All she could think of as she ran, though, was the first time. The last time. When she’d gone through those first weeks full of joy and hope, even though Jeremy hadn’t seemed to share either emotion. And then, the morning when she’d seen the blood. Had called the midwife in a panic, her heart thudding as she arranged a lift with her friend Caroline, so grateful to have the emotional support. Not to have to go alone.
She’d lain on the examining table, dread filling her as she looked at the monitor with the midwife, searching for the pulsing white blip that wasn’t there, no matter how hard she willed it to appear.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said gently. “There’s no heartbeat.”
“The baby died?” Jenna asked in a small voice.
“I’m sorry,” the midwife repeated. “This one just didn’t work, for whatever reason. I know it’s hard. But there’s no reason to think that you won’t be able to have a baby.”
There was every reason, though, Jenna thought bleakly. This had been her one chance, and it was gone. Her baby was gone.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“We’ll do a D&C,” the midwife told her. “Do you want to ring your husband?”
Jenna shook her head. “He’s on holiday. I can’t reach him.” She saw the midwife looking at her oddly, and knew what she was thinking. On holiday, without her? But Jeremy and Alan were on their annual weeklong camping trip, and Jenna had most definitely not been invited.
“Anybody else, then?” the woman asked her. “You’re going to need somebody to drive you home, afterwards.”
The tears threatened again. “My friend drove me here. She’s waiting. She’ll take me home.” Home to her empty flat. No husband. No baby. There wasn’t going to be any baby. She lost the battle, felt the ticklish tears crawling across her cheeks, falling into her hair as she lay on the table.
“You can try again,” the midwife assured her. “In a few months, your body will have recovered. You’re young and healthy. These things do happen, and most women go on to carry babies successfully to term.”
Jenna nodded. She wouldn’t explain. She couldn’t. That she’d got lucky, literally, on their third anniversary. This had been her one chance. And she hadn’t been able to make it count.
* * *
She forced herself to breathe more deeply now as she continued to run, pushing herself up the hill to the Domain. That was then, and this was now. She’d done the research, since it had happened. The midwife had been right, she knew. Miscarriages were all too common, and generally had no effect on the chance of a successful future pregnancy. And she couldn’t help thinking, irrational as she knew it was, that this was Finn. If anybody could father a healthy baby, surely it was Finn.
Because she wanted this baby. She knew it down to her core. Even more than she’d wanted the first one, if that were possible. Never mind that it hadn’t been in her plans, that she might have to do this on her own, that she’d be the single mother her own mother had been.
No, not that. She might be a single mother, but she was going to love this baby. She was going to take such good care of it. And Finn would, too, she thought desperately. Surely he would. He’d implied that he hadn’t wanted Sophie at first, and what had happened there? No daughter had ever had a more devoted father. Surely he’d want this baby just as much. Eventually, once he’d got used to the idea.
But she couldn’t tell him. Not now. Not yet. Not until she was sure. Until she knew this baby was going to live. Until she saw its heart beat, and knew she’d be keeping it. He’d be leaving in a week anyway. She wasn’t going to tell him before then. It was too soon.
Steak and Lobster
“Going to miss this,” Finn said, sliding a hand down her body as she lay next to him on Saturday afternoon. “I’m thinking we’d better do it some more before the kids get home, since it’s going to have to last us for a while.”
He rolled to his side and pushed himself up on one elbow to stroke a breast as he looked down at her. “I’ve decided what you remind me of, by the way,” he told her. “You’re like a gorgeous dish of ice cream. Vanilla, with a few bits of strawberry. And I love ice cream, could eat it every day. Wish I weren’t leaving so soon.”
“Monday.” Her breath hitched at the feeling of his hand on her. “It’s coming up so fast. And five weeks is a long time.”
“Not so long.” He leaned in for a long kiss. “I’ll call you every night that I can. Morning, my time. Before training, I reckon. Talk to the kids, talk to you.”
“That’d be nice. What will you be doing at night?”
He shrugged. “They come up with some kind of activity for us. Sometimes it’s a film, other times something silly. Just to keep the boys busy, stop them getting too restless, embarrassing themselves and the team while we’re over there representing En Zed. It can get a bit boring, still, in the evenings, specially round about Week Four. I may have to make a second call,” he mused. “Before bed my time, once the kids have gone to school for you. So I can say everything I’ll want to.”
“I know we haven’t talked about this,” she said hesitantly, “and I have no idea what goes on. But I suspect that you get more than restless, and I’m not interested in sharing you. If you can’t manage that, tell me now.”
“Ah. Wondered when this would come up. Nah. Wasn’t there some fella who said, why go out for hamburgers when you have steak at home?” He grinned down at her. “Reckon you’re steak. Eye fillet, I’d say. I don’t cheat anyway. But knowing I’ve got this steak dinner to come back to …” He kissed her again. “I won’t mind waiting for that.”
She smiled into his eyes. “Paul Newman.”
“Pardon?”
“The actor. Paul Newman. About his wife, Joanne Woodward. They were married about fifty years, until he died. And I’m betting that’s one big reason.”
“I know how you feel about it,” he assured her. “And for the record, I feel the same way. In case you were wondering whether I’d care. We’ve both been through that. You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to go through it again.”
“Well, if I’m steak, you’re … what’s better than steak? Lobster, I guess. That’s what you are. Lobster.”
“Because you’ve made such a wide comparison,” he smiled.
“Because I’m smart enough to know a good thing when I find it. And I’m guessing all this food talk means you’re hungry. I’ll go make you a sandwich.” She rolled out from under him toward the side of the bed.
He grabbed an ankle, pulled her back across the sheet to him. “Oh, no. Not letting you out of bed yet. I can wait a bit. What I really want now is something else.”
She smiled up at him. “Oh, yeah? You know I’m always happy to give you what you want. All you have to do is ask me.”
He groaned. “Definitely steak. I’m thinking, though, they may feed us lobster when we’re in France, and I’m out of practice. Reckon you are too.”
“What?”
“Have you ever eaten lobster?”
“No. Never. Not in my budget.”
“Then I’ll explain it to you,” he said, leaning in for another kiss, his hand moving down her body, caressing the soft skin. “You crack the claws. Then you have to suck the meat out of the shell. Using your lips and your tongue, but carefully. Delicately. You don’t want to miss any, either. Because lobster’s choice, and you want to savor it. So you go slowly. And you make sure you get every last bit of that meat. All the way to the end. I’m thinking we could both use some practice, just in case.”
He moved down her body, kissing and biting his way. “I’m going to be selfish here,” he told her, his hand finding her breast again. He smiled against her at the sound of her moan. “Going to do my own practicing first. Then I’ll give you a lesson.”
* * *
She woke on Monday morning to the feeling of him sliding into bed with her, pulling the duvet back over them both.
“What time is it?” she asked sleepily.
/> “Early. Six.”
“Violating our rules,” she pointed out.
“Nah. I’ll only stay a minute. But I need a bit of privacy to say goodbye to you.”
She reached out to stroke his unshaven cheek. “I hate this. I know you have to go. But I still hate it.”
He kissed her gently. “Me too. Always. Now more than ever. But I’ll call you, and it’s not forever. Only five weeks.”
But would he want her, after those five weeks were up? She pushed the thought aside, focused on the here and now. On his big body, solid and comforting next to her.
“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 said. “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, 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.”
He turned next to his daughter, gave her a final cuddle. “Sophie Bee. 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.
He 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, her voice sounding pinched, her eyes huge. “Be safe. I mean it, Finn. Be safe. And we’ll be here to meet you in five weeks.”
He nodded, then turned to join his teammates 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. 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 reached for a tissue and wiped 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.
Kati to pouri ra,
Noho I te aroha.
Te ngakau o te Matua,
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.”
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.”
She poured milk on their cereal and went to the refrigerator for the juice. “Do you remember having a bad dream in the night, Harry?” she asked him.
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. “Daddy’s going to tell the taniwha not to come any more.”
“That’s right. We’ll do that after school,” she 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 th
at?”
“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 training. 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 a hundred and eight 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.”
She 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.”
Christmas Down Under: Six Sexy New Zealand & Australian Christmas Romances Page 75