Chapter Nineteen
‘He’s a gorgeous baby.’ Carrie was sitting with Bella in the café and Bella was itching to visit the new arrival now he was home safe and sound, with mum and dad.
The storm almost a week ago, when little Tyler Harrison was brought into the world in less-than-ideal circumstances, was a distant memory. The winter sunshine came out in full force now they were into June, the roads had been cleared and, apart from a few damaged fences and patches of debris at the fringes of the main roads, in Magnolia Creek it was business as usual.
Carrie’s new floors at the house had miraculously been saved with the sheets, towels and bin liners, and Noah had cleaned up by the time she’d finished on the phone with Lachlan that evening. He’d left her a note in the kitchen to say she was to let him know if she needed anything, but he hadn’t hung around. And over the last few days things had settled into a strange kind of normal. Carrie had seen Noah walking Hazel, she’d fussed over the dog, she’d been watering her new lawn to keep it as nice as it had been the first day it was laid, and her back garden had weathered the storm better than she’d have thought. The pergola was still standing strong, Noah had replaced a couple of shrubs decimated in the storm, but other than that it was all still there, just as it was before.
Carrie finished her scone and cappuccino just as Gemma came into the café with Abby clutching at her trousers and hiding behind her legs.
‘Hi, Carrie.’ Gemma tried to use her arm to bring Abby around to the table.
‘Hello Abby, why are you hiding?’ She smiled at the little girl when she popped her head around her mum’s leg but Abby swiftly drew it back where it had come from.
‘We’ve been to the gift shop, haven’t we, Abby?’ Gemma coaxed again.
Abby still clutched Gemma’s trouser leg but stepped forward a little. She was holding on to two brown paper bags.
‘May I take a peek?’ Carrie asked.
Abby held out one bag and Carrie took out a sky blue Babygro with matching booties and gloves. ‘It’s gorgeous.’
‘For Tyler,’ said Abby, although she wouldn’t make eye contact.
‘Well, I think Tyler will love it. And the mittens are a great idea, do you know why?’
She’d piqued Abby’s interest and the little girl shook her head.
‘Tiny babies often touch their faces with their scrunched-up fists, like this.’ Abby laughed when Carrie did her best impression of a newborn. ‘When they get tired they put their hands to their faces, fuss about, but they don’t realise their little nails can do so much damage. These mittens will protect Tyler, so it’s a great choice for a gift. Are you going to see them today?’
Gemma sat down opposite Carrie and pulled Abby onto her lap. ‘We are. Rosie declared open-house day today and said anyone could stop by so this little one’ – she ruffled Abby’s hair – ‘couldn’t wait to see the baby.’
‘He’s got Owen’s dark hair, loads of it,’ said Carrie.
‘You’re amazing, Carrie, you know that?’
Carrie coloured. ‘I was just doing my job.’
Gemma guffawed. ‘No, you weren’t. You were in a terrifying situation and according to Noah, Owen, Rosie and everyone on this planet, you’re a hero.’
‘Oh, no, I’m really not.’ Her mind went back to the days when Lucas had called her his superhero, the woman who would save him. ‘Anyone else would’ve done the same.’
‘You’re being far too modest.’
Carrie popped the remainder of her scone topped with cream and jam into her mouth. She nodded to a second brown paper bag that Abby was still clutching. ‘What’s in that one? Something for yourself?’ she asked the little girl, who leaned back against her mum.
Gemma pushed the bag towards Carrie. ‘Abby knows she can’t replace the photograph she tore up, but she hopes this goes some way to saying she’s sorry.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Abby as if on cue.
Carrie didn’t open the bag, not yet. Instead she turned her chair and held out her arms. ‘Come here and give me a hug.’
Abby obliged and after that cheered up immensely, wide-eyed when Bella brought over scones for her and Gemma.
Carrie opened the brown bag, reached in and took out something wrapped in tissue paper. She unwrapped it and found the prettiest white wood, carved-edged photo frame. ‘Abby, did you choose this?’
With jam around her mouth, the child nodded.
‘Well I love it, I really do. Thank you. Listen, I’d love to stay here and chat with you both, but I have an appointment.’
‘Everything OK?’ Gemma asked.
‘Everything’s fine. I have an interview to get to in the city. It’s not for a while but I want to have a soak in the bath first, relax and get my head together.’
The corners of Gemma’s mouth turned down and she shook her head, making Abby join in with the action. ‘We don’t want Carrie to move back to the city, do we? No, we want Carrie here.’ When Gemma nodded, Abby mimicked her and collapsed into fits of laughter playing out their little skit.
‘Let’s just see what happens,’ Carrie smiled.
‘All joking aside, I really do wish you good luck with it – you deserve good things.’ Gemma stood up and hugged Carrie. ‘Let me know how it goes.’
‘Of course I will.’
*
Carrie picked up the bottle of Jo Malone Pear and Freesia Bath Oil, undid the cap and inhaled the sensuous perfume. The bath oil was a gift from Owen and Rosie to say thank you. They’d also sent her an enormous bouquet filled with enough fragrant lilies, stunning pale pink gerberas and lush green foliage to fill three vases around the house now that the flowers Lachlan had brought were starting to wilt. She put the plug in the bath and was about to turn on the taps when there was a knock at the front door.
‘Coming!’ she called from upstairs, expecting it to be the postman or perhaps Noah come to finally deliver the shed he’d apparently chosen for her. The grass was already growing and she’d made up her mind to buy a small lawnmower and tackle it herself, or at least have all the equipment ready for a gardener to come along once a week and work some magic.
Still dressed but conscious of the time, as was the way when you had an impending interview, she trotted down the stairs, along the polished floorboards in the hallway and towards the main door that was propped open with a doorstop allowing air to circulate through the house via the locked fly-screen door.
As she approached she saw at once who her visitor was.
Her legs felt heavy with every step towards the front door but all too soon she was there, flipping the catch and opening it up.
‘Hello.’ The woman on the other side of the door, shorter than Carrie, dark-haired like her son and with the same soft green eyes, stood nervously waiting for Carrie to react. ‘I know this must be a shock but might I come in for a moment or two? I have some things I need to say.’
Unsure, Carrie stood aside. She supposed this woman couldn’t say worse to her than she already had the day Lucas died, when Carrie had been accused of not doing enough, told she’d never practise medicine again if this woman had her way.
As Lucas’s mum, Brenda, stood in the hallway, her handbag looped over her wrist and hands clasped together, Carrie went into hostess mode. ‘I’ll make us some tea.’ It would at least give her something to do. With her back to Brenda she waited for the onslaught, the accusations, words of blame, words of anger and regret, and claims of Carrie not acting fast enough to save her son. Carrie expected to hear Brenda tell her that months after the complaint was initially filed, then dropped, she was reopening it and Carrie should find herself a decent lawyer.
Carrie fully intended to lean up against the kitchen benchtop while Brenda said what she’d come here to say, but when Brenda’s outstretched hand shook as she took her mug of tea, Carrie led them both through to the lounge.
‘What can I do for you?’ Carrie’s words sounded so lame under the circumstances, but she wanted to get this over with. She wondered how on earth Brenda had known where to find her.
Brenda put her mug of tea onto the side table and fished in her bag for something. What she took out surprised Carrie so much she slopped her own tea on the knee of her jeans. She rubbed the liquid quickly, didn’t care that it had soaked in; this was more important.
She took the photograph of her and Lucas, the same photograph that she had stashed away, held together with Sellotape. She looked down at Lucas’s little face, grinning into the camera as though he couldn’t squeeze out another ounce of excitement despite how sick he was.
‘I don’t understand.’ Carrie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Why bring this here? Why now? And how did you find me?’
Brenda pulled at the hem of her floral, knee-length dress, much too thin for the season, but it was a happy print, gave colour to a face that still showed the signs of grief months on and probably would forever more. ‘It doesn’t matter how I found you, but I’m glad that I did.’ Her words took a while to come out. ‘That photograph is one of my favourites. I know Lucas was very sick at the time, but somehow it captures who he was. It’s been on my mantelpiece every day since it was taken.’ She paused. ‘I wanted to come here today to say how very sorry I am.’
‘Sorry? I’m the one who is sorry. You trusted me – Lucas was my responsibility; I didn’t spot the signs early enough.’ She clutched her mug of tea and the photograph for support. ‘You had every right to send me away from the funeral when I added to your pain by showing up.’
Brenda shook her head. ‘No, no I didn’t. It was rude, insensitive, and an action that came out of despair, not because I really blamed you. As a mother I will always blame myself, always think there was something I could’ve done. Should I have taken Lucas to the doctor sooner? Should I have insisted the doctors do more tests? Should I have had that one glass of wine when I was pregnant – was it that that gave him heart problems?’ She noticed Carrie shake her head. ‘I know, ridiculous trying to pinpoint exactly what could’ve been changed along the way, and not only that, but agonising. It adds to the pain, doesn’t lessen it, and I’ve been beating myself up for a long time. I took it out on you, and I never ever thought for one moment it would’ve had a lasting effect.
‘I feel so guilty,’ she continued. ‘I understand you took a lot of time away from your job because you were so affected by Lucas’s death.’
Carrie instantly remembered this woman the first time she’d brought her son to see her. She’d been concerned, sure, but she’d also been full of positivity, her small mouth smiling so she didn’t panic her son and her son putting a hand on his mum’s arm as though to reassure her he was still OK.
Brenda reached for her tea and took a gulp as though she needed something to steady her nerves and her voice. ‘I’m a florist, Carrie. I take payments for flowers over the counter, I chat with people on the telephone about how to make a magical order mean something to that special person in their lives. I have no concept of a job that stays with you day and night, where your mistakes make you accountable, where strangers can scream and yell at you that you are to blame, that they want to drag you through the courts and make you pay. I don’t think people outside of the medical profession could ever understand what it is truly like.’
‘I’ve been part of a baby-cuddling program, at a new hospital not far from here.’ Carrie wasn’t quite sure why she was telling Brenda this. ‘We lost a baby the other day and it nearly finished me for the second time.’
‘What happened?’
Carrie took a deep breath and explained as much as she knew. ‘She was a fighter, we thought she was getting through, but her little body couldn’t do it.’
‘It must’ve been terrible.’ Brenda didn’t break eye contact.
‘It brought back a lot of painful memories.’ Carrie looked at the photograph and then at Brenda. ‘I talked to a friend recently, I told him all about Lucas. I don’t tell many people, but this person told me that for every loss there is, there are hundreds more children I would go on to save.’
‘Your friend sounds very wise.’
‘But I couldn’t save Lucas.’ Carrie nervously looked Brenda in the eye, something she hadn’t done in a long time, and she realised what she needed from this woman was forgiveness, acceptance of what had happened. But Brenda had lost her child – how could she expect anything from her?
‘No, you couldn’t,’ said Brenda.
Carrie waited for it. The storm to follow the calm. Brenda had been nice up until now but Carrie braced herself for news of a reinvestigation, another complaint, the blame landing firmly on her shoulders.
‘Carrie, you couldn’t save him,’ Brenda continued. ‘But nobody else could have either, not by the time anyone realised what was going on.’
Carrie’s shoulders slumped. ‘The body is complicated. We can be looking in one place and the problem is somewhere else entirely, it’s like someone playing a mind game with you, and we don’t always win.’
‘You know, for Lucas, you did win.’
‘How?’
‘May I?’ Brenda reached out for the photo Carrie was still holding. She looked fondly at it and, rather than sadness, Carrie saw joy ooze from every pore. ‘This photo, that’s how. He idolised you. You gained his trust, his respect. My little boy was beautiful inside and out and he never stopped shining in your company. You made the days he spent in hospital as special as some of those he spent out of it. You made him smile, you made him laugh, and I’m glad it was you and not someone who lacked your compassion, your empathy and your determination.’
Brenda wiped a tear from beneath her eye as Carrie did the same. ‘Listen to me, I’m sounding all mushy now.’ She took out a tissue and blew her nose. ‘I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel like you’d failed. You fought until the end and if Lucas had seen the way I spoke to you…well, he’d be ashamed of his mum.’ She passed the photograph back to Carrie as they talked about the day it had been taken, some of the lame jokes Lucas had told them.
‘He liked his joke books,’ said Brenda. ‘He decided when he got older he might like to be a stand-up comedian.’ She grinned. ‘I couldn’t see it myself, but I wasn’t going to crush his dreams, so we’d talked about the Melbourne Comedy Festival and how maybe one day he could perform there. We’d go and watch, you’d come along too, but we wouldn’t eat or drink anything because we’d be laughing so hard.’
They let the memories settle, there in the lounge room on the soft furnishings and behind the brand new shutters.
‘Will you return to work eventually?’ Brenda asked.
Carrie gasped and looked at her watch. ‘Damn!’
‘What is it?’
‘I have an interview…back at the hospital in the city. I have to get ready, stop on the way for petrol…’
Brenda stood up. ‘Well then I must go.’
Carrie’s heart melted. ‘I’m sorry, it’s rude, I know. I want to talk longer, I want to chat about Lucas.’
Brenda took both of Carrie’s hands in hers as they stood in the lounge room. ‘You get to that interview and get that job, because you’re a good paediatrician, Carrie. Lucas said it himself and that boy…well, he never lied. I wish you all the luck in the world.’