He shrugged, dug into the cake again. “Have to stay fit to make it all the way through, specially at my age. Loads of protein. And the occasional chocolate cake doesn’t go amiss either.”
“Anything special you want, just ask,” she assured him.
“Can you cook salmon? I had it at Kermadec tonight, and it was pretty good. But such a mingy wee bit, just left me wanting more.”
“Of course I can. I’ll get some from the fish market tomorrow,” she promised. “Enough so you can eat as much as you like. I have a good way to cook it. You sear it, and serve it with a glaze of balsamic vinegar, honey, and orange juice. Pretty tasty. If you really want it two days in a row.”
“I would. Sounds delicious. Not sure how much the kids like salmon, though.”
“Plenty of leftovers from tonight, since you weren’t here,” she said. “They can have those if they’d rather.”
“Cheers for that. Anyway. What are you reading?” He glanced at the book she’d laid on the couch next to her.
“Guilty pleasure. Jane Eyre.” She showed him the cover. “One of the few books I haul around with me.”
“Not much of a guilty pleasure.” He looked her over. “Pretty tame evening, I’d say.”
“Glass of wine, Jane Eyre, in my dressing gown,” she agreed. “That’s about the size of it.”
“May have been more entertaining than mine, at that,” he told her, starting to laugh. “Couldn’t quite get over those naff pressies.”
Jenna couldn’t resist a chuckle of her own. “I thought the kids did all right, after the initial shock. But yeah, she couldn’t have chosen much worse. Poor Ashley. She must not know them very well.”
“I’ve talked to her about them, though,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m sure I’ve told her that Harry doesn’t care for sport, and Sophie does.”
“Adults without kids can make assumptions,” she said. “Sometimes even adults with kids. They tend to think that kids will like whatever they themselves liked when they were young. They don’t realize that children are individuals, just as much as adults are.”
“You realize it, though. And you don’t have any.”
Jenna flushed, felt the familiar stab of pain. “No. But I’ve been a teacher for six years. When you have a classroom full of five-year-olds, believe me, you understand pretty quickly that they’re all different. You can say, for example, that boys in general are more active and noisier. But even there, you’re just generalizing. Look at Harry and Sophie. Harry doesn’t care about sport, and Sophie loves it. When we watched your game last night, Sophie was explaining the penalties and the tactics to me. I hate to tell you, but Harry was back to looking at the new dinosaur book we got from the library well before the break.”
He smiled. “My son isn’t my biggest fan.”
“You’re wrong,” she corrected gently. “He is your biggest fan. One of the two, anyway. Just not your biggest rugby fan. That would be Sophie.”
“Why do you like kids so much, though, and understand them so well?” he asked her. “Even before you took this job, you’d got to know the kids. Why? It wasn’t to meet me. I’ve been put right on that. And most people don’t pay any attention to other people’s kids.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I like kids better than adults, to tell you the truth. I relate to them better, I suppose. Kids are honest. You know what they’re really thinking. They’re going to tell you the truth.”
He looked at her more sharply. “As opposed to who? Your ex-husband?”
“What? Why do you think I was married?”
“Pretty obvious. You listed another name on your CV. You either got married since you stopped teaching, which doesn’t seem likely, or you were married before. He lied, eh.”
“Yeah. But hey, if we’re going to tell sad marriage stories, we could be here all night. And it’s past my bedtime.” She stood and picked up her empty wine glass, gathered up his dishes. “See you in the morning.”
He watched her go, sorry he’d brought it up. That had cleared the room in a hurry. Pity. Chatting with her had been the most fun he’d had all evening.
Chapter 5
“Wanted to tell you, you can start your time off earlier than I originally said, this week,” Finn said over a late breakfast the following Saturday.
“Oh?” Jenna turned from the stove to slide another tall stack of pancakes onto his plate. Good thing she’d doubled the recipe. She averted her eyes to avoid a closeup view of the line of stitches along his eyebrow and the bruise that had formed around them. “When do you mean?”
“Ashley’s coming by to cook dinner tonight,” he told her, pouring syrup liberally over the multigrain pancakes and topping the stack with a heaping spoonful of chopped oranges and kiwifruit and a dollop of vanilla yoghurt. “So you’re free to go out.”
“What will we do?” Sophie asked. “Do we get to go with Jenna?”
“Nah,” he frowned at her. “That’s the point, eh. Ashley wants to make dinner for all of us.”
“Jenna too?” Harry piped up.
“No,” Jenna put in, as she saw Finn looking uncomfortable. “Just you two and your dad. That’s nice of her, isn’t it? It’s nice for me too. I’ll get to go out on Saturday night. Do you need another pancake, Sophie? And Finn, want another egg or two to go with those?”
“No, thanks,” Sophie said. Finn nodded, though, and Jenna cracked a final three eggs onto the griddle together with her own pancakes.
“What time does this cooking extravaganza begin?” she asked. “So I can make sure everything’s ready. Does she need anything special? Groceries?”
“No groceries. She’s bringing them. And she said five. But you don’t have to leave straight away,” he hastened to assure her.
Jenna laughed. “Somehow, I think Ashley’d prefer it, though. That’s fine. Do you need an icepack for your face, while I’m up?”
“Thanks.”
“Daddy, I thought that was a deliberate sprig,” Sophie said with concern as Finn put the cold pack to his eye, continuing to eat bacon and pancakes with the other hand. “Why wasn’t Nick Holmes sent off?”
“What’s a sprig?” Jenna asked curiously, serving Finn his final eggs and bringing over her own plate of breakfast.
“Aw, got to expect a few sprig marks now and then at the bottom of the ruck,” Finn shrugged. “No worries. And the sprigs are the spikes in rugby boots,” he explained to Jenna. “My protective daughter thinks Nick sprigged me deliberately last night.”
“I still think he did,” Sophie argued.
“If the refs started citing us all for a bit of carelessness with our boots, I’d be in as much trouble as anyone,” he told her. “Got to have a bit of mongrel in your game when you’re a loosie. Sorry, darling.”
“You’re not a dirty player, Dad,” Sophie said, shocked. “You’re a hard man. That’s different.”
He smiled. “Reckon that depends on who you talk to. But I hope not.”
“What’s a loosie?” Jenna asked. “Sophie, Harry, if you’re finished, please put your dishes in the dishwasher.”
“Loose forward. Six, seven, eight,” he explained.
“You’re eight, I know that,” Jenna said. “Have you always played that position?”
“Yeh,” Sophie broke in. “Dad’s been the best No. 8 in New Zealand for ages. Loads of people think he’s the best in the world,” she announced proudly. “That’s why he’s always selected for the All Blacks, since before I was born.”
“Aw, you’ll make me blush,” Finn told her, reaching over to pull her close to him and give her a kiss. “Some of the young boys are nipping at my heels now. Hoping to hang onto that starting spot for another couple years, though. One more World Cup, anyway, next year. It’d be choice to repeat as world champions. Specially since nobody’s done it yet.”
“Nobody’s won two in a row?” Jenna asked in surprise.
He looked at her, amused. “You didn’t happ
en to hear that, last time around? It was only three years ago, and I know you were here then. You may recall that we won. It made a wee bit of a splash at the time.”
“Sorry. My rugby indoctrination’s been minimal. My hu— My friends were never interested in rugby, and it barely exists in the U.S. Good thing I have Sophie to educate me now.” Jenna smiled affectionately at the little girl as she got up to clear her plate and Finn’s own, moved to the sink to start the dishes.
“I’ll help you, Jenna.” Harry picked up the syrup carefully and brought it to the kitchen island.
“Thanks, buddy. How about if we go to the library after this, guys, let your dad rest?”
“Need a little time in the spa,” Finn admitted.
“Can we come in with you?” Harry asked.
“For a bit,” he agreed. “Help Jenna first, both of you, then get your togs on.”
“Go on and do your run once you’re done here, if you like, before the library,” he told Jenna. “I’ll be around anyway.”
“Thanks. I’ve missed a couple days.”
“Thought so. School holidays make it tough. You need to ring Nyree’s cousin, set something up for next week. She can come in and help out a couple days, give you a break.”
“Miriam’s nice,” Harry agreed, carefully putting the carton of eggs back into the fridge. “Not as nice as you, though, Jenna.”
“Don’t tell Miriam that, when she comes,” Finn admonished his son. “You’ll hurt her feelings.”
“Well. Wasn’t that fun?” Ashley asked brightly as Finn finished the last bite and set his napkin on the table. “I enjoy cooking so much.”
Finn couldn’t suppress a little smile. Ashley’s cooking was definitely on the low-calorie side, which his children had been decidedly unenthusiastic about. Almost as unenthusiastic, he admitted, as he was himself. Skinless, boneless chicken breasts, a green salad, and steamed broccoli had obviously done yeoman service in maintaining Ashley’s slim figure, but he found himself hoping that there was still some of Jenna’s lamb and roasted vegies in the fridge for a late-night snack. And maybe the vanilla slice she’d made the other day for pudding. He thought there was a bit of that left.
“Thank you, Ashley. That was delicious,” he told her. He fixed his children with his best reminding stare until they echoed his thanks. “Let’s all help clean up. Get it done quicker,” he suggested.
“Can’t we leave it for . . . Jane?” Ashley asked. “Isn’t she the housekeeper?”
“Jenna,” Finn corrected with a frown. “And it’s her day off tomorrow.”
“Right.” Ashley sighed. “Though I don’t understand the point of hiring help if they won’t, you know, help you. Surely she could do a bit of washing-up before she started her day off.”
“Jenna helps all the time,” Harry said, outraged. “She cooks, and she washes up, and she washes our clothes.”
“And she takes us to school, and drives us,” Sophie added, springing to Jenna’s defense in her turn. “And helps with homework, and everything.”
“Well, since Jenna helps us so much,” Finn pointed out, anxious to placate an increasingly ruffled-looking Ashley, “Let’s help her by doing the washing-up, eh.”
He looked around in shock upon entering the kitchen. The family normally ate at the table set at one end of the big room, but Ashley had insisted on setting an elegant dining room table, including tablecloth and candles. And had excluded him from the kitchen while she “worked her magic.” If “magic” meant “destruction,” she’d worked it, right enough. Every utensil and pan she had used was scattered around, and the stovetop and benches were a sticky mess. How had she managed all this, with her limited menu?
“Right,” he decided. “If you kids can clear the plates, we’ll get started here.”
Jenna shivered as she ran the last couple blocks from the bus stop. She’d enjoyed her evening out with Natalie, but the rain had started in earnest after the movie had let out. She hadn’t wanted to come back in the middle of the evening, try to steal off to her own room without the kids seeing her. It was after eleven now, though. She was tired and wet, and ready to be home.
She used her key to enter the quiet house, slipped off her soaked boots and coat in the entryway. Finn appeared in the doorway to the lounge, frowning at the sight of her dripping hair. His eyes traveled down to the wet jersey clinging to her body, lingered there for a moment before he brought them hurriedly back up to her face again.
“Forget your umbrella?”
“Blew inside out in the middle of Queen Street,” she told him ruefully. She was surprised to see Ashley appear and slip an arm through Finn’s.
“Don’t let me disturb you,” Jenna told the two of them. “I’m headed to bed anyway, once I wring myself out.”
“I was a bit concerned about you when it started raining so hard,” Finn said. “Next time, you should take a car.”
“I was fine,” she assured him, seeing the impatience on Ashley’s face. “Off to bed now, though. Nice to see you again, Ashley.”
The other woman nodded briefly. “Come on, darling,” she urged, taking Finn’s hand to pull him back into the lounge.
He gave one last look over his shoulder at Jenna, then let Ashley lead him off.
“Jenna!” Harry called out, coming in the front door late the following morning. “Are you home?”
“Jenna’s day off.” Finn pulled his son back when he would have dashed ahead. “If she’s here, we need to leave her alone. You can say hello. But then we’re having Dad Time.”
“Jenna!” Harry called out as he ran. “We went to the museum! We saw the moa again! And cockroaches! They were really alive!”
Finn caught up with Harry at the kitchen doorway, then stopped at the sight of Jenna on her knees, halfway inside the oven, the racks leaning against the wall next to her. “What are you doing?”
“Oh.” She shrugged, backing out and pushing her hair back with one rubber-gloved hand. “Just taking care of a spill.”
“The oven.” Finn exchanged a glance with Sophie. “We didn’t think of that.”
“Ashley’s messy,” Sophie explained. “We tried to clean up. But we forgot about the oven.”
“Why are you cleaning it, though?” Finn asked.
“I didn’t want to leave it till tomorrow,” Jenna explained. “As soon as anyone turned the oven on, that spill would’ve become even harder to get off. I wish New Zealand had entered the Age of the Self-Cleaning Oven, but I’ve never even seen one here.”
“Why didn’t you wait for me, or leave a note?” Finn demanded. “I’d have cleaned it. Would’ve cleaned it last night, except I didn’t realize Ashley’d managed to . . . that there’d been a spill.”
“All right,” Jenna said, surprised but agreeable. “I’m letting you know now. Finn, there’s a bad spill in the oven.” She stripped off her rubber gloves and slapped them into his palm with a smile. “Be my guest.”
He laughed. “That’s told me.”
“Since I’m a lady of leisure, then,” Jenna said to Harry, “I’m going to make a cup of tea and ask about the museum. You guys saw live cockroaches? That sounds very interesting.”
“Very disgusting, is what it was,” Finn said. “A whole colony of them. These gloves are useless. I can’t even get them on.”
Jenna looked over and laughed at the sight of him trying to force the gloves over his huge hands. “I don’t think they make them in Rugby Forward Size. And that cleaner is caustic. Let me finish wiping it out, then you can do the rest, once I’ve got rid of the bad stuff.” She took the gloves from Finn again, put them on, and dove into the oven once more.
“Jenna, you know what?” Harry said from behind her. “You have a bottom like a wombat!”
Jenna nearly hit her head on the oven ceiling as she pulled it out and sat back on her heels. “What?” she asked, staring at Harry.
“Harry!” Finn barked at his son. “That was dead rude. Apologize to Jenna.”
/> “Sorry, Jenna,” Harry said, his lip trembling at his father’s tone. “I didn’t know I shouldn’t say.”
“I forgive you,” Jenna told him. “But it isn’t polite to talk to ladies about their bottoms. It isn’t polite to say things about how people look anyway, unless you’re saying something very nice, like, “Your dress is pretty.”
“But I am saying something very nice,” Harry argued, anxious to explain himself. “Wombats have special bottoms. Their bottoms are their superpowers!”
“Remember, Sophie?” he appealed to his sister. “When Dad took us to Aussie, and we saw them?”
“Hmm? Yeh,” Sophie agreed, looking up from her book. “They looked funny, I thought.”
“You see, Jenna,” Harry went on earnestly, “wombats dig tunnels. They have very powerful legs for digging. And if a dingo comes to try to get into the tunnel, the wombat can back up. It blocks the tunnel with its bottom. The dingo tries to get its face around the wombat. Then the wombat squeezes with its bottom, and it squishes the dingo!”
“Ah,” Jenna said, trying not to laugh. “Superpower bottoms. I see.”
“Even though wombat bottoms may be nice,” Finn put in, a smile attempting to escape his own stern expression, “we still don’t talk about ladies’ bottoms. Not ever.”
“Sorry, Jenna,” Harry said again, looking worried. “Are you angry?”
Jenna reached out to give him a hug, then remembered the rubber gloves. “No. Of course not. Your dad told you, and now you know.” She turned back to the oven again, then stopped. It had been kind of funny, but she wasn’t about to offer Finn another view of her Wombat Bottom.
“Ah . . .” she looked around. “Why don’t you let me finish up in here? The fumes,” she realized with relief. “I’ll come tell you, Finn, when I’ve got most of the oven cleaner wiped out and you can get in there with the elbow grease.”
“Course. Let’s go,” he told the kids. “Leave Jenna to get on with it.”
He didn’t know much about wombats, Finn thought as he shepherded Harry and Sophie out of the kitchen. He knew a thing or two about ladies’ bottoms, though. Jenna’s may or may not have been able to squish a dingo’s face. But it definitely had some superpowers.
Just for Now: Escape to New Zealand Book Three Page 4