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Miranda shuddered, a sharp pain shooting through her ribs. She tried to look away, but was transfixed. The man jerked up and down a few more times, and the team of people worked on him.
Then they went still.
One person turned away, wiping her brow, and another looked at his watch then walked out.
He’s gone? Just like that?
Whether it was the medication playing with her mind or the shock of what she’d just witnessed, strangely, Miranda’s memory shot back to the day of her job interview when she’d had lunch with Trisha ... she’d seen that little boy seated nearby who looked like his grandfather. As an only child, if Miranda never got the chance to have a baby of her own, her father wouldn’t have a chance of living on through his grandchild. Accepting her reproductive fate would be like saying goodbye to him one last, final time.Tears fought their way out of Miranda’s eyes, and she sobbed. Each cry stung her chest, but she couldn’t stop.
TWENTY-THREE
Grandma Joy’s Words of Wisdom:
‘Sometimes, stillness can move mountains.’
A week later, Miranda was recuperating at home with the help of her new best friend: pain killers. Modern medicine was great, but there was no medication for dealing with built-up grief. Although her father died a long time ago, she’d never really discussed it with anyone or stopped long enough to take stock of how she felt. As a child she simply escaped into her fairy-tale world to block out the pain, later followed by seeking out things that made her feel good; fancy food, clothes, and parties. What had she said to Trisha the day she’d moved into her new place?‘Focusing on things that are beautiful and perfect takes my mind of things that aren’t’.
Now, spending her time resting at home, her thoughts roamed free. She’d managed to work her way through two thirds of her to-be-read pile of self-improvement books, mostof them boiling down to the same basic principles – eat a healthy diet, get enough sleep, exercise, and believe in yourself. Why were the simple things often the hardest to do? Miranda was starting to enjoy the exercise part, but with her injuries, she’d be unable to continue her program until closer to Christmas.
Naomi had called when Miranda failed to show for her training session on Wednesday, starting her lecture on the value of commitment, when Miranda interrupted and explained what had happened. Naomi was quite sympathetic, and suggested she come in when the ribs had healed so she could plan a gentle recovery program for her. She also advised Miranda to walk around the neighbourhood when she started feeling better, but for now, all Miranda wanted to do was lie down and recover. Recover her body, but more importantly: her heart. The realisation she’d had in hospital that her opposition to the idea of adopting a baby was mostly due to not being ready to let her father go, had shifted something inside her. It was painful and raw, but hopeful. Hopeful that she’d be able to come to terms with it and be open to other possibilities if needed. It wouldn’t be fair for a child to be seen as a comforting link to her past, a remnant of her father’s legacy. A child deserved to be unique and special and loved in their own right, not for what they could remind her of.
The ding-dong of the doorbell broke through her thoughts, and she eased over to the door, one hand on the side of her chest.
‘Oh, Miranda, you poor thing!’ It was Cara, with Toby perched on her hip. Miranda had asked her to come over so she could give her something.
‘Can I get you something; a coffee, cold drink?’ asked Miranda.
‘Don’t be silly! You rest, I’ll handle things. What wouldyoulike, coffee?’
‘Actually, I’m starting to drink green tea. It has a lot of antioxidants, you know. Do you want some?’
‘No thanks. I’ll stick with my daily indulgence!’ Cara flicked on the kettle and withdrew a bottle of milk from Miranda’s fridge. ‘Oh, I brought soup, I’ll just leave it in here.’ She opened the fridge again.
‘Thanks for that, hun, how nice of you! Did you make it?’
‘I’d like to say yes, but no. Hubby made it. He’s become quite a whiz in the kitchen since Toby’s diagnosis.’
‘How is the little fella going?’
‘Much better. He’sfinallysleeping through the night, no more tummy aches, and his eczema has cleared up. Who would have thought food could cause all those problems?’ She ruffled Toby’s hair as he played on the floor with his talking alphabet book.
‘Amazing. And how’re Jacob and Lily?’
‘They’re good. Although, Lily’s debating whether or not to become vegetarian. She thinks it’s cruel to eat a lamb’s leg and rude to eat chicken breasts, or chicken boobies, as she calls them.’
Miranda snorted, then winced as she held onto her ribs.
‘I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to cook gluten free, dairy free, soy free,andvegetarian meals – I’ll go mad!’ Cara tipped her head and looked at the ceiling as if for divine intervention. ‘Anyway, what’s happening with your work?’
‘I’m taking some time off. I’m going back to Harbourside in the second week of December, the doctor says I should be fullyhealed by then. I might be able to do a few shifts in another three weeks or so, but I’ll see how I go. As for the salon, they said they’d keep my casual position for me, and hopefully I can return as soon as physically possible. I’m sure I’ll be okay soon, but whenever I laugh, cough, or move my torso, it kills!
‘I’ll try not to say anything funny then.’ Cara smiled. ‘Do you want me to put these away in the cupboard?’ Cara pointed to packets of crackers, cans of food, and pasta.
‘No thanks, Mum put them on the bench for me because I can’t reach up high to get them from the cupboard.’
‘Oh, of course. Is there anything else you need, want me to duck up to the shops for you?’
‘Oh, thank you, lovely lady. You’re so helpful, but Mum’s at the supermarket as we speak, she’s stocking up on supplies for me.’
