Miracle In March (27 page)

‘I was the one who knew they were on top of the fridge,' said Don.

Emma rolled her eyes, but went to her dad and gave him a hug and a kiss. ‘Thanks, Dad. You saved the day too.'

‘Just call me SuperDad.' He pointed his good fist in the air like he was flying, and Emma realised what a good sign it was that her dad's sense of humour was strong. He may be a bit too honest and direct sometimes, but if he had a smile on his face, the other stuff didn't matter. He seemed to be coming to terms with his situation more, and for that she was glad.

‘C'mon Jackson, time to put Owly to bed?' She put her hands together and against the side of her face, thinking it was probably a good way to show him that it was bedtime.

Instead of going towards her, he ran to every room in the house and pressed the bouncy spring sound in each one. Emma decided to wait. Eventually he came to the front door and grunted and pointed.

Thankfully, she didn't have to carry him back, he held her hand as they walked, Jackson's eyes wide and looking around as though he had never walked at night before.

When they got inside she turned on the bath taps, and when she came out Jackson had put Owly in his bed, patting him. Her heart softened and an emotion she wasn't prepared for bubbled up. It was indescribable, but she knew that if she never saw this boy again, it would leave a huge hole in her heart. And the same went for the boy's father.

She checked her phone to make sure she hadn't missed any calls or texts during the screaming episode, but there was nothing. She hoped everything was okay.

As the bath filled with water she wondered…

How deep should a four-year-old's bath be?

It probably wasn't that important, but it struck her how many little things parents had to think about each day. Somehow they learned how much water to put in the bath, and what types of batteries to leave in the house for electronic toy emergencies. James knew all these things, and no doubt many more. He did everything for his child, he became the father he always wanted to be, and more. Emma wondered if he knew how amazing he was. He, too, was a SuperDad.

When she turned the taps off and was about to get Jackson, he beat her to it and came into the bathroom. He must have recognised the sound abating and knew it was time. He took off his shoes and to Emma's surprise, jumped in the sand tray. Sand sprayed outwards onto the floor and he laughed. He stepped out and approached the bath and peered in, and seemingly satisfied with how it looked, pulled his top over his head and took off all his clothes. Emma chuckled. The kid could practically babysit himself.

She hoped the temperature was okay as he climbed in, but he seemed fine with it. She plonked a few bath toys in and he played with them in his own little way, making random sounds as though having his own conversation with them. Emma sat on the bathroom mat and found herself humming a tune of
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
.

As he played she typed an email to Jen on her phone, filling her in on what had happened, otherwise she'd probably call tomorrow and ask how James had reacted to her declaration. She checked a few other messages then put the phone in her pocket. Worried that Jackson would end up looking like a prune if she left him in there too long she held up a towel.

‘Time to get dry,' she said, rubbing her arms with the towel to demonstrate. She wondered if James had flash cards that he used, but she didn't want to leave Jackson alone to look for them. He was probably old enough to stay in the bath himself, but she wasn't sure what his level of independence was in this case.

Jackson stood abruptly and climbed out, water dripping from his wavy hair all over his face and onto the bath mat. She enveloped him in the towel and rubbed his skin as dry as possible. Then she realised she didn't have any pyjamas ready for him.

She pulled the plug from the bath, then, keeping the towel around his shoulders, ushered him to his bedroom. ‘Now, where are Jackson's pyjamas?'

Jackson hopped on the bed and jumped up and down, his towel flapping like a cape and poor Owly being flung up and down without any choice in the matter.

She opened the drawer of the wardrobe and found a few items folded up, including cotton pyjamas with spaceships on them. She picked them up and also some underwear.

Oh, hang on. Is he toilet trained at night?

She didn't want to text James to ask. In another drawer there were a few pairs of disposable pull-up pants, so maybe he wore them at night. Or maybe they were for long car trips or emergencies.

Emma held up one pair of the pants and one pair of undies towards Jackson. ‘Which one, Jackson?' He ignored her question so she went closer and repeated herself, holding both up against him.

He grabbed the pull-ups and stepped into them.

Once he was dressed, Jackson raced into the bathroom again and shut the door. Emma waited near the door. The toilet flushed and she smiled. This boy may have his challenges but James was doing a phenomenal job teaching him how to look after himself. Emma waited a little then peered into the bathroom to find the boy brushing his teeth. Once he'd arranged everything back in its correct position and adjusted the handtowel after using it, he raced into the bedroom and Emma followed. Jackson grabbed Owly then hopped under the covers as Emma held them up for him.

‘Time for your bedtime story, hey?' She picked up the book on the bedside table; it was about a monkey's trip to space. But as soon as she opened it and started reading, Jackson pushed the pages closed and grunted. She tried to open it and read again but he did the same, then threw off the blankets and dashed out of the room and into his father's.

Jackson looked around the room, under the bed, and in the wardrobe, his body stiffening and hands flapping.

‘Oh, Jackson, Daddy's not here right now. He had to help Auntie Lizzie. I'll read to you tonight and then Dad can read tomorrow.'

He hopped on his dad's bed and stamped his feet, making urgent sounds. Emma approached and gestured to Owly. ‘Shall we put Owly to bed?'

He twisted his body away from her and huffed.

Okay, maybe not.

Emma hoped his unhappiness at his father not being here wouldn't escalate into the domain of Flat Battery In Sound Machine status. Instead of pushing him further she tried to remain calm, and sat on James' bed. As Jackson stomped around, Emma read from the book and when he tried to close it she moved it away from his grasp and continued reading. When she got to the bit that mentioned a loud clap, surprisingly, Jackson made a loud clap sound with his hands. Emma glanced his way and smiled, then clapped as well. She kept reading and when the monkey gasped, Jackson did too.

Okay, now we're getting somewhere. Comfort in familiarity and repetition.

As she neared the end of the book, Jackson sat next to her and listened, and she was overcome with a sense of accomplishment. Not only that, she felt privileged to have this experience; caring for Jackson for the night, however unprepared she'd been. The emptiness inside her didn't feel so dark and lonely anymore.

The book ended and she closed it, and now, in contrast to his earlier actions, he forced it back open.

‘Again?' she asked. She started all over again.

On the third reading, Jackson lay down on the queen-sized bed as he listened. Emma didn't want to encourage him back to his own bed in case it upset him again. Whatever worked in the moment, she'd keep doing.

On the fourth reading (so much for only needing to read it twice!), she glanced down at Jackson. His eyes were closed and his chest rose slowly and rhythmically. Success.

She read till the end of the book anyway, just in case, then quietly closed the book and put it on the bedside table where James had a few other books. She picked them up out of curiosity and her heart ached for James, to tell him how she really felt and to tell him he didn't have to do this alone.

Raising the Autistic Child

Single Parenting the Special Needs Child

Dietary Approaches to Autism

The man's head must be overflowing with information, and probably had been since Jackson was born. She flipped through the diet book and found it fascinating, and after about fifteen minutes decided to try and carry Jackson into his own bed.

She gently eased her arms underneath him, careful to keep Owly on his chest. Jackson didn't rouse, he was probably exhausted after the stress of the day and being dragged to two new houses in the space of half an hour. She activated her core like she'd learned in yoga class to avoid hurting her back, and walked as slowly as possible to Jackson's room, then placed him under the covers.

Success again.

She tucked Owly into the crook of his arm and adjusted the blankets, switched off the lamp, then she couldn't help herself. She gave the boy a light kiss on his forehead.

She crept out of the room, hoping he wouldn't wake suddenly and freak out.

With the hallway light on and Jackson's door open a crack, Emma went to the bathroom to tidy up after Jackson's bath and wondered if she should have a shower. She could be done in a few minutes.
Nah,
she thought. If he woke and came in, he'd probably get the shock of his life seeing a naked woman in the shower. Emma freshened up instead with a face cloth and some soap, then took off her shirt, leaving her bra and spaghetti-strap singlet on with her linen trousers. She went out to the living room and switched on the outdoor light in readiness for James, then made sure the door was locked and everything else turned off.

She went back to James' bedroom and kicked off her shoes, sat on the bed. It felt strange to be in here, even though it wasn't his house. It was still James' domain, and she could sense his presence and familiar scent.

There was an iPod dock on the bedside table so she placed her phone into it and put a playlist of relaxing, cruisy songs on a loop, though at a low volume. She needed to charge it anyway and keep it on in case James needed to reach her.

Checking the time, Emma thought she might as well relax while she had the chance in case Jackson woke or there was news from James, so she leaned back into the pillows and opened the book,
Raising the Autistic Child
.

As she devoured the information, a fair bit of which she knew from her teaching training and experience in special needs, she thought about James' opportunity to go to Queensland and be closer to his family support network.

If she was ready and willing to be with him when she got back from her travels and he was ready and willing to have her, would she move to Queensland? Or would James want to stay here, especially if he knew she'd be sticking around?

She pondered different scenarios like a
Choose Your Own Adventure
book as they played out in her mind. Yes, there was still uncertainty in her future, but in each scenario one thing was the same: She knew now that she was prepared to do anything and go anywhere to be with James. And as soon as it was appropriate, she would tell him.

If it weren't for Jackson, James would have stayed all night at the hospital. But he needed to get back and make sure his son was okay, then get some sleep so he could head back to the hospital with at least some restored energy. Although he hated asking for help, he hoped Emma might be willing to help out with Jackson again, considering it was her day off on Monday. But he'd have to check out of the cabins, they all would, before the next load of guests arrived. James would need to pack everyone's stuff and do it on their behalf as soon as he woke. He thought about all the practicalities, as his mind was trained to do, while he drove back to Tarrin's Bay, the roads mostly deserted this late at night. Thinking of the practicalities also helped him handle the emotional upheaval, buffered it somewhat.

When he parked at the holiday park's car park, he stopped for a moment and rested his head on the steering wheel. Images of Lizzie's seizure gripped him with pain. Her body tensing and convulsing as they wheeled her from the emergency ward into the operating theatre, needing to deliver the baby as soon as possible. Then came the frustration at not knowing how she was doing, if she was okay, and having to wait outside for news from the doctors. And then, the unbearable anticipation of watching one of them walk towards them later on.

James lifted his head and took a deep breath. There was nothing more he could do, he needed to get inside and deal with things tomorrow.

He walked around the grounds to cabin number one, his keys at the ready. He'd thought of texting Emma to let her know and to tell her he was on his way back, but wasn't sure if she had maybe dozed off on the couch or if her phone sound would wake Jackson.

The outdoor light was on, and it gave him slight relief, a reminder that she had been there for him tonight and that his son was probably perfectly fine.

He unlocked the door quietly and walked inside, switching off the outdoor light and locking the door. The living room was empty. He went straight to Jackson's room and peered through the slightly open door. Light from the hallway speared through and landed on Jackson as he lay sleeping in bed, Owly tucked up by his side, his space pyjamas on. More relief relaxed his shoulders.

She'd done it. She'd looked after him successfully and he was safely nestled in his bed. James didn't know what he would have done if Emma hadn't been there tonight. Despite their argument and her indecisiveness, she had a heart of gold. Right now, all that other stuff didn't matter. Life was messy, emotions were volatile, love was unpredictable and uncertain. Tonight showed him what was most important, what really mattered. He wanted to take all the mess and chaos and pain from their past and scrunch it up like a piece of paper into a crumpled ball, then toss it into the ocean to wither away and lose itself in the vast expanse of sea.

He wanted to kiss Jackson and hold him tight, feel his son breathing and warm in his embrace, but restrained himself. He didn't want to risk waking him, he could do that in the morning. He closed the door until it was almost shut, then tiptoed to his bedroom, the melody of a love song emanating through the wide open door. The lamp was on. He half expected Emma to be sitting up reading, waiting for him, but when he walked into the room he stopped. She was lying on her back, fast asleep, a book splayed open on her chest. A brief smile tugged at his lips, despite the trauma from the night still hanging over him like a shadow.