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

Tara. I never thought I’d say this, but go for a run.’

A geyser of panic shot through her at the thought of leaving him alone. ‘I’m good. Why don’t you come to the gym with me?’

Really? You, Jon and Zac in the same space?

‘No.’ Jon’s hand jerked through his hair. ‘This isn’t about me, T, it’s about you. Go to the gym, phone a friend, go and annoy the people at the community garden and take some new photos for the Facebook page. Visit Fiza. Just do something that gives me some breathing space!’

His frustration tore through their weeks of unity and she almost told him why she was so on edge. She wanted so badly to badmouth Al and their friends for their lack of support, but she stopped herself, desperate to believe Al had stepped up and done the right thing.

As Fiza worked on Sundays, Tara gave Amal a break from the twins and took the kids to the community garden, joining the Hazara women and their children. If they were confused as to why she’d suddenly arrived, they didn’t show it. There was something almost therapeutic about shutting out everything and only focusing on weeds. The women had insisted Tara take home some fresh coriander, and even though she had plenty in her own garden she’d accepted it, treasuring the care behind the offering.

On Monday night, she tried not to think about Jon at cricket practice. She prepared the kids’ lunchboxes, sent out the book group email and sewed a button on a shirt, before going out onto the deck and watching the light fade from the sky. Her heart clogged her mouth when she heard Jon’s car and it took all her resolve not to rush and meet him.

When he found her, he was clearly exhausted, but smiling.

Her heart settled back in her chest. ‘How was it?’

‘Yeah, good. They’re having a family barbecue after the match on Saturday. You know, the usual BYO meat and a salad or dessert to share. Rhianna will text you an S or a D so we don’t get all desserts like last year.’ He pulled a flyer out of his pocket. ‘And a Kris Kringle.’

The low-grade simmer of stress that came with keeping all the balls in the air bubbled harder. ‘Kris Kringle? It’s still November!’

‘Kelly’s idea apparently. You know how she likes shiny things. Anyway, we haven’t been out much lately and this is an easy way to see everyone.’

Since the brunch, Jon hadn’t suggested another gang get-together, saying he caught up with Brent and Al at the cricket club and she didn’t need the extra stress of entertaining. Tara knew he assumed she was still having a weekly coffee date with Kelly and Rhianna but she’d stopped going weeks ago.

She pictured sitting on a picnic rug, sipping a fruity sauv blanc and listening to Kelly bitch about Fatima and Rhianna moan about how her mother-in-law insisted on correcting the children’s table manners. She knew she’d want to scream at them, ‘None of it’s life and death. None of it’s turned your life on its head.’ The only reason she didn’t say no was because the invitation meant Jon was still on the team. Al had come through. She’d go to the barbecue just to thank him.

‘Sure. Sounds like fun.’

Jon stifled a yawn but he pulled her onto his lap. ‘You sitting out here because you want to make out?’

They’d been focusing on kissing and cuddling and hadn’t strayed beyond it. The fact he’d just suggested it combined with her jittery relief that he’d avoided another hit to his masculinity. She stroked his face.

‘If you play your cards right, you might just get to third base.’

He laughed. ‘When Brent, Al and I were teenagers, we spent hours trying to decide exactly what each base included. I suppose today’s teenagers just google it and the art of conversation is lost.’

She spider-crawled her fingers up his chest. ‘We could write our own playbook.’

‘I like the sound of that. I might even try a little blue pill.’

The lover in her wanted to whoop in delight, but she knew he was exhausted. The moment he fell into bed, he’d fall asleep. Then he’d feel like he’d let her down and she didn’t want all the positive steps they’d taken to be wiped out due to bad timing.

He’s an adult, he has to make his own choices. You’re his wife, not his mother.

But she was also his carer and far too often the lines blurred and tangled, leaving her floundering.

He yawned again. ‘Or maybe not. Sorry. Bowling practice took it out of me.’

Why were they even thinking about having sex at night? Kids in bed was why. Sometimes, amid the demands of running their own business and keeping staff happy, she forgot they were the bosses.

‘You know how the store survives when we have to go to Shepparton for medical appointments and Samantha runs the ship?’ she said. ‘Well, she’s in all day tomorrow. How about we sneak home and try a home run around eleven when your energy levels are high?’

His fingers entwined in her hair. ‘You’d give up coffee with the girls for me?’

‘They won’t even notice.’

‘So a blue pill at breakfast?’

‘I like the way you think.’

Helen was fast asleep when she became vaguely aware of being hot. As she threw back the doona, she heard Milo calling out. She kicked off a blanket, rolled over, adjusted her pillow and pressed her earplugs back in. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to dive back into blissful sleep.

Did she need to wee? The unwanted thought halted the dive. No. Yes. Maybe. Damn it!

With a sigh, she sat up. Milo had stopped crying.

As she padded towards the closed door, it opened and a bleary-eyed Jade stood there holding Helen’s phone. ‘Can’t you hear it?’

Helen pulled out her earplugs. ‘What? Is Milo sick?’

‘No. It’s your phone. It keeps ringing.’

She squinted at the bedside clock. ‘But it’s 3:17.’

‘Believe me, I know.’ Jade handed