Just for Fun

by Rosalind James

  “OK,” she told him gently. “Bedtime. You and Raffo get snuggled down here. Because your dad and I need to have a talk ourselves.”

  Zack got under the covers obediently, his eyes still red and swollen. He accepted his mother’s goodnight kiss, then turned to Nic again.

  “Can you kiss me too?” he asked. “Dad?”

  “Aw, geez,” Nic said, taking a shuddering breath on the bed in Emma’s room five minutes later. He’d really let go after that. He’d known it felt good to hold her while she cried. He’d never have guessed that the roles could be reversed. Or that he’d be all right with that.

  Emma held him to her, rubbed her hand over his back. “The thing about kids is,” she said, “they take your heart. And it’s never entirely your own again. A piece of it is always with them, forever.”

  “Yeh.” He blew his nose again. “Yeh. Between you and Zack,” he smiled crookedly, “reckon my heart’s pretty well parceled out by now. Because I need you both so much. I need you to help me become the man I want to be. The man I ought to be.”

  “Oh, Nic,” she said softly. “Don’t you know? You already are.”

  Epilogue

  Emma’s memories of that World Cup final were, forever afterwards, a mixture of impressions colored by emotion. The monstrous stadium at Twickenham, filled to its capacity of 82,000 with supporters from all nations, but especially, of course, those from South Africa and New Zealand. Singing along to the familiar strains of Aotearoa during the anthems, seeing the commitment on the faces of the men in black jerseys, the silver fern blazing over their hearts as they represented their country tonight. Watching them perform the spectacular Kapa o Pango haka reserved for the most important occasions, their ferocity seeming, as always, completely genuine. The tense battle of the first half, the lead shifting back and forth, hinging on the penalty kicks. And Nic, putting on a complete show under the high ball, pushing the attack, making his lightning decisions before the ball even reached him, seeming as always to be able to see three plays ahead. Spectacular as the last line of All Black defense. Making it all look so easy.

  The lessons of the previous week hadn’t gone unlearnt, it was clear. Nobody was taking victory for granted tonight. But that didn’t mean it was going to come easily for either squad. When the teams trotted into the sheds at the halftime break, the score was a bare 9 to 6 in favor of the All Blacks, and several players on each team had already retired to the blood bin. Whoever won, as Nic had said about that earlier game against the Springboks, the All Blacks would know they’d played a match tomorrow.

  The second half was shaping up as more of the same, a tough defensive struggle, the flashes of offensive brilliance limited by the grim determination of both forward packs. And then there were a bare nine minutes to play, and the score was 9 to 11, with the Springboks leading. And, worse, in possession of the ball near the All Black 22, attempting a short kick and recovery that would all but put the game away, if they scored. After all this, Emma thought with her heart in her mouth, all the sweat and pain, all the hours and kilometers in the air, were they going to lose now?

  The kick, though, misdelivered in the heat of the moment, going out of touch near the All Black 5, and a lineout awarded to the New Zealand side. The hooker throwing the ball in, the jumpers on both sides being lifted by their teammates to swat at it. The expectancy in the stadium like a physical thing. A hand on the ball, and it was on its way back to Nic, standing far behind the tryline. Three Springboks coming for him. If one of them got the ball and went to ground with it, the game would be won, the deficit nearly impossible to make up.

  Nic, catching the ball in those sure hands and somehow sending it instantly off his right boot again. Low and hard, to the right of the surging Springboks. Not just kicked out of danger. Kicked with pinpoint accuracy to an All Black wing who took it and ran.

  Down the pitch, hand to hand, closer and closer to their opponents’ tryline. A punishing Springbok tackle 40 meters out. Too punishing, as it turned out. A high tackle, and the All Black fans in the stadium emitting a cheer in unison at the awarding of the penalty kick. So far out, and the angle made it worse, but Hemi had made more difficult kicks, even this night.

  The crowd on its feet now. Kiwi hands clasped to mouths, hoping, praying for the kick to go through, fans in green roaring their support for their team. Hemi setting up, his expression intense. Calculating angles. And then running to the ball, kicking it away. The cheer that began as the ball seemed certain to sail through, turning to a groan when it bounced off the crossbar and back out onto the field. Drew Callahan, the captain somehow, always, just that fraction more alert than anyone else, catching it on the bounce, less than ten meters out. Charging straight through the defenders, caught by surprise, and across the line. Touching down to score the try, to win the match.

  A half second to grasp what had happened, and the stadium erupted. Emma was crying, pulling Zack to her, as, around her, the rest of the players’ friends and families did the same. Jenna, holding her sleeping baby, was weeping as well. The two women turned to each other, laughed at each others’ tears, then watched as Hemi slotted the conversion through. The score was 16 to 11, the game was over, and the World Cup was somehow, impossibly, miraculously in All Black hands once again.

  They stayed for the awarding of the trophy, of course, and the sight of the team standing on the risers, medals around their necks. The speeches and the confetti, the celebration in the stands. Jenna’s baby woke in the middle of it all and began to cry, and the two women looked at each other and smiled.

  “Finn would say, that’s a reminder of what’s really important,” Jenna said, pulling out a receiving blanket and preparing to feed Lily. “And that we need to get these kids back to the hotel pretty soon.”

  Emma laughed, still lightheaded with relief and happiness. “You’re right. It’s after ten, and Lily’s not going to be the only one crying, any time now.”

  Waiting, back at the hotel, for Nic. Putting Zack to bed, then unable to sit still. Turning the TV on, then off again. It was after three by the time she heard the knock, and by then, she had at last fallen asleep. She didn’t bother with a dressing gown, just ran to the door and pulled him inside.

  She laughed as his arms came around her, as he lifted her off her feet and kissed her, his mouth still tasting of champagne, as he walked her backward toward the bed. He was laughing too, laughing and pulling his shoes off at the same time. And she was pulling off his warmup jacket, his T-shirt, as heedless for once of the bruises and scrapes beneath as he was himself. Falling backward with him on top of her, feeling him pushing up the pink nightdress, for once not managing to take it off her. One more affirmation. One final celebration. One last World Cup victory.

  “Where are we going?” Emma asked as the taxi pulled up outside Paddington Station the next morning. “I thought you said lunch.”

  “We are having lunch. And then we’re taking a rail journey.”

  “What? Why? Zack . . .”

  “Is safe with Jenna and Finn,” Nic said firmly. “And they know we’ll be gone for a bit.”

  “This is us,” he said as the announcement for Bath came over the loudspeaker and the train pulled slowly into the station. He got up from the seat in the first-class compartment and took her hand.

  “Bath? That’s the mystery destination?” she asked, her confusion now complete. “Why?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he said. “A good one.”

  “I’ve heard of going to Disneyland when you win,” she said, stepping down onto the platform. “But Bath is a new one. Are we revisiting your old haunts? Is that it? You want to show me where you played, when you lived in England?” A bit insensitive, but she couldn’t really be upset with him. Not any more.

  “Yeh,” he said. “Less than a kilometer to walk, and it’s quite pretty. Ten minutes or so. Want to do that, or get a taxi?”

  “Walk,” she said immediately, looking at the graceful buildings that prevailed h
ere in the center of the ancient city. “I can do ten minutes, even in heels.” And besides, she wanted to walk with him. To hold his hand, hear him talk about the evening before, or be quiet. Either way. Just to be with him.

  “So we really are revisiting your past,” she said at the end of their short journey. “That has to be the stadium.”

  “Yeh,” Nic said. “The Rec.”

  “I guess it’s good to see it, but it’s not my favorite thing to remember, you know, that time when you were here.”

  “And that’s exactly why we’re doing it,” he explained. “It’s because this is where I came, after I left you. Where I was while you were pregnant with Zack, and while he was a baby too. That’s why it seemed like a good idea to bring you here now, today, the way I wish I’d done back then. Full circle, or something like that.”

  She still didn’t understand, but it was obviously important to him. “So what was it like for you?” she asked, walking with him along the long pathway towards a side gate.

  “Exciting,” he admitted. “Terrifying, sometimes. Lonely. Another Kiwi overseas.”

  “Not that lonely, I’ll bet,” she said with a sidelong glance at him. “I remember what you said. You didn’t want to be safe. You wanted to have every adventure.”

  He laughed. “You could be right, at that. Not very delicate of you, referring to my wild younger days. We’re meant to just draw a blank over that bit. I did settle down, like I told you, once I was back home again. I was just young, and thoughtless, and stupid. As we both know.”

  They had reached the gate now, and it was being pulled open by a lean older man in coveralls, who greeted Nic with a friendly handshake, and offered the same to Emma on Nic’s introduction.

  “Cheers, mate,” Nic told him. “Frank here was kind enough to agree to let us in today,” he told Emma. “He hasn’t quite forgotten me, it seems, though it’s been a wee while. Course, he won some money on the boys and me, back in the day.”

  “And this time as well,” Frank agreed. “I had a bit on, on the All Blacks that is. Don’t tell them down the pub, but I did at that. You had me worried a couple times, but you won me a bit of beer money in the end, didn’t you? Course, the odds weren’t good,” he acknowledged. “But you can’t have everything.”

  “I knew there was a reason we were working so hard for it,” Nic told him with a grin. “Should’ve guessed, it was your beer money. Glad to see you still have some judgment, even without me here to put you right.”

  Frank grunted. “You were always a pretty good bloke. For a bloody Kiwi.”

  “And so were you. For a bloody Pom,” Nic returned.

  “Quite the love-fest you two have going on,” Emma said with a smile.

  “Nah, Nic’s all right,” Frank said. “Always ready with a word. No side to him, that’s the main thing. Didn’t strut about like he owned the place, just because he could kick a ruddy ball.”

  “Aw, mate,” Nic said with another grin. “That’s just being a Kiwi, is what that is. You want someone to beat his chest, you gotta look to an Aussie.”

  Frank grunted out a laugh. “They’re not bad blokes either, I have to say. So you doing all right, down there in the Antipodes? They treating you OK?”

  “Yeh. Treating me better, now that they’ve sent me over my best girl. Got a son too, though he’s back in London today.”

  “Well. Congrats on that. That’s a good thing, that is, being a dad. You won’t want to stand round here, though, flapping your gums with me. Go do what you’ve come to do. But mind you come back and find me, when you’re done. I’ll be in the little office. Wouldn’t want you to get locked in.”

  “Thanks, mate,” Nic said. “I owe you one.”

  “Nah. It’s all for love, and all that.” Frank winked at Nic, then turned and left them, a shambling figure in his workmen’s coveralls.

  Nic kept hold of Emma’s hand, took her down the long concrete passage, on out through the gate and onto the wide grassy field. She stumbled, her heels sinking into the turf.

  “Hang on,” she said. “I don’t understand why we’re going out here, but if we are, I need to take these off.” She steadied herself against him in the way he loved as she reached down for first one shoe, then the other. “Oh. Brrr,” she complained, her bare toes shrinking against the cold grass.

  Nic laughed and swung her up into his arms. “Didn’t even think about that. You can see why I need your influence in my life.” He carried her down the field, all the way to the 22, marked with its white line. To a spot at dead center, where he gently set her down.

  “See here,” he told her, gesturing with an arm across the expanse of field ahead of them. “This is where I live, down the back. Where I can see everything that’s happening. I have the best view from here of how the game’s going. The long view. So I know what I need to do, what my wingers need to do as well.”

  “OK,” she said dubiously. “That’s interesting. But . . .”

  “Shush. I’m not finished. I practiced this.” He took a breath, started again. “That’s my job, to see the game, to decide fast based on what I’m seeing. And then to back myself. Once I decide, I have to be committed. All the way. No hesitation, no turning back.”

  “And what I’m seeing now,” he said, reaching for the shoes she was still holding, dropping them to the turf, then taking both her hands in his and turning her to face him, “taking the long view? Is that I love you, and I want you with me forever.”

  He let go of one hand, reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out the small velvet box. Flipped it open with his thumb, then turned it so she could see it. “If you don’t like it,” he said hurriedly at her silence, “we can take it back. I thought it was pretty. Feminine, like you. But you can choose something else, if you’d rather.”

  She looked up at him, eyes shining. “Oh, Nic. It’s not that. I love it. Of course I love it. It’s beautiful. But you need to be sure. For Zack, and for me.”

  “I’m sure. It’s what I told you. I’m in, a hundred percent. It’s the only way. We’ve both done this before, I know. And that’s why I know this is right. Because it feels so different. It’s not that it’s the right time, and I don’t have a clue what the pluses and minuses are. But I’m in. All the way. All my life. I’m just sorry it’s taken so long, that you’ve had to be alone this long. But you’ll never have to be alone again, I promise you that.”

  “I’m not, not really. Sorry, that is,” she explained hastily at his look of surprise. “I had some growing up to do, like I told you. I never felt like a full-fledged adult, not for years. And now I do, and that’s important. But it’s been so hard sometimes, to do it by myself. To be the only thing Zack has. To be the only thing I have.”

  “You’re not the only thing anymore,” he promised. “Because from now on, you have me. Always. And I have you. Because I need you to marry me, you know. Once rugby’s through with me and my knees are buggered, I’m going to need a famous knitwear designer to support me in my old age. So really, this is my clever plot.”

  She smiled mistily up at him. “Well, I can’t promise to be famous. Or that I’ll even be a knitwear designer, though I hope so. I’m sure going to give it my best shot. But one thing I can promise. I’ll never chuck your ring in the rubbish, or let you do it either. Because it isn’t coming off my finger, ever. Not from now on.”

  “It’s coming off once. Because there’s a matching band. And I can’t wait to take this off, so I can put that on you.” He took her hand in his, slid the platinum band onto her finger. It looked as gorgeous there as he’d thought it would, he decided in satisfaction, the two side stones in their butterfly setting framing the brilliant two carats of flash in the center.

  “And it’s time to say yes now, you know,” he added gently. “Because you haven’t done that yet.”

  “Oh!” she gasped, then laughed shakily. “Yes. Yes. You know I’m saying yes.” She pulled him to her, kissed him. When she drew back again, he saw tears i
n her eyes. “No long engagement, OK?” she pleaded. She still hadn’t really looked at the ring, he realized. Hadn’t looked at anything but him. “No big wedding, no Woman’s World deal. I don’t think you want that anyway. And I know I don’t.”

  “Nah. I hear December’s a pretty good month for weddings. What d’you think? We may need to start working on a brother or sister for Zack, too. Because he’s going to make a fantastic big brother.”

  “I’d like that,” she agreed, curling against him, one arm around his neck, the other holding tight around his waist. “December, and some baby-making practice too. I’d like to have a little girl someday.”

  A little girl who looked like her, he thought. Curls, big blue eyes, and all. Wouldn’t he be the lucky man then. He leaned down to kiss her again, rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “Know what else I’ve heard?”

  “No, what?” she asked, holding him so close. Next to her heart, where he’d always be, from now on.

  “I’ve heard that you can have a pretty good honeymoon in Fiji. And that it’s the best place in the world to make an awesome baby.”

  A Kiwi Glossary

  A few notes about Maori pronunciation:

  · The accent is normally on the first syllable.

  · All vowels are pronounced separately.

  · All vowels except u have a short vowel sound.

  · “wh” is pronounced “f.”

  · “ng” is pronounced as in “singer,” not as in “anger.”

  ABs: All Blacks

  across the Ditch: in Australia (across the Tasman Sea). Or, if you're in Australia, in New Zealand!

  advert: commercial

  agro: aggravation

  air con: air conditioning