Counting on Love

by R L Burgess

  Zoe blew the bubbles off her fingers, watching them cascade through the air. All would be revealed, she decided, when the time was right. Mel didn’t often have secrets but if she was guarding this then she would have a good reason for it.

  From the kitchen, Zoe could hear her phone ringing. She sighed, wondering if she should get out of the bath to answer it. She sat up and wiped the bubbles from her hair. It could be Mel, ready to talk. As she climbed out of the tub her ringtone stopped, but she towelled herself off anyway. Her skin was beginning to wrinkle up and it was probably time she got out. She padded through her apartment to the bedroom and wrapped herself in a soft white robe.

  The apartment was sweet and she had fallen in love with it at first sight, a small red brick block, nestled in a leafy street in the southern suburbs. She was on the top floor. Penthouse suite, she called it. Annoying, her friends pronounced it, as they dragged her furniture up four flights of stairs on the day she moved in. It wasn’t fancy, but then neither was she. Inside, an arched doorway led into a little alcove with a wall of windows, where she had set up a big stuffed chair and a shelf of books. The bedroom was just large enough for her queen-size bed, and a little kitchen with bench seats doubled as entertaining space when her friends came around. But the bathroom was her favourite room. The previous owners had done up the tiny room in a nautical theme with a deep claw-foot bath and a round porthole window set into wooden panels, making her feel like she was at sea.

  In search of her phone she rummaged through her bag in the kitchen and then spied it on the bench by the kettle. She was surprised to see it was not Mel, but her brother Danny who had been trying to get her. Flicking on the kettle she called him back, perching up on the bench while she waited for him to answer.

  “Dan?” she said when the call clicked on.

  “How you going?” he asked, his voice gruff down the line.

  “All good here. You?”

  “Fine, fine. Listen, you’re on speaker, Trina’s here too,” he said, and Zoe could hear a muffled laughing in the background and then her brother’s girlfriend called out, “Hi Zoe.”

  “Hi,” she called back, feeling perplexed. It was unlike her usually reserved and serious brother to sound so…jolly. “What’s up you two?”

  “We wanted to tell you, well, we really wanted you to be here but—”

  “Be where?” Zoe asked, cutting him off. “Tell me what?”

  “I’m trying to say,” Danny paused, and Trina giggled again in the background. “Trina and I…we, um, got married tonight.”

  “You what?!”

  “We got hitched,” Trina sang out. “Right next to the Eiffel Tower.”

  “Sorry.” Zoe knew she should be keeping up but somehow nothing about this conversation was making sense. “What do you mean the Eiffel Tower?”

  “I forgot to tell you, we’re in France,” Danny said.

  “You’re in France, and you got married?”

  “That’s the sum of it,” he said stoically.

  “More information please,” Zoe said, shaking her head even though she knew they couldn’t see her. “How did all of this happen?”

  “We came over for the publishing awards. I was nominated—”

  “He won,” Trina said loudly into the phone. “Danny’s company won best new boutique, international publishing house.”

  “Wow,” Zoe said, her head spinning. “Congratulations, Dan. I didn’t even know you were going to France.”

  “Sorry, yeah, I should have said. It all happened kind of quickly. Anyway, Trina and I decided to come to the awards because we’d never been to Paris, and—”

  “Oh my god, you’re in Paris?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mum always wanted to go to Paris, remember?”

  “I remember. That’s part of the reason we got married here. She would have loved it.”

  “It was so romantic, Zoe,” Trina joined in. “We got married in this divine little garden and we could see the Eiffel Tower in the background. I can’t wait to show you the photos.”

  “Well, congratulations you guys. I’m really happy for you.”

  “Sorry you couldn’t have been here,” Danny said.

  “That’s okay, I totally get it. Strike while the iron is hot and all.”

  Trina and Danny both laughed and there were some more muffled sounds and a squeal from Trina.

  “Better go.” Danny’s voice came back on the line. “Call you next week when we’re back.”

  “Okay, thanks for calling. Safe travels, you two.”

  Danny rang off and Zoe shook her head again, more than a little surprised by her brother’s spontaneous action. Not that it wasn’t lovely news. Danny and Trina had been together for almost five years and they were rock solid. Zoe had supposed they’d get married at some point but they had never mentioned it so she assumed it wasn’t really that important to them. Her heart twisted as she thought about how much their mum would have loved a Paris wedding. Zoe could just imagine how she would have oohed and ahhed over it as a wedding destination. Would she have gone? Probably not in the end. Even if she had been well enough to travel, before the cancer struck, she would have made an excuse not to go. In her lifetime, she had been far too poor to afford such a luxury, and in her last few years she had been drinking way too much to manage any kind of travel.

  Zoe made herself a cup of herbal tea, her heart a strange mixture of joy for her brother and nagging guilt and sadness about their mother. When her phone rang again she assumed it was her brother calling back to tell her something they had forgotten—perhaps they were having a baby as well?

  But it was Mel’s voice that greeted her. “Hiya.”

  “Danny got married,” she said by way of reply.

  “What?”

  “Yeah, they’re over in Paris—”

  “Paris!”

  “My thoughts exactly. Anyway, they had a shotgun wedding.”

  “They’re having a baby too?”

  “What? Wait, no. I just mean they got married on the spur of the moment.”

  Mel laughed, and said “shotgun weddings are for when you’re pregnant and you need to get married.”

  “Oh, really? Didn’t know that. There’s no baby that I know of.”

  “Regardless, that’s excellent news.”

  “I know. I can’t believe how well he’s doing.”

  “You’re both doing extremely well.”

  “True.”

  “I mean, who would have thought,” Mel went on, “looking back at the two of you as teenagers that you’d turn out so normal.”

  “Hey!” Zoe protested.

  “It’s just that with everything you guys went through, it’s pretty great that you’re both so solid.”

  “I was worried for a bit there that Danny wasn’t going to be okay.”

  “We all were. He was the wildest of the wild. Actually, given the way you both grew up it’s kind of crazy that you were such a nerd while he was such a renegade.”

  “I was not a nerd!”

  “Oh, but you were. You even asked Miss Mallory for extension maths work because you felt like the assignments weren’t challenging enough.”

  Zoe laughed, in spite of herself. “I loved Miss Mallory.”

  “You and the rest of the school. She was way too hot to be a high school teacher. I was so busy drooling over her I didn’t learn a thing in her classes. That’s probably why I’m such a maths dunce now.”

  “You’re not a dunce, it’s just not one of your strengths,” Zoe said, trying to be diplomatic.

  “Whatever. I can’t believe Danny is married.”

  “I can’t quite wrap my head around it either. It feels like I’ve been worrying about him for such a long time it’s strange not to have to do that. But he’s actually had his shit together for a while now. Love has been a real godsend for him.”

  “Which is why you need to go out and get yourself some.”

  Zoe sighed, sipping her tea. “Not
that simple.”

  “Actually it is. We arrange the date, you go and sit at the table and be your charming self. Anyone with half a brain will love you.”

  “All that getting-to-know-you stuff…”

  “That’s the easy part,” Mel cried. “Hi, I’m Zoe, I’m a very successful financial advisor—”

  “Boring,” Zoe cut in.

  “And I’m a runner and I’ve got great friends and family—”

  “My parents are both dead and my brother just ran away to Paris to get married.”

  Mel paused. “I’m thinking it wasn’t quite like that.”

  Zoe felt a lump threaten in her throat. “It wasn’t. I’m just sad to have missed it. We’re all the family each other has and now I’ve missed my own brother’s wedding.”

  “It’s just a wedding. What’s really important are all the anniversaries and years to come after the wedding. And you’ll be there for all of that stuff.”

  “True.”

  “And if they do have kids you’ll get to be aunty Zoe and spoil them rotten.”

  “Oh my god, that would be so great.” Zoe pictured herself doting on a tiny Danny, scruffy face lit up with a smile as she handed him a lollypop. Or maybe it would be a girl, and they’d go horse riding together. Or maybe twins, and she could take them go-karting. She felt her spirits lift. Mel was right, things weren’t so bad. “So, what’s up with you then?” Zoe asked, suddenly realising it was odd for Mel to be calling her on a Friday night. “Why aren’t you out on a date tonight?”

  “Can’t a girl choose to have a night in and chat with her best friend?”

  “She can, but she rarely does.”

  “Date canceled,” Mel admitted.

  “Someone special?”

  “Nah, just a casual thing. Remember that girl from the Pink Sofa site? With the gardening business?”

  Zoe scanned through her mental data bank trying to picture which girl Mel was referring to. “The one with the really curly hair? Always wears a football cap?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “She dumped you?”

  “Looks like it. But that’s okay, I wasn’t really into her anyway.”

  “You’ll find someone,” Zoe said comfortingly.

  “Ditto, Cavendish.”

  Chapter Six

  Reyna (Saturday, a.m.)

  “Holden, be careful with the stick, please. You don’t need to actually stab him. Just pretend.” Reyna turned to Samira. “Well there’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear myself say.”

  Samira’s laugh was muffled by the thick, woollen scarf she wore wrapped high around her face. Only the pinkish tip of her nose was exposed to the frosty morning air. Holden was careering around the middle of a muddy field, swashbuckling fiercely with Samira and John’s boys, Jessie and Gideon. Dotted around the field were brightly coloured farmers’ market stalls, selling all sorts of winter vegetables, cheeses, and breads.

  “Happens all the time,” Samira said, pulling down the scarf. “The other day I heard John telling Gideon not to pee on Jessie in the bath. Parenting is a riot.”

  Reyna nodded ruefully. It was probably different if you had done it from the child’s birth, she thought, watching as Holden crashed his stick about, parrying the other boys’ attacks valiantly. It would be easier with a child you had cared for since it was born. She and Holden had started as mere acquaintances—she a distant aunty who had visited every few years and waved at him from Skype every now and then, and he a lively little boy with a foreign accent and an enormous undercurrent of sadness. It made her heart happy to see him enjoying himself with some carefree abandon.

  “Do you ever know what your boys are thinking?” Reyna asked. “Sometimes I ask Holden and he just shrugs and says he’s not really thinking about anything. How can you be thinking nothing?”

  “Jessie is exactly like that! Gideon will rabbit on forever if you let him. He’ll tell you every tiny detail of his innermost thoughts. But Jessie is far harder to crack. Sometimes he stares out the window when we’re driving and I ask him what he’s thinking about, and he just smiles at me and keeps staring, almost as if he hasn’t even heard me. I’d love to be able to take a peek at what’s happening in his brain sometimes.”

  “Holden is pretty much a closed book,” Reyna admitted, rubbing her hands together. She wished she had brought her gloves. “I don’t know if it’s just because we’re still getting to know each other or maybe I’m not doing it right…” She winced as Holden dove to the ground to avoid an attack. He would be filthy by the time they left the market.

  “Don’t worry.” Samira rubbed a gloved hand on Reyna’s arm. “You’re doing great. This is the world’s worst situation and you’ve taken him into your home and your heart and you’re giving him love and everything he could possibly need.”

  “Except his parents and his friends and his old life.”

  “How could you give him that?”

  Reyna shrugged. “I couldn’t.”

  “Exactly. Look,” Samira’s blue eyes were bright with compassion, “children are awfully resilient. It’s the best and the worst thing about them. It breaks your heart in a way, to watch them stumble through painful experiences, and Holden’s had the absolute shittiest deal ever, but he’s lucky to have you to love and care for him now, and he will bounce back. It’s just going to take time.”

  Reyna sighed heavily. “I hope you’re right.”

  A pair of long arms reached around them both from behind, a coffee cup in each hand. “Coffee delivery,” John sang.

  “Oh thank god,” Samira said, taking the cup gratefully.

  Reyna took a sip of the warm brew, enjoying the way her breath steamed around the cup. “I can’t feel my toes.” She stamped her feet. “Why are we here again? What is this stuff we’re looking for, John?”

  “Kohlrabi.”

  “Oh yeah. And why do we need the ’rabi stuff so badly? Don’t they have it at the supermarket?”

  “Pff! And even if they did, it would be old and flavourless. It’s the secret ingredient for my soup.”

  “Not so secret really,” Samira pointed out. “I think a secret ingredient is something no one knows about. We are all very aware of the Kohlrabi.”

  “You tease now, but you’ll be singing my praises when you eat the soup tonight.”

  “Speaking of tonight, what time should we come?”

  “Whenever you like. John will be making the soup and I’ll be sitting on top of the heater trying to stay warm. They boys will be waiting for Holden to arrive from the moment we leave here.”

  Reyna laughed. “I’m glad the boys have hit it off so easily. It’s great that they are so close in age. I couldn’t have hoped for better for him, really.”

  “Mum,” Jessie trotted up, breathless and indignant, streaked with mud, “Gideon threw mud in my hair.”

  “He did?” Samira knit her brow. “That’s no good. So how did you handle it?”

  “I pushed him over.”

  “Jessie!”

  “Well he was—”

  “Save it kid. You know the deal. No pushing. That’s not the way we react when we’re frustrated. What could you have done instead?”

  Jessie poked his toe at the ground, as if searching for the answer in the muddy grass. “I could have asked him to stop.”

  “Correct. So, now you need to apologise.”

  “But Mum!”

  “No buts. Do you want to keep playing or have you had enough?”

  Jessie glared at his mum, his mouth turned down in a picture of sulky frustration. Suddenly his face cleared. “I don’t want to play anymore. What are you guys drinking? Can we have a hot chocolate?”

  “Perhaps. When you’ve apologised to your brother.”

  “Sorry Gid,” Jessie called over his shoulder. Gideon, who was in the process of rubbing mud into Holden’s arm looked over, pausing long enough for Holden to take advantage of the moment and scoop a handful of mud into Gideon’s hair. Gideo
n howled with displeasure.

  “Okay, boys,” Reyna called, wondering how she would ever get Holden clean again. “I think that’s enough now. Come on over. Shall we get a hot chocolate?” She looked to Samira and John for their approval. Samira nodded and Jessie cheered.

  Mud fight immediately forgotten, Gideon and Holden raced over to join them. Reyna slipped an arm around Holden’s shoulders, giving him a squeeze as they made their way across the muddy field to the coffee van. Holden was filthy and freezing but smiling all the way to his eyes. He snuggled under her arm as they walked and she held him a little tighter. She could not relate to his desire to roll around on the freezing, hard ground, getting pummelled by his friends, but if it made him this happy, he could be as dirty as he liked.

  They pulled up a table at the coffee van, the boys warming their hands on their hot chocolates.

  “Hey, I got a marshmallow,” Jessie cried, holding up a puffy white ball which he immediately popped in his mouth.

  “Ooo, me too,” Holden said, dropping his into his hot chocolate. “They’re so good when they melt.”

  “No fair,” Gideon pouted. “I didn’t get one.”

  “Yes, you did, Gid.” John rescued an escaped pink marshmallow from the table. “It rolled off your saucer. Here.”

  “Excellent!” Gideon cheered. “The pink ones are the best,” he said, sucking it joyfully.

  “By the way, Yana will be joining us for dinner tonight,” John said casually, tipping back his coffee cup to catch the last drops.

  “Who’s Yana?” Holden asked.

  “A colleague from work.”

  “Why’s she coming, Dad?” Jessie looked confused. “It’s Sunday. Why do you want to see work people on a Sunday?”

  “Yeah, that’s like inviting the principal over for dinner,” Gideon added and the three boys giggled.

  “She’s fun,” John promised. “I’m sure you’ll all like her.”