Does
that mean you’re coming back to Wellington?”

  “It sure does. I’m planning on being there at the end of the month.”

  I do some mental calculations. “That means after Hawaii we’ll have only twelve days until we see one another again.”

  He laughs. It’s a wonderful sound, warming me up inside. “Give or take. We’ll have to sneak around, of course.”

  My mind instantly darts to Vanessa. “How much longer do you think we need to pretend?” I ask tentatively.

  “I’m glad you brought that up. David said we need to keep the pretence up for a bit longer. We’re in talks about a sequel. If the movie is well received we’ll start production on it before the end of the year.” His voice betrays his excitement.

  I know his career is incredibly important to him and the appearance of a relationship with Vanessa is a key aspect of his success right now. I also know I’m finding it increasingly difficult to be kept a secret, even if the media attention has died a welcome death.

  Not sure I want to hear the answer, I ask, “When will you know about the sequel?”

  “Probably not for a month or two. It’ll be amazing if it comes off.”

  “Yes, it will.” My voice is quiet.

  Another month? Or even two? I swallow the rising lump in my throat, thankful Sam can’t see my face right now.

  I can’t let him hear the disappointment in my voice. I try to sound as upbeat as possible when I say, “I’m so excited for you, Sam. It’s what you’ve been working towards: a big Hollywood career.”

  “I knew you’d understand.” He hasn’t noticed. “Hey, sorry honey, I’ve got to go. Call you later?”

  “Okay. That would be nice. I love you.”

  “I love you too. Bye.”

  I let out a deep sigh as I hang up, gazing out the kitchen window of my apartment, thoughts bouncing around in my head like turbo-charged ping pong balls.

  “Girl, you’ve got it bad,” Tiffany comments, looking over at me. Rangi has his arm wrapped around her shoulders, grinning like a lovesick puppy.

  “You weren’t meant to be listening. And anyway, you can talk. Look at the two of you in matching T-shirts, all gooey eyed.”

  They glance at each other and laugh.