The Peppercorn Project

by Nicki Edwards

  The moaning intensified as Mietta appeared at his side, ghostlike in her pyjamas.

  ‘I was sick,’ she whimpered.

  ‘Oh no – oh, princess, are you okay now?’

  ‘I don’t feel so good.’

  Matt fumbled until he found the light switch. They both blinked at the sudden brightness. He looked at Mietta and panic struck. Why now? He had assured Isabelle the kids would be fine. She’d trusted him to look after them. He gathered his racing thoughts and swung his legs out of the bed, glad he’d remembered to put boxers and a T-shirt on when he’d finally fallen into bed only hours earlier.

  Mietta still stood in front of him, her white pyjama top clinging to her skin, soaked and smelling of vomit.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up and back to bed.’

  ‘I can’t go back to bed,’ she moaned.

  ‘Yes, you can,’ he said softly.

  She shook her head and her blonde curls danced around her pale face. ‘I was sick in my bed too.’

  He scrunched up his face. ‘Did you throw up in your bed?’

  She nodded again and tears trickled down her cheeks.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said gently. ‘Come on, let’s get you tidied up.’

  He scooped her up in his arms, oblivious to the stench coming off her. Placing her down gently in the middle of the bathroom, he ran the water in the shower until it was the right temperature.

  ‘Do you need to be sick again?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Can you hop in the shower then?’

  She looked up at him forlornly and his heart broke. What was he supposed to do? She was only a six-year-old kid, but he didn’t think he should be watching her undress. She saved him from wondering what was appropriate as she lifted her arms, indicating he should pull her top over her head. She stepped out of her soaked pyjama bottoms and into the shower, her back to him. He breathed a quick sigh of relief.

  ‘I’m going to make your bed, okay?’

  She nodded half-heartedly and he took it as agreement it was okay for him to leave her alone under the streaming water.

  Her bedroom stank. Matt was grateful it was a warm night as he threw open the curtains and window to air the room. He stripped off her sheets and went in search of more linen. With all the noise he was making, he wasn’t surprised when Fletcher made an appearance.

  He came out of his room, rubbing his eyes and frowning. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Just after two.’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Mietta’s been sick.’

  Fletcher frowned. ‘Is she okay?’

  ‘I’ve got her in the shower, cleaning up,’ Matt said. ‘Head back to bed,’ he urged. ‘I’ll be right.’

  Fletcher took the pile of sheets from Matt. ‘I’ll make the bed. You go and look after Mietta.’

  Matt raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  ‘It’s the first time she’s been sick since Dad—’ He left his sentence unfinished.

  ‘Is she sick often?’ Matt asked.

  Fletcher shook his head. ‘No. But Dad was always the one who looked after her.’

  That explained why she was crying out for him. ‘Why?’

  ‘Mum can’t cope with vomit.’

  Matt chuckled until he saw the expression on Fletcher’s face. It was obvious the boy was tripping back down memory lane and the thoughts were not pleasant ones.

  ‘But your mum’s a nurse – surely she should be able to handle vomit.’

  Fletcher shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me. All I know is if either of us were sick, it was always Dad who got up and looked after us.’

  Matt laid a hand on the boy’s bony shoulder. ‘I promise I’ll take good care of her.’

  Fletcher nodded solemnly. ‘I know you will.’ With that, he walked into Mietta’s room, carrying the load of sheets in front of him as if they were a precious treasure.

  ‘Mietta?’ Matt called out tentatively. ‘Are you okay in there?’ The water stopped. ‘You haven’t been sick again have you?’

  ‘I’m finished,’ came her pitiful reply.

  Gingerly, Matt pushed open the bathroom door and was relieved to see her wrapped in an oversized towel, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Her hair was damp and the curls were frizzy coils around her face.

  ‘Want me to carry you back to bed?’

  She nodded and he scooped her up again, taking her back to her room. He found clean pyjamas and handed them to her.

  He turned his back and helped Fletcher finish making the bed. ‘Thanks, mate.’

  Fletcher nodded and looked at his sister. ‘Do you want me to call Mum?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Matt is here. He’s looking after me.’

  Matt ushered the now shivering Mietta into the freshly made bed. He closed the windows and curtains, then realised he should have a bowl or bucket ready in case she was sick again. He was about to head out of the room to find something when Fletcher returned, carrying a small white bucket. Mietta reached for it gratefully as if knowing its purpose. She settled back into the sheets, closed her eyes and was asleep instantly. Matt trudged back up the hallway to the kitchen and found Fletcher sitting at the table. It was obvious he wasn’t going back to bed.

  ‘Do you want a Milo?’

  Fletcher’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes please.’

  Matt busied himself making the drinks. After the milk had heated in the microwave, he scooped three heaped spoons of Milo into each mug.

  Fletcher grinned. ‘Mum never lets me have this much.’

  ‘What your mum doesn’t know won’t hurt her!’ Matt replied with a wink.

  They finished their drinks in silence. Fletcher rinsed his mug and left it on the sink. He was almost out the door when he turned back to face Matt. Tears had formed in his eyes. ‘Thanks, Matt.’ He paused. ‘For everything.’

  ‘If you ever want to talk, I’m here.’

  As Matt was deliberating whether to go back to bed or call Isabelle, the unmistakable sound of retching came from Mietta’s room again. Grabbing a wet face-washer from the bathroom, he bounded in and found her leaning weakly over the bucket.

  When she had finished she stared up at him with huge, hollow eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Matt.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ he whispered back.

  ‘I miss my daddy,’ she whimpered.

  He wiped her clammy forehead with the flannel, his heart exploding with love for this child. She lay down on the pillow again, her eyes closed. He stroked her forehead gently, pushing the hair off her face and she was soon asleep. After he had cleaned up the bathroom and thrown the dirty linen in the washing machine, he couldn’t think of anything else to do but stay with her in case she needed him again. Grabbing the pillow and doona from Isabelle’s bed, he lay down on the carpet beside Mietta and tried to sleep.

  She threw up twice more before the morning sun kissed the horizon. Each time she cried out for Matt, not her daddy, and he’d sat up instantly, rubbing her back until she had finished. There was nothing else he could do except encourage her to take tiny sips of fluid.

  As the magpies began their warble outside, Matt decided it was safe to let Mietta sleep. He stretched his aching joints and headed for the shower. He tried calling Isabelle but got her voicemail. She was no doubt having her first sleep-in in months. He debated calling Leah, but she probably wouldn’t know what to do either. Isabelle would be worried sick when she woke and saw she had a missed call from him, so he sent a quick text to let her know everything was okay and asked her to call when she had a chance.

  He checked on Mietta and found she was still asleep. Colour touched her cheeks and he saw by the rise and fall of her chest that she was sleeping peacefully. He stood watching her, wondering what to do. Should he take her to the doctor? He checked his watch before remembering it was Sunday. The clinic wouldn’t be open. He wished his mother was still alive – she’d tell him what to do. For a fleeting second he considered calling Rachel,
but decided against it. He would never hear the end of it.

  Alison! She was back from Adelaide. She’d know how to make Mietta better.

  Without considering the time, he found her number and dialled. ‘It’s Matt,’ he said when she answered cheerfully on the third ring. ‘I hope I didn’t wake you.’

  ‘I’m always up with the birds. Everything okay over at Isabelle’s place?’ Alison asked.

  ‘How did you know I was over here?’ The grapevine must have been on overdrive last night.

  ‘Relax, Matt. Isabelle told me you were staying to look after the kids. It’s not public knowledge. Now, what’s up?’

  ‘Mietta’s been throwing up all night.’

  ‘Is she still vomiting?’ Concern laced her voice.

  Matt relaxed. Alison was the perfect person to call. He filled her in on his night.

  ‘You need to get fluids into her if possible, so she doesn’t get dehydrated. Once she can keep fluid down, you can try her on dry biscuits. Does Isabelle have Savoys or Saladas in the pantry?’

  ‘I’ll check. What about flat lemonade?’ He remembered his mother giving him that as a child.

  ‘Better to give her some Hydralyte,’ Alison replied.

  ‘Where do I get that from?’

  ‘Isabelle might have some already, but if not, I can meet you at the clinic and get you some from the supplies.’

  He let out a frustrated sigh. ‘How do you know all this stuff? Is it because you’re a nurse?’

  Alison’s laughter came across the line. ‘It’s because I’m a parent.’

  He blew out another breath. ‘If you hadn’t answered I would have asked Doctor Google.’

  ‘I’m glad you called. It sounds to me like you’re doing everything right. How’s Fletcher? Is he sick too? If it’s gastro it could go through all of you.’

  He screwed up his face and groaned. ‘I hope not.’

  Alison laughed again. ‘Go and check the cupboards. I’ll hold on the line.’

  Matt rifled through all of Isabelle’s cupboards, feeling strangely like he was snooping. There was no sign of anything called Hydralyte.

  ‘Check the freezer,’ she suggested.

  ‘The freezer?’

  ‘Yes, you put the little plastic strips into the freezer. They’re great for sick kids.’

  He opened the door of the freezer and found what he was looking for – little icy poles.

  ‘Get Mietta to suck on one of those when she wakes up,’ Alison said. ‘She’ll let you know when she’s ready for something more. Good luck, Matt. At this rate, you’re going to make a fine dad one day.’

  Alison hung up, leaving Matt speechless.

  A weekend of parenting had turned out to be much more difficult than he had expected. It had nothing to do with dealing with a sick child, and everything to do with the way he’d fallen in love with Isabelle’s children. If he was being honest with himself, he’d fallen in love with Isabelle too. The question was, what was he supposed to do about it?

  Chapter 30

  The following weekend Matt woke early as the sun rose in the pale blue eastern sky. Expectation bubbled in his chest. The weather forecast for the next twenty-four hours promised to be perfect. It was the first weekend of the summer school holidays and he was taking a group of four boys on the promised overnight mountain bike adventure. Isabelle had tried to argue that it was too close to Christmas, that it was going to be too hot, that it was a total fire ban, and that the trails were too dangerous, but Matt waved away every one of her flimsy excuses like they were pesky flies.

  The club he’d formed had turned out to be an excellent idea, although not as essential as first thought. The issue of theft at the school had resolved as quickly as it had begun. Rachel had found one of the culprits – a younger boy, used to being the centre of attention among his classmates. With the arrival of the new kids in town he’d felt threatened. Rachel nipped things in the bud, and as far as Matt knew there’d been no further problems at the school. Everyone had his or her belongings returned, and peace reigned once more in Rachel’s domain.

  If only he could say the same for the rumblings among the locals about drugs still coming into town. He’d questioned every single person who was at the cricket that night and their stories matched. No one knew the guy who’d offered them drugs. They all agreed he was in his twenties and was well spoken and well dressed. No one knew him, which meant he had to be coming in from outside of town. Someone mentioned they saw an expensive-looking car parked down at the oval one night, but that didn’t mean anything.

  Matt tried to focus his mind elsewhere, and it drifted to Isabelle. All he could think of was how sad she had looked when she’d returned from Geelong the previous Sunday night. She’d been understandably upset that Mietta had been sick, but very grateful for his care. He’d caught up with her during the week and she’d looked like something deep inside her was broken. Everything in him wanted to fix it, but he couldn’t. She had to do it herself. He might not be able to help Isabelle yet, but he could help Fletcher.

  He attached his bike to the roof racks and drove to Isabelle’s house. Fletcher waited on the front step with his bag at his feet, his bike leaning against the front fence, and his face lit with a massive grin. There was no sign of Isabelle, but Matt caught a glimpse of her bedroom curtain falling into place. He smiled. She would have been waiting for him to arrive, but giving Fletcher the space he craved. Matt pictured her inside, watching him, wearing her short little pyjamas. The imprinted memory of hugging her tiny body through the thin cotton refused to budge. He shook his head to remove the image, despite wanting to keep it there forever.

  ‘Morning, Fletch! Is your mum awake?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Is she coming out to say goodbye?’

  Fletcher rolled his eyes. ‘Nah. That’d be embarrassing.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. Go and get her.’

  A moment later Isabelle appeared. As Matt had correctly guessed, she wore the short pyjama pants that barely covered her backside, and a T-shirt that did nothing to hide the curves of her petite figure. An ache formed low in his gut as he watched Fletcher awkwardly hug her goodbye. Matt desperately wanted to hug her too. Instead, he waved from a distance and kept himself busy loading Fletcher’s bike onto the top of his car.

  ‘Morning, Issie!’

  She gave him a little wave and her shirt lifted, showing a tanned and toned waist. ‘Hi Matt. What time do you expect to be back tomorrow?’

  He forced his brain to think straight. ‘Around five, or earlier. I’ll have my phone with me, so if there’s a change in plans I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Take care of him, won’t you?’

  He pulled a sad puppy face. ‘Don’t you trust me?’

  She cocked her head. ‘Have you already forgotten last weekend? Last time you looked after one of my kids they got sick,’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘I promise nothing will happen.’

  ‘It better not.’

  Fletcher rolled his eyes and Matt stifled the urge to do the same thing just to stir her. He checked his watch. ‘Come on, mate, let’s get going. We’re meeting the others in half an hour.’

  He waited until Fletcher was in the car before he made a quick decision, turned, and strode back to Isabelle. He had to touch her. He had to hold her. He had to say goodbye properly.

  Finding her hands, he entwined their fingers and squeezed lightly. What he really wanted to do was hold her in his arms and never let her go.

  ‘Fletcher’ll be fine, I promise,’ he repeated. He kissed her gently on the cheek, loving the way her skin felt soft against his lips, loving the way her fruity perfume clung to her body. If she had turned her head a fraction of an inch to the right, his lips would have found hers. But then he would have been a goner.

  *

  The drive wasn’t far – less than twenty minutes – but Matt wanted to be there before the other kids were dropped off by their parents. Their starting point
was Bartagunya, a property outside Melrose. The owners had caught onto the mountain bike craze early and catered for both horse riders and mountain bikers. A new trail had recently opened, one that Matt was yet to ride. One of his mates from Adelaide had, and raved about it. Matt couldn’t wait to get going.

  As a kid not much older than Fletcher, Matt had discovered a love of riding and all it entailed – nature and dirt and tranquillity and adrenalin – and he was thrilled to have the opportunity to share his passion with Fletcher. The trails around Mount Remarkable were the stuff of dreams. Matt’s only hope was that the other boys would enjoy it as much as he did – otherwise, he was in for twenty-four long hours of whinging.

  During December they’d been on plenty of training rides, and Fletcher had managed the less difficult trails with ease. As Matt suspected, his surfing and skateboarding experience made him a natural on the bike. Fletcher possessed no fear, and the thrill in his voice as he launched his bike over pointy rock reefs and coasted the contours of the trails made it clear to Matt that Fletcher loved riding as much as he did. He’d warned Fletcher right from the outset that mountain biking would get under his skin, and if his early morning energy was any indication, it already had. As they headed towards the mountain he chatted non-stop, the most animated Matt had seen him. The sad expression he’d worn when he first arrived in Stony Creek was completely gone.

  They soon pulled up in a dusty carpark under ancient river gums, not far from the property where they’d start their first ride As Matt took the bikes off the overhead rack he heard the roar of diesel engines, and two four-wheel drives arrived in tandem, both with bikes on board. The other boys had arrived. They chattered excitedly as Matt gave maps and details of their planned routes to the parents.

  He was keen to get moving. After checking everyone’s bikes and gear, with a wave to the parents they were off. As a warm-up, Matt started them on an easy track before they tackled steeper trails. He also stopped regularly to dish out drinks and snacks, remembering how at the same age he’d had hollow legs too.

  As they rushed past ancient river red gums, and through empty creek beds, the sound of laughing boys and kookaburras filled Matt’s ears. They headed down the hill past bemused wallaroos and around rabbit warrens, blasting through the scree, over a massive fallen log, around a big gum tree, back down into the valley and past the dried bones of a big red kangaroo. The looks flashing across the boys’ faces made Matt grin – part terror, part exhilaration.