A Home Like Ours by Fiona Lowe (inspirational books for students .txt) 📗

His usually cheery face frowned in concentration and his chubby left foot moved forward, followed by his right. In two more steps, he was snatching the hammer.

‘You’re walking! You clever, clever kid!’

It was the most natural thing in the world to hug him and his achievement. He snuggled in, his body warm and soft against hers, his curls tickling her nose, his scent a combination of baby shampoo and banana.

Out of nowhere, her throat tightened and then she was gasping as long-suppressed hulking sobs heaved out of her.

CHAPTER

34

‘Helen?’ Bob’s hand was on her shoulder. ‘What’s happened?’

She didn’t dare look at him. ‘M-Milo … w-walked.’

‘And that’s upset you?’

But she couldn’t form words, let alone speak.

Bob pushed a clean and ironed hankie at her, Daisy tried to lick her and Milo struggled to be released from her overtight grip.

‘Sit, Daisy!’ Bob said as he reached down for Milo. ‘Come on, sport, let’s give Helen a bit of air.’

But the loss of the little boy’s body drove through her heart like a stake, intensifying her sobs. Shaking, she fought for each breath, battling old grief that surged with renewed intensity.

Bob’s arms circled her, the touch flattening her protective walls. She gave in to comfort and cried in a way she hadn’t done in years.

Slowly, she became aware that Milo was banging the toy hammer on her head. The touch reset something inside her and she made a strangled sound that was part sob, part laugh.

‘That’s a better sound,’ Bob said. ‘Unless of course you’re choking?’

Another laugh gurgled up and she blew her nose.

‘I know you do yoga and you’re used to sitting on the floor, but my hips are going to lock if I stay down here any longer.’ He rolled over onto all fours and pushed himself to his feet, before extending a hand.

She accepted it and rose. When her eyes focused, she noticed the large wet patch on his shirt. Embarrassment hit her so hard she almost ran for the door.

‘I’m sorry you had to see that.’

He gave her a small smile. ‘Don’t be sorry. People think it’s the bad things that undo us. But in my experience, it’s often the good stuff that trips us up, reminding us what we had and what we miss the most.’

Understanding radiated from him, offering her safety and support.

‘Jade’s right,’ she said. ‘You’re not a duffer in any shape or form.’

‘Can I have that in writing?’

‘About Jade being right?’

‘Hah! Glad you’re feeling better.’ He sat on the couch and she joined him. ‘So Milo walked, eh?’

‘He took three steps!’

As if Milo knew they were talking about him, he repeated the trick. Bob cheered and Milo grinned a gummy smile.

Helen’s heart filled with joy ringed with sadness. ‘I didn’t expect him walking would affect me. But his little face was creased in such fierce concentration and he was so stunned and delighted that he’d done it, I got excited for him. I never expected it to release a tidal wave of emotions.’

Milo lay down next to Daisy and sucked his thumb, clearly exhausted after his mammoth milestone.

Helen kept her gaze focused on him so she didn’t look at Bob. ‘I had a daughter. Nicki. She never walked.’

Bob picked up her hand and squeezed it gently, but instead of making her cry, it was oddly reassuring. She knew then she could tell him.

‘Nicki was born a few weeks early. The doctors told us it wasn’t unusual and there was nothing to worry about. But as the weeks passed and I met other women with babies the same age, it became obvious something was going on. Her head seemed smaller than other babies, and she didn’t follow us much with her eyes. Then one day she fitted. It was the first time in my life I experienced true fear.’

‘It sounds terrifying.’

Helen shuddered. ‘It got worse. Apparently when I was pregnant I got something called toxoplasmosis. Normally it isn’t an issue and I don’t even remember being sick, but it can have catastrophic effects in the first three months of pregnancy. It left Nicki severely physically and intellectually disabled and partially blind. She spent her life in a wheelchair with no verbal communication other than high-pitched shrieks.’

‘Oh, jeez. I can’t even imagine.’

She thought about how he’d watched Alzheimer’s steal his wife from him and knew he had more of an idea about loss than most people.

‘I spent years fighting the diagnosis, fighting for funding and trying every therapy under the sun. Theo gave up long before I did.’

‘Your husband?’

She nodded. ‘When Nicki was a baby Theo was pretty good, but as she got older and was obviously very different from other kids her age, he found it increasingly hard to accept. He’d look at her and only see all the things she wasn’t instead of who she was. I wanted another child, but he was adamant. Things spiralled and eventually he met someone and walked away from us both.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No need. It was years ago.’

‘Doesn’t mean it still won’t bite you occasionally.’

‘Nicki will always reduce me to a blubbering mess, but not Theo.’ She sighed. ‘To be honest, when he left it was a relief to have one less person to worry about, and the divorce inevitably followed. We’d heavily geared to buy the house, expecting I’d return to work when Nicki was one, but of course that didn’t happen and there was no NDIS back then. Our costs for equipment and care were higher. Although we’d met the mortgage repayments, we’d only been paying interest and hadn’t touched the principal. We had to sell the house. I came out of the marriage with less money than I’d taken into it, and without a way to earn much beyond a carer’s benefit.’

‘Where did you live?’

‘I moved in with my mother. She was starting to fail and I looked after her and Nicki.’

‘And they’ve both passed away?’

‘Yes. Nicki lived longer than anyone expected and she died of an overwhelming infection when she was twenty-two.