The Trouble With Choices

by Trish Morey

  ‘I don’t expect you to do that. You’re supposed to be resting.’

  ‘I think I can make you a sodding sandwich without overdoing it.’

  ‘No. You take care of you,’ he said, being the ridiculous man he was, and went right on making his sandwich.

  So, she surreptitiously took note of what he liked on a sandwich and the next day she had one already prepared when he came in for lunch. In case he was in any doubt whom the sandwich was intended for, she took a leaf out of Alice in Wonderland’s book and wrote ‘Eat Me’ on a sticky note.

  He came in and took one look at it, all wrapped up in cling film on a plate, looked at her, and grinned. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You didn’t need to.’

  ‘I know.’ But she felt extraordinarily pleased that she had. After all, it was no big deal to make an extra one for him. It wasn’t like it meant anything, it was just helping out.

  By the end of the second week they were getting into the hang of coexisting under the one roof, and Sophie was pretty proud of the way she’d handled herself around Nick. There’d been no more laughs or meaningful exchanges and she’d made sure she wasn’t around when he was going to and from the bathroom in the morning. If things got awkward, she could always head over to Amy Jennings’s place next door for a circuit-breaker. And now, Min was due back from Penelope’s and there was another week when she didn’t have to worry about anything untoward happening. The mere fact that Min was around would see to that.

  Nick was in the shower before heading down to pick up Min when the doorbell rang. Sophie hauled herself out of bed, where she’d been munching on a piece of toast. ‘I’ll get it,’ she called out as she passed the bathroom door, her vegemite toast in hand as she walked to the door. She stuck her toast in between her teeth and tried to do up her robe, but it didn’t go all the way around her anymore, so she gave up, letting it swing at her sides over her nightie. It was hot anyway and it was only Hannah they were expecting, to pick up some windfalls for her kangaroos.

  Still munching, she pulled open the door and froze.

  ‘Tell Han there’s a couple of buckets already collected—’ said Nick, who was flashing by with a towel wrapped around his waist. He stopped when he realised it wasn’t Hannah at the door.

  ‘Well, well,’ Penelope said, looking from one to the other, the look on her face like the proverbial cat with the cream. ‘Doesn’t this look cosy?’

  Nick straightened, lashing his towel tighter around his waist with a determined tug. ‘What are you doing here, Penelope? I’m supposed to be picking Min up in twenty minutes.’

  ‘I was too curious not to come after you told me you had a new house guest.’ She turned her eyes on Sophie. ‘A very pregnant house guest, as it happens. Now, why would a very pregnant school teacher be moving in with you, do you think?’

  ‘Where’s Min?’

  ‘Mignon is in the car. I told her to wait while the adults had a little chat.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you that I can’t say in front of Min.’

  ‘What? So she knows you’re sleeping with her teacher?’

  ‘We’re not sleeping together,’ said Sophie, her toast forgotten as she pulled the sides of her robe as far as she could over her nightie.

  ‘Come on,’ Penelope said, nodding in Sophie’s direction, ‘that little bundle didn’t burrow its way in there all by itself. Why would Sophie be here if it wasn’t your baby?’

  Sophie felt like she’d been slapped, and was going to argue the point, but Nick held up his hand to stop her. ‘You know what, Penelope? It’s none of your damned business.’

  Sophie saw Min edging around the car, clutching her backpack to her chest, her face white, and her heart went out to the girl for being caught up in the middle of this.

  ‘Excuse me, Nicholas, but shouldn’t I have a say in who you’re going to play happy families with in this house with my daughter?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, you shouldn’t.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘But nothing. You gave up any rights to what happens in this household, who I have living here and who I may or may not choose to sleep with, when you slammed this very door and walked away.’ He saw Min and called, ‘Min, come inside, sweetheart. Penelope is just leaving.’

  ‘This isn’t the last you’re going to hear of it, Nicholas Pasquale. I’ll be speaking to the school principal about this.’

  ‘You do that,’ he said, ushering Min inside before he closed the door on his ex-wife. ‘And for the record, my name is Nick.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have said all that,’ he said, when Min was off catching up with Fat Cat and kittens and safely out of earshot. ‘Not in front of Min.’

  Sophie put a coffee in front of him on the table outside and pulled up a chair. Things had taken a little while to settle down after cyclone Penelope had left, but Nick had made pancakes for brunch and Sophie had dressed, and Hannah had been and gone for her windfalls, and now, in the dappled light filtering through the glory-vine-covered pergola, there was a chance to breathe. A light breeze shifted the air, setting a wind chime tinkling intermittently. ‘I honestly don’t think you had much of a choice.’

  He looked over at her. ‘She’ll do it, though. She’ll talk to the principal like she threatened. She’ll probably ring the department of education and her local member of parliament, for that matter. She’ll complain to whoever she thinks will listen.’

  ‘But what can she honestly hope to achieve? We haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘She could still make things uncomfortable for you at school.’

  ‘Hey,’ she said, sitting up straighter in her seat as she plastered a stern expression to her face, ‘I’m tougher than I look, you know.’

  He looked at her, and said, ‘Yeah, you are. You moved in here with me and Min against your better judgement, and you could have made life hell for everyone if you wanted, but instead you’re doing your best to make it work. I’m just sorry you had to get caught up in the crossfire between Penelope and me.’

  ‘Given I’m having your twins, that was bound to happen sooner or later, regardless of where I lived.’ He grunted his agreement as she took a sip of her coffee, almost glowing from his praise. She had tried to fit in. It was nice to see he appreciated it. ‘How long were you married?’ she asked.

  ‘Five years. It wouldn’t have lasted three, but then Penelope discovered she was pregnant …’ He blew out a long breath, twirling his coffee cup in one hand. ‘You think sticking together is going to be better for a baby, but it’s not, you know. It’s hell on everyone.’

  ‘What was the worst thing about being married?’

  He pulled a face. ‘That’s easy. Getting divorced. The endless arguments and the lawyers, the property settlement and the custody battle surrounding Min. It was the ugliest and worst experience of my life.’

  She nodded, filing his words front and centre of her brain. If they didn’t give her sufficient warning not to go falling in love with the man, she didn’t know what would. ‘So, what was the best thing about being married?’ she asked. ‘If there was a best thing.’

  ‘Min,’ he said without hesitation. ‘I wouldn’t be without her for the world.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘She is pretty amazing.’

  ‘I think so.’ He pushed away his empty cup and clasped his hands, his forearms resting on the table. ‘I always expected to have a few kids,’ he started. ‘But I didn’t see how it might happen, I mean, with not wanting to get hitched again. I have to say, I’m pretty pleased about having more.’

  ‘Even though the circumstances are less than ideal?’

  ‘The circumstances are what they are,’ he said, collecting up the cups to take them inside. ‘I guess it’s how we choose to deal with them that matters.’

  She gathered that was exactly his philosophy regarding the shared arrangements with Min—dealing with circumstances as they existed, making the best of a bad situation. And she figured it was being through what he
had been that made him so wise. You couldn’t come through an experience like he’d done unscathed, or without either being bent completely out of shape or having learned a lesson or three along the way.

  He was a good dad. A bloody good dad. Her babies’ lives would be so much the richer for their relationship with him.

  She was about to follow him inside when she remembered the washing she’d put on the line earlier that should be dry. She stomped her feet on the ground a few times to give anything warning so it could slither away if it was there, and peeked around the corner. Nothing. Perfect.

  Halfway through unpegging the washing, she sensed a movement out of the corner of her eye and felt that cold sizzle of fear zipper down her spine as she spun, repulsed by what she saw when she turned. It was like a scene from a horror movie, a tangled knot of snake that rolled and writhed in on itself, its tail thrashing through the base of the netting as it struggled to escape, its power evident in every coiling twist.

  Sophie dropped her bundle of washing and ran to find Nick.

  ‘Got yourselves a decent brownie here, Nick. Reckon it’d be close to six feet long,’ Harry said half an hour later as Sophie and Min ventured outside to watch, keeping a safe distance away.

  The snake catcher glanced over at Sophie and Min, who was peeking out from behind her.

  ‘Oh, hello, Sophie,’ he said, and if he was surprised to see her at Nick’s place, he didn’t show it. ‘Hello, Min.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were a snake catcher, too,’ Min said.

  ‘Jack-of-all-trades,’ he said with a smile, ‘master of none, that’s me. I guess you don’t need this hanging around any longer.’

  Sophie watched as he gave Nick a bag to hold and got to work, locating the head amongst the mess of tangled coils and pinning the snake down while he grabbed it behind the head. With his free hand, he pulled a pair of snippers from a back pocket and set to work, delicately snipping away the netting from the captured snake.

  ‘It’s always good when people don’t take matters into their own hands,’ Harry said, nodding towards Nick as he snipped, the snake gradually being freed, twisting itself around the snake-catcher’s arm. ‘They’re pretty easy targets once they’re snagged up in the netting.’

  ‘I figure it’s got a right to exist as much as I do,’ Nick said. ‘Maybe just a little further away than where my kids live.’

  ‘Dead right,’ Harry said with a laugh as the snake came free. Still with his fingers at its neck, he pulled the coils from his arm and the snake dangled long and fat from his hand. ‘Yup, two metres, I reckon. You got yourselves a goodie.’

  ‘Aren’t you scared it’s going to bite you?’ asked Min.

  ‘Aw, I’ve been bitten four times,’ he said, as he negotiated the snake into the bag Nick passed him, dropped the head with a flick of his wrist and twisted the bag around on itself several times, securing the snake at the bottom. ‘But better to bite me than bite you, or your mum or dad trying to protect you, eh?’

  Sophie looked down at Min, who was busy looking up at her, her little brows knotted together. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  ‘Oh, Sophie,’ Harry said, as he was leaving, ‘you’re Beth’s sister, right?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘How is she?’

  Sophie blinked. ‘Um, okay, I think,’ she said, trying to work out the last time they’d caught up. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘No reason,’ he said, and headed for his car.

  ‘He thought you were my mum,’ said Min, after Harry had left with the snake and they’d gone inside.

  ‘I noticed that,’ Sophie said with a smile. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t see the point of correcting him.’

  ‘Nope, I thought it was kind of cool. You’d be a cool mum to have,’ she said, before running off to drape herself in ragdolls, leaving Sophie decidedly confused. Forget about falling in love with Nick, she told herself, right now she was in imminent danger of falling in love with Min.

  Sophie put down the latest Dick Francis she was trying to read, distracted by the football game going on inside her belly, when Min came into the lounge room, ready for bed. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I should be in bed,’ Sophie conceded, her hand on her bump, ‘but now there’s this AFL game going on in my belly and I’m waiting for the quarter-time siren to blow.’

  Min looked at her t-shirt-covered stomach with wide eyes. ‘Who’s playing?’

  ‘I think it’s the showdown, Port versus the Crows. At least, that’s how it feels.’ Something moved under her hand. ‘Oh, someone just kicked a goal—I think the Crows are in front.’

  ‘Yay,’ said Min. ‘Go Crows. Can I feel?’

  Sophie blinked, momentarily taken by surprise. ‘Of course you can,’ she said. After all, these were Min’s siblings and why shouldn’t she experience the magic of feeling them at play. ‘Okay, so put your hands here and here,’ she said, guiding them into position on her t-shirt where she was pretty sure she’d feel something.

  Min waited, her face screwed up in concentration. ‘I can’t feel anything,’ she said, disappointed. ‘Is it quarter time already?’

  ‘Just wait a second,’ Sophie said, getting used to the program and the pauses between movements. And almost immediately she was rewarded with a fresh bout of prods and kicks and tumbles.

  ‘Wow,’ said Min, her eyes lighting up. ‘I feel them, I feel them. Port tried to kick a goal, but it was marked by the Crows. The Crows are still in front!’

  Sophie laughed, and the babies tumbled some more, adding to the girl’s joy.

  And suddenly, Sophie realised they had an audience. ‘Dad!’ Min squealed, ‘the babies are playing footy and the Crows are winning.’

  ‘I wondered what all the noise was about,’ he said, but he was smiling and Sophie knew he approved.

  ‘Come and feel,’ Min said, ‘it’s the showdown.’ And then a couple of seconds later when he hadn’t moved, ‘Dad!’

  Nick apologetically raised his eyebrows. ‘May I?’

  Sophie breathed deeply. ‘Sure,’ she said, trying her best to sound cool, calm and blasé, rather than the scared shitless she felt about having his hands on her. They were his babies, too, why shouldn’t he be able to feel them moving? And she was fully dressed, it wasn’t like she was naked or anything.

  How difficult could it be?

  Except then Min knelt down on the floor and made space, and he sat down on the edge of the sofa and placed his hands on her belly. Large hands, so much larger than Min’s, his fingers extending so much farther than her tiny ones had done.

  Warm hands that had explored her body in exquisite detail.

  Knowing hands.

  She felt their heat sizzle its way through the knit of her fabric and into her skin. She felt it seeping into her veins and pumping through her body, only to pool heavy and insistent in that newly aching place between her thighs.

  She felt his eyes on her face, but she dared not meet them when she was lying down and he was so close, his hands on her, so she looked at Min, instead, but she was looking expectantly at her dad. ‘Feel it, Dad?’

  His hands shifted, traversing her belly and sending shockwaves straight to her core, and her babies obliged and swooped and kicked under his hands. Min whooped. ‘You see?’

  ‘I do,’ he said, and his voice sounded so full of wonder that she stole a glance up at him and saw him watching her, his dark eyes so rich with emotion that her breath caught in her throat.

  This was intimacy without being intimate, sensuality without sex, his big, warm hands stroking her senses as much as they stroked her skin, and she trembled under the power of his touch.

  ‘Amazing,’ he said, still watching her face as she tried to mask her reaction.

  ‘Another goal!’ shouted Min at the next prod. ‘Yay! The Crows are winning.’

  Sophie laughed, the spell broken, never more grateful for the presence of the six-year-old. ‘I think I need to get up,’ she said, needing
Nick’s hands off her, grateful when he took the hint and offered his arm, making the ascent to vertical that much easier.

  ‘Oh,’ said Min, ‘we don’t know who won.’

  Sophie stroked her hair. ‘There’ll be other games, don’t worry.’

  ‘Besides, it’s past your bedtime,’ Nick said.

  ‘And mine,’ Sophie said. Although, with her blood buzzing like high-voltage electricity wires, she suspected she would lie awake for hours.

  Very, very awake.

  57

  Sophie

  The doctor at Sophie’s next antenatal visit was blunt. ‘Your blood pressure’s still too high.’

  ‘White-coat syndrome?’ Sophie offered by way of explanation, doing her best to counter Nick’s frown.

  The doctor was having none of it. She peered at Sophie over her reading glasses. ‘I’m afraid it’s a bit more serious than that.’ She turned to her computer screen to input the test results. ‘How much are you working at the moment.’

  ‘Point five.’

  ‘Days per week?’

  ‘Oh, no, that’s workload. Two and a half days a week.’

  ‘And you’re up on your feet those days with a classroom full of kids, right?’

  ‘True, but only when I’m not sitting down with them, of course.’

  ‘Hmm, you might need to think about cutting that.’

  ‘But then I’ll hardly be there at all.’

  The doctor looked levelly at her. ‘That’s what I meant. I think you’d be wise to drop your work commitments altogether.’

  ‘But—stop work? Already? The babies aren’t due until June sometime. What am I supposed to do until then?’

  ‘Live a quiet life for a few months, get a bit of gentle exercise, but basically put your feet up,’ said the doctor, ‘because I can tell you that if you don’t, or won’t, and your blood pressure keeps going the way it’s going, you’ll end up being assigned permanent bed rest, and I can promise you now, you’re going to like that a whole lot less.’