Baby Miracle In The Er

‘We’re not alike.’ At all. Same father—nothing much else to show a connection. Though that wasn’t true. They had the same colouring. The same wariness. Had learnt the hard way about sharing themselves with outsiders.

‘You okay that you’re not getting time with your nephew?’

‘I’m good. I’d better order that pizza.’

He didn’t move, suddenly exhausted. Watching out for his sister did that to him sometimes. He needed time out. Strange, but he knew Chantelle would be the first to tell him to go for it.

Stephanie was making him uncomfortable with her intense scrutiny. ‘I’ll take a rain-check. You look like you could do with some alone time.’

‘Can’t say I’m hungry any more. Sorry.’

Her hand gripped his arm. ‘Michael, it’s fine. Truly. We can catch up another time.’

‘Thanks for understanding.’

‘Who says I did?’

Her smile kicked him in the gut.

‘See you tomorrow.’

* * *

Steph slid into her car, clicked the belt in place, watching Michael standing there, waiting patiently for her to leave. Wanting her to leave.

Would he phone his sister and have it out with her? Or did this happen often enough that he’d let it wash over him? He didn’t look comfortable—had been tense from the moment that car had flown up the drive and Chantelle had leapt out. Talk about a human tornado...

Putting the gear in reverse, she started to back away. Hunger pangs hit her. The idea of something nuked made her wince. It wasn’t the way to look after herself. Was there a restaurant on the way home that’d do a takeaway for her?

Something banged lightly on her window. She braked and Michael appeared at her door.

‘Come inside. I invited you here and now I’m letting you go without feeding you.’

If she went inside with him his sister’s accusations would follow them, hold them back from relaxing over easy conversation.

‘Not tonight.’

But they both needed to eat. An idea struck.

‘Get in. We’ll go for a beer and a meal at the pub round the corner.’

He’d say no. But the idea of sitting in a warm pub with lots of people to distract her was brilliant.

‘I’m headed there.’

‘I’m supposed to squeeze into this tiny thing you call a car?’

Turning her down was warring with interest in his eyes.

‘See it as a challenge.’

He never dodged one of those.

The passenger door opened.

‘My knees and ears are about to become best mates.’

She laughed. ‘Do you want to tip the seat back so you can lie down?’

Finally the last of the ball of tension in her stomach unravelled and she played the piano on the steering wheel until Michael got belted in. Spending time with him was exactly what she needed—not her empty, lonely house.

At the pub, with drinks in hand and fish and chips ordered, they found somewhere to sit away from the noise of people talking too loudly. It was good to get a load off her feet and lean back against the leather-covered wall of the booth.

‘Just what the doctor ordered.’ She sipped her beer.

Michael mimicked her. ‘Perfect.’

After glancing around the crowded room he came back to look at her.

‘Tell me about Queenstown. There’s so much to do outdoors—what did you try?’

Staying on safe subjects was good. ‘I learned to ski—or rather I started to. Falling off and twisting my ankle put me off that pursuit. Next I joined a tramping club and went on some amazing walks in the mountains—until a group of us had to sleep outside an overcrowded hut one night. Being woken by a huge possum crawling over my sleeping bag gave me the heebie-jeebies and I quit tramping.’ She shuddered. ‘Furry creepy beasts...coming right up to my head looking for food.’

‘Then you took up crochet?’

Michael’s smile sent her stomach into chaos. The fish and chips had better be a while away.

She choked on her laughter. ‘Might’ve been wiser than salmon fishing.’

He groaned. ‘What happened?’

‘I never learnt when to stay still, always went one step too far—and I fell in, filled my waders with freezing water straight from the mountains every time.’

‘Did you catch any salmon?’

She shook her head. ‘They were totally safe when I was around.’

‘I tried trout fishing in Taupo once. I’d rather be running around a rugby field.’

‘You miss it?’ It must’ve been hard for him to give up when he was still a rising star.

‘Yes and no. The body’s too old to take the knocks now. I like to win—don’t take coming second very well.’

That was what had lifted his game from good to exceptional, or so his coaches had said in one article she’d read online.

He drank down half his glass of beer. ‘It wasn’t easy, giving up a lifelong dream, especially when it seemed half the world was watching me.’

‘It was your choice?’