Just for Now: Escape to New Zealand Book Three

by Rosalind James

  “I’m going to miss you,” she told him, feeling the prick of the tears that came so easily these days. She looked into his blue eyes, warm now as he gazed back at her. “But we’ll be watching you. Just don’t go getting yourself hurt, all right? We don’t want to see that. That’s not allowed.”

  “Understood.” He ran a hand over her hair. “I’m pretty tough. Pretty hard to knock down for long.”

  “That’s what I’m going to be reminding Sophie,” she agreed. “And what I’m going to be holding on to myself.”

  “I’ll tell you too. Don’t work too hard,” he warned her. “It’s a long time alone, even with Miriam’s help.”

  “I won’t. And now you need to get out of here, before Harry wakes up and comes barreling in.”

  He gave her one last kiss, his hand moving down her body. “Should’ve come in here last night,” he grumbled. “Whatever we said. That was a stupid rule. I hate leaving without making love to you again.”

  She sighed against him. “Me too. But we can’t. I’m going to get up and fix you breakfast, and we’re going to drive you to the airport. And the rest of it, we’ll just have to save for later.”

  “I don’t want you to go, Daddy.” Sophie was sobbing in the Departures lobby, her arms around his waist.

  Finn crouched down, big and distinctive in his black Adidas warmup suit, the silver fern blazing over his heart. “Here, now. You know that this is my job. And that I need your help, and Harry’s, to do it. I need you to talk to me every day so none of us gets too lonesome. And to do well at school, help Jenna at home.”

  “And to watch you play,” Harry reminded him, his own tears falling now too. “I’ll watch this time, Daddy. I promise.”

  “That’s my boy.” Finn reached out to gather him into his arms. “But if you need to read the dinosaur book sometimes, that’s OK too. I’ll understand.”

  “Sophie Bee.” He gave his daughter a final cuddle. “You’ll be watching too. I know that.” He held a gentle finger to her forehead, watched her reciprocate, trying her best to check her sobs. “Bzzz,” they said together.

  Finn stood up reluctantly. “Take care of them,” he told Jenna. “And yourself, till I get back. I’ll ring when we get in.” He ached to hold her again, but contented himself with reaching for her hand, giving it a squeeze. He felt the moisture in his own eyes. Geez, he hated this. It got worse every time.

  “Bye,” Jenna said through the lump in her throat. “Be safe. I mean it, Finn. Be safe. And we’ll be here to meet you in five weeks.”

  He nodded, then turned to the Business Premier counter. Before this got any harder. Before he got back into the car and drove all of them home again.

  “Jenna!” She drifted out of an uneasy sleep to the sound of the wailing cry. “Jenna!”

  Harry, she realized. She sat up, immediately regretted it as the tide of nausea rose. She reached for a water cracker from the plate next to her bed and nibbled it as she pulled on her dressing gown. Feeling a little steadier, she got up and made her way through the dark hallway to Harry’s room.

  He was sitting up in bed and sobbing in terror as she turned on his bedside lamp and sat beside him, pulled him into her arms. “What is it? Was it the dream?”

  “It was the taniwha,” Harry sobbed. “He said he was going to eat me. I want Daddy.”

  Jenna stroked a hand over his hair. “It was a dream, buddy. Just a bad dream. There’s no taniwha.”

  “I want Daddy,” Harry insisted through his tears. “He won’t come when Daddy’s here.”

  “Shhh, now. Your dad’s in Ireland, remember?” This was the third night Harry had woken her. It was time to do something about this.

  “We’re going to beat this thing,” she told him firmly. “I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow, after school, you’re going to draw a picture of that mean old taniwha. And you’re going to tell me your dream, and I’ll write it down. We’re going to post it to your dad. He can be thinking about making it go away too. Telling it not to come after his boy any more.”

  He began to quiet against her. “The taniwha will be scared, if Daddy talks to him.”

  “He’ll be very scared,” she agreed.

  “D’you promise?” he begged.

  “I promise,” she told him, reaching for a tissue and wiping his face. “Now, lie back down. I’m going to sing you a song to bring you sweet dreams.”

  “Hine e Hine?” he asked, allowing her to tuck him in again.

  “That’s right.” She switched off the light, kept his hand in hers as she began the Maori lullaby, its sweet melody and the poetic language soothing her, too, as she sang.

  “E tangi ana koe, hine e hine.

  E ngenge ana koe, hine e hine . . .”

  “Good night,” she whispered to Harry as she finished singing the last verse and bent down to kiss his cheek. “Sweet dreams.”

  “How are you, buddy?” Jenna asked as Harry came bouncing into the kitchen the following morning, no trace of the night’s terrors visible on his beaming face.

  “Hungry,” he pronounced.

  She laughed. “Weet-Bix, coming up. Where’s Sophie?”

  “Here,” Sophie announced, coming in and climbing into her chair.

  “Morning,” Jenna smiled at her. “Wow. Let’s do a ponytail after brekkie, OK? Looks like your hair had a party last night.”

  “Do you remember having a bad dream in the night, Harry?” she asked as she poured milk on their cereal and went to the refrigerator for the juice.

  He nodded, breaking the biscuit apart with his spoon. “I remember you coming into my room and singing me a song.”

  “Do you remember what we talked about, too? About drawing a picture and writing the story, and sending it to your dad?”

  “I kind of remember,” he said doubtfully.

  Jenna sat down with them, began to nibble a dry piece of toast, took a sip from her cup of ginger tea to settle her ever-queasy stomach. “Sometimes, when we have bad dreams, that can help. It makes their power go away. I think it might make that taniwha go away too.”

  “I remember now,” Harry said firmly. “Daddy’s going to tell the taniwha not to come any more.”

  “That’s right. We’ll do that after school,” Jenna promised. “Sophie, would you like to send your Dad something too? A story, or a picture?”

  “Both,” Sophie said immediately. “Can we get some new stickers?”

  “Of course we can,” Jenna assured her. “We’ll stop at the shop after school, and then you can draw him something really special. He’d love that.”

  “Cheers for the parcel,” Finn told her a few days later. “I was never happier to open an envelope.”

  “Hang on a minute. I’m going to put you on speakerphone.” Jenna pressed the button, then hung up the receiver.

  “Is everybody there?” Finn’s gravelly voice came through the speaker.

  “Yeh, Daddy. We’re here,” Sophie answered.

  “Sophie Bee. Thanks for your picture. It’s on the wall above my bed right now. It’s very, very pretty. Prettiest thing in my room. Heaps prettier than my roomie, I’ll tell you that.”

  “What about my picture?” Harry demanded. “It’s a taniwha, did you know that?”

  “I did,” Finn told him. “It looks very scary.”

  “He’ll be scared of you, though, Dad. Jenna said.”

  “She said you’d been dreaming about that taniwha again,” he agreed.

  “Not since I made the picture,” Harry informed him. “Jenna said that would make him go away, and she was right. But can you tell him too? Just in case?”

  “I’ll tell him,” Finn promised.

  “Where are you, Dad?” Sophie chimed in.

  “About to get on the bus to go to practice. We’ve got some work to do before the game on Saturday. We were looking a bit rusty after the layoff. But no worries, we’ll get that sorted.”

  “Too right, Dad,” Sophie told him stoutly. “The Irish aren’t going to
be able to beat you.”

  “Not if we can help it. We don’t mean to be the first ABs squad to lose to them. Not after 108 years. You’ll have to tell me what you think, Sophie. Give me a critique of my performance. I need to go, though. Just wanted to wish you good night.”

  “Goodnight, Dad,” Harry said.

  “No taniwha tonight,” Finn told him seriously.

  “Nah. You’ve scared it away. I can tell.”

  “Goodnight, Sophie Bee.”

  “Night, Dad.”

  “Loading up. Bye.” He hung up, and Jenna wished she could have said goodnight too. She hoped she’d get her own call soon.

  It came as she was finishing the washing-up the following morning.

  “Wanted to thank you again for sending that envelope,” he told her. “I really do have the pictures above my bed. The boys are giving me stick about my artwork. Especially Sophie’s. It’s all those flowers and stickers, maybe. Not to mention the pink paper.”

  Jenna laughed. “A little girly for an All Black bedroom?”

  “This is one All Black who likes his bedroom as girly as possible,” he assured her. “In fact, it could use a girl in it about now.”

  “My bedroom’s a bit short on testosterone too,” she admitted. “I miss you.”

  “Miss you too. But the note helped. Seeing your handwriting, somehow.”

  “It did?” she asked, pleased. “I don’t want to tell you how much it cost to send that envelope to Ireland.”

  “Worth every penny.”

  “Then I’ll have them do more,” she decided. “It helps them, too. Makes them feel closer to you. Not to mention scaring away the taniwha.”

  She wished she had someone to scare off her own taniwha as she lay on the table the next day while the doctor did her exam. Her lost pregnancy hung over her like a shadow, making her breath come short as she awaited the verdict.

  “We’ll do a blood test,” the doctor said, straightening up and snapping off her gloves, rolling her stool closer to Jenna’s head. “But there’s no doubt about it. You’re pregnant.”

  “Does everything look . . . all right?” Jenna asked.

  “Just the way it should,” the doctor reassured her. “Now, do you have a midwife you’re planning on using? Or do you want a recommendation?”

  “I need a recommendation.” She didn’t know whom to ask anyway. She couldn’t tell Natalie, or Siobhan. Not when Finn didn’t know yet.

  The doctor wrote a name and phone number on a prescription pad as Jenna sat up and draped the sheet over herself.

  “You should begin taking prenatal vitamins as well, if you haven’t already,” the woman said. “No alcohol, no caffeine. And what about the dad? Is he in the picture?”

  “I don’t know,” Jenna forced herself to answer honestly. “He doesn’t know yet.”

  “Sooner rather than later would be good,” the doctor advised. “In my experience.”

  Chapter 29

  Thud. Jenna whirled just in time to watch the three-liter container of milk begin to spill out over the kitchen floor. A lake of white swiftly covered the tiles, to the accompaniment of Harry’s wailing cry. She stepped across, unable to avoid the mess, and grabbed the jug before it could spill any more. Not enough left, she saw with dismay, to avoid a trip to the dairy this afternoon. And she’d just bought groceries that morning. Setting the depleted jug down on the kitchen bench, she grabbed three tea towels from the drawer, tossed one each to Harry and Sophie.

  “OK, guys. Not a disaster. Help me wipe this up. Harry, please stop crying. It was an accident.”

  “Why do I have to help?” Sophie complained from her spot at the kitchen table. “I didn’t spill it. And I’m reading.”

  “Because we’re all cleaning up,” Jenna snapped. “Get up and help.”

  She regretted her tone as she saw Sophie’s face grow mutinous, Harry continuing to sob quietly. She crouched down to begin wiping up the mess, glad to see Sophie rising reluctantly to obey. The movement, and the smell of the milk, brought nausea in its wake. She’d never thought of milk as having a smell, she thought irrelevantly, trying to push the sickness away. Harry was wiping willingly, if inexpertly, Sophie was helping now too, and the lake was becoming a puddle.

  “OK.” She got up, had to steady herself against the fridge door, give herself a moment. “Go sit at the table, both of you, out of the way. I’ll mop the rest of it.”

  “My feet are all milky,” Harry sniffed.

  “I’ll clean them in a minute. Go sit down.”

  Sophie protested again at the trip to the dairy. “I have homework. Can’t I stay home?”

  “You aren’t old enough,” Jenna told her. “Come on. We’ll call it a walk.”

  “Why can’t we drive?” Sophie complained. “We’ve walked enough today. Courtney’s mum drives her to school. Why do we always have to walk?”

  “Because it’s six blocks. And only four blocks to the dairy,” Jenna told her. “I am not driving four blocks. Get your shoes on.”

  She could hear Sophie muttering as she stomped off. She was clearly having a bad day, and Jenna would need to get to the bottom of that later, she thought wearily. They were well into their third week without Finn, and the strain was showing on both children, especially Sophie. And on herself, she admitted.

  The smell of roasting chicken in the dairy’s tiny rotisserie assaulted her before they stepped through the door. She took a deep breath of outside air, tried to hold it as she walked past the prepared food area and made her way to the chiller case. No queue, she saw with relief. She’d pay fast, and get out of here before she was sick.

  “Can we get Tim Tams?” Sophie was in front of her, holding out the package of chocolate biscuits.

  “No. Put them back, please.” Jenna held onto her patience with an effort, set the milk on the counter. “We have biscuits at home.”

  “Only digestives,” Sophie complained. “I hate digestives. I want Tim Tams.”

  Jenna swiped her card to pay for the milk, took the plastic bag with a word of thanks. “Put it back, Sophie. We’re going.” She had to get out of here, she thought desperately.

  Sophie stomped over, threw the packet back on the shelf. Jenna grabbed Harry’s hand and headed for the door, Sophie following thunderously behind.

  “Why are you so mean?” Sophie burst out from behind her before they’d even gone a block. “You never let me have anything I want! Daddy would let me have Tim Tams! Nyree would let me!”

  “Nyree isn’t here, though.” She was snapping again, Jenna knew, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She’d been sicker than ever, today. Had spent thirty minutes in the bathroom after walking the kids to school. She’d thought that was the low point. Unless she got home and sat down, though, she was going to be sick again. She reached for a digestive from her purse, bit off a piece and chewed it slowly.

  “You’re eating biscuits,” Sophie accused. “Why do you get what you want, and I don’t? You’re not our mum! You work for us! You’re just a nanny!”

  Jenna stopped dead. Turned to glare down at Sophie. The little girl looked up at her defiantly, but Jenna could see the trepidation in her eyes. It didn’t matter, though. Because it was all too much.

  “Nobody talks to me like that,” she told Sophie furiously. “I’m a person. I deserve to be treated with respect.” She couldn’t help the tears that began to spill over. “I know you’ve had a bad day, and you know what? I’m sorry, but I’ve had a bad day too!” She could feel her voice rising, found herself unable to control it. “I’m sick, and I’m tired, and I’ve had just about enough of you! You’re acting like a spoilt brat, and I am sick of it!”

  She was sobbing now as she held the bag of milk with one hand, Harry’s hand with the other. “And I don’t want to hear anything else. We’re going home, and I don’t want to hear another word out of you till we get there, do you understand?”

  Both children were crying now as well. Somehow, they made it the fin
al three blocks home, Jenna grabbing Sophie’s hand at the corners, ignoring her attempts to pull away. When they reached the house again, Jenna kicked her shoes off, shoved the milk into the fridge. Grabbed three paper towels and handed one each to Sophie and Harry, wiped her own face with the third.

  She took a deep breath. “We are all going to our rooms now,” she said, keeping her voice calm with an effort. “We’re going to have some quiet time. And then we’re going to have a talk.”

  “I didn’t do anything, though,” Harry sobbed. “Why’re you angry at me?”

  “I’m not angry at anyone now,” Jenna promised. “And you didn’t do anything, Harry. But I’m tired, and I feel sick, and we all need to be quiet for a few minutes. Can you go play with your animals, please?”

  To her relief, Harry nodded and made his subdued way to his bedroom. Sophie gave her a scared look and followed suit. She should talk to her now, Jenna knew. But she couldn’t. She’d lost it, and she couldn’t even care. She went to her own room, shut the door, and lay face-down on the bed, finally giving in to the sobs that overcame her.

  It wasn’t fair. She was doing her best, she was sick, she was alone, and nobody cared. She knew in one part of her brain that she was overreacting, that she was worn out, hormonal, and overemotional, but she was past being rational. She sobbed until she’d cried herself out, then sat on the bed, wiping her face and blowing her nose, trying to get herself back under control.

  She left her bedroom at last, spent another five minutes in the bathroom with a cold cloth on her face. Finally went next door to Harry’s room. He was sitting on the floor, surrounded by dinosaurs, softly narrating a scene as he moved Tyrannosaurus closer to a herd of plant-eaters.

  “Hey, buddy.” Jenna dropped to the floor and put a hand on the back of his neck. “How’re you doing?”

  Harry looked up at her cautiously. “Are you done being angry?”

  “I’m done,” she promised. “I’m sorry if I scared you.” She reached out to hug him, and he came gratefully into her arms.