Chapter 52
TEA AND SYMPATHY
On Monday, three days after Zane had left, Skylar was sitting on the couch in the lounge with Olive and Georgia beside her, and all of them were reading.
Snowball was snuggled between the two girls, getting every pat he could, and Scarlett was hoovering in the kitchen, because, she’d said, “Cooking is messier than I realized.” Skylar had offered to do it, and Scarlett had put her hands on her hips and said, “It says it right on your discharge instructions. ‘No vacuuming.’ Dad showed me.” Skylar would’ve said that Scarlett said it bossily, but she wasn’t allowed to think that, was she?
So she was reading instead, in the coziest situation possible, and feeling …
restless. Funny; last holidays, she’d wanted to read all day and not paint her downstairs.
Now, when she was supposed to read all day, it was just annoying her, because she longed to get something done. To get anything done.
You’ll take your long walk when Maureen and Granddad come by to make dinner, she reminded herself. With your audiobook. That’ll be good. You can even go have a coffee.
And read some more. Brilliant.
The doorbell rang, and Snowball jumped off the couch and streaked for the stairs.
A shout from downstairs, probably, “I’ll get it!
” A minute later, Duncan coming up the stairs holding Snowball, with somebody behind him.
A dark-haired woman holding an enormous vase of flowers.
Beautiful flowers, all white and dusty green.
Duncan said, “She’s in here,” then came over and dumped Snowball back onto the couch. “He tried to escape again. It’s a good thing I’m fast.”
“It is,” Skylar said. “Well done.” She was on her feet, saying, “Hi. I’m Skylar Fairburn. Are those for me?” They couldn’t be from Zane. He’d already sent flowers. So who? She hadn’t told Jess. She hadn’t felt able to face the questions. Maybe by the time school started again.
“They are,” the woman said. “Where would you like them? You probably aren’t meant to be lifting heavy things at the moment, and I’m afraid this arrangement is rather heavy.”
“Uh … dining table, I guess,” Skylar said. “If you’d move the tulips to the kitchen benchtop.” How did she know about the lifting? “Those are beautiful, but I don’t understand what—”
“Just a second,” the woman said, and set the arrangement on the table as Scarlett whisked the tulips off it, reveling in her new role as Queen of the Household.
The woman tweaked a few stems, then turned to Skylar with the warmest possible smile, held out a hand, and said, “I’m Zora Fletcher. Rhys Fletcher’s wife.”
“Oh.” Skylar shook hands, confused. “Zane’s coach at the Blues? I didn’t—”
“I’m a florist,” Zora said. “The flowers are from the All Blacks. There’s a card in there. Would you like it?”
“Well … yes, of course.”
All our sympathy, the card read. From the All Blacks whanau. She teared up, of course. “It’s very kind,” she managed to say. “But I’m surprised.”
“Don’t be,” Zora said. “They do that. This game is hard on families. They know the women carry the burden, and the hardest part is going through things like this alone.”
Skylar put the card back into the envelope. Thank goodness they’d told the kids, or this conversation would’ve raised so many questions. “Can I get you a cup of tea? Do you have time?”
“If you’re feeling up to it,” Zora said, “I’d love one. Rhys is home with the kids. We’ll call it a girls’ day out.”
Skylar laughed. “Not too exciting for you, I’m afraid.” She busied herself with the electric jug and the teabags. “I’m going a bit mad, to tell you the truth. I’m not used to this much leisure. The kids have been awesome about helping out, but—”
“Because Dad set up a schedule with us,” Scarlett said. “And he’s checking that we’re following it, but he doesn’t have to. We know how to be responsible.”
“You certainly do,” Skylar said. “And I appreciate it. Would you like to take our tea out on the terrace, Zora? It’s getting warmer every day, eh.
Spring. Such a wonderful season.” Talking too much, but she was off balance.
The All Blacks had sent her flowers? And Zane’s coach’s wife was delivering them?
Not just that, but wanting to talk to her?
The breeze was fresh outside, the sun was shining, and Skylar sank into a chair with a sigh.
She should’ve sat out here more. She already felt better just being in the open air.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she said again.
“They’re lovely, and they smell, too. Florist’s flowers usually don’t have much scent. What are they?”
“White snapdragons in with the white roses, and some eucalyptus for contrast. It’s the snapdragons you smell. I like frilly flowers like that, myself.”
“White for grief, I guess,” Skylar said, because it was awkward, not acknowledging it.
“Yes,” Zora said. “For pregnancy loss, especially, I like to do white. It’s the innocence that hurts so much.”
Skylar’s throat was closing. “It shouldn’t,” she managed to say. “It was an ectopic pregnancy, so it couldn’t grow. It wasn’t even really an embryo. No heartbeat.”
“Does that make it better?” Zora’s voice was gentle. “Easier?”
“No,” Skylar admitted. “No. I was sad. So much sadder than I should’ve been, because I hadn’t even known I was pregnant, and it was an accident anyway. And now I’m—” She stopped.
Zora’s hand reached out to clasp hers. “You can tell me, if it helps. It can be hard to be home alone with kids—all the kids? Yours and Zane’s?”
“Yes. Six of them.”
“And it’s extra hard,” Zora said, “because you can’t express what you feel. Can’t even grieve properly, because you don’t want to worry your kids.”
“Mostly,” Skylar admitted, “I’m just irritable.
I keep having to stuff it down. I’m never irritable!
I’m a Year One teacher! I’m a single mum to three kids!
I can’t afford to be irritable. And why?
I told you, the kids have been awesome. Zane’s been awesome, even though neither of us had planned for a baby.
Not at all. Not remotely. He sent me those purple tulips on Saturday, the first day he was gone, and he texts, and …
” She ran down. “And I just want to snap at everyone. Other times, I don’t seem able to feel anything at all.
Like I’m numb. And, of course, occasionally I cry. I’m all over the place.”
“That’s grief,” Zora said, “and a spot of depression, maybe. Completely natural, and it hasn’t been long. Be easy on yourself. Pregnancy loss is harder than people realize. The hormones alone …”
“Have you—” Skylar began, then stopped. “I’m sorry. That’s inappropriate.”
“No,” Zora said, “it’s why I came. So you could talk a bit.
When I heard you were alone with the kids, I thought you might need somebody.
Somebody who’d understand, but somebody you wouldn’t worry by talking about it.
And, no, I haven’t lost a pregnancy. I lost my husband, though, and Rhys and I had some struggles before we had our daughter.
She’s two now, and she’s wonderful, but it took almost a year for me to get pregnant.
It was such a sadness every month, and it wasn’t even a loss. ”
“It was a loss of your dream, though,” Skylar said.
“Yes. Exactly. And that kind of loss hurts.”
“I’m a widow myself,” Skylar said. “It’s a … a thicket of complication, isn’t it? Blending families, too, if you did that.”
“Yes,” Zora said. “‘Complication’ is the right word there. The hardest thing wasn’t the kids, though.
It was trusting in love again. Trusting my judgment.
Of course, that’s a bit more complicated when the new man is your brother-in-law and everyone knows it.
But it was Rhys, so …” She smiled. “He’s a pretty convincing fella.
And a brilliant dad. Worth the risk, eh. ”
“What made you decide?” Skylar asked. “If you don’t mind my asking?
This has been … it’s gone so fast. Not really, you could think, because we started in April, but he’s been gone so much, so I keep wondering, when he’s only home sometimes, is that just a honeymoon period?
Would he be driving me mad if he were around every day? ”
“Well,” Zora said, “you could probably solve that one by actually having him around every day and seeing how you go. Offseason begins in December. And to answer your question … That I couldn’t live without him, I guess, and he couldn’t live without me.
That’s what it came down to. He was exciting—so exciting—but he was safe, too.
My heart felt safe with him. Partly because he wanted me, I mean really wanted me.
And I finally started to believe in that. ”
“Scary, maybe,” Skylar said. “Sorting all that out.”
“Always,” Zora said. “But every time I tried to hold back—well, there he was, being Rhys. Being honest. Being dependable. And so bloody manly.” She smiled, and Skylar smiled back, because how could you not?
Skylar said, “Yes, but is some of that just … well, lust? I mean, the rugby and all? And how they look? Like a … a crush?”
“My first husband, Rhys’s brother, was a rugby player too,” Zora said.
“And exciting. More exciting than Rhys, I probably thought then. Dylan was … mercurial is probably the word. Fun. The life of every party. And Rhys is a serious man. Exciting, but in a completely different way. A grown-man way, but I’m sure some women would think he was dull. Disciplined. Responsible. Tough.”
“That’s it,” Skylar said. “Exactly. In the earthquake, down in Wellington, all I wanted was for Zane to come, and I knew he would come. I knew he’d move heaven and earth to get to us. My first husband wasn’t that man at all, though I shouldn’t say it, as he’s dead.”
“Well, considering that I just told you the same thing,” Zora said, “I’d say that your secret is safe with me.” She stood up. “And I’d better get back. But, Skylar?”
“Yes?” Skylar asked, standing herself.
“Give it time,” Zora said. “On both things. And see.”