Chapter Thirteen
Ethan
A lthough it’s dim in the barn, and I’m still dealing with the lingering effects of the drops in my eyes, I spot my brother propped against the side wall, his arm around the blanket-draped shoulder of the woman who turned his life around. Tucked in the other arm is a tiny bundle of towels that I guess contains a baby, and pressed up against Freyja’s chest is another bundle.
They’re so absorbed in the bundles, and each other, that they don’t even notice me, and I take a moment to drink in the scene and get my emotions in check before I speak.
If fate hadn’t intervened, that could’ve been me. Wrapping an arm around the woman I loved, cradling a baby. Well, maybe not the twins part. And not the barn. Regardless, the universe had other plans, and here I am. Alone.
What I’ve never admitted to anyone, barely even to myself most of the time, is that I always felt a certain ambivalence towards having children. Becoming a parent was always Jessie’s dream, and because I loved her, I was happy to go along with it. But had we never had children, it wouldn’t have bothered me unduly. Except for the pain it would’ve caused Jess. That would’ve been something I couldn’t have borne.
The guilt these feelings create is a weight I’ll never be able to shed. The way putting off our wedding until I was awarded my PhD weighs on me. I stole what turned out to be the final years of Jessie’s life because I was selfish. Because I was ambitious. Because I wanted to put off the responsibility of children as long as I could but was too much of a coward to tell her. So, I used my PhD as an excuse. Of course, I didn’t realise that’s what I was doing at the time. But in hindsight it’s clear. And bitter.
I stole her chance at being a mother, even if it would only have been for a few short years.
And then I went and blamed Will for my poor decisions.
There’s no absolving me of that.
Some sound, or sixth sense, must alert Will to my presence because he glances up. His face, which is full of soft joy, breaks into a grin.
“E! You came.”
And there’s such relief in his voice that I feel shame. Shame he ever had reason to doubt that I would. But those are my dark feelings to deal with, not his burden to carry.
I cross the dirt floor slowly, focussing on my feelings of joy for Will and Freyja so I can bring a genuine smile to my face.
“Of course I came.” Will’s arms are too full to allow him to stand, so I drop to my knees beside them, careless of the dirt and hay. “You did this all by yourselves? Didn’t think to maybe call the paramedics or something?”
Will laughs.
“Well, I started it, thought I should finish it,” he quips, earning him an indulgent look from Freyja. Typical Will. His sense of responsibility is strong. “As for paramedics. This is Bangalay. We can’t even get a coffee machine delivered on time.”
“Thank you for coming so quickly, Ethan. You didn’t have to drop everything to be here.” Freyja’s green eyes are glowing with happiness.
“What are you talking about? Of course he had to drop everything. We have babies. And not just cow babies this time,” Will teases, dropping a kiss on his partner’s head. He tilts his bundle towards me. “Look. Look what we made.”
A tiny red and wrinkled face topped with a whisp of the trademark Carter red hair blinks up at me with unfocussed eyes. I know how he—or maybe she—feels. I find it impossible not to smile.
“He …?” Will nods. “Is perfect.” I brush a finger across his damp curls. “The force is strong in this one.”
Will and Freyja both laugh. She pushes the towel off their daughter’s head, exposing matching red hair.
“And this one,” she adds, pride in every syllable.
“Gee’s gathering the others, and they’ll be on their way as soon as possible. So. What do you need?”
“You, man. That’s all I need right now.” Tears overflow Will’s already bloodshot eyes. If I know the new Will, these aren’t the first of the day. I don’t miss the subtext of his comment. Will struggled with me being away for so long after Jess died. He’s like Dad. Wants his family together. Close.
“I’m here, Wee. I’m here to stay.” I lean in and hug him as tight as I’m able, given his delicate bundle.
“You ready to get up off this dirt floor and head home, Doctor?” Will asks Freyja after a sniffle and a bit of throat clearing.
“Oh, yeah. I’d love a shower and a cup of tea; thank you, Counsellor.” I smile at their nicknames for each other. Their bond is beautiful to see.
We call Sadie, Diana and Paul into the barn. Sadie and I take the babies while Will and Diana help Freyja to her feet and wrap an old blanket around her. I have no idea where her clothes are, but you can’t birth two babies fully clothed, I guess. And I’m sure they’ll turn up sometime.
We bundle ourselves into the collection of cars. Paul drives Will, Freyja and the babies in Freyja’s vet clinic truck, Diana follows in the VW, and Sadie and I bring up the rear in my car. We creep slowly down the road towards Freyja and Will’s farm. I can imagine Will fretting all the way that the babies aren’t in proper car seats. Fortunately, it’s only a couple of kilometres and no babies or animals are harmed on the trip.
We arrive at Will and Freyja’s place to find their pet kangaroo dozing in the sun on the front doormat, looking for all the world like a guard dog. At the sound of the cars she hops over.
“Hey, Blue. You have a new brother and sister.” Will bends down to show the animal the baby he’s holding. It sniffs curiously, rubs its head against Freyja’s hip, as if checking Freyja is okay, and hops back into a patch of sun on the verandah.
The babies are handed around in confusion as we try to work out who needs to do what. Eventually Freyja holds up a hand.
“Paul, could you go back to the barn and check on the cows? Make sure the calf is feeding okay, and that the placenta was delivered whole. If not, you know what to do. Will, you and Ethan clean up the babies and get them dressed. Diana, could you give me a hand showering? And Sadie”—she looks momentarily at a loss—“you just sit and admire the view,” she finishes with customary, no-nonsense Freyja efficiency.
“How about I make some tea and sandwiches for everyone?” Sadie suggests.
“Oh, I like her,” Will says as he nudges me down the hall towards the nursery.
I listen to his instructions on getting the baby I’ve been tasked with dressing into a nappy, a cute, fluffy little all-in-one and what looks like a zip up sack.
“Aren’t we going to bath them?” I don’t know if it’s normal, but there’s goo all over them.
“Nope. You have to leave all that stuff on them. It’s good for their skin. Just make sure there’s no hay or dirt.” Will is already zipping up the sack on his twin before I’ve even worked out which way to put the nappy on.
“How the hell did you know how to do that?”
“YouTube. You’d be amazed what you can learn.”
I’m both shocked and unsurprised he’s acing it in the father stakes already. Shocked because I never thought I’d see the day, and unsurprised because, despite his sometimes-flaky persona, Will is one of the most competent people I know.
He watches with a smile as I struggle, making no attempt to help. Even when I start with the nappy on backwards. Eventually the babies are dressed, and Will puts them in a basket together and carries it out to the lounge room, setting it in the middle of their enormous coffee table.
I leave him gazing adoringly into the basket and check on Sadie in the kitchen.
“There’s no cold meat, so I’ve made cheese and salad sandwiches. And a pot of tea. How are your eyes?”
Huh. I hadn’t even given them a thought since I walked into the barn.
“Good. Pretty much back to normal, I think.”
Sadie steps closer and gazes up into my eyes.
“Hmm. Your pupils still look a little enlarged. Those drops take forever to wear off.”
I know she’s only checking my pupils, but something catches in my throat at her standing so near, gazing into my eyes.
She smells of the perfume I remember from the night we met. Her eyes are bright. Her lips curved in a half smile. She’s so close I can feel her breath on my cheek. The warmth of her body radiating against my chest.
I brush a wayward lock of her hair back off her cheek. Somehow my fingers linger in the warm, shiny strands. I watch as her lips part, and her tongue runs over her full top lip. Mine echoes the movement. I’m aware of every beat of my heart. Every beat of hers. The only sound is our breathing and the blood rushing in my ears, telling me to kiss her.
And into the quiet falls a scolding stage whisper.
“I told you we should have left yesterday morning. We missed it. They’re already here. I can feel them.” The voice raises an octave or two. “Where are they? Where are Freyja and my grandbabies?”