Chapter Eleven
Recalling the exquisitely overwhelming sensation of her pregnancy with Amy, where the wonder of life and all that came with it encouraged deep contemplation, Zara traced her fingertips along the gentle curve of her swollen belly, marvelling at the little life growing within.
She could feel the tiny feet kicking against her skin, and even though she loved the sensation, a mix of anticipation and trepidation coursed through her veins with each movement.
The emotional wound from her miscarriage might have healed, but the scar remained, and always would.
Just as the tragic loss of her parents had done.
She found solace in the quiet moments she stole for herself, where she allowed her mind to wander to memories of Amy’s infancy and the fierce love that blossomed with her arrival.
And as she lay in bed at night, feeling the weight of Jay’s arm draped protectively over her, she’d often find herself lost in thoughts of what the future held for their growing family.
All the while, every breath she took was a silent prayer for the safe arrival of Lily, their promised bloom.
Then they would have not one, but two little girls to love with all of their hearts.
Taking a breath, she looked around at the revamped nursery, now bathed in soft pastels, then at the gentle glow of afternoon light filtering through the curtains. Though she’d gone through this journey of motherhood before, the novelty and overwhelming emotions had not diminished.
‘There you are, my love.’ Jay’s deep voice washed over her. ‘Are you ready to go?’ He stood in the doorway, his presence a steady lighthouse guiding her through the storm of her emotions.
‘I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,’ she replied, her voice tinged with a vulnerability that only pregnancy could bring. ‘Let’s do this.’ Taking his offered hand, she felt the familiar calluses press into her soft palms. ‘I can’t believe I’ve gone past my due date by almost a week.’
‘This little one wants as long in there as possible.’ His chuckle echoed as they made their way down the hallway, towards the front door. ‘I’ll give Suz a call on the way to the hospital, make sure our little Amy is behaving herself for her aunt and uncle.’
The drive was a contemplative one, with each of them quieter than usual.
At the hospital, the air was filled with a symphony of life’s most profound moments — the cries of newborns greeting the world, families huddling together in support, and medical staff moving with practised urgency.
For Zara, now a few hours into the process, the medication to induce her was working, and as contractions tightened their grip on her insides, ebbing and flowing like the tide, she found rare moments of peace in between the storm of her womb spasming as she clung to Jay’s hand ever so tightly.
And the hours ticked on, as did the agony.
Unlike Amy’s quick birth, Lily’s was proving to be true labour.
Zara had tried walking, squatting, lying down, then repeating it all over again.
And as the contractions peaked and she shouted that she couldn’t do this anymore, Jay’s unwavering gaze never left her as he quietly, sympathetically, urged her on as best he could.
‘You’re doing so well, Za,’ he whispered, helping her into the bed then gently brushing damp curls away from her forehead. ‘We’re almost there. Just a little longer, okay, my love, and then we’ll be holding Lily in our arms.’
The labour was a slow dance, with a timeless rhythm that tested the limits of endurance and revealed the depths of joy.
Each impending contraction was a surge, propelling her towards the precipice of creation.
Throughout it all, Zara turned inward, allowing happier memories to flood her mind, of the many streets they’d strolled all the way around the world, dreaming of the future that was now unfolding before them.
Breathing as steadily as she could, she recalled how the love that had grown between them, tender and wild, was about to manifest once again in the cry of their newborn child.
And, with Jay by her side, she prepared to cross the threshold once again and into the splendours of motherhood.
Crying out from the pits of her soul, she felt the world contract to a single, defining moment, and the air crackled with palpable tension as her body writhed in the throes of one last push.
Another sharp cry pierced through the room, slicing the atmosphere like lightning flashing through a stormy sky.
Then, in an instant, everything shifted.
The weight of expectation lifted from her body as she felt the final release of their child.
And before she knew it, she was handed a warm bundle wrapped in soft blankets.
Zara gazed down at the fragile miracle who had fought her way into existence, and tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. ‘Hello, Lily,’ she whispered, her voice thick with love and exhaustion.
Lily’s eyes blinked open, revealing exquisite windows to their second daughter’s soul in a bright blue that mirrored the clear sky after a cleansing rainstorm.
They were Jay’s eyes, and Amy’s. Overcome with emotion, Zara cradled Lily closer to her chest, feeling the warmth of new life seep into her skin.
Jay leant over them, his presence a comfort as he brushed his lips across the crown of Zara’s head.
His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he gently rested a hand on Lily’s back, as if afraid of disrupting the spell of perfection surrounding them.
‘Look what we’ve made, Za,’ he breathed, his voice filled with awe. ‘Another little adventurer to explore this amazing world.’
‘We sure have.’ She marvelled at Lily’s delicate features. ‘She’s perfect, Jay,’ she agreed, her heart swelling with equal love for both of their daughters.
* * *
While the months slipped by, life unfolded in its own beautiful way against the backdrop of Queensland’s countryside.
Wanting a change of scenery, away from the fast-growing beachside suburb they’d called home for almost three years, Zara and Jay had moved into a newly renovated house, nestled among the Glasshouse Mountains, where verdant brushstrokes of greenery painted a landscape of peace.
There, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of city life, but only forty minutes’ drive to the racing heart of it all, the silence was a living thing, a serene companion that hummed alongside the buzz of cicadas and the gentle whisper of leaves.
Under the expansive sky, time seemed to slow down, allowing each precious moment to be cherished.
And they even had a fireplace, for the cooler months.
Crafting a life where each day was a celebration of simple joys, where laughter and the footsteps of their children echoed down the hallway and the sweetest of memories were woven into the very fabric of their four acres of fertile land, they knew they’d found their sanctuary there — a haven for their hearts and a playground for their children.
From their sweeping back verandah dotted with pot plants, windchimes and hanging baskets filled with colourful flowers, Zara watched Jay wander through the back paddock, cornered off by a rustic timber fence line.
They were yet to decide what animals they’d like to keep there, and she believed he was contemplating this as he wandered to and fro.
His towering form was a familiar comfort, set against the wild of their surroundings; he suited the country lifestyle they’d been talking about since their very first date.
Hands going to his hips, he paused to stare out at the horizon, where the earth met the sky in a hazy promise of adventures yet to come.
Her heart lifted at the sight of him. God, how she loved him, with every fibre of her being.
Their love, strong and unshakable like the ancient paperbark trees that dotted their property, grounded them in this place that felt like the embodiment of every dream they’d ever dared to imagine.
Climbing from her softly swaying pod chair, then padding over to the banister, she leant her elbows against the timber. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ she called out to him, her voice carrying on the gentle breeze.
‘Oh, it’s every bit as beautiful as you said it’d be,’ Jay replied, his smile reaching his eyes as he turned to face her. ‘Two weeks in and I’m still pinching myself.’
‘Me too!’ she called back to him.
‘The girls awake yet?’
She shook her head.
He offered her a smile that spoke of what he’d like to do with their rare alone time.
And she craved it too — but knee deep in boxes, they had to keep on keeping on.
She headed back inside their home, and her slender fingers danced along the edge of an open box.
The afterglow of the setting sun cast a warm glow through the kitchen window, illuminating the piles of unwrapped dishes and boxes scattered around her.
Each piece was carefully wrapped in layers of paper, their intricate patterns and delicate designs waiting to be revealed.
Joining her after his pensive wander, Jay worked alongside her.
‘Perfect spot for this one, don’t you think?’ Jay asked, holding up a framed photo of their little family.
Zara nodded, her long, loose curls brushing against her cheek. Leaning against the cool stone of the island bench, she watched him hang the picture above the dining table. ‘Isn’t it cool that every corner of this house,’ she mused, her voice soft and melodic, ‘will soon hold a story of us?’
‘It’s more than cool, Mrs Maverick.’ He grabbed hold of her, and tugged her to him, his smile devilishly delicious. ‘How about we write a story right now, with you up on the bench with your legs wrapped tightly around me?’
‘Mm-hmm, sounds …’