Miracle In March Page 15

  Chapter 15

  Emma left the reception office just after twelve thirty pm, and glanced over at the park in case James was there with Jackson, but she couldn’t see him. She made her way along the path and up the hill towards her parents’ house. She would have to try and see James after work today, Saturday night. Two more days and he’d be gone.

  ‘Hi, darling,’ her mother said when she opened the door. ‘You look lovely.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, I look the same as I always do in my work uniform.’

  ‘Exactly. Lovely.’

  She kissed her mum on the cheek.

  ‘Hi, Dad,’ Emma said. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Bloody brilliant,’ he replied. Emma didn’t know if he was being sarcastic or not. ‘How’s construction going, is Bob behaving himself?’

  ‘It’s his day off, today. Saturday, remember?’ she said.

  ‘Every day is the same to me.’ He flicked his good hand.

  ‘Well, someone commented on our Facebook post about Bob’s photo,’ Emma said. ‘Reckoned he looked hot.’ She laughed.

  ‘Oh, that’s good,’ Barbara said.

  ‘Why is it good?’ her dad asked.

  ‘Because he says he can’t get a wife, and maybe Facebook will help,’ Emma explained.

  ‘Huh?’ Her dad said. ‘How can he get on Facebook then?’

  ‘What do you mean, Dad?’

  ‘If he can’t get wi-fi. How can he get on the internet to access Facebook?’

  Emma burst out laughing. Her dad’s hearing issues were at least creating some light entertainment. ‘Wife, Dad, not wi-fi!’

  ‘Oh!’ Barbara laughed.

  ‘I thought you meant he couldn’t get Internet,’ he said. ‘Maybe he needs to go on one of those Internet dating things.’

  ‘He says that’s his last resort.’

  ‘He ain’t getting any younger,’ Don Brighton remarked. ‘Last time I saw him his wrinkles were giving mine a run for my money.’

  ‘Dad!’ Emma was glad Bob wasn’t around to hear him.

  ‘Anyway,’ Barbara clapped her hands together. ‘How are you going with James?’

  ‘Um…’ Emma replied. ‘Well, we’re getting along okay, so that’s good.’

  ‘Just okay?’

  ‘Pretty good, then. His son is really cute.’

  ‘What happened to the child’s mother?’ Barbara asked.

  Emma’s insides twisted. ‘Um, let’s not talk about that.’

  ‘What should we talk about then?’ her dad asked. ‘I know, what do James’ parents do?’

  ‘Why?’ And why were they so interested in Bob and James and James’ parents? Were they trying to avoid another awkward discussion about the park and Emma’s personal issues?

  ‘Just making conversation. Are they retired?’

  ‘James’ dad was a lawyer, like him. His mum, a librarian.’

  ‘Huh?’ her dad said again. ‘How does that work?’

  ‘How does what work?’

  ‘You know, did she have him via a test tube or something?’

  ‘Don, what are you on about?’ Barbara asked, her face creased with confusion.

  ‘I’m all for modern day marriages, but I’m just wondering how they managed, with her being a lesbian.’

  Oh no! ‘God, Dad, I didn’t say lesbian! I said librarian!’

  Her mother lowered and shook her head. ‘We will have to start speaking more clearly, love.’

  Emma laughed again, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Forget her artworks, maybe she would have to start documenting all these faux pas from her dad and put them into a book: Post-stroke Humour.

  ‘Anyway, let’s have lunch, shall we?’ Barbara placed the cutlery on the table and they sat down.

  After a relatively peaceful time eating lunch, her mum said, ‘So, isn’t it around the time to get your latest test results? Where are things up to?’

  ‘I already got them, Mum. All good.’

  ‘What? When?’ Her mum placed her hand on her arm.

  ‘All clear?’ her father added. ‘Well, that is fabulous news. Good to see those doctors are earning their ridiculously high paycheques.’

  Emma smiled, glad her dad could have some good news. ‘I got the results a month or so ago.’ She leaned closer to her mother. ‘Around when the, um…’

  ‘Oh.’ Barbara covered her mouth with her hand. She glanced at her husband then back again. ‘When the stroke happened?’ she whispered.

  Emma nodded.

  ‘Oh, love, you should have told us.’

  ‘I couldn’t, it seemed unimportant compared to what was going on.’ Emma fiddled with her collar, heat crawling up her neck.

  Barbara took her daughter’s hand, tears welling in her eyes. ‘This is wonderful,’ she whispered. ‘We need to celebrate. Did you have anything you wanted to do?’

  Emma kept silent, and shrugged.

  ‘What about a nice weekend away sometime, or a pampering day at the spa?’

  Emma bit her lip. Or a trip to Paris.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Barbara asked.

  ‘Yes. It’s fine. I was just, ah…’

  ‘What are you not telling me?’

  Emma took a deep breath. ‘I was going to book an overseas trip, when it happened.’

  ‘Overseas? And so you had to cancel your plans? Oh dear, sorry Emma.’ She shook her head. ‘And you’ve never been overseas. Why don’t you still go?’

  ‘I can’t. I need to be here. You both need me.’

  ‘Em,’ she said. ‘We can hire a park manager in the meantime, until we sell the place. We’ll manage.’

  ‘But they’ll need training, and it’ll cost more money. No. I’ll stay.’ She exhaled a short, sharp breath. ‘You were both there for me when I needed you. I want to do the same. I owe you.’

  She dared to glance at her father, whose eyes remained still.

  ‘You don’t owe us,’ he whispered. ‘We just want…’ his eyes became glossy. ‘We just want you to be happy.’

  ‘Oh, Dad.’ She leaned over and grasped his hand. ‘I am happy.’

  ‘But you need to experience the world. We’ve done that. You should leave us old withering codgers and go off on the trip of a lifetime.’

  Emma laughed, and almost burst into tears at the same time.

  ‘He’s right, Em. Don’t let life get away from you.’

  She didn’t know how to respond.

  ‘And in terms of James. If you’re meant to be with him, it will work out somehow. But don’t hold back for him either, otherwise you’ll regret it.’ Barbara gathered the plates.

  ‘Shouldn’t I wait for a sign or something, Mum?’ she asked.

  Her mother shrugged. ‘Stuff the signs in this case. Sometimes you just need to do what you need to do.’

  What did she need? What did she want? Emma still had to figure all that out. Before her dad’s stroke and reuniting with James it was easy: five years in remission — go overseas to celebrate. Now there were her parents to consider, and James. She didn’t want to mess things up a second time with him.

  Chapter 16

  After lunch, James took Jackson to the bathroom in the cabin and pointed to the sand tray against the wall.

  ‘Let’s try the sand again, yeah?’ James already had bare feet, there was hardly any need for shoes around this place. He slowly stepped into the tray, his feet taking up nearly the whole thing. He exaggerated a smile. ‘Ooh, this feels great!’ He wriggled his feet and sand spread between his toes. ‘Jackson’s turn?’ He stepped out and pointed to the tray.

  Jackson gave a high-pitched sound then grabbed Owly from the vanity where he was keeping the soap company, and moved towards the tray. He gently placed the toy inside the tray, and he squealed and gripped his hands tightly together, then flapped them about. ‘Ooo, ooo,’ he said with his lips in a forced pout.

  ‘That’s it, good work Jackson! Ooo, ooo,’ he echoed. Was he just making sounds or was he trying to mimic an Owl’s nig
ht-time call? Either way it was all progress.

  James bent down and moved Owly’s tiny feet around as though he was enjoying the squishy feeling of sand. Then he pressed the applause button on the Sound Machine and added his own clap for the toy’s accomplishment. Jackson squealed and jumped.

  ‘Okay, now Jackson’s turn.’ He moved Owly to the side and gestured for Jackson to step into the tray. James lifted his own foot to remind him, then pointed to his son’s foot. ‘Jackson step in?’

  Jackson edged closer and grabbed his father’s hand, something that always made James proud. A simple touch evoked such strong paternal feelings for his boy. ‘Yep, put your foot in.’

  Jackson lifted his foot and James’ anticipation lifted with it.

  C’mon, buddy, you can do it.

  Jackson stepped into the sand, one foot only, and gripped his father’s hand tighter.

  ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you. You won’t fall.’ The boy stood rigid with one foot in and one foot out. ‘Other foot now.’ James tapped the foot that still rested on the bathroom floor. Jackson lifted it and stepped completely into the sand tray. His toes curled and clenched as though he was walking on broken glass. ‘Good boy! Feels good doesn’t it?’ James smiled and encouraged him to move his feet, stepping on the spot with his own as an example. ‘Stomp, stomp, stomp. Can you do that?’

  Jackson didn’t seem to understand but he looked down at his feet in the sand and made an ‘ooo’ sound again. He looked at Owly on the floor, then bent down and picked up a clump of sand and tossed it over to the toy.

  James bit back a ‘no’. He could clean it up. Mess was sometimes necessary for learning new things. As long as the plumbing didn’t get clogged by large clumps of sand it’d be right.

  ‘Do you want Owly to join you?’ James tried to let go of his son’s hand but Jackson wouldn’t release his grip, so James leaned over and picked up Owly. He handed the toy to Jackson who placed him on the sand next to his feet. Jackson’s body seemed to buzz with the sensations, his muscles tense and corded through his skin, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Every new sensory experience was overwhelming for him. James had learned that autistics often absorbed a huge amount of detail from their environment, whereas others naturally filtered excess stimuli and retained only the vital pieces of information. For Jackson, every experience was full-on and could be difficult to process and focus on.

  James took the Sound Machine from his pocket and pressed the applause for Jackson. ‘Yay!’ he said, then as Jackson relaxed a little, he let go of his hand and clapped too. Jackson stood on his own in the sand with Owly, his hands poised in mid air and his teeth clenched and jaw tight, but with a kind of smile.

  James loved being around to witness his son’s progress. What would happen if Jackson went to that school, would he miss out on seeing things like this? Would some stranger be the one to capture all his son’s new milestones?

  He laughed as Jackson bent down and picked up more sand, then tossed it up in the air. He hoped, though, that should they visit any place that had a cat litter tray his son wouldn’t think he could just jump in at will and toss the granules all over the place.

  James released a breath. One step accomplished, sand was no longer an enemy. Now to hope Jackson could handle walking on the real thing.

  He went outside and led Jackson to the edge of the grass where the sand began to cover the ground. He stepped onto it and gestured for Jackson to come too. His parents approached, eyes eager to watch their grandson try something new. Jackson’s face twisted into trepidation, but still James grasped his hand and tried to lead him to the sand.

  ‘Ugh!’ he grunted, his body glued to the spot. He pointed back to the cabin, as if trying to compromise and use the sand tray instead.

  Nope, not going to happen today.

  James stepped back onto the grass and let Jackson run into the cabin by himself.

  ‘Give it time,’ Marie said.

  Time, so much time.

  He noticed his dad was holding a fishing rod and tackle box. ‘You two off to catch dinner?’

  ‘I am, but your mother thinks she’ll get bored.’

  ‘Yes, I think I’ll do some reading instead. But why don’t you go with your father, James?’

  James raised his eyebrows and sussed out his dad’s response. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d done anything together, just the two of them. ‘But Jackson, he’ll —’

  ‘I’ll watch him. I can read here and there while he’s playing.’ Marie started walking towards the cabin.

  ‘You sure?’ he called after her.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ She waved.

  James tossed her the keys in case they needed to lock up and go somewhere, then slid his hands into his pockets and looked at his father. ‘So, whereabouts?’

  ‘Let’s go into the harbour. Might drive over instead of lugging this load all the way there. Plus we’ll have to carry all the heavy fish back in the esky.’

  ‘You sound confident.’

  ‘Always.’

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, legs dangling over the pier, sun streaming across the horizon, they (meaning Martin) had caught a couple of bream. James had taken a walk up to the mobile kiosk at the marina to get two coffees, and as they sipped from the cardboard cups with plastic spouts, James finally relaxed. He wasn’t used to sitting still, or gazing out at the ocean, he was always watching Jackson, helping Jackson, calling out to Jackson, or thinking about the next step for Jackson. It was like his nerves were on high alert 24/7.

  He found his thoughts of what Jackson might be doing right now fading away. His mum would call if there was a problem. His thoughts now turned to Emma.

  ‘Dad, did you always know you wanted to be with Mum? I mean, was there ever a time when you thought, nah, maybe we should go our separate ways?’

  Martin glanced briefly at his son, then back to the water. James realised why, for a lot of men, fishing was a good way to bond easily, as opposed to say, having dinner at a restaurant. There was something to keep the hands busy, an objective, and no need for eye contact. For his father, this was helpful. In fact, since Jackson’s diagnosis James had often wondered if his father had some minor signs of autism himself, like Asperger’s traits. He didn’t think he would be completely on the spectrum, but maybe from a personality point of view, it seemed to make sense. He hadn’t been able to ask Stacey if there was any history of it in her family.

  ‘Not really. There were times when that innate masculine fear of being trapped or controlled reared its ugly head, but I always knew I’d stay with her.’ His fishing rod curved and he gripped it tighter, then wound the line up, a pale fish jerking and flapping on the end.

  He took it off the hook and placed it with the others without a second thought, as though he could do it with his eyes closed. James had yet to feel the unmistakeable resistance of a fish attached to his line. Some people were just lucky.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Martin said, his mouth curving into a hint of a smile. ‘Plenty more fish in the sea.’ He chuckled.

  Was he talking about fishing or Emma? There was only one ‘fish’ that he wanted.

  ‘So it was Mum all the way, huh?’

  ‘Yep.’ He curved more bait onto the hook then cast the line into the sea. ‘To be honest, son, I’d be lost without your mum.’ James looked at his father’s face from side on — the sun highlighting his ageing, tanned skin. Deep crevices showed where he had laughed, smiled, frowned, concentrated, and pondered life’s journey. Lines that were starting to form on his own face. He wanted to have more laughter lines than frown lines, he wanted his face to resemble a life well lived, and a life well loved. He didn’t know if that could be achieved without Emma.

  ‘You still love her, don’t you?’ his dad asked.

  James fiddled with the chipping paint near the handle of the fishing rod. ‘Think so.’

  They were silent for a moment, then Martin said, ‘Things are a little different
with you, though. You have Jackson to think of. He needs stability and an environment conducive to achieving his maximum potential.’

  A twinge of resistance pinched at James’ chest. Of course he did, but why did that and Emma need to be mutually exclusive?

  ‘I know, Jackson will always come first. But I need to think what I want too.’

  ‘Why don’t you give Queensland a good shot? If Emma’s meant to be in your life she’ll adapt things for Jackson’s best interests. And if she doesn’t, then she might not be the one for you.’

  James scratched his cheek and shifted his position on the pier. His dad had a way of making things uncomfortable sometimes. ‘Actually, I’m considering other options for Jackson’s best interests too,’ James said. ‘There are some good schools in the state here too, and there’s also homeschooling.’

  Martin almost dropped his fishing rod into the ocean. He turned to face his son, his frown lines deepening. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

  James leaned back. ‘What? I’m just considering all options so I can make an informed decision. Apparently many kids on the spectrum do better with homeschooling, along with occasional inclusion in guided social activities. It’s something I’m seriously considering.’

  Martin shook his head. ‘He needs specialist help. And think of yourself, you’ll wear yourself out.’

  ‘But I also like the idea of being around him for longer. I want to help him, teach him, and guide him. I want to be an active part of his life, not only in the evenings. I want to be around often, be there for him.’

  A chill crisped the air between them.

  Unlike me, he bet his father was thinking.

  Martin tugged on the fishing rod a little. ‘Damn, think I just missed one.’ He adjusted the position of the rod.

  ‘Dad, I —’

  Martin held up his free hand. ‘Look, I know I wasn’t around much for you and Lizzie. I worked hard, wanted to make a good life for everyone.’