Authors: Rosalind James
“Yeah,” she forced herself to say through a throat that had
tightened. “It should be now.”
He shot her a quick glance, reached a hand out to grip her
own briefly. “I’m not going to take him away from you, you know,” he said
gently. “I’m not trying to make his life harder. Or yours. I’ll be doing my
best to make it better, for both of you. But I want him to know he’s my son. I
want him to
know
he can ring me. That he can count on me, if he needs
me.”
She really couldn’t think of an argument against that. “All
right. When do you want to do it?”
“Today, I thought. The game will be on at five-thirty
tonight,” he added practically. “Maybe we could all watch together, afterwards.
May break the ice, so to speak. Settle a few of the collywobbles.”
“It’s on that early?” she asked, distracted.
“Sydney time,” he said patiently. “Where d’you want to do it?”
She felt rushed, but knew it wasn’t his fault. He was right,
he’d waited long enough, and it was time. “Our flat,” she said with decision.
“Where he’s comfortable, and safe. And I think your idea about the game is a
good one. Maybe before that?”
“Not now?”
“No. I need to shift gears. Not to mention getting out of
these clothes. Let me go home first, finish getting things squared away after
our holiday
.
”
“OK. What about food?” he asked practically. “Want me to
bring a takeaway? We could heat it up again, after, eat it during the game.”
She had to laugh a little in spite of her tension. “Food.
Sure. You’re in charge of food. But, Nic,” she said, sobering. “This is a big
deal. Don’t underestimate it.”
“I know it’s a big deal,” he said seriously. “It’s a big
deal for me, too. I’m shaking, inside. Never been more nervous.”
“Really?”
A rueful smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, yeh.”
He brought Chinese. The same restaurant, the same menu as
the first time. “Potstickers,” he told Zack, holding up the bag. “Our favorite,
eh. But first, your mum and I want to talk to you about something. I’ll just
pop this in the fridge, and we’ll have a chat.”
“Did I do something bad?” Zack asked anxiously as they took
their seats in the lounge. Emma had chosen to sit on the couch where she could
be with Zack, leaving Nic perched on the edge of the armchair next to them. “I
spilt the juice at Auntie Lucy’s,” he said uncertainly. “But she
said
it
was OK. She
said.”
“You didn’t do anything bad,” Emma said hastily. “This isn’t
a bad thing. It’s a good thing.” She found herself wanting to run away. To
avoid this. Escape into her bedroom, pull the quilt over her head.
You’re the mum,
she told herself, trying to quell the
feeling of panic.
Be the mum.
She gathered her courage and plunged in.
“Remember when I told you your dad had to go away?”
“Yeh,” Zack said slowly, his eyes searching hers.
She took his hand in hers. No way to say this except
straight out. “Your dad was Nic, sweetie. He was your dad. He
is
your dad.”
Zack’s eyes flew to Nic’s. “Nic is?” he said doubtfully.
“Like a stepdad, you mean? Like Stephen has, in my class?”
“Nah, mate,” Nic said, his voice a bit gruff. “I’m your real
dad. Your . . . your birth dad.” He stopped, looked at Emma in mute appeal.
She took over again. “You know everyone has a mum and a dad,
who make them. Well, before you were born, Nic and I knew each other. And we
made you. And then Nic had to go away, like I said.”
“I did,” Nic put in. “I went away. I went to play for Bath, remember?
And I didn’t know we’d . . . made you. I didn’t know I had a son, till I saw
you and your mum at Rob’s camp. It was a surprise. That’s why you didn’t know
about me, before. Because I didn’t know either. But I did make you, and I’m
your real dad.”
“Are you going to live here now?” Zack asked. “Because mums
and dads live with their kids.”
“Not all of them do,” Emma reminded him. “Stephen’s dad
lives in a different house, right?”
“Right,” Zack remembered.
“And he stays with him, some weekends, doesn’t he?”
“Yeh. He has a big house. Stephen’s mum has a flat, like us.
But he has heaps of toys at his dad’s. He told me.”
“That’s how this is going to be too,” Emma said, choosing to
pass over the comment about the toys. “You’re going to live with me most of the
time, but you’ll stay with Nic sometimes too. You’ll have another bed at his
house.”
Zack looked at Nic. “Not
my
bed?” he asked in alarm.
“Do I have to?”
“We’ll make you a special room,” Nic promised him. “Your own
room. Your mum can bring you to my house tomorrow so you can see it.”
“Is it going to be always? I don’t get to be with you
anymore?” Zack implored his mother.
“No, it’s not going to be always,” she assured him. “It’s
going to be sometimes. Some nights. Just like you see Nic now, and play rugby
with him. You’ll just sleep there, that’s all.”
“Like camping?”
“Nah, mate,” Nic said with a little smile. “Not like
camping, I promise. A real bed. You’ll see, tomorrow. We’ll get it sorted.”
“Can I bring Raffo?”
“Course you can. And anything else you need, to be comfortable.”
“Mum.” Zack tugged at Emma’s sleeve until she bent her head
to him. “What do I call him?” he asked in a clearly audible whisper. “If he’s
my dad?”
Emma shot a look at Nic, who was clearly taken aback at the
question. “That’s for you to choose,” he finally answered. “You can call me
Dad, if you like. Because that’s what I am. But if you’d rather not,” he went
on quickly, seeing the look of alarm on Zack’s face, “you can go on calling me
Nic.”
“OK,” Zack said with relief. “Can we have potstickers now?”
Emma laughed a little shakily, saw Nic smiling with what
looked like the same relief. “Yeah. I’d say it’s time for potstickers. And a
rugby game too.”
“Do heaps of people live here?” Zack asked the next
afternoon, head tipped back to take in all three stories of villa rising above
them.
“Nope. Just Nic.” Should she be saying “your dad,” she
wondered? It felt too strange, though.
“It’s like a castle,” Zack said, still dubious. “It has a
tower.”
“A turret,” Emma agreed. “That’s what you call those. Just
like on the canisters I painted.”
“He must get lonesome,” Zack decided. “When I’m big and have
a house, I’m going to have you live in it with me.”
“Mmm. We’ll see about that,” she said with a smile.
Zack clung to her hand as he saw Nic coming down the
brick-lined concrete footpath to join them. “Do I have to live here now, Mum?”
he asked nervously.
“No,” Emma promised. “Just visit, that’s all, like we talked
about. Like a sleepover.”
“Hi,” she said to Nic, lifting her face for his kiss,
feeling more settled as always by the sheer solidity of him.
“Hi.” Nic dropped a hand to Zack’s head, gave his hair a
rumple. “How ya goin’, mate?”
“Fine,” Zack said shyly, dropping his gaze.
“Zack thinks your house is pretty big,” Emma told him. “He’s
wondering if you ever get lonesome.”
“I do,” Nic said seriously once Zack was looking at him
again. “Heaps of times. That’s why I want you and your mum to come stay with
me.”
“Mum can come too?” Zack asked.
“Course she can. If she wants to, that is.”
Zack breathed a windy sigh of relief.
“Can
you come,
Mum?” he begged.
“I think I could manage that,” Emma said with a smile at
Nic. “That’d be fun.”
“Then let’s have a wander round,” Nic said. “Take the tour.”
Zack wasn’t much interested in the lounge, kitchen, dining
room, and study that took up most of the ground floor, however impressive they
still were to Emma. He showed a bit more enthusiasm, though, for the patio
outside.
“You have a spa pool!” he said with delight. “Is it really
hot?”
“Yeh,” Nic said. “And you’re not to go in that unless your
Mum or I are with you, understand?”
“Maybe a lock for the cover,” Emma said to Nic quietly.
“Just to be on the safe side.”
“D’you ever practice in the garden?” Zack asked, looking longingly
at the level patch of grass beyond the patio.
“Never had anyone willing to do it with me,” Nic said.
“Maybe you’d like to help me out with that, when you’re here.”
“No kicking,” Emma put in hastily. “Or that’ll be the end of
your windows.”
“Oi. I’m more accurate than that,” Nic protested.
She laughed. “I wasn’t talking about you, and you know it.”
Zack’s interest waned again on the first floor, until they
reached the exercise room. “Cool,” he said, looking at the sets of weights
stored on specially built racks, the ranks of dumbbells and heavy round plates meant
to fit onto the long barbell rods, all stacked neatly against the mirrored wall
that stretched the entire length of the room.
“You have just about everything, don’t you?” Emma asked,
taking in the weight bench and bench press rack, the state-of-the-art exercise
bike and treadmill, the exercise balls and stretching mats arranged in the
corner. “I wouldn’t need a gym membership, if I had all this.”
“You wouldn’t be able to take those classes, though,” Nic
pointed out.
“How do you know about my classes?”
“Saw you there one day,” he admitted. “Working out. D’you go
often?”
“Most days, at lunch. I get a membership as part of my job.
One of the few perks.”
Zack had climbed up onto the bike, was trying in vain to
reach the pedals. “Where am I going to sleep?” he asked Nic. “When I’m here?”
“Got a spot in mind for you,” Nic assured him. He led them
up yet another flight of stairs, opened a door at the end of another gleaming
hardwood passage. “This is what I was thinking,” he said. “Come in and tell me
how it strikes you. A bit like a treehouse, see?”
“Yeh,” Zack agreed, going over to gaze out the big window
into the treetops beyond. “It’s cool.”
He was still uncertain, Emma could tell. And she was, too.
It all felt pretty new. Pretty strange. “Nice ceiling,” she said encouragingly.
It did, indeed, slope on both sides, here at the top of the house. “It makes it
cozy, but it’s still a good height.”
“Where do these stairs go?” Zack asked, standing on the
first step of the twisting iron stairway that stood in an alcove at one end of
the room.
“Ah,” Nic smiled. “Why don’t you go on up there, see for
yourself?”
“Awesome!”
they heard a moment later. “Mum! Come
see!”
Emma emerged at the top, closely followed by Nic. “It’s the
turret!” she exclaimed. “How great!”
Zack was kneeling on one of the window seats that lined two
walls of the little tower, peering out. “You can see the sea, Mum!” he told her
excitedly.
“Thought you might like that,” Nic said with satisfaction.
“It’s a pretty good place to read a book, or just look out at the kitesurfers,
watch the storms come in, check the tides. A good place to be a boy. And a
person could even build a Lego set up here,” he suggested with a twinkle,
pointing out the built-in desk on the third wall. “If he had a new one, of
course.”
“It’s so
cool,”
Zack said again. “Can I sleep up
here, too?”
Nic laughed. “You may be more comfortable in a bed, but it’s
your room. Come on down and see the rest of it.”
Zack left the little tower reluctantly. “Be sure to hold the
handrail on the way down,” Emma cautioned him. “And to watch yourself on these
twisty steps.”
“Mum,”
Zack said with exasperation. “I’m not a
baby.
I can do
stairs.”
Downstairs again, he eyed the room a bit dubiously. “This
bed is really big. And fancy.” He looked at the pale green satin duvet cover,
poked it gingerly.
“I thought we could get you something more your size,” Nic
suggested. “That’d make a bit more room in here, too. So you could have a desk,
shelves, all that.”
“A desk? Like a real one?” Zack asked.
“Yeh,” Nic assured him. “A real one. Don’t look so excited.
You’re meant to do your homework at it.”
“D’you think Graham could come sometime?” Zack asked him
shyly. “To see my room?”
“Don’t see why not. Give you a bit of company.”
“Bunk beds,” Emma said. “If you think so,” she added hastily
with a look at Nic. “But it’d be better, if you mean it about Zack being able
to have a friend over. We could put them against this wall,” she planned.
“Wow,” Zack breathed. “Bunk beds would be
awesome.”
“Bunk beds it is, then,” Nic decided. “And a desk, and shelves.
And clear out the rest of this clobber.”
Emma had to laugh at that. Any one of the pieces of
“clobber” in this room would, she knew, have cost more than all the furniture
in her little flat.
“How d’you want it to look?” Nic asked Zack. “When it’s
done?”
“What d’you mean?” Zack asked blankly.
“I mean, decorated,” Nic explained. “The paint, and that. Want
the walls white like they are, or colors, like at your mum’s?”
“Can
I have colors?”
“Course. It’s your room. You can have what you like.”
“Black, then,” Zack said firmly. “I want an All Black room.”
Emma and Nic shared a look. “Teach you to issue open-ended
invitations like that,” she grinned. “Boy, do you have a lot to learn.”
“The whole room being black would be too dark,” she
explained to Zack. “It’d be like a cave, in here. But I know,” she went on as
his face fell. “How about if we did a wallpaper border, up at the top? I’m
pretty sure I could find that. Keep the walls white, but with a border. Black,
with the silver fern and ‘All Blacks’ on, all the way around?”
“Yeh,” Zack decided. “That’d be choice. And can the rest of
the room be All Blacks too? Can I bring my posters from home, maybe?”