Just for Now (35 page)

“Jenna!” Harry and Sophie ran ahead of Finn into the house, Sophie
clutching the white bakery bag. “We brought you a scone! Jenna!”

Finn went into the kitchen, looked around with surprise. Was
she still asleep, then?

“Dad!” he heard from the other end of the house. Then both
his kids were running back to find him. “She isn’t here!”

“She probably went for a run,” he told them. “Took advantage
of you monsters being out of the house for once.”

“No, Dad,” Sophie said soberly. “Her room’s empty.”

“What do you mean, empty?” A chill ran through him at the
look on their faces, and he followed them down the hall. Paused outside the
open door to Jenna’s room and looked inside.

They were right. It was empty. Cleaned out. The bed was neatly
made, but the few personal items that usually sat atop the bedside table were
gone, and her cardigan was missing from its usual spot across the chair back. He
moved across to the closet, pulled the door open. Nothing but hangers, looking
forlorn in the empty space.

Sophie came to join him, her eyes too old in her small face.
“She went away,” she told him. “Why didn’t she say goodbye to us, Dad?”

“No!” Harry shouted. “Jenna wouldn’t go away. She
loves
us.
She
loves
us, Dad. And I love Jenna. I want Jenna.” He started to cry
and Finn looked at him helplessly, reached an arm out to pull him close.

Sophie was there again, handing him a folded sheet of paper.
“I think she left you a letter, Dad. It has your name on it. It was on the bed.”

He took it, not trusting himself to open it in front of
them. Sat on the bed and pulled them down to sit beside him. “I think Jenna had
to go away for a while,” he told them. “But she’ll be back. She had something
to do, that was all. She waited until I was home again to take care of you,
then she went.”

“But why didn’t she tell us?” Harry asked, eyes streaming.
Sophie was sobbing now too, more quietly, and Finn looked at the pair of them,
not knowing what to do.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “But I’ll talk to her
soon, and find out. She loves you both. She’ll be back to see you. I’m sure of
it.” Even if she didn’t want to see him, he knew, she’d never leave Sophie and
Harry like this. Not for good.

Finally, he had the kids settled. He parked them in front of
a DVD, moved into his bedroom and sank down on the bed. Pulled Jenna’s note out
of his pocket and unfolded it.

Finn,

I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye to Sophie
and Harry. Please tell them I had an emergency, and that I love them and will
see them soon, if that’s OK with you. And that I’ll post their Christmas
presents to them. This isn’t their fault, and they need to know that. Please tell
them so, for now. That’s what they’ll be worried about, especially Sophie.

I’ll contact you later to make plans. If you’d rather I
talk to your lawyer instead, let me know. I will of course make the baby
available for any paternity testing you or your lawyer think is necessary. I
wish I didn’t have to ask you for maintenance, but I will, after the baby’s
born. I have some money saved, but a teacher’s salary only goes so far.

I hope you’ll want to be part of this baby’s life, and
I’ll do everything I can to make that possible. I know you wouldn’t have given
Sophie up, even though she wasn’t what you’d planned. You’re a great dad, and I
hope you can find it in your heart to be that dad to this baby too.

You don’t have to worry that I’ll talk about this to
anyone. It doesn’t reflect well on me, I know. It was the wrong thing to do,
but I can’t be sorry about the baby. I hope, eventually, you won’t be sorry
either.

Jenna

He read it through once, twice. Folded it in half and set it
down next to him. Picked it up again and read it a third time. Every sentence
seemed to slice at him, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears of pain
and guilt. Had he really asked her if the baby was his?

Where was she now? Where had she gone? She was sick, and
alone. He pushed back the fear, picked up his mobile to ring her. It went straight
to voicemail.

“Jenna. This is Finn. I’m sorry for what I said, and I’m
worried about you. Ring me. Please.”

He hesitated, then rang off. He had a feeling she wasn’t
going to be ringing. Where would she have gone? He couldn’t think. The holidays
were coming up. Even if she had a job for the next term, it wouldn’t be
starting until late January. Some kind of temporary post? She’d been working in
a café before she’d come to him, and this was summer, the busiest season. She
could be anywhere.

Jenna reached into the huge laundry basket for another
sheet, pegged it onto the line. Her back was aching again. She liked the idea
of hanging out the washing, but found herself wishing, just this once, for a
dryer.

The wind whipped one end of the heavy, wet fabric out of her
hand. She exclaimed in frustration and grabbed for it as Sarah approached.

“Jenna. I wanted to ask . . .” Sarah stopped, staring at
Jenna’s midsection, the blouse pulled against her body by the wind as she
stretched to repeg the errant sheet.

“What?” Jenna looked over, then faltered at the expression
on Sarah’s face.

“Suddenly, everything’s becoming very clear to me,” Sarah
said slowly. “Finn’s, I assume.”

Jenna flushed, bent to the basket for another sheet to hide
her confusion. “Yes.”

“Does he know?”

Jenna laughed humorlessly, pegged the sheet to the line. “Oh
yeah. He knows.”

Sarah frowned. “And he turfed you out? That doesn’t sound
like Finn. Besides, seemed to me he was fair gone on you.”

“No.” Jenna forced herself to answer honestly. “He didn’t
actually throw me out. But I didn’t have much choice, either. Because you’re
wrong about that. Sure, he wanted me to take care of his kids. He liked me as a
nanny just fine. And he wanted to have sex with me. He sure wanted that. That’s
what you were seeing. But that was it. He doesn’t want either one of us now. He
made his feelings pretty clear, trust me.” She brushed the sudden tears away.
“Stupid hormones,” she muttered. “I know he’s your brother. Sorry. I’m sure you
don’t want to hear this.”

“He let you go, just like that? Without any help? Sarah
asked, outraged.

“I didn’t ask. I left. Don’t worry,” Jenna hastened to
assure her. “I’m sure he’ll do his duty, pay the maintenance. And meanwhile,
I’m fine. I can take care of both of us. Thanks to you. Just don’t tell him I’m
with you, OK? You promised, remember.”

“I didn’t know then, though,” Sarah answered slowly. “Just
thought you’d parted on bad terms, and needed to start the job a bit earlier.
This is different. I won’t go out of my way to tell him. But if he asks me, I’m
not going to lie.”

Jenna nodded. “That’s fair. I can’t see why he’d ask anyway.
And it’s not for that long. It’s almost Christmas already. Another few weeks,
and I’ll head back up to Auckland for the start of the term and the new post. I’ll
be getting in touch with him then—or his lawyer, I guess. Seeing the kids too, if
he’s OK with that. That’ll take you out of the middle. Sorry to put you there
in the first place, but I didn’t know what else to do. I had to leave. I
couldn’t stay there, not once I knew how he felt about me.”

“I’m not too comfortable with this,” Sarah said. “But since
that’s my niece or nephew in there, and my dill of a brother hasn’t stepped up,
I’m glad I have you here where I can keep an eye on you.”

“I’m shifting you, though,” she decided, coming over and
taking the other end of the heavy sheet. “I don’t want you cleaning the cabins
anymore. You’re working in the office with me.”

“I’m feeling much better now,” Jenna protested. “Everyone’s
right when they say the second trimester’s easier. The sickness is finally
going away. I’ve even gained a kilo.”

“After losing, what?” Sarah looked her over critically.
“I’ve noticed.”

“Four. But I’m much better now,” Jenna added hastily. “Not
as tired either. I can clean. I don’t mind.”

“The office,” Sarah told her firmly. “Starting tomorrow.”

“So how’re you coping, on your own with the kids?” Sarah
asked three days later, standing in the kitchen of her comfortable home and arranging
leftover ham from Christmas Eve tea in a plastic container.

Finn shrugged heavily. “Not too bad. Nyree’s cousin Miriam’s
been helping a bit. And Nyree’ll be back after the New Year.”

“I didn’t realize Jenna was leaving so soon,” Sarah
ventured. “I’d thought she was staying on another week.”

“Yeh. Well.” Finn finished scraping the plates, pulled the
rubbish bag out of the bin and tied it shut with a few quick movements, shook
out a new bag and lined the bin again. “Something happened.”

“Oh? Must have been something pretty big, to make her leave
the kids. They’re still teary about it. I thought she was attached to them. Yet
they don’t seem to have talked to her since she left.”

“It was,” he admitted. “Pretty big, I mean. My fault. I said
some things.”

“What kind of things?” Sarah probed.

“D’you have to be such a bloody stickybeak?” he flashed. “Bad
things, all right? The wrong things. Wish I could take them back, but I can’t
find her to do it.”

Sarah turned, wiped her hands on a tea towel, and leaned
against the bench to face him. “What happened, baby brother? I just watched
your kids crying over their Christmas tea, and you look awful. So tell me. What
did you do? I thought you fancied her. Is that it?”

“Fancied her? Yeh, you could put it like that. Or you could
say that I fancied her so much she fell pregnant, and I didn’t find out till I
got back from the Tour. And that I was a bloody fool when I did find out, made
her think I didn’t want her or the baby, drove her away. And that I’ve been
trying to get her back ever since, and I haven’t come within a bull’s roar of
it. And that I don’t bloody well know what else to do, or I’d be doing it,” he
finished defiantly, his voice rising until he was almost shouting.

He wrenched the kitchen door open, and Sarah heard the
clatter as he threw the rubbish bag into the wheelie bin with unnecessary
violence, then watched him come back into the kitchen and sink down on a chair,
his head in his hands.

“Shit, Sarah,” he went on, his voice quieter now. “I don’t
know what to do. I’ve tried ringing her, emailing her, but she’s changed her
accounts. I rang her friends and asked them. But if they know where she is,
they aren’t telling me. I even paid someone to look for her. Nothing. She’s
disappeared, and I don’t know how to find her. And I’m so worried about her by
now, I’m useless. Wandering round like a stunned mullet.”

“Do you think she won’t let you see the baby?” she asked
cautiously. “That she’ll leave, go back to the States, maybe? Is that what
you’re worried about?”

“Nah.” He shook his head decisively. “She wouldn’t do that. Nothing
to go back to, from what I know. Anyway, she’ll do the right thing. She always
does. But she was feeling so crook. And now she’s out there somewhere, working
too hard, thinking I didn’t care, thinking she has to do this alone.”

“But did you care?” Sarah pressed. “That’s what I don’t
understand. Did you care then? Do you now? I know you care about the baby,” she
hurried on. “And I can see how guilty you feel. But what about Jenna? Do you
care about her? Do you want her, setting the baby aside, setting your kids
aside? And if you do, why on earth wouldn’t she know that?”

“Because I never told her so,” he admitted wretchedly. “I
was just going along, enjoying things. Didn’t occur to me to say anything. And
then, when I did, I said . . . I pretty much said the opposite, I reckon. But I
can’t make it right if I can’t find her.”

“Well, if she’s going to let you see the baby, if she’s
going to ask you for maintenance, she’s going to have to contact you sometime,”
Sarah pointed out reasonably. “Why don’t you wait till she does, then tell her
what’s on your mind?”

“What about in the meantime?” he demanded. “She’s alone,
nobody to take care of her, nothing to fall back on. I can’t let her keep on
like that, when it’s my job to look after her.”

“Why?” Sarah asked bluntly. “Besides the baby. Why?”

He stared at her. “Because I love her, of course.”

She exhaled with relief. “How long have we been talking here?
How long did it take you to say it? A word of advice, baby brother. When you do
see her again, when she does talk to you, lead with that.”

“Why are we going to the holiday park?” Sophie asked,
looking out the car window as they neared Motueka. “I thought we were going to
the beach. And that’s the other way.”

“Auntie Sarah asked us to pop by, said she had another
Chrissie pressie for you,” Finn told her. “She wanted to give it to you today, on
Christmas. And she can’t leave the park, she says. Hardly anyone working
today.”

“What kind of pressie?” Sophie wondered. “She already gave
us our pressies yesterday.”

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “But you want it, don’t you?”

“I want Jenna,” Harry said stubbornly from behind him.
“That’s what I want for Christmas, Dad. I want Jenna back. I told you, and I
told Santa. And I didn’t get it. But I still want it. Please, Dad.”

“She
told
us.” Sophie looked across at her brother in
exasperation. “She’s on a trip. She wrote to us and sent us our pressies, and
she said she’d see us soon.”

“I don’t want to see her
soon
,” Harry said, the tears
starting again. “I want to see her
now
.”

“You love Nyree, though,” Finn protested. “And she’s coming
back in the New Year. I know your old Dad isn’t much chop,” he tried to joke, “but
I’ve been doing my best. And soon you’ll have Nyree cooking for you again.”