Miracle: Twin Babies

by Fiona Lowe

  Tumbling in on the picture came his summer with Kirby—cooking together, laughing together and sleeping with her cuddled in close, and a sense of peace he’d never really known before.

  Was that love?

  Hey, you left out the sex. How could you forget the sex? His sixteen-year-old self sounded very bewildered as the images of shared times other than sex kept reeling on.

  The ground seemed to tremble under his feet as a seismic realisation hit him. God, it was love. He loved Kirby. How had he been so stupid? He’d been so focussed on the glorious sex he’d missed the significance of the important stuff.

  His mother leaned forward. ‘And we’re worried that our arrival yesterday, completely out of the blue, might have caused a problem between the two of you.’

  I wish it was that simple. He sighed. ‘It’s nothing to do with your arrival.’

  His mother touched his knee, care and concern clear in her gaze. ‘Then what’s the problem?’

  He’d held it in for a day and a half, letting it eat away at him, and he couldn’t do it any more. ‘She’s pregnant.’

  Utter confusion swam across Nancy’s face. ‘But I thought you weren’t able to…’ Disappointment chased the confusion away, leaving only sadness. ‘Oh, I see, it’s someone else’s child.’

  Every part of him raced indignantly to Kirby’s defence. ‘No, Mum, you’ve got it wrong. The twins are mine.’

  Ignoring his parent’s collective gasp, he ran his hands through his hair. ‘I came to Port for wellness, remember, to get my health back. Ironically, it appears it came back with a vengeance and that’s the problem.’

  His father put down his mug, every part of his body alert. ‘But you do love Kirby, don’t you, so exactly where is the problem?’

  How had his father worked out that he loved her when he’d only just realised it himself? A sigh shuddered out of him. ‘There’s a chance, due to the chemo, that my sperm may be damaged, but Kirby and I have very different views on how to deal with this risk.’

  He dragged in a breath and raised his gaze to his parents, knowing they would understand. ‘She’s not like us, she has no idea what it’s like, living with a child like Sarah, how shattering it is, and how you never recover from something like that.’

  His mother sat stock still, her fingers clasped in her lap. ‘Is that what you think? That my life is shattered and I’ve never recovered?’ Unreadable emotions raced across her face. ‘Yes, Sarah’s arrival changed me from the naïve young woman I was, but life would have made that happen anyway. Sarah made me a stronger person, Nick, she made me a fighter and she made me…’ She caught Michael’s hand. ‘Made us realise what was important in our lives. I miss her every day but I don’t regret a moment.’

  His mother’s words, so unexpected, fell like lead weights, stunning him. ‘But I remember you crying. I remember you getting so angry sometimes…’ He tried to align his feelings with his mother’s but nothing matched and he was left feeling as if he’d been hit.

  Nancy gesticulated as she spoke. ‘I was angry at the system, Nick. At how hard we had to fight for everything so Sarah and other children like her could have the best life they could. But I was never angry at her being in our lives.’

  His father nodded. ‘We know things were tough for you, Nick, and we’re sorry, but that’s why we were so keen for you to go to those camps so you could be a normal kid for a few weeks every year without any constraints.’

  Or were you given the opportunity to have some freedom from your family? Kirby’s soft voice sounded loud in his head. His gut twisted, being pulled in different directions. How had Kirby been so wise and how the hell had he misinterpreted things so badly?

  Michael continued, ‘For some reason you’ve only remembered the difficult times with your sister and you’ve forgotten the love she so freely gave us in the years she was with us. You used to play with her and I’d hear you both laughing.’

  But it wasn’t all bad, was it, Nick? Kirby’s voice lanced him, making him hurt everywhere. When he thought of Sarah the first image that came to mind was her contracted and wasted legs peeking out from under the tray of her wheelchair, followed by the familiar surge of pain.

  He closed his eyes and tried again. He saw Sarah smiling in the kitchen and then a faint and muffled sound bite of her squeals of delight as he raced her down the driveway in her wheelchair slowly pushed aside the sadder thoughts.

  Memories stirred in Nancy’s eyes. ‘Nick, do you remember, whenever we danced, Sarah would try and sing?’

  Nick gave a wry smile. ‘Half the time she sounded better than your singing attempts.’

  ‘Hey, I can do a wonderful rendition of “Hey Big Spender”.’

  ‘Nick’s right. I love you but you’re tone deaf.’ Michael laughed and dodged his wife’s playful hit.

  His mother’s laughing face suddenly became serious. ‘Nick, no one puts their hand up for challenging events but you’ve fought cancer and won. You’ve been a loving brother to a girl who loved us dearly and gave us so much for the short time we had her—both those things have made you the strong person you are.’

  Michael cleared his throat, his grey eyes filled with empathy. ‘No one can give you a crystal ball but avoiding experiences in case they’re not perfect is not a way to live your life. You’ve fought too hard for your own life to do that.’

  We have a chance but you don’t want to take it. If you loved me you’d be prepared to take this journey with all its inherent risks.

  His head pounded so hard he thought it would explode. He’d faced cancer head on but he’d hidden from the most important thing in his life. He’d been so blinkered, so stupid. He’d convinced himself he didn’t want to be a father but this summer that conviction had taken a pounding.

  He pictured Kirby’s face and pressed his fingers hard against his temples. He’d hurt her more than anyone deserved and in the process had risked losing the love of his life and his future family. He’d risked everything that could make him happy.

  He had to talk to her. He had to tell her he loved her, had to. Move! He stood up abruptly, the plate on his lap falling with a dull crash onto the wooden boards. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Of course you do, son. Good luck.’

  Michael’s heartfelt words underpinned his fear—that he’d realised everything too late and Kirby would refuse to forgive him.

  Kirby reluctantly shut the clinic door, needing to pull it hard against a sudden gust of wind. She glanced up at the lead-grey sky where dark clouds streaked past, full of threatening intent—the sunny day had suddenly come to an end. As she pocketed her key, she caught sight of the ocean now dark and menacing with whitecaps that collided against each other, sending spray high into the air. Kirby could picture all the holidaying families quickly gathering their possessions, dismantling their sunshade beach tents and scurrying home to play board games and read books.

  She started to walk home, her feet dragging against the pavement. Although her afternoon at work on almost no sleep had taxed her to the nth degree, and her fatigue made her feel like she was wading through mud, walking home was preferable to driving as it delayed her arrival by a good fifteen minutes. She’d wanted to stay at the clinic longer but Vicki had pointed out there were no patients, and had wanted to lock up a bit early.

  Her stomach rolled and she decided to walk to the supermarket and buy more ginger tea and dry biscuits. Anywhere was better than being at home, where evidence of Nick’s presence declared itself in every room from the repaired window sash to the immaculate laundry she couldn’t bear to use.

  He didn’t love her.

  She swallowed hard and fast against the pain. For five or six glorious minutes yesterday she’d thought she’d been given the world. She’d thought she’d been blessed with a man who loved her and a long-desired family to share with him.

  But she’d got it all horribly wrong. Nick didn’t love her and without a cast-iron guarantee that the children would be perfect, he di
dn’t want them either.

  She bit her lip. Focus on the babies.

  She had two children to plan for and that was what would get her up every morning and keep her going through every day. She had to finish her time in Port and then decide what to do next.

  A rumble of thunder vibrated in the distance, interrupting her thoughts, and on the spur of the moment she changed direction and walked along the pier. She’d always enjoyed watching the way a storm blasted across the ocean, Mother Nature unleashing her fury and reducing humans to pawns in her path. Today she wanted the wind to buffet and whip her, she wanted the salt to sting her cheeks and make her eyes water, but most of all she hoped against hope that the gale would blow all her pain away.

  The fishing fleet hadn’t sailed in the late afternoon as usual. Instead, the boats bobbed crazily at their moorings, safely away from being tossed against the pier. Only Gaz’s boat remained and she waved to him as he prepared to sail out to his buoy.

  ‘Crazy weather, Doc. You should head home.’

  Waves crashed against the white wooden pylons, the vibrations racing through her body. Her stomach lurched and her nausea surged almost as strongly as the waves, but she’d rather be out here that inside her cottage. ‘I’ve always enjoyed a good storm.’

  But the wind caught her words, carrying them up and away, and Gaz just gave her a grin and a salute as he concentrated on his vessel.

  A few large drops of rain started to fall, but were immediately whipped sideways by the wind, denied the right to land. Kirby stared out to sea, her eyes seeking the flat line of the horizon, but the waves prevented her from seeing it. Something caught her eye. She squinted but could see nothing but waves.

  She peered again and caught a flash of yellow. Her stomach dropped as adrenaline poured through her, making her shake. She’d recognise that distinctive striped colouring anywhere. One of KC’s inflatable dinghies was being blown out toward the reef. She sprinted across the pier yelling, ‘Gaz! Wait!’

  The fisherman didn’t respond.

  With every ounce of effort in her she screamed again. ‘Help!’

  He turned.

  Waving her arms, she ran toward him. ‘There are kids out there in a boat.’

  He didn’t hesitate. ‘Hop on.’ Throwing her a lifejacket and the satellite phone, he swung the boat away from the pier. ‘Ring the police and let them know.’

  A seed of panic sprouted inside her. ‘Is this the best boat for a rescue so close to the reef?’

  He tilted his head, his face sobering. ‘I guess we’ll find that out, won’t we?’

  Nick breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled up outside the clinic. The drive down from Sheep-wash corner had been horrendous, with rain lashing the ute so hard that the windscreen wipers on full tilt had scarcely made an impact. He killed the ignition, jumped out of the car and ran to the front door, rehearsing for the thirty-sixth time what he was going to say, which started with, ‘I’ve been the biggest jerk’ followed by, ‘Please forgive me’ and finished with—

  His hand failed to move the handle. He looked up and read the after-hours sign directing people to the hospital. Damn! Five o’clock was early for Kirby and Vicki to have gone home. Perhaps they’d been caught up at the hospital.

  He strode through the rain, rethinking how he would talk to her now she was in a more public place. The automatic doors slid open and he came face to face with Meryl and Constable Masterton, worry lines etched on their faces.

  Meryl hurried toward him. ‘Thank goodness you’re here, Nick. I’ve got the air ambulance on standby and Theo’s just left for the pier with the road ambulance so you must go now with the constable.’

  Nick tried to keep up as she shoved the bright orange emergency worker’s overalls and protective jacket into his arms.

  Meryl gave his arm a squeeze. ‘Gaz is a very experienced seaman. I’m sure they’ll be fine.’

  His confusion immediately transformed to anxiety. ‘You’re sure who will be fine? What’s going on?’

  Two deep lines made a V at the bridge of the nurse’s nose. ‘Didn’t you get our message?’

  He immediately patted his body, feeling for the distinctive rectangular shape of his phone and realising he’d not picked it up again after changing out of his work clothes. He’d been too distracted after finding the box with the laundry shelf in it.

  The young constable put his hand on Nick’s shoulder, gently pushing him back toward the doors. ‘We just got an emergency call from Dr Atherton. She and Gaz are attempting a rescue of a KC dinghy with kids caught in the storm.’

  ‘In Gaz’s boat?’ Incredulity became fear. The fishing boat could negotiate the narrow reef entrance in calm to medium rough weather, but in a storm like this it just didn’t have the manoeuvrability. An image of the boat floundering against the rocks, its wooden beams splintering, slugged him so hard he lost his breath.

  Kirby.

  The twins.

  He couldn’t lose them, not now when he’d just worked everything out. Not now when they didn’t know he loved them all as much as life itself.

  You drove her to this. If you hadn’t been such a jerk she would be tucked up in your bed, safe. Like a geyser, guilt shot through him, ramping up his fear into a hot and terrifying beast. He spun around, catching the police officer by the jacket. ‘What the hell were you thinking, letting a pregnant woman out in weather like this when it’s your job?’

  The constable staggered back as Meryl grabbed Nick’s arm. ‘Nick, stop it. We have no idea how it happened, but it has.’ Sympathy filled her eyes. ‘We love her too and she’s in good hands.’

  He dropped his hand and muttered an apology as he hauled on his coat. ‘I don’t care what the policy is, I’m going out with you on the police boat and nothing is going to stop me.’

  Kirby could barely keep her balance as the boat rocked violently, every weathered board creaking terrifyingly loudly. The binoculars’ lenses fogged as rain poured over her, trickling down the too-big sleeves of the anorak, but she didn’t care. All she could think about was finding the dinghy.

  The storm had darkened the sky to the levels of dusk, making visibility tough, and Gaz had turned on the bright fluorescent night-fishing lights, but so far she hadn’t been able to sight it again.

  Gaz’s hand’s gripped the wheel, his knuckles white as he scanned the sea. Kirby knew he was as worried about the threat of the reef as much as he was about the children. She couldn’t think about the reef and how boats always came off second best. She couldn’t think about the risk she was taking, the risk she was putting the twins into…She stifled a hysterical laugh—she’d wanted Mother Nature to drive all thoughts of Nick away but she hadn’t quite envisaged this.

  Yellow caught the edge of her eye. She looked again. ‘There!’ She waved her arms and pointed as the dinghy rose on a wave, disappearing almost as quickly into a deep trough.

  Gaz steered the boat according to her directions as waves washed over the bow, completely drenching her. Kirby pulled the life preserver off its holder, checking the knot that secured it to the boat.

  As they got closer she recognised two terrified boys from Unit C huddled in the bottom of the dinghy. Thank goodness. She waved her arms out wide, hoping Lochie and Matthew would understand that it meant she could see them as all her words were captured by the wind.

  Gaz yelled out instructions. ‘Kirby, I need to keep the engines running so we can avoid the reef so we’ll have to go past twice, getting one boy at a time.’

  She nodded her understanding, hating it that one boy would have to wait longer than the other before he was safe but knowing it had to be that way or all lives would be at risk.

  The waves pounded the boat, pushing it inexorably toward the reef, while the engine throbbed hard against them, desperately attempting to counter the relentless pressure. The dinghy was only three metres away but it could have been have been three hundred.

  ‘One at a time.’ She yelled the words as she hurled
the life preserver out like a Frisbee to the waiting boys. As it arced in the air an almighty wave cascaded over the dinghy, picking it up as if it was a feather before upending it and tipping the boys into the foaming sea.

  Kirby’s scream was trapped in her throat as her brain went into automatic and time seemed to slow down. She scanned the water for bobbing boys but she couldn’t see a thing.

  ‘I have to bring her round,’ Gaz yelled from the wheelhouse.

  The rope in her hands tugged. ‘Wait.’ Using everything she had in her, she pulled.

  Lochie’s terrified face appeared in the trough of a wave, the life preserver around his middle.

  ‘Kick, mate, kick.’ Leaning over the side, being hammered by the waves, Kirby managed to haul him on board.

  Almost dropping him onto the deck, she checked the bare basics—that he was conscious and breathing. Broken bones or anything else would have to wait. ‘Get into the wheelhouse. I have to find Matthew.’

  Gaz had brought the boat round to avoid the reef and for a moment she was completely disoriented. Where the hell was Matthew? She stared at the dinghy, hoping he was clinging to its upturned form, but all she could see was yellow and black plastic.

  ‘Look!’ Gaz’s arm pointed and she swung around.

  The distinctive blue and white police boat was rapidly getting closer. Thank God, more eyes. But would they arrive fast enough? It took three minutes to drown and two minutes had already passed.

  The white lights from the fishing boat lit up a small area but with salt-stung eyes and driving rain it was hard to see anything at all.

  And then she saw it. A boy, face down in the water. Not moving.

  She snapped her neck left and saw the jagged outlines of the reef. She swung back the other way and saw the police boat with its reinforcements had almost reached them.