‘I don’t,’ Joe snapped. ‘But I’m not going to put myself in a position of being a useful extra on a permanent basis. Good for your child. Great for your career.’
‘My career! What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘You want to be a paramedic, right? It’s going to be much easier to manage if there’s someone around to help with childcare, isn’t it? And you could expect a lot more from a husband than a lover.’
The awful thing was that there was an element of truth in Joe’s accusations. Yes, Jessica loved him and would feel exactly the same way if her life was without the complication of having her son, but the fact that Ricky loved Joe was a huge bonus that made the relationship perfect. And, yes, Jessica did want to be a paramedic and Joe could have helped. It was all water under the bridge now, however. The relationship wasn’t perfect. And never could be.
‘I’ll take Ricky home tomorrow,’ Jessica said woodenly. She had to get out of this appalling situation before it became any worse. ‘I was intending to get down to Silverstream soon to sort out my house, anyway. Maybe we both need a few days to think about all this.’
Doubts about Jessica’s motives had been haunting Joe but they weren’t as strong as his sudden fear about where this confrontation was leading.
‘I don’t want you to go, Jess. We need to talk about this.’
‘We’ve done just that, Joe. And what’s the point? You want me to prove that you being a father to Ricky isn’t important, and the truth is that it is important. It’s what made our relationship possible and nothing is going to change that.’
No. Nothing could change that and Joe would never know whether that was the most important part of their relationship. And that wasn’t something he thought he could live with. Not as far as marriage went anyway, and Jessica wasn’t going to settle for anything less, was she? There was no point in asking her again not to leave. Jessica was right. There was no point in talking any more right now.
And in the silence Jessica walked out.
It wasn’t his fault.
So why did he fell like some kind of bastard? Maybe it was because of the tight-lipped distance Jessica had maintained as she’d packed her car the following morning. Or the spectacular tantrum Ricky had displayed when he’d been told to collect his cars from the sand pile and the living-room floor. The dreadful shrieking had been enough to tip Joe from the edge of the doubts that had gnawed at him all night into anger that Jessica had forced them all into a situation none of them wanted. It was Ricky that caught the flak.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ Joe had snapped at the boy. ‘Put a sock in it, Ricky, and do as you’re told.’
The screaming had stopped but the silent rocking that had followed had been worse. Joe had finally interrupted his routine of getting ready for work. He’d crouched down beside Ricky and scooped up some cars to put in the shoebox Jessica had provided.
‘I’m sorry, buddy,’ he’d said. ‘I’ll see you again, soon, I promise.’
Ricky hadn’t even looked at him and Joe had been reminded of their first meeting when he’d decided Ricky was probably deaf and mute, the lights on but nobody home. No wonder somebody had decided the label of autism fitted.
Jessica had dealt with it before, of course. She’d simply picked up her withdrawn child and strapped him into his car seat before driving away. The fleeting look Joe had received as she’d said goodbye had made him wonder how easy it was going to be to fulfil his promise to see Ricky again in the near future. He felt responsible. He felt guilty. He felt like a complete bastard and it just wasn’t fair because it wasn’t his fault.
It wasn’t Kelly’s fault that she’d taken the life pack designated for the helicopter base but that didn’t stop Joe accusing her of endangering his ability to work safely.
‘We’re two life packs down because of faults. We had a call to a cardiac patient and I was told to take the base unit.’
‘So what are we supposed to use? Jumper cables?’
‘Go and see the boss. He’ll have to sort something out.’ Kelly was giving him a strange look. ‘Is everything OK, Joe?’
‘No, everything’s not bloody OK.’ Joe stalked off before Kelly could make any enquiries regarding his personal life. ‘I haven’t got a damn life pack available, have I?’
At least he’d be able to unwind once he got home. Maybe now he’d have some time to work on the Mustang and he wouldn’t have to waste any of it doing dishes or picking up dirty socks or playing in a stupid pile of sand. Joe rapped on the station manager’s door decisively. He’d celebrate, in fact, and pick up a pizza and some beer on the way home.
The empty house seemed disconcertingly quiet that first night. It still seemed hollow and uninviting three days later, and it didn’t smell great either. Joe fished out a large, plastic rubbish bag and cleared the greasy box with several shrivelled pieces of pizza from the kitchen table. The empty beer cans were next and Joe didn’t bother to count them. He wasn’t going to buy any more for a while. He blamed his alcohol intake for the fact that he hadn’t bothered going out to the garage in the evenings. He’d sat around drinking and brooding and generally feeling thoroughly miserable.
It was time things changed. He’d been tired after the long days at work but now he had time off again and he was turning over a new leaf. The Mustang would be ready for a road test in a matter of weeks if he got focused. Offering Ricky a ride in the car would be a great excuse to see the kid again. When Joe climbed out of the pit for the third time later that day to find a tool he needed, he was annoyed to find he was still thinking about Ricky. The kid would have found the right spanner and the task would have been a lot more interesting if he’d had to explain what he was doing and how it might improve the car’s performance.
He’d never needed company before so why was it so hard getting used to having the place to himself again? Maybe a bit of noise would help. Like his favourite Rock ’n’ Roll Greats CD. Except that putting it on made Joe think of Ricky’s determined but clumsy efforts to mimic dance steps. And, worse, the delight he’d had in Jessica’s ability to reproduce the music on his old piano. The keyboard was just gathering dust now and Joe flicked the open lid of the instrument, wincing as it fell with a resounding crash that sparked a new surge of anger. What if the pleasure he’d always had from his music had been ruined for life? It wasn’t as though he could put something quieter on and enjoy that instead. He’d never be able to listen to the Beatles again without the poignant reminder of the first night he’d made love to Jessica.
Joe’s resolve to cut out his intake of alcohol only lasted for ten days. The USAR class reunion was still on and he wasn’t intending to join Kelly in drinking only orange juice at a social function, so what did it matter if he had one at home the night before as well? Staying sober hadn’t really helped over come the disturbing new habit of brooding that he wanted to escape from. That was when the doubts resurfaced and any resolve to get on with his life seemed fraught with undesirable obstacles.
Like, if he wanted a family around, he could find someone else, couldn’t he? Have his own kids. That way he’d know for sure that he was being chosen for his merits as a partner and not a father. But would he? Weren’t women genetically programmed to choose the man they wanted to father their offspring? And how could he be sure that any kid he fathered would be as much fun to have around as Ricky had been? He didn’t like kids in general. Never had. Ricky was different.
And he missed the little blighter.
It would be easy enough to find someone to fill the empty space in his bed but it all seemed like too much effort to go to for some temporary physical satisfaction. He’d have to do something about that pile of laundry in the bedroom, too. Mind you, he’d have to do that anyway. It was just as well he hadn’t needed to remove his boots at work any time this week. He wouldn’t have been popular if he had. And even if he did lure some woman home, it wouldn’t be the same. He’d have to make the conscious effort to try and discover wha
t pleased her in bed, and he knew perfectly well that she wouldn’t respond with anything like the joyous delight Jessica had. Or be so willing to return the favour.
His home life was ruined by now seeming lonely. His sex life would probably never be as good again.
Work on the Mustang had lost its excitement. That only left work, and even the adrenaline rush of dodgy flying conditions or major medical challenges were not going to be enough in the long term. Joe had fallen into a rut he’d never been in before and he didn’t like it one bit. Maybe he needed to get out more. The only blip on his empty social calendar was the USAR class reunion at the vineyard and it was highly unlikely that Jessica would travel up to Christchurch just for that.
And it was raining. Again. He’d have to do something about a new hood for the Mustang if he wanted to get even as far as backing it out of the garage. It would have to be a brand-new hood. He wouldn’t have a clue how to go about fixing the one he had. Joe hunched his shoulders against the trickle of moisture as he stalked out to the garage. The rain had softened the sand pile, obliterating the clean lines of the roads and collapsing the end of one of the tunnels. A set of tiny wheels poked out of the damp sand. Those abandoned toy cars would be rusty in a matter of days at this rate. Maybe he should stick them in a box and post it off to Ricky.
If Kelly stopped watching him at work as though she knew what had happened and was blaming him for her friend’s disappointment, maybe he could stop avoiding her and get the information he would need. If he had Jessica’s Silverstream address he could post the cars and maybe include a note to her saying that he’d like the chance to talk to her again. Perhaps he could go as far as to say he was missing them. Any contact would be good. At least that way he could find out if he was wasting his time thinking about it all so much. It was possible that Jessica had reconsidered that ultimatum and they might be able to negotiate a way though this together.
Yes. Joe pulled on a dust mask and some goggles and didn’t even bother trying to push aside the memory of Jessica wearing her USAR uniform. He’d spend today uncovering the worst of the work his car needed. And tomorrow, when he saw Kelly at the class reunion, he’d ask for Jessica’s address. It would only take a day or two for a box of toys to be delivered. He revved up the orbital sander and tackled a patch of bubbling paint-work on his car with the niggling thought that Jessica had already had two weeks to sort out her affairs in Silverstream. Joe shook his head and tilted the sander to catch the edge of the rust he’d uncovered. He couldn’t afford to dream up new things to worry about.
He’d just have to hope that Jessica hadn’t moved on in too much of a hurry.
CHAPTER NINE
THIS was not a place Jessica wanted to be.
Not any more. This was her mother’s house, the centre of a life Jessica had thought she’d left behind. A life that was proving impossible to make work again with any degree of ease or pleasure. After the space of Joe’s rambling villa and sprawling garden, the two-bedroomed cottage on Elizabeth Street, in which Jessica had spent most of her life, felt claustrophobic. Or maybe it was the community that seemed to be squeezing her life into an overly tight space that was beginning to feel like a vacuum.
Perhaps a period of readjustment was all that she needed. Jessica had been happy here once and it wasn’t as though she was being treated maliciously. People were delighted with her return to Silverstream and keen to help her fit back in. The trouble was that Jessica simply didn’t fit any more. It was like she had gained an enormous amount of weight during her absence and had come back to find she was required to wear the clothes she had always worn. The ‘clothes’ didn’t feel right and Jessica had the disheartening conviction that even if she lost the ‘weight’ she would still hate the way she looked.
With the exception of Dr Jim Summer, people assumed that young Jessica McPhail was miserable because she hadn’t yet got over the death of her mother. Understandable, of course. Norma had ruled her daughter’s life and it was no wonder the poor girl looked so lost now. Especially when she had to cope on her own with that handicapped child. They could help.
Ethel arrived with a cardboard box full of dirt-encrusted dahlia tubers. ‘They’re those lovely big, spiky pink ones. Norma’s favourites. I thought you could put them in that patch behind the clothesline, dear.’
‘Actually, Ethel, I thought I might put a vegetable garden in there.’
‘Really?’ The elderly woman peered through her bifocals. ‘There’s not much room for that, is there?’
Not as much space as Joe’s garden had had, certainly.
Reverend Barlow had been an early visitor. ‘Come and see me whenever you like, Jessica. I do understand how difficult things are for you at present.’
‘Do you?’ Jessica hoped that Jim hadn’t told anyone about the hopes she’d had for her relationship with Joe. That would give the community yet another aspect of her life to discuss and dispense pity for.
‘Norma was a wonderful woman…in her own way. We’re all going to miss her.’ Reverend Barlow frowned as he glanced out the window to where Ricky was spinning in aimless circles on the tiny patch of grass beneath the clothesline. ‘I imagine it’s rather difficult for you to manage young Richard by yourself.’
Jessica forced herself to smile blandly. Ricky didn’t need ‘managing’. He wasn’t a circus act. Her son needed security and love and an environment that was going to foster the independence and abilities she now knew he possessed…thanks to Joe. Reverend Barlow paused on his way out of the house. The glance he gave the polished mahogany of the upright piano in the sitting room was significant.
‘We still haven’t found anyone to replace Norma in the choir. Sadly, the standard of singing has slipped noticeably without adequate accompaniment.’
Jessica looked sympathetic. Her mother’s piano was perfectly in tune but Jessica had felt absolutely no inclination to play.
‘I don’t suppose you’d consider…’
‘No, I’m sorry, Reverend Barlow.’ Jessica was surprised to find it quite easy to sound apologetic but firm. ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly take on a commitment like that at the moment. I really don’t feel like being involved with anything musical.’
‘I understand.’ The minister didn’t look pleased at Jessica’s lack of co-operation, however. ‘Perhaps you’ll gather your strength before too long. You may find that involvement with the church would be very beneficial. There’s plenty of help available, Jessica. We’re a small community. A close community,’ he added somewhat sternly. ‘And we all need to play our part to ensure that it’s a happy one.’
Jessica wasn’t the only person who seemed unwilling to make an effort for others in the community. The headmistress of the local primary school, Joan Whitlow, was proving frustratingly uncooperative.
‘I really don’t think it’s advisable, Jessica. Ricky needs a school with the facilities to cope with the kind of intellectual impairment he has. We’re not specialists here. Silverstream Primary is just a very ordinary school.’
‘An ordinary school was exactly where he was going to be placed in Christchurch, Ms Whitlow. With some extra help from a visiting teacher’s assistant.’
‘We can’t afford to take on extra staff. The budget we receive from the government is woefully inadequate as it is and the PTA is having enormous difficulty in meeting fundraising targets this year.’
‘It wouldn’t cost the school anything,’ Jessica assured her. ‘They make a special grant based on individual needs, and it would be enough to cover an assistant’s salary and any extra materials or equipment Ricky might need.’
‘But who could we employ? It would have to be someone local and I don’t know of anyone with any experience in managing…ah…difficult children. Do you?’
‘Maybe I could do it.’ But Jessica felt defeated already. Ricky’s independence was not going to be fostered by having his mother in his classroom. And teachers that felt he needed ‘managing’ were hardly likely to provide
the kind of educational environment he needed.
‘But aren’t you going back to work, dear? At the medical centre?’
‘I’m trying to,’ Jessica responded tightly. ‘It’s not easy, finding child care for Ricky.’
‘No.’ Ms Whitlow clucked sympathetically. ‘I heard about that tantrum he threw in the dairy when Mrs Summer took him out for an ice cream.’
‘He’s frustrated,’ Jessica said defensively. ‘He needs to be at school.’
‘I’ll give it some thought,’ the headmistress said generously. ‘We’ll run it past the board of trustees at the next meeting.’
‘When is that going to be?’
‘Let’s see.’ Ms Whitlow consulted her desk calendar. ‘Oh, it won’t be for a few weeks yet. We’re having a social evening this month to welcome our new board member.’ She smiled at Jessica. ‘We’re so lucky to have Dr Stringer taking over the practice, aren’t we? What an energetic and focused young man he is. I can see Silverstream Medical going in some very new directions.’
Jessica left the school grounds feeling more trapped than ever. There was no way this was going to work. There was little point in fighting to have Ricky accepted at this school because it wasn’t good enough. And there was little point in trying to adapt to the new directions Silverstream Medical was heading. Quite apart from the problems child care presented, Jessica doubted that she would ever be happy working with Alister Stringer.
With all the enthusiasm of a new graduate taking over his first general practice, Alister had big plans for the town’s medical facilities.
‘We’re going to get everything computerised,’ he informed Jessica. ‘Patient records, appointments and referrals. I want to be able to print out prescriptions, too. I hope you have a good working knowledge of Microsoft Office.’
‘No.’ Jessica couldn’t totally repress a slightly weary sigh. ‘I trained as a nurse, not a secretary.’
‘Never mind. Lizzie can manage that. She should be able to get most of it sorted before the baby arrives.’
THE NURSE'S RESCUE Page 14