Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Teresa had wanted to home birth with just a midwife – a low-key birth, like their life had been in New Zealand so far. James was not on board initially, believing that a hospital with an obstetrician would be far less risk, but after weeks of research and a detailed birthing plan, including the contingencies if they needed medical intervention, he reluctantly agreed. She reminded him of everything they had survived, and giving birth and recovering at home didn’t feel like a huge risk in comparison. He reminded her that luck eventually runs out. Teresa was stubborn though, and once she had her mind made up, it generally took heaven and earth to set her on another course of action. 

It was a quiet evening at their new place, but Teresa had been feeling off for the past few hours, not that it was an unusual feeling. She hadn’t had a comfortable sleep in weeks, was in a foul mood and generally exhausted – she was over the pregnancy and ready for the baby to come out. She was nearing the 37-week mark, and although back pain and nausea were part of her daily life, tonight it started to feel different, more intense and acutely uncomfortable.

They had called their midwife, Jenny, who advised that Teresa was most likely in the early stages of labour and reminded them that this period could last a while, even days, so James was given the task of recording notes and keeping in touch.

The room was tense. James sat on the couch in the lounge room, phone in hand, his leg bouncing nervously. She could feel the nervousness radiating off him which wasn’t helping her current mood. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, monitoring for even the slightest change, whilst timing contractions – he was taking his role very seriously. Teresa found it both comforting and annoying as she started to imagine what a caged animal at a zoo must feel like.

“Stop looking at me like I’m a fucking animal,” and with that the silence was broken and tension taken up a notch. 

“The fuck Teresa?” he said exacerbated. “Where do you expect me to look?”

“Anywhere but at me.”

“Okay,” he said calmly, he was very tempted to say something else, but reminded himself that she was in pain, had been for weeks, and he’d probably be ready to lash out at anyone in his vicinity too. The last time he was in pain was upon his return to New Orleans – he wanted to kill George for making him go on some fucked up mission whilst he was still recovering from a nasty stab wound. He did not miss that life with all of the psychopaths, idiots and generally shady characters that went along with it -  not one bit.

“Ahhh, fuck.” She said winching, her breath coming loud and sharp.

“Should I call Jenny again?” he asked.

Teresa breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth, trying to stay calm. “No. She said to wait until the contractions are closer together. Ahhhh, fuck….. it’s too early.”

“I’m calling her anyway.”

“Well why the fuck did you ask me.” She hissed. “Want to come and do this your fucking self?” He also let that comment go through to the keeper.

“Hi Jenny - mild contractions, maybe fifteen minutes apart, and she’s in a lot of pain.” The voice on the other end was calm and steady: “Still early stages. Try to get her to rest. Call me when they’re five minutes apart, but if the pain gets worse let me know and I’ll pop over with some pain relief.”

He hung up, and she screamed at him. “Get her here now, I need this pain to stop.”

“But you just said…..”

“Stop questioning me.”

James had done everything he could think of to make things comfortable - prepped music, brought her water, heat packs, cold compresses, snacks. But nothing he could do was erasing her pain. Teresa fell on her hands and knees, moaning through another contraction that seemed to have no end. Her face was flushed and damp with sweat, her body trembling.

“I’m done. I can’t go on” she whimpered.

James crouched beside her, his voice breaking with panic. “Okay, okay—baby, I’m calling her right now.” Jenny agreed to come - his voice must have sounded desperate. 

“She’s on her way. Not long now.”

A few minutes later Teresa let out a raw, guttural cry, her entire body shaking in pain. James put his hand on her back. “I’m right here. I’m so sorry—I wish I could take it, I wish I could do something....”

“Don't touch me. It hurts too much. ... I can’t do this.” She started sobbing. And then she vomited on the floor.

“Yes, you can,” he replied, his voice low but unwavering. “You’re doing it, Teresa.”

He felt helpless, watching her struggle as he brushed another damp strand of hair from her face. He then went and got a bucket, paper towels and disinfectant and cleaned up while she was still on all fours on the floor.

“You are strong, and brave,” he murmured. “We’ll get through this, I promise.” He wasn't sure if she had even heard him. 

Another contraction hit, and she moaned. Her eyes squeezed shut, and James watched her, holding his breath, wishing with everything in him that he could take this pain away from her.

It seemed like an eternity, but Jenny finally arrived and James had never felt more relieved. She was calm and composed, her presence a comfort amidst the chaos. She moved to Teresa’s side, and with a reassuring smile she took over the situation, checking everything with practiced hands.

“Teresa, how are we doing?” she asked, her voice soft but professional.

“I... I can’t,” Teresa gasped again, her face scrunching with the intensity of the contraction.

“You’re almost there,” the midwife said gently, looking over at James with a nod of encouragement.

James didn’t let go of her hand.  “You’ve got this. We’ve got this. I’m right here.”

“Ok Teresa, let’s get you to the bed. We are on the home stretch now.”

Teresa nodded, still struggling to breathe through the pain. Her body was in motion now, each contraction bringing her closer to the end. James’s heart was racing, this was the moment.

"Alright, Teresa," the midwife said after a moment, moving to the foot of the bed, her voice calm yet commanding. "I need you to push. You’re so close."

James was right beside Teresa at the top of the bed. Her grip tightened around his hand, her breath coming in sharp, raspy gasps. The pain was relentless. With every push, it felt like she was being torn apart, yet she knew this was the only way to bring their child into the world.

Another wave hit her, 30 second later and she gasped out in pain, her voice breaking. “Fuuuucccck. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly whilst stroking her hair. “You’re almost there. Just a little longer.”

Her body shook, but she forced herself to keep going. James held her gaze, urging her on. “You’re so close.”

“Make it stop.” She roared. “Help me. Why aren’t you helping me?” If their neighbours lived closer he was sure the police would have been called by now.

James just looked at the midwife – what could he do?

She gave James an encouraging nod, as she coached Teresa through the final stages. Even though James had been on the receiving end of her jibes and abuse for the last few hours, he couldn’t help but think he got the better deal. Her body was being put through the wringer, it seemed so unfair he was completely unscathed.

“This is it” Jenny said, her voice full of joy. “One more push, Teresa. Give it everything you’ve got.”

With a final, forceful cry, Teresa pushed as time seemed to stand still as the midwife gently guided the baby out into the world. James felt a rush of relief flood through him as he saw the first signs of their baby. Their child was here. His world, once filled with darkness and danger, suddenly felt, gentler, lighter. The baby let out a piercing cry – all was good.

Jenny smiled, wiping the baby clean whilst checking the vital signs. “It’s a boy,” she said softly. “You did it, Teresa. Congratulations. Time to meet your mumma little man. Teresa, do you want skin to skin contact?”

“No. Give him to James.”

“Okay.” No judgement, Jenny thought to herself. So she busied herself by showing James a quick wrapping technique and passed him the beautiful parcel.

“Alright you two, I’m going to be doing some paperwork in the dining room, I’ll check on you again in around 20 mins.” She smiled – this was a cute couple she thought, although she had to admit there was something about James that was a little enigmatic.

James stood beside Teresa and put his arms out to handover their newborn son; the baby’s little face popping through the blanket. He was as proud as punch, and looked every bit the dotting father, exhausted, but bursting with pride.

“Keep him, James,” Teresa whispered, her voice void of emotion as she looked the other way. “I don’t want to hold him.” He tightened his grip on the baby ever so slightly.

“Teresa…………..” he let the silence hang in the air for a beat “are you sure – he’s just the most beaut…..?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Teresa…” he gasped as she curled onto her side into a ball, hands in fists under her chin.

“I want to be alone.”

He felt in that instant like his world had broken in two. He stared at her in disbelief. He knew what he had heard but he didn’t want to believe it. But he had no choice other than to quietly leave and head back to the lounge room. What was he to do? How long did she want to be alone for. Did she want to feed him? What was he going to tell the midwife?

Jenny found James alone holding his son on the couch and the look on his face must have said it all.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…but…umm….well…Teresa just wanted to rest.”

She knew exactly what was going on. “Has she held him yet?”

What was he going to do? Lie? “No.”

 “Okay James, let me tell it to you straight. Your wife has just been through a fairly traumatic process – and that precious little bundle you have in your arms – he was the cause,” as she gave the baby a boop on the nose with her fingertip.

“Is this,” he gestured to the room next door, “normal? I thought you couldn’t pry a woman away from her baby.”

“It is normal for some women to not want to hold their babies immediately after – this isn’t television. But if her feelings last any more than a few days we’ll chat some more. A lot of women incorrectly assume that the baby is the patient, but it’s the mother – she is the priority. I’ll talk to her.”

He nodded.

“In the meantime, he will need feeding soon. If Teresa’s not up to breastfeeding, we will go straight to formula. Do you have any? If not it’s fine, I have some bottles and a tin in the car.”

He just nodded again. He was still stunned, and his mind was spinning. This was not the dream he had envisaged of the first few hours with their son, as a complete family; this was a living nightmare. One he hadn’t prepared for.

It was almost like she could read his mind: “You are going to have to be strong for all three of you right now. And you look like a man that can do that.” She put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to have a chat to her now – standby.”

Jenny made her way down the hall to the spare room.

“Hey Teresa, I understand you are keen for some space – totally normal. I just want to see how you are doing?”

“I’m okay.”

“Good to hear. Now just so you know you are not expected to feel anything specific right now; there is no right or wrong way to feel.”

“Bullshit. I should be holding my baby.”

“Do you want to hold your baby?”

“I want to sleep.”

“Okay, good, then let’s sleep. Do you want to sleep in here or back in your own room?”

“My room. And I want to change. All I can smell is vomit. I feel disgusting”

“Let’s get you back to your room then.”

Jenny helped her up the stairs and got her changed into some fresh clothes. Teresa broke down in tears as she got into bed, but even crying was painful. “It hurts so much.”

“I know sweetheart, I know. You could feel like this for a few more days – then slowly but surely you will start to feel like yourself again. Your husband looks like he has it all under control out there though – you are lucky.”

“lucky……pfffff….he hates me.”

“Why would you think that?” she said in a curious but calm voice.

“You know why.”

“I’m not sure I do. I’m not here to judge Teresa, I am here to listen.”

“This should be the happiest moment of our lives.” She said rather melancholy. “But I’m angry and…….damaged……..and numb. Please don’t make me see them.”

“Okay I won’t. Let’s talk about it when you get up. You’ll feel better after a sleep. I promise. If it’s ok with you, I’ll hang around a bit downstairs, keep an eye on things until you wake up again.”

She nodded as she assumed the foetal position in her bed.

Jenny reflected on the current situation. This wasn’t run of the mill, but every birth was different, and that was one of the aspects she loved about her job.

She wasn’t going to give the situation a label just yet, not until Teresa had a decent rest. Jenny knew that around 20% of parents didn’t bond with their newborn in the first few hours, days, weeks so she wasn’t panicked – but she needed to also steady this father – he looked shattered.

Jenny entered the lounge again “She’s going to try and sleep.”

“Good idea.” He said and paused. “What happened? I thought it was going okay.” They knew it was going to be a bit rough, especially without an epidural, but she had wanted the home birth, they had done all of the right things, and they had been so happy…or so he thought.

“This is normal. Every birth is different, every child is different too, trust me, it’s better to learn to leave expectations behind now, rather than later. I’ll wait until she wakes up – if that’s ok – I’ll be here if you have any questions too.”

“We’ll be here,” as he looked down at a beautiful angel, blissfully unaware of the situation evolving around him.

“I’ll be in the kitchen, I have heaps of paperwork to go on with anyway, and I’ll check on you in a bit.” He acknowledged by giving her a small nod, never taking his eyes off the baby.

On her way back to the kitchen, she overheard a private moment between father and son. “It’s just you and me bud, mum will be back soon, I promise. She’s gonna melt when she sees you.” He silently hoped he was right.

Teresa woke a few hours later, feeling slightly better, but still exhausted and sad. It was also starting to dawn on her what had happened earlier, she’d kicked the two most important people in her life to the curb and that made her want to vomit again; motherhood wasn’t off to the start she’d hoped.

Jenny peeked her head through the door and could see she had her eyes open.

“You awake darling?”

“Yeah.”

“How are you?”

“Not sure……?”

Jenny strategically let the silence fill the air. Then Teresa asked: “How are they.”

“They are both fine. And are looking forward to seeing you, when you are ready.”

“What sort of mother am I?”

“From what I can see, a great one. One that knows she needs to look after herself.”

“Does he hate me?”

“Who? James – hardly. He’s been keeping your little man company. Do you want to see them?”

A tiny sliver of her did, and with all her might she nodded, almost imperceptibly.

James walked in the room, his face full of worry, concern, but he was trying to smile and put on a brave face. “Hey,” he said gently.

“Hey.” She had never seen him with a baby and had to admit it suited him. “Fatherhood looks good on you.”

He smiled, still holding onto the baby – he would wait until she made the move.

“We’ve been hanging out, letting mum rest, haven’t we.” He looked down and started talking to the baby. “We would do anything for mum wouldn’t we – yeah. We are so proud of her.”

He was using a baby voice and it made her smile.

“James, can you sit next to me, here on the bed.” He nodded and sat down ever so gently on top of the covers. She let her head rest on his shoulders and took a peak down at their baby.

“He is a little cute.” She said.

“He is cute – and ours.”

“Can I hold him?” she asked shyly. He answered by passing him over ever so gently. She closed her eyes, trying to make herself feel. It wasn’t an overwhelming sense of joy, but she felt something. And for now, that was enough.

"Do we stay with Anthony?”

“Now he’s here I’m not sure – he doesn’t look like an Anthony. What about Xavier? It actually means New House – and, well, he was born in our new home.”

“Both names as beautiful.”

“Xavier James.” She whispered.

Just then Jenny walked in. “Did I hear a name?”

James let her answer. “Yep. Meet Xavier James Callaghan.”

Beautiful name. I will send in the birth forms then. I’m sure you want me to get out of your hair so will leave you to it and I will come and check on you tomorrow.

And she left them there as a family. With a glimmer of hope that everything was going to be alright.

Chapter Text

It had been 5 days since Xavier’s arrival. Teresa hadn’t got out of bed, save for the toilet, but she had tried breastfeeding with the help of Jenny which was a small win, but she also found it painful.  “If I can run a multi-million-dollar business I can feed a baby,” she had said and pushed through the pain. He could tell she wasn’t enjoying it though, but once again was something he didn’t know how to fix. She had just finished feeding and James took the baby, trying to burp him, and needed to address another issue.

“We are going to have to tell them soon Teresa, I don’t think we can hide it for much longer. They’ve been asking every day and blowing up your phone.”

“You can tell them. I don’t really care.”

“Ok, I will, today.” He looked at her like she was a puzzle, he’d never seen her so despondent, she was always the mentally tougher of the two, what had gotten into her head that was making her feel this way. Whatever it was, he wanted it eliminated – he wanted his wife back. He’d fought many an enemy in the past, but this one felt invisible and he didn’t like the unknown.

“They’ll want to see him; but you don’t have to see them, if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you,” as she closed her eyes and rolled over.

He went back to the lounge with Xavier, put him to sleep in the bassinet and sat in silence, looking at his phone. He finally plucked up the courage to ring Kelly Anne and tell her the truth.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Have you had the baby?” she squealed, with an exuberance only Kelly Anne could have.

“Yeah we have,” but he sounded a little sad, “5 days ago.” He added.

“James,” she breathed, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. We’d love you to meet him.”

“We’ll be there within the hour.”

The Galvez family bundled their things into the car, including all the presents Kelly Anne had purchased weeks ago. Lena was in the back seat, beyond excited, and started chanting “we get to see the baby. We get to see the baby.”

As they reversed out of the driveway, Kelly Anne started to speak.

“Poté,” She whispered. “They had their baby, 5 days ago.”

“5 days ago – serious?”

“Something isn’t right, I feel it. When you get there don’t say a word. Just smile and nod ok.”

“Orale. No special comments.”

James met Poté, Kelly Anne and Lena at the door with a tired smile and bloodshot eyes. Lena jumped into her Tio’s arms.

“Tio, I missed you.” To say that Lena thought James walked on water was an understatement.

“I missed you too darling. Wanna see your new cousin?”

“Yes yes yes.”, and he turned to find Xavier with Lena firmly planted on one side of his hips.

He had helped raise Lena in the first years of her life, occasionally helping out with feeding, nappy changes and everything in-between. He couldn’t help but think what a blessing that had been given what he was facing now.

“You look like hell brother,” Poté said from behind them. Kelly Anne glared at him – if looks could kill Poté would be dead.

 “I feel worse.” He then gestured toward the lounge room. “He’s in here.”

There he was, in the tiniest bassinet, head tilted to the side with the smallest beanie on his head. They all peered over, everyone cooing over the latest addition to their family. Kelly Anne wanted to cry. “Can I hold him?” Kelly Anne asked cautiously.

“Of course,” so she expertly lifted him out of the cot and onto her shoulder. Nothing felt out of the ordinary with the baby, what had happened?

“Where is Teresita James?” Poté asked, in a low tone which almost sounded menacing, like he had kidnapped her. If he wasn’t so on edge he would have laughed in his face.

Instead, he ignored the question and turned to Kelly Anne. “Can we chat – perhaps down here.” As he gestured to the room where the carnage had unfolded just 100 hours earlier.

“Sure thing. Poté stay here with Lena and Xavier. Lena, can I trust you and Daddy with baby Xavier?” she said with mischief.

“Of course, Mummy,” and she handed back the baby to Poté and followed James.

“What’s wrong?” she said in an affectionate and soft tone.

“Nothing is really wrong, but it’s not quite right either. Teresa is taking a while to recover. You know how we couldn’t pry Lena from your arms – well Teresa is a bit different. The birth was traumatic, and she’s been happy to let me run with things.” He didn’t know how much more diplomatic he could be.

“How are you?”

“Tired, worried.” There was no need to lie to Kelly Anne. He loved her like a sister, and he knew she had his back.

“My love,” she said with heartbreaking affection. “Does she know we have come over?”

“Yeah, I told her I needed to share the news. And that she didn’t have to see you all if she didn’t want to.”

“I see. When did you last sleep James?” as she put a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know. Maybe 6 days ago.” She almost believed him.

“Sweetheart, come here,” and she gave him the warmest hug - he quietly started weeping on her shoulder, releasing some of the tension he had been holding in for days.

“I couldn’t have raised Lena without you James. I owe you a few favours so today you’re cashing in.

“Lay down,” she ordered, as she pointed to the spare bed “and I’ll get you another blanket.” She saw him hesitate and said “don’t make me tuck you in.” He raised his eyebrows, “I’m being serious James. Go to sleep, I don’t want to see you for at least 8 hours – I will come if there is anything urgent. Let me know when his next feed is due…”

He didn’t argue, told her the feeding scheduled, and he was asleep before she reached the door.

She went back to see her husband. “Poté, I’ve put James to bed, he hasn’t slept in days, and he needs to rest.”

“Is everything ok?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’m going to check on Teresa now. I don’t know how long I will be, but you’ve got this.” She pointed to Xavier, back asleep in his bassinette again, “don’t make him cry – James needs sleep.” She then gave him and Lena a peck on the cheek and left the room.

Poté had missed Lena’s birth and James had helped Kelly Anne in those first days and months. If he was being honest, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for the man -oh how far they had come. “Alright Lena, you and me are still on Xavier duties. No crying little man!” as he sunk back into the lounge, watching Lena colour-in.

Teresa’s room was dimmed, and Kelly Anne found her curled up on the bed, her hair a mess, staring into nothingness.

“Teresa, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“Sure,” came the faint reply.

She gestured to the side of her bed. “Can I sit here for a bit?”

Teresa nodded, Kelly Anne waited.

“How are you?” she asked.

Silence hung in the air. Kelly Anne gently examined her face for any hint of what was to come. After a long time, Teresa finally spoke: “I don’t know.”

“Teresa, childbirth makes being in a Cartel look amateur hour hey. It’s tough.”

Kelly Anne saw her lips move slightly. Good.

“I’ve met Xavier. He is divine. The most beautiful mop of brown hair, gorgeous chubby cheeks.”

“Has James spoken to you…”

“A little. He said you’d been mostly happy for him to run with things.”

“Where is he?” An irrational thought told Teresa that he might have run away as soon as they’d arrived. It was absurd, but it was there.

“I’ve put him to bed. He’s exhausted.”

She was on a hair trigger and that set her off again, but she had no more tears to cry. Her face scrunched up as she tried to keep down another wave of emotion.

“I didn’t want to hold him, Xavier, he caused me so much pain.”

“Teresa, it’s ok.”

“No. It’s not. I’m his mother.”

“Yes, it is okay, and no one is judging you. James loves you. I love you. Lena loves you. Poté loves you. It might not feel like it now, but that little ball of cuteness is going to worm his way into your heart too, just like his tall, dark and handsome father did before him.”

“I have this overwhelming fear that James wants to leave me?”

“Oh darlin’, never gonna happen. They want you. And they need you. You can tell yourself what you like, but that is a fact. Could you just imagine what James would feed him if you didn’t take control? Poor kid would end up eating army rations.” Kelly Anne received a small smile and chalked it up as another win.

“Now I’m going to get you showered, I’m going to do your hair. Lena can do your makeup if you like, but I’d advise against that, and then we’ll head downstairs, and I’ll go and get some real coffee for the house. It’s Poté and Lena currently looking after Xavier, and I don’t know about you, but I’m a bit nervous.”

Teresa let out another little laugh. Kelly Anne was someone you couldn’t say no to, and she was so grateful to call her a friend.

Kelly Anne ran the shower and laid out some casual clothes on the bed. She’d gone through childbirth herself and knew what the first week was like. It was just existing, plain and simple. One foot in front of the other.

Teresa had to admit she felt like a new person with clean clothes and a shower. She let Kelly Anne dry her hair and tie it back in a soft ponytail. They made their way to the lounge where Teresa was greeted with the loudest, most innocent squeals, imaginable.

“Tia, look it’s the baby. Can I keep it, please…………….he’s sooooo cute……but he doesn’t talk”

“Shhhhhh, quiet Lena, you’ll wake the baby,” her mother angrily hushed.

Teresa didn’t seem to mind “I can see that it’s the baby Lena, and no, you can’t keep him, but you can come over and play with him as much as you like.”

Poté was the next to greet her: “Tere,” he said quietly.

“Hi Poté.”

“He’s perfect you know. You did good. He’s got good strong legs. I’ve been thinking he might be a soccer player, when can I start his training?”

“Poté,” she laughed, “not for a long time.” She went over to the bassinet, picked up little Xavier, who was starting to stir and sat on her couch for the first time since becoming a mum. It felt good.

James woke up around 6 hours later, slightly discombobulated. It was dusk, and he could swear he smelt Thai food in the air. He sat up slowly, sheets tangled around his legs, blinking away the last moments of sleep. Although he was tempted, he knew he couldn’t lay there any longer. He had a son. A little person whose life depended on him. So he rolled out of bed and padded down the hallway. He heard them before he saw them, soft voices drifting from the lounge, and his breath caught at the sight. His wife was curled up on the couch with a tiny bundle resting on her chest. Their baby. The rest of the room was covered in clothes, blankets, take away and empty coffee cups. It was beautiful chaos.

There was colour in her cheeks. Her lips curved ever so slightly at the corners. She’d showered and her hair was done. It was the most alive she had looked in a week. He just wanted to take in the moment, so he stayed in the shadows.

But as if she’d sensed him, their gazes met across the room. She looked up at him, with a look that said: I’m here. I’m okay. Forgive me.

He swallowed hard against the knot in his throat.

Their niece turned suddenly to where her Aunty was looking, gasping with delight when she saw him. “Tio!” She barrelled toward him, for the second time today, and he caught and lifted her over his head and then let her arms settle around his neck.

And for the first time in almost a week, he let himself believe that things might be okay.

“Alright, the whole family is here. James, where’s that tequila you said we weren’t allowed to drink until he was born?”

James laughed. “Kitchen Cupboard. Top shelf. Above the fridge.” And Poté moved like lightning.

James sat down next to Teresa. He peered at Xavier and then looked into her eyes -he could see love. He didn’t need to say anything. Poté came back into the lounge, bottle in one hand, two shot glasses in the other and spoilt the moment anyway.

“Right, I’m taking James to wet the baby’s head – it’s tradition!” as Poté dragged James off the couch and outside with the bottle; on his way James looked over at Teresa helplessly as if to say, “help me.” She smiled back, as if to say, “You are on your own!’

Poté was onto about his 4th tequila; before James had even finished his 1st. He was still so exhausted and thought that nothing could be worse than a hangover with a newborn so he kept topping up Poté shot glass with the hope that he wouldn’t notice his was the only one getting filled.

They were sitting in comfortable silence as Poté reminisced on when he first met James. He thought him Arrogant. Cocky. Fast-talking with that half-smirk like he’d already figured you out and wasn’t impressed. Poté had written him off almost immediately as untrustworthy. But that was years ago – and he’d never been more wrong.

Somewhere between the shoot-outs, close calls, and those moments where everything could’ve gone wrong but didn’t - James proved himself. Not with his heroic moves and advanced sniper skills. Just by showing up, again and again, when it mattered.

James began to tell the story of his son’s birth, voice shaking just enough to show it still clung to him.

Poté listened as he talked about Teresa—about her pain, her strength, the helplessness he felt. How he was there but felt useless.

Poté missed the birth of his first child, Lena.  He’d never admitted it aloud, but that absence still sat like a weight in his chest. But James had been the one who showed up, held his wife’s hand. Drove her to the hospital. Kept her safe. He was in his debt, no doubt.

James finished his story: “Turns out, she’s stronger than I ever thought possible.”

Poté raised his tequila and clinked it lightly against James’s shot glass. “To being there,” he said, and James could have sworn Poté was slurring slightly. “To being there.” James echoed.

Poté held his gaze a second longer. “You know,” he said, “I didn’t like you when we first met.”

 “No shit.” He chuckled. “But only when we first met?” Poté had tolerated but disliked him for years, and only really thawed upon his return to New Orleans.

“Thought you were arrogant. Untrustworthy. And Teresa did have terrible choices in men. But now,” Poté said, pausing. “I trust you with my life, my family, my children. You’re my familia, mate. Whether you like it or not. And we are lucky to have you.”

James’s smile faded to something softer. “Yeah. You too Poté. Now let’s go back and check on the ladies.” Poté was getting quite sentimental and loose – and it was scaring him!

The Galvez family left shortly after dinner, a second session of take away, leaving the new family alone on the couch. Xavier whimpered, but Teresa adjusted him slightly and he re-settled.

“You did well. With everyone here.” James ventured.

“I walked from my bedroom to the lounge.”

“You know what I mean,” and he gave her a look which said stop being silly.

“Every time someone said, ‘Isn’t he perfect/cute/adorable’ all I could hear was, ‘How could you not want him?’”

He put his hand gently on her thigh, grounding her. “You held him today. The whole time, even when I was asleep. You didn’t ask me to take over, even when Poté and I came back inside.”

“I didn’t even realise. It felt ok.” I don’t trust myself yet though, not fully.”

“Trust takes time, we got time, and I will help you. You know you can’t get rid of me, right?”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she also smiled…. still re-learning how to feel without falling apart.

“The look on your face when I said I didn’t want to hold him... I see it, every time I close my eyes.”

“I was scared too. I didn’t know how to help you. But, we have a lifetime with this little fella, and there will be so many ups and downs - don’t sweat the hours.

“I figure, if at least one of us has it together at one time then it will all be ok.” 

She finally lent her head on his shoulder, her hand cradling the baby between them. He wrapped his arm around her, gently, like holding glass he wasn’t sure was broken.

“I had a thought today, that you would run away.”

“Run away. hmmm….they only place I’d run away to is Mick’s espresso bar, but I’d always come back.”

And with that terrible joke, she felt the most settled she had in a week.

It was coming up on two weeks since the birth; they were starting to find a rhythm and James set them a mission – to leave the house and grab breakfast. He approached the planning as if it was a Cartel mission, and if he was being honest, loved every second of it.

Baby bag – check

Blankets – check

Baby food – check

Baby – check

Baby strapped in car seat – check

Stroller – check

Baby carrier – check

Mobile phone – check

Wallet – check

Keys - check

He’d researched a café which was ‘family friendly’ and after they’d parked, he’d put Xavier in a baby carrier and the rest of their stuff in the stroller.  With the tiny bundle firmly against his chest, he moved with the slow, careful steps of a man cradling dynamite. Teresa walked beside him, hand tucked in his arm, hair tied up, sleep-deprived but functioning.

“Do I look like I know what I’m doing?” James asked as they reached the café entrance, it was a rhetorical question though as he’d been there to help with Lena.

Teresa gave him a once-over. “You can never walk him alone; women will fall over themselves to speak with you”.

James smirked, pushing the door open with his shoulder. “Well, I am already married to the most beautiful woman in New Zealand, so they’ll be out of luck.”

They found a shady table outside. Teresa eased into the seat, sighing as her body sank into the cushion. James sat across from her, one hand steadying the baby, the other reaching for the menu, like he’d done it a million times before.

The server came over and cooed at the baby, as did several other customers prompting James to beam like he’d personally invented fatherhood. Teresa watched him, heart aching in the best way. He was still himself, confident, composed and charismatic but he also looked different, as if he’d found a new purpose.

James ordered a triple espresso and a big breakfast. Teresa asked for a smoothie and toast, her appetite still playing catch-up.

“I hope this coffee is good.” James said. Xavier was fast asleep “you’re missing out on all the action mate,” He said to the little bundle.

Teresa peered over and smiled. “I think he’s fairly comfortable there, snuggled into your chest.”

“Don’t get too comfy bud as that’s your mums favourite spot too.”

Teresa looked at him and sighed. A happy sigh. She knew she was lucky. James was head over heels in love with Xavier. A dotting husband and a healthy baby is a lot more than some women get. She wasn’t as enamoured with Xavier yet, and guilt continued to wash over her for that, but she was learning to cope. After all, it had been a good morning.

But the beautiful morning seemed a distant memory by 11:00 p.m as Teresa paced the hallway barefoot, Xavier fussing relentlessly in her arms. Her shirt was damp with milk, her eyes scratchy from both tears and exhaustion.

James leaned in the nursery doorway, arms folded, trying not to say the wrong thing. Again.

“He won’t stop crying,” Teresa snapped. “And I’ve done everything I can think of. I’ve changed him, fed him, burped him. I haven’t slept in forever. My body still hurts. I don’t even feel like myself anymore.”

“I know,” James said gently. “I wish I could fix it.”

Teresa turned on him. “You can’t fix it, James! You can’t fix me! And stop saying ‘I know’ like you’re in this body, like you’re the one who’s had to bleed, then feed every few hours like a milking machine.”

He stepped back, stunned. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just meant…”

“You meant to make me feel worse? Because congratulations, that’s working.”

James’s mouth opened, then closed. His voice came lower. “Why are you yelling at me?”

“Because I’m drowning!” she shouted. “And you’re just standing there watching!”

She knew that wasn’t fair. He’d been doing everything humanly possible to help her but she couldn’t help it, she was in a mood she didn’t know how to get out of.

Xavier’s cries became louder, feeding on the tension. Teresa’s hands trembled as she tried to soothe him.

James stepped forward, slowly. “Give him to me.”

Teresa resisted. “No. You’ll just do it better than me, as always, and then I’ll feel even more useless.”

“You are not useless,” he said firmly. “You just had a baby. You’re not supposed to have it all together. Give him to me, please.” James was so much more physically stronger, he could have taken him anyway, despite any objections, so she handed him over.

James took the baby and cradled him gently as tears spilled down her cheeks. “What part of me do I have together, James? This” she gestured to the baby and then around the room “is too fucking hard. I hate it. And I want to blame him.”

“It is hard. But not impossible. And we’ve already achieved the impossible. I still see you. Fierce, capable, smart. Just a sleep-deprived version still recovering from childbirth. But Teresa… let me help you.”

She sank to the floor, head in her hands. “I’m just so… tired and angry. And I don’t know why. I miss feeling like myself, I’m scared she’ll never come back. And you will hate me, then leave me, you already do too much….” she was hyper-ventilating by this stage.

Xavier finally started to settle in his arms, so he sat down beside her, and looked at her with the softest eyes imaginable. “Then we’ll find her again. No one, not even your darkest thoughts, are going to take you away from us. I’m not going to let that happen.” She’d heard those words somewhere before, from him, in what felt like a lifetime ago, so she tried to let herself believe it.

As they sat on the hallway floor, the baby now asleep between them, the weight of the night slowly lifted. He took her hand gently and whispered “There is something you need to know. Ready.” She nodded, having no idea what he was going to say. “Ever since Xavier’s birth, I feel like I love you even more. I never thought it possible,” and she looked into his eyes and knew he meant it.

“I love you too” she sobbed, now a blabbering mess again.

“But you got to promise me, here and now, we will find a way through the dark together. We’ve got a common enemy, and I’m not going to let it hurt you. Let’s take it on, together.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They both didn’t make promises lightly and James hoped it was real. Tomorrow would test if it was, but tonight, it was enough.

Chapter Text

Almost 9 months had passed and the worst of it felt over. Together they had been fighting her PPD; Teresa had been working with her GP, got a personal trainer, started Pilates and was feeling the fog slowly lifting. Her most important part of healing though was being honest and open with those that loved her; to be able to express her feelings without guilt or shame. And Kelly Anne, Poté and James rallied around her; just as she would of for them.

They had a good routine with Xavier too. He was smiling, babbling, crawling and almost walking….he’d standup using the couch as a lever, push himself off, stand unaided for a second and then fall on his bottom. He would giggle and do it again, and again, and again. It filled her heart with joy – and that felt good. She loved whispering sweet nothings to him too:

My baby boy, look at you now. A big goofball, just like your father. You waited for me, and still loved me, just like your father. We’re good now, I promise!  

Her sex life had slowly returned too, certainly not with the same cadence, but that was compensated by intensity; James was so gentle with her she found it both amusing and annoying, but they made it count. Teresa was using breastfeeding as a contraception, but given she was down to feeding Xavier once per day she knew she was dancing on the edge. But overall, things were fine.

They were lying in bed one morning and Teresa let out a soft sigh, fingers tracing idle patterns across James’s chest.

“Thank you for helping me, with everything. You saved me, yet again.”

“Teresa, we are partners, we help each other. Noone is keeping score. And as long as we have more good days than bad, I think everything will be ok.”

“Me too. Now I was thinking,” she murmured, “what happens when we start doing play dates?”

James tilted his head, amused. “You mean like…talking to real people, who I probably won’t even like?” He paused. “Sounds like my worst nightmare. And I won’t even be getting paid…..”

She chuckled. “Exactly. Small talk with other parents, it’s what we’re going to have to do.”

“You know, I can count on one hand the people I actually like talking to…..”

“I know that mi amor - hope I’m still at the top of that list?” as she nudged him in the ribs.

“That depends on how many playdates you make me do.”

“It will be easy. As we know from Kelly Anne we’ll really only be talking about teething issues and sleeping patterns.”

“Fun,” he said deadpan.

“And we know how our story goes if anyone asks – we made our money from smart investing - crypto and tech stocks….mainly.”

He smirked. “The story is not that far off.”

“And I’ll tell everyone that you, mi amor, were the smartest investment I ever made.”

“Yeah, I know,” he smiled back.

“I still can’t believe we made our millions. You did trade crypto and angel invest in start-ups that went public, amongst other things. And I… did um spreadsheets and logistics.”

“You make it sound so wholesome,” he said, turning slightly to kiss her shoulder. “But I think we leave the ‘amongst other things out’.”

She smiled. “And look at us now - in a quiet suburb of Auckland, painting nurseries yellow and praying no one asks too many questions.”

“It’s New Zealand,” he exclaimed. “People are polite here. No one’s going to interrogate us over soy lattes and avocado on toast.”

Teresa laughed. “You’ve clearly never met Kelly-Anne’s mother’s group.”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Please never sign me up for that.”

She laughed, then fell quiet, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Do you think they’ll ever wonder?”

“Who?”

“People. About us. Why we moved here of all places?”

He rolled onto his side to face her. “If they do, we stick to the story. We made our money young, burned out, and wanted a quiet life in a beautiful country. Nothing illegal. Nothing shady. Just enough money, tired, and in love.”

“That last part is definitely true.”

He smiled. “Then the rest doesn’t matter.” He kissed her then, slow and sure, pulling her close again under the covers. And for that moment, Teresa and James weren’t refugees. They were just two people with enough money to never work again….. and a baby.

***

The bright summer sun filtered through trees at their local park, scattering shadows over the bark chips beneath the swings. Kids squealed in delight, racing between slides and climbing towers, balance bikes dotting the perimeter.

Teresa sat on a bench in the shade, sipping a flat white and watching their son, Xavier, wobble toward a brightly coloured tunnel. He was barely walking, still in that drunken stagger stage - but determined. Always determined.

James stood nearby, arms folded, sunglasses on, scanning the park with practiced ease. Relaxed, but never unaware. Thank God the leather jacket was long gone, she thought to herself, he’d most likely frighten all the children.

“So,” came a voice from James’s left, “which one’s yours?”

James turned to find a tall blonde woman in activewear and a high-end puffer vest, standing beside a double pram, holding a reusable coffee cup, looking very put together.

He gestured toward Xavier, who had now sat down inside the tunnel and appeared quite content to stay there forever. “The one in the pipe.”

The woman laughed. “I’m Emma. That’s Max and Poppy on the slide, twins.”

“I’m James. That is Maria, my wife, over on the bench.”

Teresa glanced up at the sound of her fake name and offered a warm wave. She could have sworn Emma looked slightly disappointed at the word ‘wife’.

“I take it you aren’t a Kiwi native. You new around here?”

“Yeah,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Moved from the US a few years ago. Wanted a quiet life.”

“Oh, good move. Everyone’s leaving America now I hear.” Emma sipped her coffee, then tilted her head. “What do you do?”

James didn’t miss a beat. “Tech investor. Mostly early-stage. Crypto, a few fintechs.”

“Oooooo. Fancy.” She grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask for coin tips.”

He laughed politely, “appreciated.”

“Look this might be a bit forward, but we're having a little baby group picnic next Sunday afternoon at my place, in Murray Bay. No pressure, but come along if you’re keen. It’s mostly just tired parents pretending they have energy. It’s around 30 minutes from here, I’m just here waiting for my husband to finish sailing – and plus, us north shore folk have to stick together.”

Teresa had joined them now, and she smiled kindly. “That sounds lovely. Count us in.”

James shot her a glance, half a second of silent, mutual checking. She nodded subtly. We’re fine. We’ve got this.

Emma beamed. “Perfect! I’ll add you to the group chat.” They exchanged details and that was that.

As she walked away, Teresa leaned in closer and muttered under her breath, “Group chat. This is how it starts.”

He smirked. “Next thing you know we’ll be chairing PTA meetings and baking gluten-free muffins.”

“I’d fake my own death first,” she whispered.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he cheekily whispered back.

They both laughed quietly, then turned to watch Xavier still in the tunnel, perfectly at peace in his plastic fortress. All around them, the playground buzzed with harmless chatter and scattered laughter. “I will run a background check on her and the place, just to be safe.”

She wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. “Do what you have to do mi amor,” and sighed.

The sun was mid-sky as several families arrived at Emma’s spacious, modern home by the sea in north Auckland. Her living room was cluttered with toys and baby gear, but was completely baby proof. There was an array of drinks on a small table, coupled with some beautiful charcuterie boards and fairy bread and watermelon for the toddlers. Emma was a woman who knew how to host; Kelly Anne would approve.

James and Teresa walked in, Xavier on his mother’s hip, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. Emma greeted them warmly, her smile wide and welcoming. "James! Maria! So glad you could make it! This is going to be so much fun."

"Thanks for having us, Emma," Teresa said, giving her a friendly smile. Emma gestured to the group of parents already gathered. "Come on in, make yourselves at home."

As they mingled with the others making small talk, Emma bee-lined for James, asking him questions about life in America, making jokes, and laughing at James’s casual remarks as if they’re the funniest things she’s ever heard.

At one point, James moved to get another drink, and she followed him. "You know," she said, leaning in a little closer than necessary, "I was just thinking, your background in tech must have been a real advantage when you moved here, hey?"

James chuckled, trying to brush it off casually, "Yeah, it’s definitely been an interesting change, but we’re happy here. New Zealand’s been good to us so far."

"I bet," she said with a grin. " It’s not every day you meet someone who’s moved halfway across the world to our neck of the woods! I’d love to hear more about your impressions of our innovation ecosystem here. We are trying to put ourselves on the map!"

From across the room, Teresa watched, her fingers tightening around the glass in her hand. She tried to distract herself by chatting with a couple of the other mums, but her gaze was constantly drawn to Emma, who seemed to be enamoured with her husband.

Teresa excused herself from her conversation and walked over to Emma and James. "Hey, Emma," she said, her tone smooth but tight, "Do you need a hand with anything? I think the kids are powering through the food?"

"Oh sure, come with me!" she said, though her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. What she really wanted to do was keep chatting to the most good-looking and interesting Dad at the party.

As Teresa went with Emma to help with the kids’ snacks, she glanced over her shoulder and caught James’s eye; it wasn’t a friendly look. Right, pivot James thought; he needed to find the men stat, so he headed outside to find the bbq. He found Emma’s husband Mark tending to another round of sausages, so he grabbed a couple of beers and went over.

“Hey James, you two settling in alright down here? Emma tells me you moved from the states?”

“Yeah. Feels like the first time in a long while we can just catch-our breath; we are barely surviving with the toddler though. Don’t know how we’d both work full-time as well you know?”

“ I do know but I wish. I’ve got my own accounting firm, but it just feels non-stop – even worse than when I worked for KPMG! Emma’s still an accountant there, but she’s on maternity leave. What do you do for work buddy?”

“Tech” James said simply. “I’m investing in some NZ start-ups at the moment, great companies with brilliant ideas. I just didn’t want the relentlessness of the US anymore. I worked hard. Made some money and couldn’t wait to get out.”

“Good on ya man. I’ll introduce you to Rick later, William’s father if you like - he’s also into the tech thing.”

“Great. Have you lived in New Zealand all your life?” James ventured.

“Yeah, between here and Sydney, but mostly here. Sydney didn’t tempt you guys?”

“Too busy, great for a holiday you know, but….” James was just spit-balling at this stage. What was he going to say, we chose New Zealand because it was the most convenient visa arrangement that a crooked, criminal immigration lawyer had on offer at the time?

“Yeah I know.”

James then expertly steered the conversation into safer territory. “But tell me, where can I get a decent rib eye steak in New Zealand – I’m willing to travel.”

“My man, now you are talking my language. Give me your number and you, me and Rick can have dinner; I need no excuse to head to the best steakhouse on the north island.”

“I look forward to it.”

As they sipped their beers James thought how nice it would be to actually go out with normal people and not have to worry about getting his head blown off; he actually hoped Mark would come through with the offer.

Back inside some of the kids were watching a movie in the lounge room, some were asleep in various places. Emma, Teresa and two other mums stood by the fireplace, half-full wine glasses in hand.

Amongst the small talk about raising babies, Emma couldn’t help herself and took the conversation in a slightly different direction. “I’ve been meaning to ask Maria—how did you and James meet?” Ask me anything Teresa thought, anything but that. But she smiled politely. Stick to the truth, as much as possible.

“It was in Dallas, Texas. I was on holiday from Brazil, sort of escaping my life, my boyfriend had just left me. James was... well, brooding in a bar. Clearly I wasn’t looking for anything. I just wanted a drink. But there he was - quiet, thoughtful, kind of intense.”

“Sounds very James” she offered, as if she knew him very well.

As if you know him at all she wanted to scoff, but moved on. “We had a few dates, crazy intense dates, he showed me the sights of Dallas, but I wasn’t too impressed at first. But we stayed in touch and one thing led to another, next minute we are working together then moved halfway across the world.”

“Wait. Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Across the room, James leaned against the doorframe with a beer in hand. He’d been there a minute, listening quietly. He smiled to himself as Teresa walked down memory lane.

“It wasn’t glamorous though. We started from nothing. I took whatever jobs I could. But I started investing, slowly. Crypto before it boomed, then real estate. It turned out we made a pretty good team. James is the ideas man – I’m good with the numbers.”

“I do love that about you.” Teresa was startled, her husband, always the sniper, appearing out of nowhere. “She is ruthless with a spreadsheet and assesses risk better than anyone I know.”

“Okay,” Emma said, and she added genuinely: “that’s officially the coolest story I’ve ever heard. I’ve hung around accountants all my life and nothing like that ever happens.”

“It was a gamble, for both of us. But it paid off.”

“Well I’m glad you both ended up here,” Emma beamed.

I bet you do, Teresa thought. But instead said: “Yeah. Us too. James, let’s go check on Xavier.”

Emma took her cue and went to the kitchen and poured herself another glass of wine. She thought of Maria’s and James’s story. How do people know? Know when they have found the one?

She stared at a framed magnetic photo on the fridge - her and Mark, smiling at the beach in Bondi, from many moons ago. Back when they were happy. They hadn’t really been on speaking terms in months, the twins felt like the only link in their relationship left, and even that felt a little tenuous at times. Would she ever leave Mark? If she was being honest, she wouldn’t, unless the right man came along – smart, loaded and nice arms…... She liked the comforts that came with money and running a successful business. So, she would stay put, for now.

Teresa and James went to leave, little Xavier half asleep folded over James’s shoulder. "It’s been so good having you here," Emma said, stepping just a little too close to her husband again for Teresa’s liking. "James, you’ve got such an interesting perspective on things. I’d love to grab coffee sometime and talk business. KPMG is always on the hunt to talk to talent as you would know."

James forced a smile. "Uh, look, that sounds nice, but we’re pretty busy these days, you know? A coffee sounds good in theory, but..." He trailed off.

She leaned in a little, her tone soft but insistent. “No worries. If you do have time let me know. Help us grow the tech sector," as she let out a laugh.

Teresa placed a hand on James’s arm. "Thank you for a wonderful evening," she said, her voice a little colder than she intended.

"Of course. I’m just glad you could make it and hope to see you both again soon."

Teresa didn’t reply and was already halfway out the door. He could tell she was pissed – but what did he do? Surely she wasn’t mad he was talking to another woman?

The car ride home was silent at first, Xavier passed out in the back. James glanced at Teresa a few times, but she was staring out the window, her jaw clenched. Finally, she broke the silence, her voice laced with hurt. "I felt like the only reason we were invited there was so that Emma could hit on you?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Don’t play dumb,” she snapped. "You were practically the centre of her attention all evening. The way she was laughing at every little thing you said, touching your arm, leaning in like you were the only person in the room..."

James felt a knot form in his stomach. He hadn’t realised it was bothering Teresa that much. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Teresa’s words kept coming.

"I know you didn’t do anything wrong," her voice still tinged with frustration. "But it just felt... disrespectful. She wouldn’t stop. I felt like I was invisible. And she is tall, blonde, gorgeous, smart – who wouldn’t want her?"

James winced at the sharpness of her words, "I was just trying to be polite." He put a hand over his face, frustrated. " She’s just one of those people and I didn’t want to be rude. But I get it, okay? I’m sorry.”

The silence continued, so he went on.

“And look, if it makes you feel any better, I’m really enjoying not having enemies in New Zealand right now. What do you think I’m going to do? Go off and have a raging affair with Mark’s wife? Give me some credit at least.”

Having heard James, she knew she was being ridiculous so didn’t say anything further.

James wasn’t finished as he held up the mirror to her; something he had done well since the day they met.  “Do you talk to your PT, Justin. I assume you sometimes shoot the breeze?”

“Yes.”

“I assume you’re polite to him?”

“Yes.”

“And I assume you are not going to run off with him and leave me, unable to resist his advances?”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” she said begrudgingly as he made a very valid point.

“Then I rest my case.”

They arrived home, still in relative silence and settled Xavier. Once they hopped into bed James had something else to say. "I’m glad you were honest with me tonight; we still don’t hide from each other, and I love that.”

He went on. “Remember our vows? You’re the only person who knows me. The real me. My real name, my real story - everything. And no one, other than you, ever will.”

She nodded. She had always known there was something deeper between them - but hearing his voice tremble with the truth again, was what she needed.

“I took our vows seriously,” he added. Always needing the last word.

The wall she had temporarily built up in her mind started to crumble as James’s words sank in. She knew Emma had unsettled her, but his words put everything back into perspective. Was it a lack of sleep or hormones making her slightly irrational….hmmm hormones??? She hadn’t taken a test, but deep down she knew she was already pregnant, there was no denying what her body was telling her.

James continued, his words now filled with a playful edge. "And let’s be real. She’s probably just trying to get some attention because, well, her husband isn’t giving it to her. I mean, that’s not our problem, right?"

Teresa couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the tension between them melting away with his words. "I’m sure she could use a distraction," she said, shaking her head. "But, no, I’m not worried about her now."

"Good," James murmured, his lips curling into a grin as he moved a little closer, “because you’re the only woman who matters to me. And no one can change that."

The sting of jealousy was ebbing away, "I just let bullshit fill my head, again." Her fingers now traced his palm as she spoke. "It’s hard when someone so... open comes into our space, you know? If anything ever happened to us, I don’t think I’d survive it.”

"I’m sorry," he whispered against her ear.

"Please don’t apologise," she said quietly, "I just... I just needed to hear it."

“I’m only doing marriage and kids once in my lifetime. You know that right?”

She nodded, leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. “Make love to me,” she whispered.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said as she leaned in for another kiss, this time more passionate, her hands threading through his hair as she rolled on top of him. Their connection felt stronger than ever, holding nothing back, consuming each other and leaving no room for anyone else. After they finished they stayed close, content in the world they had created for themselves, a world that was about to expand, again.

“James,” she whispered. “I’m pregnant.”

He heard her, but wasn’t quite sure what to say, so he kept stroking her back. She knew exactly what he would be thinking, the fear and joy competing for his heart, but she hoped to give him piece of mind with these words. “It will be different this time, I promise,” and she promptly fell asleep on her favourite place in the world, his chest.

He’d knew it was a possibility, after all, they were rolling the dice with breastfeeding as a contraception. Tonight, in the dark, he was content to let Teresa and their second child, growing in his mother’s womb, rest against his torso. He would deal with the implications of this news tomorrow, probably sometime after coffee.

Chapter Text

Six months had passed, and Xavier was almost 18 months old; and although a non-stop terror during the day, he slept through the night. They had talked at length about this pregnancy, and more importantly the birth. They were doing everything by the book. Private obstetrician (James undertook extensive research for the best one in New Zealand), C-Section, plans for Xavier whilst they were in hospital, and how they could prepare for any other unwelcome complications. 

To Teresa though, this pregnancy felt different. She’d been feeling more exhausted than usual, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

At first, it was little things: mild cramping, light-headedness, a strange tightness in her chest that would come and go. Her doctor said it was probably just the added strain of pregnancy, especially with a toddler at home and to keep monitoring herself for signs of swelling, but they never came.

One evening, after putting Xavier to bed, she collapsed on the couch, clutching her stomach in agony, whilst her vison went blurry. James was in the kitchen when he heard her cry out his name.

"Teresa?" he called, rushing into the living room. He froze when he saw her curled up, her face pale, trying hard to breathe through the pain.

"Something’s wrong," she whispered, barely able to catch her breath.

"What’s happening? What do you need?"

"I don’t know," she gasped, clutching his hand tightly. "It hurts so much. It won’t stop. I can’t focus. I’m scared."

"Okay, okay, just breathe," James said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the panic rising in his chest. He reached for his phone with shaky hands and dialled emergency services, whilst also texting Kelly Anne to come and get Xavier urgently.

Within minutes, Teresa was on her way to hospital in an ambulance, James was close behind after waiting for Kelly Anne. He was trying not to drive like a maniac, but it was difficult.

At the hospital, James paced the waiting area, unable to sit still, unable to even think. Every second felt like an eternity. He wasn’t allowed to see her until they had finished their testing.

The doctor finally came to speak with him. He could see the seriousness in his eyes, and it was like the air left his lungs.

"Mr. Callaghan, I’m afraid Maria is experiencing some severe complications," his tone steady but filled with a quiet urgency. "Her blood pressure is dangerously high, and there are signs of preeclampsia. If left untreated, it could lead to organ failure. We’re doing everything we can to stabilise her, but if we can’t, we’ll have to deliver the baby early to save her life."

He went numb. "And the baby?” He questioned, knowing she was only 6 months along and nowhere near full-term.

"Delivering a baby at 28 weeks is considered extremely premature, but the survival rate is around 90%. This is much better than the alternative. We are working alongside your Obstetrician and he’s on his way in. I’ll keep you updated, but I need you to understand that this is serious, but she has a good team around her."

James nodded. He felt like the ground was slipping from beneath him. All he could think about was Teresa, the mother of his child, his best friend in the whole wide world. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

30 agonising minutes later, James was allowed to see Teresa, but the sight of her in the hospital bed made his stomach churn. She was still pale, hooked up to machines, her breathing shallow. The doctors were monitoring her closely. She was now in the intensive care unit, and he’d never seen her body look so weak.

"James," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, fragile. "If I don’t make it…..keep living, you have to….."

James’s heart shattered. He couldn’t imagine the fear she was feeling, the same fear he had been battling all night. He took her hand gently, sitting beside her. His voice broke as he spoke. "You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get through this; together. You hear me?"

Tears welled up in Teresa’s eyes, and she nodded, but she couldn’t find the strength to speak. Her body was fighting against her, and all she wanted was for it to stop. She could feel the weight of everything closing in around her.

"I love you," she whispered, barely audible, her hand clutching his tighter. "Please, don’t leave me."

"I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was steady now, determined. "You’ve got this. You’re the strongest person I know."

Another hour passed and as her vitals were not improving, the team decided to deliver the baby via c-section. James was at her side the entire time, holding her hand, whispering sweet nothings. This was so different to the first child, everything then was so real, vivid. This was sterile, bleak. There was nothing for Teresa to do, but lay there and wait whilst they cut her open. There were about 10 people in the delivery suite, it was noisy, lots of discussion, but he blocked it out. All he was focused on was her, and the anaesthetist on the other side of her wearing a ridiculous surgical scrubs cap emblazoned “sweet dreams are made of Propofol”. He wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

He barely registered when the baby was born. The doctors immediately took the newborn away to the NICU. He didn’t even hear a cry, but that didn’t matter as his eyes locked on Teresa’s pale face as they stitched her up and worked to stabilise her. She was then off to recovery and James was told to wait outside and they would get him once the baby was settled.

An overly joyful midwife found him an hour later – it was 5am by this stage, the previous evening now just a blur. “Right, you must be Mr Callaghan. Let’s go and find your little precious one, we just love the little ones.”

“Now before you see her, there is a few things you need to know. Premmies like yours have underdeveloped lungs so she’s attached to a ventilator to help her breathe. Babies at this age can’t feed either so we’ve got some support for her too, you will see some tubes in her nose and stomach. She’s in a cute little incubator to keep the temperature consistent, and it will also keep her protected from infections while she gets stronger.

“She is a little trooper though, and we are going to love having her here – she’ll be here for the next 12 weeks or so, depending on how she’s going. Are you ready to see her?”

James wasn’t sure but steadied himself. “Yep.”

“Great - She’s in here.”

Christ, nothing could have prepared him for what she looked like. She was the tiniest thing he’d ever seen; skin so translucent he could see her veins and she looked so light she could float away.

The strangest feeling came over him. She was his, but it wasn’t him, her father, keeping her alive, it was machines. He didn’t really know how to feel about that. The one thought he did have was that she was far too delicate for this world; however, he pushed the ugly memories of his previous life back down, and refocused.

“She’s too tiny.” He said to no one, but the midwife overheard.

“She is tiny, but so far so good.”

“Baby girl, it’s Daddy.” He said to the incubator.

“Would you like to touch her?”

All he could do was nod.

“Ok - let’s get you ready.”

After his hands were scrubbed, he emerged in a hospital gown, cap and gloves.

“Ok you can put your hands through here, but perhaps just keep your hand in one place – either on her hand or foot. Premature babies are highly sensitive to touch, so keep your hand still, and touch her slowly - no stroking or rubbing.”

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

He put his hand in the incubator and touched her hand; electricity ran through his veins. God he wished Teresa had been here to witness this miracle. In this moment he also made a silent vow: there is nothing he wouldn’t do to protect his little girl.

It was over 12 hours since they had arrived at the hospital, with both mother and baby in separate areas of the hospital, each getting stronger with the help of modern medicine. James was slouched back beside Teresa’s bed, eyes bloodshot and looking very dishevelled. He hadn't slept, save for a mini-doze in the chair. She was still sedated, her face peaceful but pale.

His hand had not left hers though, grounding himself to her in the only way he could.

"We had a girl. She’s beautiful. But so tiny. I touched her. She knows we are here.”

"There is a small chance she might not make it, so I wanted to give her a name…”

He cleared his throat.

"Her name is Isla. Isla Susana Callaghan. I know we had agreed on Isla before Xavier was born. And she looks like an Isla. Strong. Gentle."\

"The doctors say she’s small, but she’s a fighter. Just like her mum."

James lifted his head and Teresa’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. Then again as a soft, yet husky whisper, escaped her lips: "...James?"

"I’m here. I’m right here."

Her voice was dry, fragile and tired. "Did we...?"

He smiles through tears. "Yeah. We did. You had a baby girl."

Teresa blinked slowly. "Really?"

"Really. She’s okay. She’s perfect."

"...Does she have a name?"

James kissed her hand gently. "Isla. Her name’s Isla.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. "Isla," she breathed. "That’s perfect."

“Can I see her?”

“Yeah, I think so, we’ll just make sure you are strong enough first. I’ll get the nurse.”

By the end of the day Teresa’s vitals were almost back to normal and they got her into a wheelchair, ready to see her baby for the first time. James walked beside her, one hand on her shoulder, the other gripping the ID badge that allowed him through the double doors to the NICU.

James nodded toward the far corner. "She’s over there."

Teresa’s breath caught when she saw the incubator. Tiny tubes, monitors, the gentle rise and fall of the plastic bubble. Inside, curled up like a fragile wisp of cloud, is Isla.

She looked like a miniature human doll: her skin still translucent, her limbs thin, her fists curled. She had a soft cap on her head and tubes everywhere, but she was moving gently. Fighting. Living.

Teresa felt like she couldn’t breathe for a moment; he looked down at her and he knew the feeling well.

James knelt beside her and rested a hand on her knee. "She’s okay. She’s strong. She’s been fighting since the second she came out. I think she got that from you."

Teresa nodded, hot tears slipping down her cheeks freely now. "She’s so tiny..."

The NICU nurse approached gently. "Would you like to try skin-to-skin contact today, Mum?"

Teresa looked up, her voice trembling. "Can I?"

"We’ll take it slowly, but yes—you can. It’s going to be a very important part of Isla’s journey."

James helped unbutton her gown while the nurse opened the incubator and gently lifted her out then expertly laid Isla on Teresa’s chest. Her arms instinctively wrap around her daughter, her hand cradling Isla’s tiny back. Isla’s head slotted perfectly beneath Teresa’s chin like it was always meant to be there.

"Hi, baby girl," she whispered. "It’s me. I’m your mum."

Isla squirms, just a little, her tiny hand pressing into Teresa’s skin.

James can’t speak. He watches them—his wife and daughter—finally together.

"You’re everything, sweetheart. And I’m not going anywhere."

The three of them stay like that for a long while; Teresa skin-to-skin with her daughter, James curled protectively beside them, finally, quietly, becoming a family of four.

The following days were a haze of recovery and uncertainty. Her body was healing, but it was a slow process. The pain from the complications still lingered, though the doctors assured her that she was stable and would make a full recovery.

Two days later Teresa was sitting up in bed, propped against a pillow, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the machines around her. James was sitting beside her, reading a science magazine he purchased from the hospital newsagency – it was slim pickings.

"James," Teresa began, "I need to talk to you about something... important."

"Yeah?”

"I’ve been thinking about what happened, and how close I came to not making it. It’s not an easy thing to face, and I know you’ve been scared, too. But there’s something I need you to hear from me."

Teresa smiled faintly, her eyes softening as she took in the worry of his expression. "I’m not going anywhere, James," she said with a quiet strength. "I’m here. I’m going to make it through this. But I need you to know something—something I haven’t said out loud before."

James put down the magazine and took her hand.

"I trust you. Implicitly. With everything. If something were to happen to me... I need you to know that I trust you with our children. I trust you to raise them, to guide them. You’re more than enough. You’re the best father they could ever have."

The weight of her words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything around him seemed to stop. He’s always known he loved her, always known they shared a deep bond, but hearing her express this kind of trust, this profound belief in him, shook him to his core.

"Teresa, don’t say that. Nothing’s going to happen to you. We’re in this together."

"I know," she replied softly, her gaze unwavering. "But if it did... I want you to know that I’m not scared. I’m not worried about them. I’m not worried about you. I know you’ll love them the way I do. I know you’ll protect them, raise them to be strong, kind, and everything they need to be. You’ll be okay, James."

He simply nodded.

Eight weeks had past, and Isla was strong enough to come home. They had made the decision not to let anyone see her whilst she was still in hospital. They wanted Xaviers first memories of Isla to be at home, sans tubes.

James put the baby capsule down in the middle of the living room, Isla inside wearing a pink beanie and a matching blanket, and he stepped back like he needed a second to process the moment. “This is it, she’s home.”

“There was a time where I didn’t think we’d ever make it back here,” Teresa said softly.

James turned to her and gently took the baby bag off her shoulder, setting it down, and squeezed her hand.

There’s a long pause. Isla squirmed in her carrier, making a soft breathy sound. It pulls Teresa out of the fog and she leaned in to say hello.

“Hi, Isla,” she whispered. “Welcome home, baby.”

James knelt behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder. He exhaled, deeply, the kind of breath you only release when you know the worst is over.

“We made it,” Teresa said, more to herself than anyone.

They sit like that for a while in the quiet of their living room, the only sounds the ticking clock and Isla’s faint baby breaths. Eventually, James lifted Isla from the capsule with practiced gentleness and held her against his chest. She’s was still so light, a feather in his arms.

Teresa looked up at James, her voice soft but strong: “Thank you. For holding everything together.” It had been a long few months, with both of them dividing their time between the hospital and home – still looking after their toddler that was a handful.

James’s expression faltered with emotion. “You gave everything, Teresa. You nearly died for her.”

“But you lived for both of us,” she said.

He swallowed hard and gently lowered himself to sit beside her on the couch, Isla cradled against his chest.

And for the first time since everything began, there is peace.

Not perfection. Not certainty. But peace.

The sound of gravel crunching in the driveway makes Teresa’s heart skip. Moments later, a soft knock. Then the door creaks open.

“Hello?” came the familiar voice of Kelly Anne, warm and light, carrying both excitement and caution.

Behind her, Poté stepped inside with a big grin and a toddler balanced on his hip. It was little Xavier, his mop of brown curls sticking up wildly, one sock half off, and a cracker clutched tightly in his hand.

“There he is,” James said, standing up with a grin that couldn’t hide the emotion behind it.

“Mama!” Xavier squealed, spotting Teresa instantly. His little body wriggled in Poté’s arms, legs kicking in demand.

Poté  lowered him carefully. “Alright, alright, you’ve got places to be.”

Xavier tore across the room like a freight train in toddler form, then halted when he saw the bundle on James’s chest. His eyes widen.

He takes one cautious step closer, then looks at his mother then father for confirmation. “Baby?”

Teresa smiled, trying to hold back tears. “Yes, sweetheart. This is your baby sister. Her name is Isla.”

Xavier approached slowly, wide-eyed as he saw Isla for the first time, his Dad now on his knees so Xavier could have a look.

“Tiny,” he declared.

“Very tiny,” James agreed, “and very special.”

Xavier went to touch her but hesitated.

“You can say Hi. Just be soft.”

Xavier brushed a tentative finger across her cheek. Isla stirred, scrunching her face but not crying.

Then he gave her a peck on the cheek, it melted his heart.

“She’s got your approval, little man?” James smiled

Kelly Anne smiled, her eyes misting. “He’s been talking about his ‘baby sissa’ for days. Every time we pass a pram!”

 “Thank you. For everything. For looking after him like he was your own.”

“You don’t need to thank us,” Kelly said warmly. “He’s a dream — when he’s not throwing sippy cups across the room.”

“Solid arm,” Poté added.

“Seriously. We couldn’t have done this without you.”

“I’ll grab the tequila from the car then,” Poté said in reply.

Xavier climbed onto the couch beside Teresa, watching Isla like she’s a mystery. He leant his head gently against his Mother’s arm.

“Mama stay now?”

Teresa kissed the top of his head. “Yes, baby. Mama’s staying. We’re all home now.”

Isla had slept in the bassinet in her parent’s room for the past three months. Xavier, almost two was ready for his own room and Teresa was very keen for Isla to sleep in the nursery – James was not. In fact, he had barely let Isla out of his sight since she came home; Teresa noticed he was generally a lot more intense and on edge than what he was with Xavier.

“She’s ready, James. She sleeps through most nights. It’s time.”

“She’s still so small. What if something happens and we don’t hear her?”

Teresa smiled, tired but patient. “We’ll hear. The monitor’s right there. We’re three steps away.”

James shakes his head. “More like 20 steps.”

Teresa studied him. “You didn’t used to be like this.”

“Yeah. Well. I didn’t used to have doctors telling me that my child and wife might not make it.”

Teresa settled Isla gently into the bassinet, the baby squirming but peaceful. Then she crossed the room and put her hands on his chest.

“You didn’t lose us,” she said softly. “Everything is ok.”

 “I just need her close. Where I can see her. Hear her breathe.”

“You want her in our room because it’s safe,” Teresa said. “But keeping her there forever won’t stop the world from turning.”

“If I lost either of you…”

“You’re not going to lose us.”

They stand there for a while, just breathing together. After a moment, James peeks over her shoulder at Isla, asleep now in the bassinet.

He lets out a shaky breath. “Fine. She can go. But I’m getting some extra tech.”

Teresa snorts, “Fine.”

In the morning there’s a pile of tangled cables on the floor of the nursery, a half-mounted motion sensor dangling from a corner bracket, and James is kneeling beside Isla’s cot with a screwdriver in his mouth, muttering to himself.

Teresa appears in the doorway holding a laundry basket. “James. What... exactly are you doing?”

He pulled the screwdriver from his mouth. “Don’t panic. I’ve almost figured out how to integrate the baby monitor feed into the motion detection grid.”

“James.”

“I also ordered a thermal sensor. I’m also thinking of running a backup generator in case we lose power.”

She sets the laundry basket down slowly. “You do realise she can’t even crawl yet.”

“That’s exactly why I’m doing it now,” he said, standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans. “By the time she’s mobile, the whole perimeter will be live. Window sensors, door contact magnets, and I hope to get it all sent to my phone.”

Teresa walks over to the cot peering down at Isla, who’s babbling softly and chewing on the ear of a stuffed rabbit, utterly oblivious to her father’s descent into tactical madness.

 “James. She’s six months old. Not a cartel informant.”

“Technically, three months….” Then he paused. Just a beat.

Then, as if resigned whispered “I know.”

Teresa softened. “You’re scared.”

He nodded. “I keep thinking if something happens, and I missed it, and she’s in here alone…”

“You won’t miss it,” she said gently. “But this?” She gestured at the wires. “This is about your fear, not her safety.”

He leant against the cot, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I just want her safe.”

“She is safe. Because she has you. Not because you turned her room into a Mission: Impossible set.”

“I was going for Jason Bourne.”

 “Okay, Bourne. Let’s uninstall half of this and just keep the baby monitor.”

 “Okay. But I’m keeping the thermal cam. Just for emergencies.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘emergency’.”

“Like... if she’s cold. Or if she gets a weird rash.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

James put his chin on her head. “But you love me.”

“For my sins, I do.”

Later that evening James emerged from the nursery, moving with practiced silence. He shut the door gently and crossed the room, then slid under the covers beside his wife with a long exhale.

“Both kids are asleep,” he whispered.

Teresa smiled, a satisfied parental smile. “Yeah. We got this.”

"We do. On another note, I don't know why, but do you know I still remember our first ‘date’, as you call it vividly. The one at the airport, when we had to fake being boyfriend and girlfriend to get past the checkpoint?”

Teresa groaned, instantly burying her face in her hands. “God. Don’t remind me. Do you know I wanted to kill you that day?”

James blinks. “Why? I saved your life if I recall.”

“You did no such thing,” she smiled. “You made us late,” she accused, nudging his leg, “and then blamed me for taking too long to get ready.”

He sat up, incredulous. “I was just staying in character! You were supposed to be the high-maintenance girlfriend!”

Teresa narrowed her eyes. “Oh yeah, in my old jeans and cheap top – surprised you didn’t get us detained there and then. By the way, you said, and I quote, ‘she’s always so last minute. I gave her 3 hours’ notice!!’”

James burst out laughing. “That’s a great line! C’mon, you loved it. Admit it.”

“Hmmmm, no chance. Do you know what I remember most from that trip?”

“My driving?”

“No, I try to forget that part. It was the burger and fries after – you shouted, and it was the best thing I had ever tasted, especially after drinking the soap.”

“See, kind of was like a first date - burger and fries - I’m a classy guy.”

“You, are an idiot!”

“And you love it!”

She smiled. Because she did.

Chapter Text

James came down after his shower and walked into mayhem. He took in the carnage looking from the screaming child to Teresa as if both were dynamite, on a short fuse, ready to explode.

There was cereal spread across the dining room table, an abandoned highchair covered in some indeterminate food source, the lounge room floor was full of hot wheels cars and Xavier, now well into the terrible twos, was lying face-down in the hallway having a tantrum because he wasn’t allowed a 3^rd yoghurt.

Teresa stood at the kitchen island bench trying to eat her breakfast whilst bouncing Isla on one hip. She had neither showered or had coffee and was not brimming with enthusiasm.  

"Is this normal?" he muttered, pointing to his son.

Teresa didn’t look up. “I don’t know. Not one of the books I read said how to deal with exploding toddlers.”

As if he sensed they were talking about him, Xavier’s screams became even louder, if that was possible.

James squinted. "Do we intervene, or let him finish his protest?"

"Let him burn out," Teresa said, rubbing Isla’s back. “He is not getting a 3^rd yoghurt, he will vomit.”

James sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “You know, in our old life, if someone pulled this kind of shit, we had options.”

“True,” she lightly chuckled. But unfortunately, we can’t intimidate a toddler with death threats.”

“Shame – I did find it quite effective.”

Xavier let out one last dramatic howl, then started breathing heavily, staring at them. They exchange a look.

"You think it’s a trap?"

Teresa answered without hesitation. “Definitely.”

Isla let out a gurgling cry and Teresa switched hips, trying to soothe her. “Can you warm her bottle please?”

James nodded. He turned on the warmer but nothing happened. "You unplugged it to charge your drone, didn’t you?"

James winced. “Yeah, I was just testing the new…..never mind.”

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She had long lost the battle over James’s tech habits. But she knew it brought him joy so really didn’t mind.

She put Isla gently into her bouncer. “I’m going to try and get ready. I don’t want to be late to the park – it would be nice to beat the Galvez’s at least once in our lifetime.”

Xavier, sensing her departure, revived instantly. He sprinted into the kitchen barefoot, yelling “Mummaaaaaa!” like she’s leaving him forever. James intercepted him just before he crashed into Isla’s bouncer.

“I’ve got him,” James said, grabbing the tornado of a toddler. “C’mon, buddy. Let’s talk about emotional regulation.”

“No,” Xavier screamed defiantly, even though he didn’t know what it meant, then attempted to slap his father in the face; unfortunately for Xavier his father was a trained fighter, with the reflexes of a cat. If an adult had tried that with James, they’d most likely be out cold by now.

“Okay, buddy. Violence. Not cool. Let’s breathe. In through the nose, out through the…”

“Brrrrrrrrrrrrr” Xavier then inexplicably blew a raspberry on his father’s shirt, his shirt now sporting snot and slobber stains. If looks could kill, Xavier would be a dead toddler walking. James put him down and with a very stern voice told Xavier, in no uncertain terms, to stay put playing cars – he obeyed.

A few minutes later the bottle warmer beeped, Isla was begging to be let out of the bouncer and Teresa reappeared looking put together. “We need to go.”

James looked down at his now-stained shirt. “Am I allowed to change?”

“You have thirty seconds.”

“I’ve disassembled firearms faster.”

He bolted up the stairs, whilst Teresa got Isla and the nappy bag.

As they stepped outside, Teresa murmured under her breath, “You know... in our old life, people feared us.”

James snorted. “What are you saying?” as he tilted his head back towards his wife.

“Xavier has inherited your…ummm….assertiveness.”

“And your stubbornness, my love.”

“God help us both.”

“Parenting is the hardest job we’ve ever had,” Teresa said.

James nodded in fervent agreement. “Are we raising savages?”

“At this stage, I really don’t know!”

They were actually early, which pleased them no end as they could get coffee before the Galvez’s arrived. It was a typical park, children squealing, dogs barking, and parents holding takeaway coffees. Teresa pushed Isla’s stroller while Xavier waddled ahead making a beeline for his favourite tunnel – yet again. James was on a caffeine mission and headed for the coffee van.

He gave Teresa her coffee and for the first time that morning he felt relaxed - or at least as relaxed as he could get in public. He was keeping an eye on Xavier while sipping a flat white, and Isla was still content in her pram nearby. Life was good - until it wasn’t.

The barking came out of nowhere, vicious, loud, and fast - a large off-leash dog came tearing across the grass, no warning, no playfulness, no hesitation.

It stopped in front of Isla barking ferociously, Teresa told it to go, but it leaned back, then attempted to jump up on Isla’s stroller.

Time slowed. Teresa screamed.  James moved.

In one swift motion James grabbed the dog mid-air and twisted it’s neck - hard, clean, brutal. It stopped the black-coloured Staffy in its tracks.

The crack wasn’t subtle, and the dog was now in a lifeless heap at James’s feet.

A hush seemed to come over the park, as the people around them took in the scene.

Teresa was soothing Isla, who was crying, startled by the barking and then turned around to James. He was standing there shaking, face pale, breathing shallow and fast. Xavier came over having seen what had happened. People stared in horror.

“Oh my god,” someone said.

“Is that dog dead?”

“He killed it. He literally just killed it.”

“That dog was going to kill that girl.”

 “Dogs shouldn’t be allowed here.”

“There are kids around, what the hell was he thinking???”

James doesn’t hear any of it. He’s frozen, hands raised in defence, blood on his hands. He looks down at the dog, then up at Teresa, eyes wide and haunted.

“I, it was going for her. I didn’t….”

“I know,” Teresa said quickly. “You saved her. You did the right thing. But you need to go to the car. Now.”

She was right. The last thing they needed was his face going viral. It took all his strength to walk away though, and his legs felt like lead, the weight of what he had done, in front of children, weighing him down.

A woman, which clearly became apparent was the dog owner, started screaming across the park. “What did you do to my dog?!”

Teresa grabbed Xavier, scooping him up as he buried his face into her shoulder, terrified of the lady coming towards them. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s ok.”

Kelly Anne and Pote then arrived taking in the scene.

“Teresita what’s going on?”

Xavier raised his head at his uncle’s voice “Uncle Pote, Daddy killed a dog,” and he started to whimper.

“That dog was going to hurt your sister sweetie,” his mum said.

“Thank goodness you are here. Kelly Anne, can you take all the kids and get outta here, I’ll be there soon. Pote, stop anyone filming.  I will deal with the owner; I’ve got this. Go.”

“You killed my dog, you fucking murderer!” the lady was now right up in Teresa’s face.

“I’m sorry, but your dog was going to harm my daughter.”

“Your husband didn’t need to kill it; what sort of monster is he?”

“He was protecting his child.”

“I hope he rots in hell. Does he hit you as well? Men like that should be in jail.”

It took all of her strength not to bite. Lucky for the lady she didn’t have a gun, because a small part of her wanted to blow the ladies brains out.

“Let me compensate you, it’s the least I can do.”

Teresa received a slap across the face for her offer.

They both heard sirens in the background. Someone had called the police. My day is going from bad to worse Teresa thought to herself.  

Two young and uniformed police officers crossed the park to the two women and dead dog.  “Hi folks, what’s going on here.”

“This woman’s husband murdered my dog.”

“He was off leash, started barking at my 6 month old daughter, defenceless in a pram, and then he lunged for her like he was possessed.”

“Was she hurt?” the officer asked.

“No, my husband saved her from the certain attack. And this is an on-leash playground.”

“It was an accident. Buster wouldn’t hurt a fly. I want them charged.”

The officer went to speak but Teresa interrupted.

“If you want to charge us then you can charge this woman with assault for the slap in the face I just received.”

“Ok let’s take a breath here,” the officer added kindly.

“This has clearly been an unfortunate series of events. But, from what I have seen and heard this wouldn’t meet the threshold for a criminal charge that would hold up in court.

“I do understand it’s upsetting, we’ll file a report and if either of you wants to pursue it at a later stage you can. Otherwise, we’d advise you to go your separate ways. Ma’am, let’s help you get your dog to the car, or we can take it to the vet for you.”

“I will reimburse you for your animal.” Teresa added.

“Fine.” She huffed, now realising criminal charges wouldn’t be likely, especially as she technically had assaulted Teresa.

Pote had dealt with the cameras, Teresa had finished up the necessary paperwork and then Pote caught an Uber so she could ride with James home alone.

She found James in the passenger seat, arms wrapped around himself, staring into space.

“You did good.”

“I thought I left that part of me behind.”

Teresa glanced at him, eyes soft but still sharp with urgency. “You didn’t. We never will. But today? That part saved her life.”

 “There were kids watching. I saw a Dad grab his son and move away from me like I was a threat.”

Teresa sighed, “You didn’t start the threat. You ended it. There’s a difference.”

“I didn’t even think. I just - God, I didn’t think.”

“You protected your daughter.”

James leant his head against the window, “I don’t want them to grow up afraid of me.”

“They won’t,” Teresa said. “They’ll grow up knowing you’d do anything to keep them safe.”

James didn’t answer.  Teresa placed her hand on his knee. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

He nodded, barely, eyes still on the horizon as she pulled away from the curb.

Later that evening the house was dark except for the soft glow of Isla’s baby monitor in their room. Teresa was on the edge of the bed in her pyjamas, hair damp from a shower. Across the room, James stood by the window, looking out into the dark. He hadn’t left the room since the afternoon; Teresa had given him space.

“Kids are down,” she said softly. “Took forever.”

James nodded but didn’t turn around.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

“No.”

She watched him for a second. “You need to.”

He finally looked at her. His eyes were red-rimmed, but dry. “I killed someone’s pet, Teresa. In front of our son.”

“You saved our daughter.”

“I know that. But it doesn’t feel like a win.” He came over and sat on the bed, hands clasped between his knees. “The worst part is… I didn’t even blink. No hesitation. I saw the angle. Took the shot.”

She watched his hands tremble again.

“It’s not just who I used to be,” he said. “It’s who I am. Underneath all of this - the kids’ music and cracked crackers and nappies - that part of me is still right here. Waiting.”

 “That part of you is why your daughter is still alive.”

“I looked up, and everyone was staring at me like I was a monster.”

“You’re not. You’re carrying the guilt because you still have a conscience. Monsters don’t stay up all night questioning themselves.”

“What if one day I snap like that with someone who doesn’t deserve it? What if I can’t tell the difference?”

“You can tell. You did tell. Today.”

Silence again. Then she said, quietly, “Do you remember what I said when I was still in the hospital? When I told you I trusted you to raise them on your own if anything happened to me?”

James didn’t lift his head, but he nodded.

“I said that because I know exactly who you are, James. All of you. Not just the calm man with the baby carrier, who reads Possum Magic to his son every night. But the man who can see danger coming before anyone else and can stop it cold.”

She leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “You are both. And I love both.”

James turned his head toward her. “It still feels like we don’t belong in this world. Like any moment, someone’s going to figure us out and pull the rug. Sometimes it would be nice to be like Hush, invisible.”

She smiled faintly. “Unfortunately, I am not grandma possum.”

He chuckled lightly as she leant her head against his shoulder. For a while, they just sat like that.

Finally, she said, “I was thinking, there is a trauma counsellor on the team where I did my PDD therapy. You could reach out to them, no judgement, what do you think?”

He just nodded.

“Now let me hold you, my brave one. You have always saved me and today you saved your daughter. You are a hero, my hero. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

He smiled at that, and let himself finally relax, despite his splitting headache. Tomorrow, he would think about Teresa's suggestion some more.

Chapter Text

It was a discreet surgery in a renovated bungalow with a beautiful veranda and a gold plaque bearing several doctor’s names. Inside, there was a wooden floor with a beautiful worn rug that had clearly seen many footsteps over the years; perhaps they left it like that intentionally, James thought, as a subtle reminder you were not alone.

It had taken a few months, but he finally got to see a psychologist specialising in veterans. He wanted techniques to switch off, to cope when a pan dropped, or a baby cried, or when violence was required.

He sat stiffly on the couch, arms crossed with Teresa sitting beside him, her leg angled toward his but not quite touching. The therapist, Dr. Patel, watched them both with interest.

“Tell me, what’s on your mind James?”

He didn’t say anything, so she waited a minute before gently trying again. “Do you want to talk about the dog?”

James cleared his throat. “It’s not the dog. I used to feel in control. Nothing could scare me. Now, I freak out at minor things, and I don’t know why?”

“When did you first notice your reactions changing?” Dr. Patel asked.

“A few years after I left the army. I started having flashbacks, nightmares. There used to be a good reason, but now there isn’t any.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I was paid to kill, and in the end that weighed heavily on my conscience. But I got out. I’ve lived a quiet and peaceful life for almost 8 years. But over the past year, when one of the kids cries out in the night, I think I am back on the streets of Afghanistan. I had a panic attack when a pan dropped in the kitchen. I couldn’t move after the dog incident – my legs betrayed me.”

“Did you hope to leave what happened in the army behind?”

“I did. But perhaps I was just naive. No matter how hard I try to contain it, it’s still there.”

“Tell me, what sort of a man was army James?” Dr. Patel asked gently.

“Someone who could do awful things...and then carry on.”

Dr. Patel nodded once, jotting down a quick note. “Did you think what you did to the dog was awful?”

“Yes.”

“And that your actions saved your daughter.”

“Probably. And there’s the rub. I should have been fine, just carried on – I’ve done far worse. But I couldn’t.”

“Your instincts did exactly what they were meant to do, protect. But your body is reacting differently – probably feels like you are unravelling a bit?”

“A bit.”

“Well, it’s normal – especially if you have been in a pressure cooker environment for a long time – eventually that pressure needs to release. It’s one of the many invisible wounds of war.”

He reflected on that comment. Maybe she was right? He’d spent so long wound up like a spring he didn’t have time to think. Now it was different. He had space and time, time to think about the past – and that past wasn’t filled with roses.

 “I’ve worked with many others like you, James.”

“Soldiers?” he asked.

She smiled, with sympathy. “Warriors trying to endure the ordinary.”

He snorted softly, the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Teresa leaned her head against his shoulder.

“What I’d like you to do, if you’re open to it, is write some of your experiences down – starting with any childhood memories you feel may have shaped you. Sometimes, putting your experiences on a page can make far more sense than trying to verbalise them.

“Start wherever it feels natural, there’s no right way to do it. Bring it with you next time and we’ll go through it together.”

“You want me to write...like with a pen?” he half-smirked.

“You can type if you like, but handwriting is far more effective.”

“Hmmm, from the front lines to writing lines…” as he looked over at his wife, slightly terrified.

“Good luck, and I will see you next week.”

He sat alone in his study. A notebook in front of him. He sighed and picked up the pen, and after a long moment, he started writing. This better be cathartic he thought to himself.

I grew up poor. Not dirt poor, but poor enough. It was a rough part of Fort Worth, working class, benefits.

Dad was an asshole. Why he wanted kids I’ll never know. My only memories of him are yelling at me. And treating me like shit.

School was hard. I didn’t have an academic bone in my body. Or maybe I didn’t try. I remember the free lunches and keeping my head down. I wasn’t popular but had a small group of friends. I do remember someone bulling a friend so I decked him and was suspended for a week. My Dad said he was proud of me….

Maybe that’s it….maybe that’s why I chose the army life…so I could be violent without repercussions, and perhaps make my Dad proud.

My sister died when I was 19. Although it wasn’t my fault I feel like I should have protected her. I protected her when I was young but I had to get out of there. I hate and blame my parents for her death. I still do. I’m sure mum is still alive, but I cut that cord a long time ago.

Have I properly grieved Peta? Probably not, I just threw myself into work – I couldn’t have cared less if I died at that stage too. Army life strips you down and builds you back up - you take orders without hesitation, without question – and I didn’t care – in fact it was oddly comforting.

I am used to being bossed around. That’s what my Dad did to me from as young as I can remember. I don’t know why he didn’t love me. I don’t know what I did wrong. Because of him I can’t dominate a relationship, but I do stick up for myself a bit more now, but it doesn’t come naturally, despite my size.

In the army I was a trained sniper. Trained to wait and make the perfect kill. Looking back, I think that position eats at your soul, as I would often spend minutes looking at my target before executing the shot. It’s not nice to end a life, somehow it made it more personal when you are a voyeur into their final moments.

When I freak out I feel weak, like I am a failure. I am so driven to not be like my parents, perhaps that is another pressure I am taking on that I don’t realise. Dad treated women like second class citizens. I could never do that. I’d go to the ends of the earth to protect the women I love.

But now I live in a world free of violence and full of goodness. It sometimes feels foreign but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. My kids and wife seem to love me, or so they tell me, no that’s not fair – they show me – every day. I have the most amazing wife, no, best friend someone could ask for.

Teresa thinks I’m doing okay, and she has seen me at my worst, many times. I have to believe her. She doesn’t lie. Never to me. She gives me hope that I can beat these demons, she loves me in spite of them.

So there it is…my life on a page…

James sat rigid on the couch, one boot bouncing, hands clasped in front of him like he’s waiting to be called to a debrief.

“You journal?” she asked.

“I did.” He paused. “I didn’t like it,” he added and he handed it over for her to read.

She read it over and then looked up at him. Her face conveyed no sympathy, no judgement, just a gentle understanding of how he got to be seated in front of her.

“I want to start by saying what you’re experiencing makes complete sense given everything you've been through.  What you're feeling is consistent with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder—PTSD. You’ve probably heard of it. It's a normal human response to extreme experiences.

“And the good news is there are many ways we can work to make your responses better. To gain back control when PTSD symptoms hit. Have you ever tried grounding techniques?”

“No.”

“Ok. It’s about being in the moment. So for instance, if you hear one of your children cry, you say out loud: "I’m home. I’m safe. That’s my son." Then touch something, a glass, the arm of the chair. Anything real will help.”

“Hmmm….that is not really me.”

“It will feel weird at first. But it’s about training your brain to come back to now. It’s like muscle memory, like what you did in the military. Repetition, until it becomes instinct.”

“And what if it doesn’t work?”

“It probably won’t work for the first few times. But you keep breathing, and you reset.”

He nodded.

“Also know that PTSD distorts your worth. Never think you’re a failure. I’ve met your wife, and I can see the love you have for each other – genuine and real. So if you ever catch yourself thinking that you’re not good enough, there are 3 people in this world, the only ones that matter, who will never, ever think that.”

He smiled – perhaps there was hope for him after all.

The house had finally gone quiet, both children asleep with two exhausted parents in bed.

“Thank you for encouraging me to see someone. I’ve got plenty to work on, but I know the reasons why I am, why I freak out occasionally, and that, oddly, gives me comfort.”

 “You’ve been through so much, but I’ve got you.”

“You’re managing to keep it together though.”

“Ha don’t make me laugh - you know I don’t have it all together - look what happened with Xavier.”

He squeezed her hand. “Sometimes I don’t get it. We’ve survived many a shootout, multiple psychopaths, desert scorpion stings. But today for instance….Xavier’s tantrums and some hot wheels shrapnel nearly finished me.”

“You were amazing with Xavier today. He is a handful and needed a good telling off. Imagine if he gets the worst of our personalities!!!”

“Heaven help us all.” He went quiet for a beat, then exhaled. “You think I’m doing okay... as a dad – am I too soft with him or too hard – I don’t know?”

“You are doing great. You are loving, patient, kind. And every parent loses their shit now and then – it’s normal. There is no one else in the world I would do this parenting thing with – and you should know that by now!”

“I love you,” he murmured.

She closed her eyes. “I know.”

James had showed her the journal when he got home, just before he burned the pages. As he fell asleep beside her she started to think about his words, about his upbringing. Of course she had known most of it as they had shared their entire lives during those quiet years spent up north, before kids, but it still made her blood boil whenever she was reminded of it.

I hate that man with every cell in my body. How he treated his own son, even as a little boy, is unforgivable. He made love feel like a prize he had to earn with violence. Because of you I will love him twice as hard, to make up for your cruelty.

What would I do if you were still alive – I’d hate you, I know that much.

Would James be the man he is without him though? Would our paths ever have crossed?

Maybe, maybe not. But through the hate I should be grateful too – because what he did drove him to become the man he is today. Respectful. Loyal. Caring. Perceptive. Mine.

He was now sleeping, and she whispered into his skin, ever so gently: “I love you. All of you. Forever. You deserve that.”

Chapter Text

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind they’d come to value as James was usually exhausted by the weekend, his life containing more and more meetings as a result of his investments and networking commitments. Isla, now 2, was playing with her dolls in the corner of the lounge, chattering away to herself. Xavier, almost four, was sitting on the floor, absorbed in a puzzle.

Xavier had become slightly less of a handful – but only slightly. Isla was a dream child so overall, things felt balanced. But that feeling was about to be obliterated. “I’ve been thinking,” Teresa said as she stood at the kitchen counter, holding a glass of water.

“I want to have another baby.”

James froze. “What?” he said, almost incredulously.

“I want us to have another baby,” she repeated, but this time, it sounded like a declaration; she knew he had heard her the first time.

“No.”

She looked at him, brows furrowing. “No? Why not?”

James ran his hand through his hair, his eyes flicking nervously to the kids in the other room. He lowered his voice. “You know why.”

“I know you are worried, and yes we haven’t had a good run, but everything turned out how it should of. I want another baby.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I know it was hard; but we got through it, together. It was almost 2 years ago and look at us now. We are stronger than we have ever been emotionally. I think we can do it.”

“You’re not getting it. We’ve already got two beautiful kids. We’ve got our family. It hasn’t exactly been a cake walk raising them and we’ve had a terrible run with pregnancy. Forgive me, for not being keen.” He was having difficulty keeping his voice even.

 “I never had any siblings, and you lost your only sister. I also think we should do it, for them,” as she gestured to their children.

He shook his head again. “You know what you are asking me right?”

She nodded.

“Two is enough. I’d give you the world Teresa, and hopefully I already have. But, I don’t think I can give you another child.”

She sat there for a moment, resigned. She wasn’t going to push it. If he really didn’t want one she would have to respect it. “Okay,” she said and forced a smile.

“Okay.” He stood up, kissed her on the forehead and went over and joined Isla on the floor playing dolls. Discussion over. 

A few weeks had passed, and they were enjoying a rare, tranquil moment in the lounge as the kids were sound asleep. Teresa had accepted his decision and hadn’t mentioned it again. At the end of the day, she knew she was lucky to have what she had, so there was no point dwelling over not having a 3^rd child and James was right, they hadn’t exactly been lucky.

She was sipping her wine, occasionally glancing over at James. He was flipping through his phone, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. She knew the look well. The deep stare, when he was pretending to focus on something when he was really turning over the same thought in his head; she could see his brain going 100 miles per hour.

“Are you still thinking about it?”

 “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. You know that.”

“You know I am okay with it. We are lucky to have what we have, and you are right…why risk it? Our little family is enough.”

“You really want this?”

“I do. But not without you being all-in; we are partners.”

She went on. “We have the resources, the support. We know what we are doing. We’ve been through the worst and survived. And this time, we’re smarter. We’ll make sure it’s different. By the time they are born, Xavier will be starting school and Isla won’t be too far behind. I’m never going back to work. I have thought about this a lot.”

He leant back against the couch and closed his eyes, “One more - and you get a midwife to check on you every day?”

She smiled, her heart swelling with a mix of relief and joy. “Thank you. And after this, we’re done,” her voice full of conviction.

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of the decision settling between them.

“On one condition”

“Ok….”

“We start trying…now.” And with that he put her wine down, lifted her up and took her to bed.

Three months later they found themselves in the ultrasound room; yet again, waiting to check if all was ok. It was dark and cold in the room as the ultrasound probe carefully made its way through the freezing gel on her stomach.

“Hmm, all is looking good, would you like to know what you are having?”

“Yes.” They said in unison.

“It’s a boy.”

“Well, looks like Isla and I are officially outnumbered,” she said ruefully.

He looked down at Teresa, shaking his head. “No Teresa, we are officially outnumbered!”

They quickly turned their minds to schools. Kelly Anne and Potè had Lena at Kauri Grove, one of the top private schools in Auckland, so this was really the only option for them too, but they went on the school tour anyway.

If the website was intimidating the campus was next level. The grounds were so immaculate it looked like it was maintained by an entire football team. They exchanged a glance as they parked, other parents gliding out of cars that would have been worth more than the houses both James and Teresa grew up in.

“We’re moving up in the world.” James mused. Last time he’d said that to her, she’d been promoted from drug mule to drug deliverer – how far they had come.

In the reception area, students were handing out freshly squeezed juices with fruit from their ‘community garden’, and each family had a few children to chaperone them. “They’re really laying it on thick,” Teresa murmured, feeling slightly overwhelmed at the scale of the school.

 “They know who we are. Three kids enrolling over the next five years. That’s sixty grand a year, minimum. We’re a solid investment.”

Teresa snorted. “I think most of their fees will go to maintaining the lawns.”

The Director of Admissions appeared at the entrance with a clipboard, bright lipstick, and the smooth composure of someone who could sell you anything.

“Hello to all our prospective and enrolled families! We’re thrilled to have you here. We have some of our year 6 students who will be taking you on a tour of the school, then please join us for morning tea, which has been prepared by our year 10 patisserie class.”

James and Maria – here are Simone and Joshua some of our student ambassadors. They will be taking you around today and I look forward to seeing you after.

As they walked off to start the tour James couldn’t help but comment. “She’s picturing all three of them in matching blazers on the front of a future marketing brochure.”

Teresa laughed, “that’s because they’ll all have my good looks!!”

They were cornered upon their return. “So, what did you think?”

“It was great, but we’re still considering all the options,” James said politely.

“Naturally. But just know, we would love to be a long-term home for your family,” as she handed them an enrolment package in a beautiful blue binder. “Take your time, of course.”

“We’ll let you know.”

As they walked back to the car, Teresa asked, “What did you think?”

James exhaled. “Ridiculous. Completely over the top. Perfect.”

“Agreed.”

He grinned. “You know our kids are going to be smarter than us by the time they are in grade 3?”

“Yeah.”

“Does that scare you?”

“No.”

“The fees are insane, but they’ll be safe here, we’ll know all the parents.”

“And to be fair, they are going to have to put up with Xavier, so cost isn’t an issue as far as I’m concerned!”

She nodded in agreement. “God help the teachers.”

They walked into one of Auckland’s top private maternity hospitals and as the nurse checked Teresa in, James answered the questions with military precision. Just before they went into surgery, James put on his cap and disposable medical gown.

“These are not made for men who chest press,” he muttered, flexing.

“Good thing you’re not performing the surgery then,” Teresa quipped.

James adjusted his surgical cap. “Still need to look sharp. He’s never seen me before.”

“James, I give that joke 0 out of 10. It was terrible.”

He grinned at her. “You know it.”

A nurse poked her head in. “Ready, guys?”

James immediately straightened up. “Ready,” and they promptly wheeled her in.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, turning to look at her with a soft smile.

 “Like I’m about to be sliced open and have my insides rearranged.”

“You’re doing great. This is it. It’s happening.”

She reached up and touched his hand. “I know. And… I think it’s going to be okay. I think this is the one that goes right.”

And it was.

“That’s a boy,” their obstetrician announced with a smile, lifting the tiny baby boy into the air for a brief moment before handing him to the nurse to be cleaned and tested.

James stared at her for a long moment, then whispered. “Our family is complete.”

Teresa smiled back softly, exhausted but content. “Another perfect human to go with our two other humans at home.”

Her body was still numb from anaesthesia, but her heart was full. For once, everything had gone right.

“Are you still happy with the name we chose?” He asked.

“Yep. Michael Anthony Callaghan.”

“Good – I can call him MAC, maybe macca….”

“Please don’t,” she laughed. “But just so you know, I meant what I said before. I’m done. I’m looking forward to getting back to just us – assuming we survive the teenage years!!!”

James shuddered in reply.

Michael was also a good baby, and Teresa got into a steady rhythm with the children shortly after returning from hospital. A few months later it was time to share the school news with the eldest two.

“Alright, guys, we’ve got some big news to share with you.” Teresa announced. “We’ve been talking to Kauri Grove Academy, and they’ve got a spot for Xavier to start reception next year, and Isla you will be able to go to the Early Learning Centre.”

“Reception? What’s that?” Xavier asked.

James smiled. “It’s like the first year of big school, buddy. You get to learn all kinds of new things, make new friends, and do lots of fun stuff.”

Isla’s eyes widen with excitement. “Do they have food there?”

James laughed. “They do have food, Isla. You’ll get to eat your snacks with your friends and bring almost anything you want from home there to eat.”

“I want to bring cake! Maybe even a whole cake!”

James chuckled. “I’m sure that would be a hit. But let’s not get carried away with cake just yet.”

Teresa added, “Isla, the Early Learning Centre is right next door to the big school – you might even be able to see your brother at lunch.”

Xavier grinned and started teasing her. “You’ll be at the baby school, Isla.”

Isla scrunched up her face. “I’m not a baby! You’re a baby.”

“Stop it,” James said sternly to his eldest, who quickly changed the subject.

Both Xaiver and Isla continued discussing school, bouncing ideas off each other about what they’d bring for lunch. James and Teresa exchanged a tired, but contented glance, bracing themselves for the next chapter of their family’s journey which they fervently hoped included Xavier playing nicely in the sandpit.

Chapter Text

It was a sunny, yet windy day in Wellington and James was out to lunch with the team from one of his companies as they were celebrating the win of a significant defence contract. He had an adorable family and was doing interesting, clean and meaningful business. Life felt good.  

Boom.

A loud thud reverberated through the glass windows of the restaurant and conversations died mid-sentence and the waiting staff stopped in their tracks. Then came another explosion. Boom. It was closer and this time it cracked the glass, thankfully not blowing it inward.

Panic set in. “Earthquake!” someone yelled, and people started screaming and ducking for cover. James was scrambling to make sense of it and then it clicked, all to quickly.

“It’s not an earthquake,” James said, switching to soldier mode.

“Gas?” offered Daniel.

“No,” he shook his head sadly. “Bombs.”

“Bombs?” Brian said. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said, his voiced tinged with sadness and headed for the door to help. Almost instinctively, as he passed the reception area he foraged through the draw and found a medical mask, then looked around a took a cap off the head of a kid crouching in the corner. He offered a ‘sorry buddy’ then was on his way. What he’d learnt from the unfortunate dog incident was that people liked to video then widely share these types of events - he needed to be incognito for obvious reasons.

Once on the footpath, chaos and confusion were the only words that could describe the scene unfolding before his eyes. People were filming smoke in the distance, sirens and car alarms filled the air as people began running down the street towards him.

He saw a woman barefoot and bloodied first, behind her a man carrying a child, not much older than Isla, a security guard with a torn shirt, a teenage girl screaming as she ran.

As he pushed forward toward the plumes of smoke, a man grabbed him by the sleeve. “Help! Please, my wife, she’s…”

“What happened?” James asked, steadying him.

The man just pointed, mouth working without words. Smoke trailed into the sky from the train station, so James ran the last 50 meters to the corner then stopped dead in his tracks.

Bodies.

Everywhere.

Strewn across the street like mannequins. Some moving, withering, gasping, others eerily still. A mother, covered in blood and soot, held her teenage son’s body in her arms and let out the most gut-retching scream. Outside the entrance of the train station, two passenger busses had been completely incinerated.

His eyes scanned the destruction with a soldier’s gaze and locked-on a smouldering, computer like item, wedged under a seat frame in one of the buses. He saw a blackened battery and some wiring still visible, and his chest tightened. It was intact enough to show the truth; it was the epicentre of the terror attack.

James was no stranger to carnage, but the kind of carnage he was used to had a target, a purpose. This seemed indiscriminate. Someone had planned it, built a bomb, then strategically placed it in an area to maximise civilian damage. Even though it might have been a suicide bomber, James thought it more likely a team working together, given they could set off two bombs in the capital undetected.

His eyes narrowed, scanning rooftops, doorways, the crowd of stunned onlookers gathering. Most had their phones up, others were treating the wounded. Most looked shocked. But James wasn’t looking for shock, he was looking for calm. For someone who wasn’t overwhelmed, someone who already knew what they’d done.

His eyes locked onto a tall and lanky man across the street, in a dark hoodie, no more than 30 years old. He wasn’t filming or helping. Just looking at the scene with curiosity; far too relaxed for someone who had just stumbled across a massacre.

As if almost instinctively James made a beeline across the street, trying purposefully to avoid the debris strewn across the road. They were now on the same footpath, James 20 metres behind as the man glanced back. It was only for a second, but it was enough. Their eyes met, and something changed in the man’s expression: recognition. He’d been busted.

He instantly ran and James gave chase, weaving through shell-shocked pedestrians and shattered glass. “Hey!” he shouted, “Stop!”

The man didn’t stop. But he stumbled.

James closed the distance and tackled him hard. The guy struggled, throwing wild punches, but James had him pinned in seconds, one knee on his chest, the man’s hoodie twisted tightly around his neck in his grip.

“Is there another one?” James hissed. “Who are you working with?”

The man spat in his face and laughed. In response, James’s elbow came down with such force that it broke the man’s collarbone. That should curb his laughter he thought, then he flipped him over, so his face was on the pavement and called out for help. He instructed the first bystanders to pull the cord out of the hoodie, another to find some more rope, another to get the police. One guy nodded; a lady got the cord out of the hoodie and the other was on his mobile phone, describing the scene.

James secured him relatively easily and told them to stay with the suspect as he was going back to help. He wasn’t far from the epicentre when he heard her, the faintest “help”, coming from a crumpled car seemingly stopped mid-journey. He wasn’t even sure if his mind was playing tricks on him. Nonetheless, he threw off the metal blocking the door where the noise came from and saw her through the window. A little girl, not much older than his daughter, still strapped in her car seat with a severed leg, a pink sequined dress hung carefully on the hook covering the opposite window. He ripped open the door.

“Hi, I’m James, what is your name sweetheart?”

“Maya.”

“Hi Maya, I’m going to help you. I’m not going anywhere ok.”

The little girl nodded, still looking at him wide-eyed.

“Where does it hurt sweetie?”

“My leg?”

“Ok we will get that fixed up for you?”

“Is my Mummy ok?”

He looked up and saw her mother’s lifeless body, head in the body bag, blood pooled in the driver’s seat. Fuck he thought.

“Someone will come and help her soon.”

“My legs hurt.”

“Ok I am going to help you and we’ll get you a doctor.”

He grabbed a few things and stemmed the bleeding in her leg, as he shouted ‘we need help in here’, ‘little girl no more than 7’, ‘severe leg injury’.

To take her mind of things, he kept talking to her, hopefully giving her some level of comfort.

“Do you have a Daddy?” he ventured as her mother was dead in the driver’s seat.

“No.”

“Ok.”

“I have a grandma and grandpa.”

“Do they live in Wellington?”

“Yep.”

“I will call them soon. I have a daughter just like you. Her name is Isla. She would love your dress. It’s beautiful.”

She nodded. “I feel sleepy….and weird.”

He was not losing this girl under any circumstances and he looked at her with all the courage he could muster. “Stay with me Maya, stay with me.” He said, almost pleading.  

The paramedics arrived shortly thereafter. “This is Maya, that is her Mum. Her leg needs attention I’ve done the best I could” as James gravely looked at the front seat.

“Hi Maya,” a clearly shellshocked paramedic said, trying to sound relaxed. “Look what we give our special patients” and they handed her a teddy bear and started assessing her injuries.

“Don’t leave me,” as she looked James square in the eyes and squeezed his hand ever so lightly.

“I won’t leave you, Maya,” and squeezed her hand ever so lightly back. He looked over at the paramedics, they were working madly, they knew what was wrong but they were working on the logistics to get her out and meet the ambulance given she was trapped in the middle of a war zone.

She was hooked up to machines to monitor her vitals and as James looked over he could see her blood pressure was dangerously low. She started gently shaking in her seat.

“Are you cold Maya?” he asked.

“No, I’m scared now,” she said, voice meek as a mouse.

“Can I stay with her” he asked the paramedics, “until her grandparents arrive at least?”

“Of course, help us carry her out to the ambulance, she is a priority one if she is to ever walk again,” and off they went with Maya on a stretcher.

Meanwhile, news of the Wellington attacks was making its way around the world, most commentators expressing disbelief that something like this could happen again, some observing that this could be in retaliation for the terror attacks of 2019. Poté called Teresa: “Teresita, turn on the news, major terror attack in Wellington; multiple casualties, up to 100 dead, many more injured. James is there today, right?”

“Yeah, he is. I’ll call him, I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Ok, I know we weren’t coming to visit until 4 but we’ll come now.”

They hung up and she dialled James – straight to voicemail.

She then sent a simple text – r u ok?

She turned on the news and sat there, stunned. Wellington was in chaos. She’d sent the kids to their room with unlimited iPad time and they were ecstatic – they wouldn’t come out, unless by force, which was a very good thing – she couldn’t handle them right now.

The Galvez family arrived, and it had been 90 minutes since the blast and still no word on James. Fuck, she thought. Fuck.

“Poté….I can’t loose him.”

“It’s ok. He’ll be fine. He’s impossible to kill – you know that.”

“I just don’t know. He always answers my calls.”

James was at the hospital, waiting with Maya who was getting prepped for surgery. Throughout the chaos and trying to keep Maya alive he had barely thought about his own family at home. He knew they were safe; he’d call them as soon as Maya’s family arrived. He had promised he’d stay with the little girl and he always kept his word.

A few minutes later she was taken into surgery and her grandparents arrived. They shared a moment. Strangers meeting under extraordinary circumstances, but in crazy times when chance events bond people together, strangers could feel like family.

He explained what had happened to her up until now and that they had a brave little granddaughter. He learned that Maya was heading into the city to pick up a dress for her upcoming dance recital, how her father was long gone and that Maya and her mother had done it fairly tough.

You don’t have to stay, they told him. You have done enough. You rescued our granddaughter, and we will be forever thankful.

“I will wait until she is back from surgery then I will say goodbye,” he said. They exchanged details so they could keep in touch.

He promised them he’d be back shortly and went to find a payphone, it had been 3 hours since Wellington was turned upside-down and he somehow lost his phone along the way. There was a long line up, so he waited patiently for his turn, wondering how he’d been so lucky - again. 

Around 4 hours after the attack Teresa’s mobile rang from a private number. She thought she was going to vomit there and then. She held it up to Poté eyes wide and she started shaking her head from side to side. She didn’t want to know he was gone. Not like this. So she gave her phone to Poté.

 “Hello?”

“Poté?” he exclaimed, expecting Teresa.

“James! Where have you been?”

Teresa grabbed the phone from his ear.

“James?”

“I’ve lost my phone. I survived. I’m ok.”

She sank to the floor. “Where are you?”

“Payphone at a hospital”

“Hospital?”

“I’m ok. I’ll tell you when I get home.”

“When are you coming home?”

“I will try and get home on my scheduled flight tonight at 8pm, but it is crazy as you could imagine.” He looked back at the lineup for the phone.

“I’ve gotta go. I miss you, I love you.”

He went back and sat with Maya’s grandparents, occasionally engaging in small talk. He also spent the quiet moments waiting, thinking, questioning - what would drive someone to hate so deeply to take the life of another. James had never set out to kill innocent people; but knew about taking a life all too well.

The doctors came out and advised that they had to perform and above-the-knee amputation on her left leg to save her life. But she would walk again, with the help of prosthetics. Her grandparents both started sobbing; today, not only had they lost their daughter, but their granddaughter had lost both her mother and a leg. Life wasn’t fair and his heart ached for them.

There were no words that James could provide to give comfort, so he just put a hand on Gordon’s shoulder. They medical team also advised she would be transferred to the ICU and they would keep her heavily sedated, possibly for days, given that she would also be grieving the loss of her mother when she awoke.

James stayed with Beverly and Gordon for another hour and as Maya wouldn’t be out of sedation for a few days, and he had a flight at 8pm, he decided to head home but not before he bought Maya the largest teddy he could find in the gift shop and left it with a simple note:

  Hi Maya

  You are so brave. I was so glad to meet you.

  James

He hugged them both and left. What else was there to do?

The engines hummed beneath his feet as he stared out into the darkness, the lights of Wellington slowly fading away. He was finally alone so leant back in his chair, trying to decompress and make sense of the day when the uninvited question came into his head. Am I any better than a terrorist?

It wasn’t a new question. He had wrestled with this crisis of conscience for the best part of 15 years. He’d had different motives to kill of course. But it was still violence. Still blood. Still families left hollow in the aftermath of someone else's choices.

Terrorists hit the innocent to make a point. I hit people who were threats. Traitors. Snitches. Rivals.

He’d told himself back then it was just business. Calculated. Targeted. Controlled. Like that made it justified. But behind many a traitor there were families: parents, wives, kids and mortgages.

He ran a hand over his face. He was tired, still covered in dust. What he’d give to be reading or dozing like the others around him in the cabin.

Maybe I wasn’t lighting bombs at train stations he thought absent-mindedly….but I still destroyed lives.

He let that thought wash over him. No, I’m not as bad as a terrorist. He told himself. But I’m no hero, either.

Just then the seatbelt sign turned off, snapping him from his thoughts - he couldn’t wait to order a bourbon.

The front door clicked open just after 10:30pm, and all the lights were on as they were expecting him.

He walked into chaos of a different kind. Wholesome carnage filled with love and pure innocence racing down the hallway. He saw Xavier first, followed closely by Isla, wild curls, just like her mother’s, bouncing with every step.

“DAAAD!” Xavier shouted.

“Daddy!” Isla squealed.

He barely had time to drop his bag before they crashed into him, all limbs and laughter, as they wrapped themselves around his legs like little koalas.

“You two again?” he said, crouching to pull them both up into his arms. “Didn’t I just leave you savages here?”

“You were gone for soooooo long,” Xavier said, squished up against his father’s chest.

“Two days, one night” he laughed, kissing the top of Isla’s head.

“We missed you,” she said, her voice small and fierce.

“I missed you too…more than you will ever know.”

“Did you see the fire in Wellington Daddy? It was all over the news” Xavier added.

“I saw it buddy. Was pretty big.”

He held them in his arms for a moment longer before setting them down gently. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he unzipped his bag.

“I did find some very cool things on my trip that I thought you might like,” he said, as he rummaged around his bag.

He pulled out an aeroplane and a soft plush toy; last minute gifts no doubt but this time he wanted to make his return just that little bit more special.

Isla let out a squeal and grabbed the Kiwi plush toy with both hands. “It’s so soft,” she whispered.

Xavier examined his aeroplane, whooshing it around in the air, then holding it up like a trophy. “Thank you, Daddy!!!”

“You’re welcome,” he said but the two of them had already torn off, presumably to find their mother – it was way past their bedtime – tonight would be fun he thought!!

“Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuum,” Daddy’s home, Daddy’s home. He could hear them both competing for their mother’s attention, wanting to be the first one to deliver the news.

He followed the noise and had never felt happier to see her.

“James…..” as she jumped into her husband’s arms, two kids now at his feet also wanting to reclimb him. It felt good to be wanted.

“Are you ok?” He looked slightly dishevelled; his business clothes covered in dust and debris, he’d been close.

“Yeah, I’m ok. It’s so good to see you,” as he leaned in and hugged her again, his face now buried into her shoulder.

“Who would do such a thing?”

“Don’t know, let’s chat later. Ok rascals let’s get you into bed.”

“Noooooooooooooo……” but they chased their father who was already on his way to their rooms anyway.  

About an hour later he made his way to his own bedroom, had a long shower then sat on the edge of the bed, like he always did when he wanted to talk.

“I don’t know where to start,” he said.

“Start anywhere then.”

“One minute, I am having lunch, next minute I’m walking through a battlefield. I haven’t had that feeling for a very long time. I ran towards the bombs, not away.”

She just listened as he went on.

“Part of me feels guilty for that. I have responsibilities now, to you, the kids. Perhaps I should have stayed hidden under the table with the others.”

“The James I know, and love, doesn’t hide away.”

“There could have been more bombs you know… what if something had happened?”

“Then….you would have died with the whole country thinking you’re a hero.”

He smiled, a half-hearted smile.

“There were bodies everywhere; the worst massacre I have seen. I could only save one person, a little girl called Maya.”

She nodded. “How?” and she took his hand.

“I was walking past and heard the faintest call for help; the sound was so delicate. She was trapped in her booster seat, sheet metal blocking her view. If I hadn’t heard her, she probably would have died. Her mum was dead in the front seat. She is five.”

“James,” she gasped with horror.

“All I could think about was Suzie, another little girl caught up in something ugly, in the wrong place, at the wrong time, through no fault of her own,” he shook his head with a look of true regret. 

“I stemmed the bleeding and kept talking to her. Told her she was brave. Told her help was coming. She was braver than some grown men I know. I didn’t leave her side until the hospital. I thought that if I let go of her hand, she might have slipped away.”

“But she didn’t.”

“No. But they amputated her leg this afternoon.”

“You saved a life today,” and she squeezed his hand.

In the darkness of their bedroom, she cradled his head against her chest, feeling the tension vibrating beneath his skin. After a few minutes her fingers drifted slowly and softly up and down his back, her other hand massaging his head through his beautiful mop of hair. She would have given anything to take all his thoughts away, for him to unwind and get the sleep he deserved.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered, into his ear, planting the lightest kiss on his earlobe. She let her palm slide across his chest, resting over his heart.

“It felt like I couldn’t breathe,” they were so close now it was like they were breathing each other’s air.”

“I’m here,” he said as he ran his fingers up and down her cheek. “I’m right here.”

He then kissed her fiercely and she responded without hesitation; their clothes coming off just as fast. He straddled her, planting kisses on her neck, across her collarbone, then lower… hands and lips possessing her like he was worshiping every inch of her body, to prove he was all hers. She arched beneath him, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other sliding into his hair.

“I need you, all of you,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Now.”

It was his turn to feel like he couldn’t breathe as he sank into her; their bodies and rhythm both frantic and tender. She clung to him, her body curling into his with every thrust, her legs wrapping around his hips to consume all of him. He whispered her name like he needed it to survive, his hands holding her tight so she was anchored to him.

When they finally came undone, it was with tears in their eyes and their heads on each other’s shoulders, neither wanting to be the first to move.

He finally moved and lay beside her and grabbed her hand in his, a silent I love you. She turned to him, her eyes still closed and heart full. “You’re my breath mi amor,” she murmured. “Don’t ever make me live without it.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and for the first time in hours, breathing felt a little easier. “I promise.”

The following week he received one of the most unexpected and bizarre calls of his life.

“Hi, James Callaghan?” said a professional, no nonsense sounding woman with a thick New Zealand accent.

“Who is this?” he said trying to sound polite.

“I’m Anna Sutton calling on behalf of Michael Reid, head of counter terrorism in New Zealand, how are you James?”

“Ok.”

“Michael would like to meet with you in Auckland next week, to personally thank you for your assistance in the dreadful incidents of last week.”

His first thought was what the actual fuck, but instead he went with. “Thank you but I don’t need any thanks or recognition. I did what anyone would do in the circumstances.”

“How does 10am next Wednesday sound? I can send you the details of our agency, as we have secure facilities. Does this work for you?” hmmm this lady was good, secure facilities….he didn’t like this one bit.

“Umm…sure….”

“Perfect…...I will slot you in and details will be sent through shortly,” and she promptly hung up.

“Who was that?” Teresa asked as her husband looked slightly confused.  

“Michael Reid wants to see me.”

“Who?”

“No idea.”

They googled him and the SMS follow-up he received confirmed the details were legit.

“Why the hell does this guy want to talk to you? I mean you helped a girl, but this seems way over the top!”

“Well, I might of chased down a suspect and tied him up, just before I found Maya, maybe broke his arm,” he said sheepishly.  

“James!!”

“It didn’t seem important at the time.”

She rolled her eyes in response.

“Does he have any powers to arrest people?”

 She looked down at his profile again.

“No, he would have people to do that….I don’t like this one bit, the story, him wanting to meet, just doesn’t make sense.”

“I agree –we’ll go down together, just like old times….unless you want Poté for backup!”

“No thanks, you’ll do,” and with that comment she promptly gave him a playful elbow to the ribs.

As Teresa and James drove down to Auckland CBD, they were feeling slightly nostalgic. The plan was for her to wait in the car and if she didn’t hear anything in the hour then she was going to save him; not that she had any real plan! They chuckled, musing that at least the meeting wasn’t in some abandoned warehouse or trainyard.

Public servants signed him in and took him up the elevator, he sent Teresa a message ‘going in now seems legit so far’, put his phone in the little lock box, was searched again and then shown the meeting room. There was a table in the middle, with Michael at one end, looking through some papers.

“Hi James, nice to meet you, Michael Reid,” as he gave him an enthusiastic shake of the hand then gestured for him to sit down.  

“You showed a lot of bravery last week. On behalf of the country, I thank you”.

James nodded, ever cautious as he looked around the room. People were not brought into rooms like this, for personal praise.

“I’ve reviewed the CCTV package of your heroics last week. You not only actively hunted down and restrained a suspect but arguably saved a girl’s life. Seriously impressive stuff for a civilian out to lunch. Not looking for a job, are you?” he added with a sense of humour.

“Um no. Thank you. It was nothing special, just doing what any other person would do.”

“I beg to differ. Now, you came out of the restaurant like someone wanting anonymity – correct?” 

He nodded.

“You prefer to work behind the scenes; you don’t want the limelight?” 

“You could say that.”

“Who are you, really?”

“Who am I?” He still looked surprised even though he was anticipating the question. “I’m James Callaghan.”

“Of course you are, to be sure,” the man was quick, James gave him that.  

James said nothing further, so after a few beats Michael helped him.

“James Callaghan. Previously known as Michael Callaghan. Came here 10 years ago, set-up house in some remote rural town, never having stepped foot in the country. We must have made some impression because you’ve never left, not even for a romantic getaway to Fiji!

“You’re not short of a dollar and have a penchant for investing in start-ups and companies that create high-end military grade tech. Sound right so far?”

He raised his eyebrows. He had no idea where this was going.

“I’ve seen footage of you tackle unimaginable carnage head on. Rescue and stay with a girl to ensure she was safe. You are now here, meeting the highest-ranking spook in NZ and you haven’t even broken a sweat. I’d wager you’ve scanned the exits, noted the cameras, security presence…brought back-up…” he chuckled but didn’t come across condescending – he was annoyingly likeable – probably why he held the top job.

“Who do you work for James?”

“I work for myself. I’m not a spy, if that’s what you think?”

“I’m not sure what to think. One of your companies has just landed a major defence project, so you could have orchestrated the whole attack, to elicit more funding for your surveillance technologies for all I know?”

His jaw almost hit the floor. “That’s one hell of an accusation.”

“Apologies, I have a very vivid imagination: it drives my wife crazy but helps with my job.” Michael seemed to smile at a memory, then refocused. “Tell me the truth then, you are an enigma to me.”

He sighed and weighed up his options. This was not someone to play games with, so went close to the truth. “I was US military. Three tours. I know how to handle a weapon, how to survive in chaos. I’ve run into the fire more times than I care to remember. I know what it’s like to take orders, including orders to take human life, but also protect it.”

Michael nodded, listening intently.

“That life though, it took its toll, almost ruined me. I followed my partner here for a quiet life, but I guess last week my instincts kicked in and you know the rest.” 

“I’d say you have very good skills & instincts, rare in fact.”

“Perhaps,” he lamented. “But neither my wife or I are spies or work for anyone other than ourselves. I’m sure your friends at the embassy would have already confirmed that though.”

“Perhaps” as Michael let the silence linger again.

“The truth is I invest in good tech to hopefully save lives. I have children who are New Zealanders.  This country is peaceful, free, beautiful. I want this to be a safe place for them. I don’t want them to grow-up in a world that I did; ever.”

“Here, here,” he nodded. “Now, it’s my turn to be completely honest. I owe you thanks no doubt, but I was so intrigued by what I saw I had to meet you in person.”

James nodded.

“I’ve got an army of analysts: brilliant, methodical, tactical. But they lack instinct. They hesitate. They consider procedure. And I can’t afford it; not when things move so rapidly. I need someone experienced to help bridge the gap. Someone who sees patterns before they form. And that’s where you come in.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“I want you as an advisor, casual, nothing formal. I want to tear open that mind of yours and learn. I want to use you to improve our capability and ensure nothing like this ever happens again. Truth is, classified of course, we are the poor cousins of the US, even Australia. It’s a weakness I want plugged.”

“I’ll need to talk to my wife first. We have no secrets.”

“I understand. I know you’ve been squeaky clean since you arrived, and I know there is no chance of you building a criminal empire here; you have neither the political capital nor manpower to topple the incumbents in this town. What you have done in your past, if it will not harm this country, it is not my concern.”

Did he know? Surely not. Wild guess?

“All our debts are paid. I don’t owe anybody anything.”

“Good to hear. I’ll be in touch with more detail, and I hope to speak again” as they shook hands.

He jumped in the car and Teresa couldn’t contain her curiosity. “So what was that all about? I take it you weren’t arrested.”

“He wanted a chat. Essentially, I piqued his interest on the CCTV footage last week, so he tracked all my movements and was ‘impressed with my instinct’. He wants me to be an advisor to him – thinks I could add value.”

“Well I have always known you are awesome. You have a gift for successfully working in chaos. What do you think?”

“I guess he is looking for unconventional ways to improve given the failings of last week. He kind of guessed our backgrounds but it didn’t seem to bother him, unless we pull shit like we used to here of course. I didn’t give anything away though.”

“Not a chance in hell. If I’m not in bed by 8pm I’m grumpy as you know,” as she laughed.

“I’ll mull it over during the coming weeks, but my immediate priority is coffee, or I’ll be grumpy too!”

“Roger that Captain Valdez,” and they gave each other the warmest smile.

He received a text message from Maya’s grandmother Beverly, later that week. We will be at the official memorial on the 22nd – would love to see you there. James was hesitant, but Teresa encouraged him to go, so they dropped the kids at the Galvez’s for an overnight stay and headed to Wellington.

A white canopy tent stretched over endless rows of white chairs. Photographs of the victims were propped on easels, flowers adorned the stage as dignitaries mingled with survivors, first responders and grieving family members.  

James stood near the back, stiff in his black suit. Teresa stood beside him and she hadn’t let go of his hand since they arrived. He hadn’t relaxed and looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

Then seemingly out of nowhere, a little girl with a prosthetic leg, came bounding toward him, her grandparents madly trying to keep up with her as she weaved her way through the crowd.

“James, James I drew you something. My grandma has it in her bag.”

 When they finally caught up, Beverly pulled the picture from her bag: it was a picture of Maya in a car, with a stick man to the side, surrounded by flames. Down the bottom it read: ‘Thank you for saving me’

“Thank you sweetheart. It’s beautiful. I will hang it on my wall at home.” He knelt down and hugged her, all encompassing. Not for himself, but for her, and the hugs she will never receive from a parent ever again.

“Maya, Beverly, Gordon. This is my wife, Teresa.” he didn’t want to use her pseudonym. These people were real.

“Hello Teresa. James saved me.”

“James is very good at saving people,” Teresa smiled. “I’m glad he could help.”

“Can you sit with me, please?” Maya asked James.

He looked at Teresa and she gave him a  smile and nodded. “I can sit with you, Maya,” and so she promptly grabbed his hand and led him to her seat.  

Beverly stood with Teresa as they saw them walk off in the distance.  “She has been talking about him non-stop so he certainly made an impression. I’m so glad he could come.” She then reached in her bag and gave Teresa another envelope.

“Thank you,” as she slipped it into her own handbag. “I will give it to him later. If Maya ever wants to visit let me know – I will give you my number too.”

They said their goodbyes after the service, Maya hoping they would catch-up again soon, and they were able to finally get a quiet moment in the airport lounge before their flight.

“She looked for you, you know. Maya. She scanned the whole crowd before she saw you. You are her hero.” Teresa then handed him an envelope.

“What’s this?”

In pink crayon, the envelope said, “For Mr James” and was surrounded by purple love hearts. He opened it slowly and Teresa watched him read the note.

 Thank you for helping me. You were kind to me.

  Thank you for not leaving me alone and staying with me all the way to the hospital. I felt better   when you were there.

 I will never forget you.

 Love Maya ❤️

P.S. I hope something really good happens to you because you did something really nice for me.

He swallowed, visibly moved, and put the piece of paper to his heart. He showed Teresa and her eyes misted as she read it, tears then falling for the simple beauty of the message but for a child that had now lost both parents at a heartbreaking age. It was a feeling she knew well.

“I’m glad you went today,” she said, barely audible.

“Me too. Thank you for helping me.”

“What happens when her grandparents can no longer look after her? Her Grandfather looks unwell.”

“I really don’t know.”

“You know I lost both of my parents around her age, was raised by my grandparents and you know how that story ends.”

“What are you saying.”

“Maybe she could visit, or stay with us, sometime?” she said shyly.

"What?” he said stunned, not sure if he heard her correctly.

“Why not…imagine what we could offer her. I think our family has a lot of love to give. Isla would adore her. We could financially support her….”

He sighed, considering his response. “We are not her family, and we also have a past. It’s not that I don’t want to, I’m just being realistic.” 

“Ok well it’s just an idea. We have that ski holiday booked. How about Maya and her grandparents join us in Queenstown for 2 days for tobogganing and snow play. Would be a good distraction.”

Her eyes held a look he was very familiar with. One that said: You know this is a good idea. Don’t overthink it. It also wasn’t lost on him that he was going to be trapped beside her on a flight for the next few hours. No escaping the subject, just ample time for her to keep bombarding him with counter-arguments. She just sat there and smiled sweety, waiting. His eyes said: ‘you got me – well played’.

“Fine. A few days at the end point of the trip.”

“I’ll make the call.”

“And I’ll get us another drink.”

Chapter Text

The family of five headed to Queenstown for a much-anticipated winter holiday. Xavier couldn’t wait to snowboard, Isla was most excited about her matching ski gear and all Michael could talk about was snowball fights. James and Teresa were trying to get everyone to the airport without someone, including themselves, having a meltdown.

They’d booked five seats in a single row - which sounded like a good idea until they realised only one child would get the window seat.

Negotiations broke down quickly. Isla ended up with it, which Xavier declared “she would pay for.” Teresa got to sit between the warring siblings and James and Michael were across the aisle – he got his Dad to himself so thought he had won the lottery.

By the time they reached their snowy lodge, the children had finally calmed, lulled by exhaustion and the promise of hot chocolate.

“We made it,” James said, his voice both surprised and relieved.

Teresa leaned against him, boots crunching on the snow. “Barely.”

Inside was warm, filled with timber beams, giant couches, and wine. Teresa took no time opening the bottle, and they collapsed on the giant sofa, wine in hand, while the kids ran amok choosing their beds and inspecting every part of the property.

“Tomorrow, we hit the slopes,” James said, raising a glass.

“No mi amor, tomorrow, we survive,” Teresa corrected with a mirthless grin.

The sun had barely risen and it was already full-scale warfare inside the lodge. Snow gear was flung across couches. Gloves had vanished. Isla was refusing to change out of her pyjamas. Xavier was already waiting to go, refusing to help anyone else and threatening to wait outside and although he was giving it a good crack, poor Michael was struggling to put on his snow gear.

After tense words with Isla, Teresa helped her get dressed and looked over at her husband. “This was your idea of a fun holiday,” she said pointedly to James.

He let the comment slide. “Lessons start in 45 minutes, and we still need to pick up the gear, let’s keep moving.” It was like he was commanding an army platoon, with soldiers that liked to ignore orders.

“We can do this,” he added, more to himself than anyone else.

They navigated the chaos of the ski hire shop then herded the kids toward the lesson area, slipping slightly with every step.

James stopped. “Wait. Where’s Michael’s ski pass?”

Teresa froze.

“Ah there it is, I’m wearing it,” James muttered.

Teresa closed her eyes. “I swear to God, next holiday is in Fiji.”

He leaned in close. “We’ve survived worse.”

“When? When have we survived worse?”

“Remember the flight from New York to New Orleans – you got gastro?”

She shuddered. “I remember…”

At 9:05 they were officially alone, and Teresa exhaled. “Can’t believe we were only 5 mins late.”

James watched the kids shuffle into their lesson groups. “That’s basically early in parenting terms.”

They stood in the snow, shoulders touching, watching their kids wobble and wobble again.

“We did it,” he said.

“Barely.”

“We should really stay and watch and take photos”

“We should….” then they both looked at each other…and then toward the bar up the stairs overlooking the lesson area.

They both smiled as they silently turned to the bar.

It was 9:15am and the ski lodge bar had just opened, but for James and Teresa, it might as well have been an evening on Bourbon Street. They slumped on a chesterfield couch beside a roaring fireplace with their first round of cocktails.

Teresa lifted a Bloody Mary and saluted. “To surviving the morning.”

James clinked his mulled wine to hers. “To the poor instructors who now have custody of our children.”

“Lord have mercy!”

They drank. One turned into two. Then three. Then four. Maybe 5. By 11am Teresa had ordered fries and started a passionate monologue about the secret genius of Bluey. James, meanwhile, was giving impromptu life advice to a confused yet patient Swedish bartender while he was making him up a cherry flavoured bourbon with a smoking cinnamon stick.

At 11:56am, Teresa blinked at her watch. “Pick-up’s at twelve.”

“Shit,” James said.

“Indeed” Teresa replied grimly.

They stood, immediately wobbling and as they put on their jackets they looked like toddlers trying to dress themselves for the first time.

“We look totally sober,” James said, as he put his ski goggles over his eyes, still inside.

“Confidence is key. Speak slowly, stand-up straight.” They barely made it down the two flights of stairs.

The kids came thundering toward them with red cheeks, wide grins, and an avalanche of energy. Teresa knelt to hug Isla and promptly tipped over into the snow like a felled tree. James tried to catch her and landed on his knees in slow motion.

“Are you guys okay?” Xavier asked, eyes narrowing.

“Perfect!” Teresa beamed. “Just checking for… snow depth.”

“Looking good - always inspect the snow layer kids.” Xavier looked at him with a face that said you are making no sense.

“Mummy, why do you smell like... oranges?” Michael added.

“Because I’m... healthy.”

Isla giggled. “Mummy’s acting funny.”

“No, sweetheart,” Teresa said, brushing snow from her face. “Mummy’s fun. Totally different.”

Xavier squinted at them. “Are you drunk?”

“WHAT?!” both parents said in unison, way too loud.

Xavier nodded slowly, like a tiny judge. “They are drunk!!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Okay!” Teresa said brightly. “Who wants UNLIMITED iPad time this afternoon?”

Three hands shot into the air.

“Then let’s hustle back to the chalet,” James declared, doing finger guns and almost tipping over again.

The door slammed behind them. James collapsed face-first onto the couch. Teresa crawled to the kitchen, pulled out crackers and juice boxes, and threw them at the kids.

“All electronics are fair game until dinnertime,” Teresa said, as she made her way to the other couch.

“No questions asked,” James added from his couch.

The children vanished like smoke, each to their respective device and corner of the house.

Silence.

Teresa curled up and looked over at her husband. “Remind me not to drink next time.”

 “I don’t even remember what was in the fourth drink, or was it the fifth.”

“Something with a cinnamon stick. And regret.”

They groaned and promptly fell asleep. Two hours later they woke up with thumping headaches and didn’t move from the couch for another 2 hours after that.

Later that evening the kids had been semi-fed (fries) and the outdoor hot tub steamed invitingly under the stars. The had willed themselves off the couch and were ready to hit the hot tub as the final hangover recovery phase.

James stood barefoot on the icy deck, holding two towels and a bottle of cheap sparkling grape juice he found in the fridge.

“Everyone in,” he commanded.

Xavier burst out first in swim shorts and ski goggles. “I’m scuba diving!”

“You’re hot tubbing,” James corrected. “Totally different altitude.”

Isla came next, wearing her towel like she was royalty. “I am a princess. My name is princess Isla.”

Michael followed behind, just happy to be part of the action.

By the time everyone had flopped in, the tub was bubbling and crowded. James popped the grape juice like champagne, a bit too enthusiastically. It fizzed up and sprayed everyone to screams of delight.

“I hereby declare this the official Après-Ski,” James said, passing around the plastic cups.

Isla swirled her juice like a wine connoisseur. “This is divine,” she announced. “Would pair beautifully with gummy bears.” James and Teresa shot each other a look which said she’d been spending too much time with Aunty Kelly Anne.

Teresa leaned her head against James’s shoulder, wet hair sticking to her cheek. “Do we look like we’re winning at parenting right now?”

James clinked his glass against hers. “We survived ski school, a hangover, we fed three kids and found a moment to sit. Winning.”

Laughter bubbled over the water. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the hum of jets, giggles, and the smell of snow and pine. The kids were calm. Teresa’s eyes were closed. And James let himself believe they were absolutely nailing this parenting thing.

Even if he was going to freeze to death fetching the kids towels.

It was just after lunch the following day, and the ski school had released the children back into their parents’ custody.

“Where’s Isla?” Teresa asked, scanning for their bright-pink-jacketed daughter.

Xavier, who was standing with Michael sitting on his foot like a tired, slightly damp barnacle, shrugged.  Then came the voice: clear, high-pitched, and frighteningly confident.

“MAKE WAY FOR ISLA THE BRAVE!”

Both James and Teresa turned toward the slope just in time to see Isla shooting straight down a small but steep hill at what appeared to be light speed. No pizza wedge. No turns. No fear.

 “Oh God,” Teresa said.

“Who taught her to tuck?” James exclaimed.

Michael cheered. “GO ISLA!”

Xavier squinted. “She’s definitely going too fast. She’ll crash.”

Isla, for her part, was shrieking with laughter, her skis perfectly parallel as she soared toward the base. A couple of seasoned skiers dove out of the way.

“ISLA, PIZZA!” Teresa yelled.

“I DON’T NEED PIZZA, I’M A PRO!” Isla screamed back.

She hit the flat part of the slope and, miraculously, stayed upright for another three seconds until her right ski hit a small ridge and her body gracefully launched into a slow-motion tumble, flipping once before landing flat on her back in a poof of snow.

There was silence. Then giggles. “I’M OKAY!” Isla called.

By the time they reached her, a small crowd of ski instructors and entertained parents had gathered. Isla was already sitting up, grinning, with one glove missing and snow packed in her helmet.

James dropped to his knees. “You good?”

“That was awesome Daddy!” she beamed.

Teresa crouched next to her. “Isla, sweetie, what on earth possessed you to do that?”

Isla shrugged. “Ingrid said I had good balance. I wanted to test it.”

A nearby dad clapped. “She’s got guts. You guys raising a little daredevil?”

James offered a weak smile, “apparently.”

As they helped her up and brushed her off, Teresa turned to James. “She’s your child.”

 “No, this has your bravery written all over it,” James muttered.

Michael chimed in, “Can I do a stunt tomorrow?”

Both parents: “NO.”

Isla was still beaming. “Can I go again?”

 “Absolutely not.”

“I’m starting to understand why ski parents drink at 9am,” Teresa murmured.

 “You are right - we’re gonna need a vacation from this vacation.” James sighed, resigned.

Back at the lodge they had some news to share with the kids.

“Ok, listen up. We have some very special visitors coming tomorrow.” James declared.

“Who?” They asked in unison.

“A girl, Maya who is 6 and her grandparents.”

“Why?” Xavier asked.

“Well, she was caught up in the bad attacks in Wellington. I helped her but she lost her leg. And her mummy was killed.” There was no point sugar coating it  James thought.

“So she has no mummy, just like you did mum.” Isla said.

“That’s right.” Teresa said.

“That is sad.”

Teresa went on. “So we thought she could join us for 2 nights - what could we do to make it fun – just remember she has a special leg?”

“Hide and seek.” “Snow fights.” “Sledding.” “Cooking.” “Eating.”

“That all sounds great,” James said. “Now time for bed!!”

The next morning snow crunched under tyres as the chauffer car pulled up outside the warm timber lodge. Teresa had arranged the transfer as she didn’t want them to have to worry about the drive. The children watched the car with interest from the steps as James and Teresa went down to greet them.

Maya stepped out with walking sticks on either side to steady her, her grandparents, Beverly and Gordon behind her, waving cheerfully.

“Mr. James!!!” Maya exclaimed and made her way over to him and gave him the warmest hug.

He leant down “Hey kiddo, have you grown again???” As he ruffled her beanie.

“Hello again Maya, you’re almost as tall as me now!!!” Teresa said warmly. “So glad you all could come.”

“Hi Ms Teresa, thank you for having me. You are very kind.”

“It’s not a problem at all. Come inside so you can meet everyone properly. We’ve got hot chocolate waiting!!!” Maya instinctively grabbed James’s hand as he led her in, making sure she didn’t lose her footing on the slippery snow.

The three siblings exchanged a stunned glance.

“Come say hi, guys. This is Maya.”

They slowly shuffle forward as Maya stood beside their Dad, smiling brightly.

“Hi!” she said, smiling nervously.

“Maya, these are my kids—Isla, Xavier, and Michael.”

Isla gave a tight, polite nod and the boys stood there awkwardly.

“Let’s go inside”

After hot chocolate and polite conversation, they prepared for an afternoon of snow play. The clearing was about 200m from the lodge, and as Beverly and Gordon were in their 70s, they gratefully stayed behind. 

The walk to the clearing was slow and careful, James stayed close to Maya, but also gave her space to walk – after 100m he could see she was already puffed so he hoisted her up onto his shoulders and she squealed with delight.

Xavier immediately decided to make a snow fort and Michael went for the snow angels. They hadn’t been there for more that 10 minutes and Michael was already soaking wet, much to the dismay of his mother. Maya stood there fascinated at Michael, telling him he looked cool and then started to make her way over to Xavier, each step taking more out of her that she let on.

“Hi Maya, want to help me build the top part of the fort?”

“Yes please.” She smiled.

He offered her a hand into the fort which she took, and a soaking wet Michael also joined them.

Isla was off to the side, creating a large snowball for a snowman, glancing frequently toward the others. She wasn’t smiling.

Teresa came and sat beside her. “Hey, my snow princess. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“That ‘nothing’ looks a lot like someone who’s building an angry snowball.”

Isla sighed. “Everyone’s with Maya. They’re laughing with her. Helping her. Carrying her.”

“Isla,” she said gently.

“I think Dad loves her more than me.”  Teresa put a gloved hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“Sweetheart, no one could ever take your place. Your dad saved her life, but he couldn’t save her leg. We wanted to give her a bit of joy, make her feel safe. And if anything ever happened to us, we hope people would be nice to you too.”

Isla didn’t reply, but she blinked a few times, like she was holding back tears. Her mum gave her a hug.

“Wanna know a secret. Dad was so protective of you when you were born that he couldn’t sleep until you were!!” She smiled. “I had to convince him that you were fine in your own room, or he would still be watching you sleep now!!”

“Really???”

“Really.”

They heard Maya cry out as she slipped in the fort.  “Ow!” she said, more frustrated than hurt, and she tried not to cry.

Isla felt a bit better after talking to her mother and made her way over and went into the fort too. “Here. Take my arm.”

“It’s okay. I just slipped.”

“I know. Just... let me help.”

Maya nodded. Isla wrapped an arm behind her back and, with Xavier’s help, they steady her. Once Maya was up, Isla stayed beside her, and they continued building the fort as four instead of three.

The next day a blizzard came in so they spent the day indoors cooking, drawing, playing games and of course some iPad time. After dinner the kids agreed it was hot tubbing. It will be amazing Maya, You’ll love it, so much fun. They all encouraged.

“Ok I’ll get changed.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Isla said.

She waited for what felt like an eternity and as Maya hadn’t resurfaced Isla went to find her. She wasn’t hard to find and Isla could hear her crying from outside her room.

“Maya?” Isla walked in slowly, closing the door behind her.

“ We thought you were getting changed. The boys are already outside and put on the lights. The hot tub looks like a lava pit.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll see my leg.”

“No one is going to care.”

“I just... I hate how it looks. It’s ugly. It has weird scars and lumps.”

The tears came again, and she hid her face in her hands.

Isla wrapped her arms around Maya. It was a little awkward. A little shaky. But real.

“You are beautiful Maya.”

“What if they stare?”

“They won’t. And if they say anything mean, I’ll dump snow down their pants.”

Maya laughed.

“I have an idea. We could both wear long pants if you want, so no one will see your leg.”

“That sounds awesome. You are kind – just like your Mum and Dad.”

Isla’s chest stood proud. 

In the hot tub Michael and Xavier were making a whirlpool when the sliding door opened.

Isla and Maya stepped out together, hands linked, towels wrapped around them, both in swimsuits and tracksuit pants. The boys cheered. No one stared. And they all ensured she got in safely and helped with the whirlpool!

The morning rush came and went and then it was time to go. Isla gave Maya the biggest hug and wouldn’t let go.  “I don’t want you to go, Maya. Can’t you just stay? Dad, Mum can she stay?? Please.”

“I’d like that.” She whispered.

“We can have another visit sometime,” Beverly assured the girls.

“You’ll write to me?” Maya asked.

“Yep. And call. And send the videos of Michael making snow angels.”

Maya let out a little giggle.

As the car pulled away, the kids stood together and her Dad came up and gave Isla the biggest cuddle imaginable.

“She’s nice isn’t she.”

“Yeah.” Isla agreed. “She doesn’t have any parents - that’s not fair.”

“No, it, isn’t. But I was really proud of you all with her.”

“Dad?”

“Yes darling.”

“Were you scared to leave me alone as a baby?”

“Hmmm….whose been telling you stories??”

“No one,” and she giggled and rested her head on his chest. The safest place in her world.

A few minutes later the kids had disappeared, and Teresa and James finally got a quiet moment.

“I wasn’t so sure at first, but this has been a good trip,” she grinned at her husband.

“It was. It was a good idea to have Maya and her family too.”

“I think we should stay in her life, Maya’s, in whichever way she wants. As we know sometimes the family you choose can be just as good.”

“Perhaps this is our chance to atone.”

She had never heard that word, but knew from the way he said it the meaning.

“Yeah…” and she squeezed his hand. “Now let’s go home!”

Chapter Text

It had been a rough year for Xavier, and although he was going well academically and excelling at sailing, his schoolyard scraps and inability to keep his temper under control were landing him in a world of hurt – both at home and school.

He had however, stayed out of trouble for 6 months and James had to pay up on his promise – no fights for 6 months = a visit to Hobbiton. Isla put up an excellent set of arguments as to why she should also go, including the fact she had also read the books, so the 3 of them hit the road at 7am, with Teresa gladly staying at home with Michael.

James walked through Hobbiton set with a forced enthusiasm. Xavier hadn’t left his side, non-stop pointing out every little detail from the movies, whilst Isla had found a random friend and was off at the back of the pack not even looking at the sets. Joining a tour group was compulsory, which didn’t add to his overall mood. They’d finally finished their 3-hour tour and headed to the Green Dragon Inn for their free drinks, which included a very interesting tasting Hobbiton beer, and of course, the gift shop.

He begrudgingly followed his kids into the gift shop, contemplating whether to get a few Amber Ales for Teresa, when he stopped dead in his tracks.

She was standing by a bookshelf, a little older but still as striking as ever with that same red hair that always used to get under his skin. She also seemed to be there with her kids, frowning as one of them pulled on her sleeve, begging her to let him buy a Legolas statue. Before he could duck behind a stand of Hobbiton-themed coffee mugs, she spotted him too.

"Jimmy?" Her voice was tentative but unmistakable.

It had been years, fifteen to be exact - his mouth was moving but the words betrayed him.

He finally spluttered out "Kim," his voice barely hiding the panic rising inside him. He was not prepared for this blast from the past.

"Jimmy, is it really you?”

“Hi.”

“I thought you were dead."

Xavier tugged at his dad’s arm. “Dad, can we get this?”

He gave his son a quick nod, sure.

“James, I’ve visited your burial plot - several times!”

He had no idea what to say to that – the fact that Kim visited or that someone had made him one.

“Um, well there seems to be some mistake….”

Kim then raised an eyebrow as she saw a girl with long curly brown hair playing with Aragon’s sword, now poking it at her brother.

“Is that your daughter?” she asked, gesturing toward Isla. “She’s gorgeous, James.”

James felt a chill in the air. He knew where this is going. Kim’s eyes flickered to Isla and then back to him. "So, who’s her mother? No let me guess…?"

James was momentarily caught off guard. He forced a smile, trying to keep his voice steady. "It’s not what you think."

Kim nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. “I can only guess how that happened... but I’ve always wondered, you know, what made you settle down. After everything.”

"Kim, it's-"

But before he could finish, Xavier pulled on his sleeve again. “Dad! Can we buy this now? Please?!”

“Sure, bud. We’ll go in just a second. Hold on.”

Kim watched the interaction between father and son with a mix of curiosity and something more. Truth of the matter is she loved him back then and would have happily had his babies and be a stay-at-home mum – he just wasn’t in the same place. Whoever she was, she got to have the version of James that she never managed to.    

“I guess I’m just surprised. Last time we talked, you seemed so... well, I don’t know, absorbed. You still in that line of work?”

“Um no. I work in IT.”

“IT, okay,” and she muffled a laugh. “Are you still in the states?”

Here we go. “Yes I am.” If she was smart she wouldn’t believe it though as his kids had no trace of an American accent.

She glanced down at her own kids. “Well, I’m glad it’s all worked out for you, Jimmy" she said, though her voice held a certain edge. “I never thought you’d have such a... normal life. You always seemed, so, reluctant to leave.”

He flashed her a tight smile. “It was good to see you, Kim. Really.”

Kim smiled too, though it was tinged with something he couldn’t quite place. “Yeah. Good to see you too Mr Valdez. Alive.”

“Dad...”

And with that, he was gone, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Dad, who was that lady? And why did she think your name was Jimmy?" asked Isla.

James took a deep breath "Just someone from the past, sweetie. Now, let’s buy your gifts and get outta here."

It had been a long day for James, and the chaos of the Hobbiton trip, and 6 hours in the car with his two eldest children had worn him out. The encounter with Kim had also unsettled him. There were two thoughts he couldn’t shake: Who cared enough to give him a memorial and how easy it was for someone to still recognise him. As he walked through the door, he felt an enormous sense of relief. Xavier and Isla were still in the car finishing their maccas as they didn’t want Michael to see.

“You’re back,” she said softly, as a warm smile spread across her face. She looked exhausted too, but there was something else in her gaze, something affectionate and genuine.

“Yeah, I’m back,” as he ran a hand through his hair, still a little frazzled. “Hobbiton was... well, it was... a lot. Kids are still in the car eating maccas,” as he peered out the window.

“How was your day?”

“One is a breeze compared to three – we had a great day!!” She looked at him carefully checking on the kids through the window.  “Fatherhood really suits you, you know.”

He turned from the window, surprised by the sudden compliment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you know...you look comfortable, in control. I like it.”

He grinned at her teasing tone, but there’s something in his chest that fluttered with her words. “You’re just saying that coz’ you want to take me to bed.”

“Maybe,” she said with a wink. 

“Good. Kids in bed early tonight then – I’m going upstairs for a shower – I’ll be back down to help in 10.”

The kids came in one minute later, smelling like chips, grease and with fingers covered in salt. They were bursting with stories, crowding their mum who was still curled up on the couch.

“Okay, okay, one at a time. I want to hear everything about Hobbiton. Who saw a hobbit hole first?”

“Me!” Xavier said, “I saw the Green Dragon Inn and the water wheel and Frodo’s home and,”

“And Dad met a lady with red hair!” Isla interrupted.

“A lady with red hair?” Teresa questioned.

Isla nodded, eyes wide.

“She called Daddy Jimmy and she looked at him like this,” as she made a pouty face. “But Jimmy isn’t even his name,” she chuckled.

“And then Dad started talking really fast, and the lady called him Mr Baldez or something….he was fully weirded out Mum,” Xavier added.  

“Oh, was he now?”

“Let me guess. Red hair, American accent, tall, beautiful.”

“Yes mummy! She was very pretty.” Thanks Isla, Teresa silently thought.

“Do you know her mum?” Xavier asked.

“Yes – her name is Kim.” She didn’t know why, but she had a funny feeling in her stomach – surely she wasn’t jealous, she thought to herself.

“But what’s funny is that apparently your Dad forgot to mention that little part of the trip, both on the phone and when he arrived home tonight!”

Isla started giggling. “Oopsie Daddy.”

Just then, James walked into the room, fresh from his shower, and saw them all looking at him with a particular expression.

“What?” He said cautiously.

“Still attracting red-heads hey?” as she raised her eyebrows

“...They told you?”

“Yes, dear. Now, let’s get you rascals into bed!”

The kids had finally settled, and they jumped into bed and started chatting.

“So... did you and Kim talk about old times? Reminisce about what could have been?” she teased.

The look and tone he gave her wasn’t pleasant. “Don’t be a you know what…it doesn’t suit you.”

Ouch, but probably fair she thought, so continued listening.

 “It was like being hit by a bullet. One second, I’m in hobbit hell and next minute it was Kim. I did try and hide,” he added.

“According to Isla she is beautiful.”

“Are you jealous??” he looked at her now, utterly confused.

“No,” she said shyly – but perhaps she was a little. She did not like women coming into her husband’s orbit – no matter the circumstances.

“Get this - apparently, I have a headstone – she thought I was dead - who the hell did that?”

It was her turn to give him a very confused look. “I have no idea?? Maybe your mother?”

He let out a sigh – one that conveyed I don’t want to think about that right now.

“She was asking questions! I told her we still lived in the states. What was I supposed to say – ‘Hi Kim, yes, we faked our deaths, live in New Zealand and this is my daughter Isla, who, by the way, is with the woman I brought to our house when we lived together, you lent her clothes remember….?’”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“She was judging me. I could feel it. You know that look women give when they want to kill you?”

“Oh, I know the look.”

“Hmmmmm – no comment.”

They lay in comfortable silence.

“You weren’t tempted, were you?”

“Not for a second,” he grabbed her hand and she could feel tension. “Why would you even think that?” He gave her his famous you are going to tell me…whether you like it or not look, so she sighed and began.

“Truth. I had feelings for you long before I had the right to. I convinced myself it wasn’t logical, and when I met Kim, that confirmed it. She was beautiful, elegant, charming – all the things I wasn’t. When she helped me get ready for that party, I thought this is the kind of woman someone like you has, not someone like me.”

She could see his expression clearly, but she couldn’t read it. “You really thought that?” he finally said.

She nodded. “I did. And I buried what I felt, convinced myself it was stupid to think about more. I was effectively a prisoner in flannelette– not girlfriend material.”

“Is that why you choose Guero? When he came back?”

 She nodded. “It is. But the look on your face that night – I’ll never forget it, it almost broke my heart. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I wasn’t exactly great boyfriend material back then either. When you came into my life, I kept spending more and more time at work, not because I had to, but because I wanted to – surely that much was obvious. Camilla knew. Kim felt it too. We broke up shortly after Birdman – in a trailer in the bush no less – real classy stuff!”

“We’ve come a long way haven’t we.”

“We have. And given you’re stuck with me for life, let me get reacquainted with this body of yours, I’ve had a very stressful day!!”

“Yes Mr Baldez.”

In the chaos of the previous night, she didn’t have a chance to tell him about the conversation she’d had with Beverly. She had rung as Gordon was now quite unwell, and they were thinking about next steps.

So….I had a call from Beverly yesterday.”

“Yeah?”

“Gordon is sick, and she is worried about Maya’s future. She was wondering if we would consider taking her, if they could no longer look after her – they want to formalise things a bit more, make it official. I said I would speak to you.”

“As you know it’s a massive commitment. We are under no obligation to do it, but…I think it’s the right thing to do. Finances aren’t an issue, and I think the kids would support her. Isla would love a sister figure. But let’s talk to them first – they need to be on board.”

“Agreed. I want to do this James.”

He smiled. “Me too.”

“Do you think we need to do any background checks on them? To be safe?”

“I’ve been all over that for a while – just to be safe of course.”

“Of course you have…don’t tell me anymore so I can live in ignorant bliss.”

“Deal. Now I’m making coffee then we’ll grab the kids.”

“Ok family meeting in the lounge – 5 minutes.” James said. The children all moaned and complained but gathered slowly as they found their respective places around the lounge room.

James brought them to order. “We want to talk to you about Maya.”

That got their attention.

“Is she okay?” Isla asked her face worried.

Teresa shook her head. “Not really. Her grandfather’s in hospital. Her grandmother is tired. She’s doing her best, but it’s just too much. It’s getting harder and harder for them to look after Maya.”

Xavier sat up straighter then. “So what happens to her, you know, like, if they can’t?”

“That’s what we want to talk about,” Teresa said. “Her grandparents have asked if we’d consider having Maya come and live with us. Not for a few nights. It would be… permanent.”

The room stilled; Michael, their youngest broke the silence.

“Like, forever?”

James nodded. “Yes. Like part of our family.”

“But where would she sleep?” he said.

“We’d move things around,” Teresa said gently. “We were thinking she could have the spare room near the bathroom. It’s flat, and we’d make sure it’s easy for her to move around.”

Isla’s brow furrowed. “Or she could stay in my room.”

“She could – but we also want to ensure she has her own space too.”

Xavier’s arms were crossed now – a deep thinker like his Dad. “But what about school. Where would she go?”

“We’d find her a school that she likes – or she could go to Kauri Grove if she wanted.”

There was a long pause.

Xavier spoke again, quietly this time. “What if she misses her grandparents?”

Teresa leaned forward, her voice thick. “Then we’ll give her comfort. Just like we do when you’re sick or scared. We’ll be there.”

“Will you have less time for us?” Xavier said flatly.

Teresa’s heart broke a little at that. She reached for his hand.

“Never. Love doesn’t run out, Xavier. It grows. We’ll still read bedtime stories. We’ll still have Friday night pizza and Sunday morning pancakes. This isn’t about replacing anything. It’s about adding someone who needs us.”

Michael slid off the couch and came over to his mum. “I can share my Lego.”

Teresa smiled through the sting in her eyes. “That’s very kind.”

“I could help her at school,” Isla said slowly. “If she goes to ours.”

“I guess if she’s gonna to live here, I should probably show her how to use the playstation – we could now do 4 player mode without mum or dad.” Xavier added. 

James gave a low chuckle. “So… is that a yes?”

No one said anything, but they all nodded.

“Ok, this calls for a group hug!” Teresa pulled James and all three children into a hug, arms stretching wide.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. “All of you.”

And through a twist of fate their family grew, not by blood, but by choice.

Chapter Text

It was a typical Auckland winter day; windy, wet and wild , although it was a nice excuse to spend a Sunday inside doing nothing. There had been lots of secret meetings and whispers between the children, which was very odd. Both Teresa and James knew something was up on Friday after school, but decided to give the kids a few days to fess up before confronting them – they didn’t seem to be mad at each other.

Maya and Isla were inseparable. They had been in their room for quite some time, so Teresa went in to check on them. She found them in a deep and meaningful in the middle of the floor and they looked shocked when they saw Teresa and stopped talking. Teresa, sensing opportunity, went and sat on the carpet with them.

“Hey, is everything ok?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Isla said, but not convincingly.

“I’ve been a teenage girl too you know. Not for a long time, I must admit, but you can trust me, if you want to talk about it.”

Maya looked at Isla – she wasn’t going to betray her secret. But after a beat the words started coming out of Isla’s mouth anyway, like a tidal wave.  

 “A boy followed me into the toilets at school on Friday. I didn’t know he was there until I turned around. He kissed me.”

 “Isla. Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I told him it was gross. I told him to stop, but he didn’t. He only did when some girls came in and saw. And now,” her voice cracked. “Now he’s telling everyone I asked him to. That I wanted it. It’s all over the school chat.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mum breathed. She moved to kneel beside Isla, brushing a hand over her daughter’s hair as Isla began to cry in little choked sobs against her mother’s chest.

“I didn’t, mum! I don’t even like him. And now everyone’s talking about me. Please don’t make me go to school tomorrow.”

Her mother’s arms came around her, holding her tight. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

Maya’s arms were folded, her face full of concern. “Can the school help?”

“I don’t know, they probably won’t even believe me. And I don’t want it to be a big thing.”

“But it is a big thing,” Maya said, eyes burning. “He shouldn’t have done that. He followed you. He lied about it. That’s not okay.”

“What happened is not your fault, Isla.” Her mother added. “You set a boundary, and he ignored it. That’s on him. Not you. Do you understand?”

Isla nodded, but her face was still covered in worry. “No one’s going to believe me.”

“We all believe you,” Teresa confirmed. “And we’re going to talk to his parents and the school. Together. You won’t have to do it alone.”

“I’ll come with you too if you want,” Maya offered.

Isla looked between them and sighed. “But what if it just makes it worse?”

“It might feel hard for a while,” Teresa said honestly. “But the truth matters. And you don’t deserve to carry this around like a secret. He made a choice, and now we get to choose what happens next.”

For a moment, there was only quiet again. Then Isla nodded. “Okay.”

Teresa kissed her temple. “We’ll take it one step at a time, my brave girl. You’re not alone.”

“There is one other thing, Mum.”

“What sweetheart?”

“I think Xavier might kill him, truly. He said so. He and his friends plan to get him tomorrow.”

“Okay, thank you for telling me.”

“Can you not tell Dad yet. Please.”

“Ok sweetheart, I won’t. But when you are ready, tell him – he deserves to know. And both of you, get off the school group chat before he finds out. And I don’t even want to know if you are on socials, both of you.”

“Okay.” They both nodded sheepishly.

 “And just so you know girls, something like this happened to me too, a long time ago.”

“What do you mean Mum?”

“Well a man wanted me and I didn’t want him, but he didn’t listen.”

“Then what happened.”

“I fought him off…. eventually. So just know between us all here, the women in this family, you will be ok. Most men, like your father, are good people and would never hurt another woman. In fact they will protect you to the end of the earth – like your father has always done for me.” She smiled at a memory. “You just need to make sure you get a good one!”

“I think it’s group hug time,” she added, and they did, all three of them still on the floor.

Teresa spent the next two hours busying herself in the kitchen, working out how to deal with the multiple situations unfolding: Xavier, the boy, his parents, her own husband – how would he react to this? The minute he looked at her he’d know something was up and she couldn’t stay hidden in the kitchen forever, so she prayed Isla would tell her father soon.

James was in the lounge on his laptop and looked up instantly as his second child and pride and joy entered the room. “Hey, darling. You okay?”

She nodded, but bit her lip to stop herself from crying. Then she crossed the room and sat beside him on the couch, folding her legs under her. “Something happened at school on Friday Dad.”

He didn’t speak, just closed the lid and turned to face her and braced.

She couldn’t look him in the eye.  “A boy followed me into the bathroom and kissed me. I told him no, but he didn’t stop. And now he’s telling everyone….” and she started to sob into his shoulder.

His body went rigid. “Isla…” and pulled her into a hug.

“Mum knows, I just told her too” she said.

“Did he hurt you? Do anything else?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“We’ll help you through this baby girl. And, trust me, although it might not feel like it now, you will be stronger for it.” and he gave her a reassuring smile that all will be ok, she managed a smile back too. “No-one messes with a member of this family and gets away with it.”

“Thanks Dad.”

As she leaned against him, he was trying to supress his anger. He had killed for her mother, multiple times. Would he kill for his daughter if she wanted him to? He tried to steer his thoughts elsewhere as he didn’t want to know the answer.  

They sat in companionable silence and after a while Isla spoke again. “Mum also told me about what happened to her. How she needed to fight a man who wouldn’t stop.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know that about her.” She looked up then, eyes glistening but steady. "And… if she can survive. I guess I can too.”

“I love you, Isla.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

***

“I know why you’ve been avoiding me,” he said with a grave smile.

“I was going to tell you tonight if they didn’t.”

“Should I kill him?” he asked. “I still could, if I wanted to.”

She wasn’t sure if he was joking.  “I know you could – but I don’t think that is going to help – and that is one of our problems. I hear Xavier is going to teach him a lesson tomorrow.”

“Have no idea where he would get that trait from.” He mused, but she was not impressed with the joke, as she wasn’t particularly keen for her firstborn to take up a life of crime.

“How about this,” she offered instead. “I’m a bit rusty, but let’s go upstairs and make a battle plan that we can share with the kids. We need to teach them to be strategic, think of all angles, not have hot heads.”

“Agreed. I’ll see you in the study in 5.”

In the end, they decided that Teresa would tackle the school, Xavier and James would deliver a little warning, executed smartly, and then depending on where things ended up over the week they would connect with the boy’s parents. She felt a pang of sympathy for her husband – she could tell he was seething inside, but keeping it together for everyone’s sake.

James went to close the loop with Xavier.

“Hey bud, I know what happened to Isla.”

“Yeah, that pricks gonna get it Dad. He’s got a reputation, and once I’m done with him he’ll never lay a hand on anyone again.”

“Ok I know you’re hurting Xav, so am I, and you don’t know how much I want to kill him. But we have to be smart about this. Strategic. One that balances giving him a lesson but ensures we all stay out of trouble.”

“What’s your plan Dad?”

“Your mother and I have come up with a plan. Let’s send a warning. We’ll get him when the time is right, and you can whisper that if he even looks at another girl again he will be a dead man walking. I’ll teach you how to do it properly.”

“For real Dad?”

“For real.”

In the end it wasn’t that hard.

They parked the car two streets over and walked the rest of the way. The boy was already on his usual path home from school, eyes on his phone, completely unaware.

Xavier walked up the footpath first; the point where no houses had cameras in their yards. James rounded the block and approached from the other side, in a cap and hoodie, just like they planned.

The boy literally walked into Xavier, then froze.

Behind him, James appeared, stealthy and solid.

He glanced between them, first confusion, then realisation.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said quickly, voice pitching up.

“She’s my sister. You touched her without her permission. You think we’d let that slide?”

 “I didn’t. It wasn’t like that, I didn’t know.”

“Don’t lie,” James said. His voice was low. “We know what you did.”

The boy looked panicked now. He had no idea what to do. In fact, he thought her Dad might kill him – there had been whispers of him being some sort of fearless hero in Wellington, a family you didn’t want to mess with. If only he’d realised at the time. Then his legs shifted awkwardly as a dark stain spread down his grey school pants.

Xavier spoke again, right up in his face but no gestures. “She said no. You hear me? That means you back the fuck off.”

“I’m sorry,” the boy said, “I didn’t mean to. I swear. I didn’t think…”

“You didn’t think. That’s right,” James confirmed. “But now you will. Every time you see her. Every time you see another woman. You’ll remember this moment.”

The boy looked down, humiliated, the urine soaking through his pants, almost to his shoes.

“We’re not coming back,” James continued. “Unless you give us a reason. And believe me, you don’t want us to return.” And by the tone in his voice, the boy had no doubt.

James turned and walked away calmy first as his son, Xavier, feeling 10 feet tall followed.

***

Xavier hovered awkwardly for a moment, like he wasn’t sure if he should sit.

Isla looked up. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

She watched him with keen interest as he wrestled with his thoughts.

 “You know… we saw him today.”

 “Who?”

“You know who. We didn’t touch him. Swear. We just… talked.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t need to be avenged.”

“It wasn’t that,” he said. “We did it because we love you. That’s it. You don’t need to worry anymore.” She looked over at him again and she could see he was proud as punch, having stood up for her in a meaningful way.

“Thank you, Xavier, – truly.”

A few minutes later, their father appeared quietly in the doorway. He didn’t say a word. Just gave them a smiled and a small nod when she looked up, his way of saying you’re safe.

She nodded back. Nothing more needed to be said.

Teresa was trying to find the right time to tell him but during the chaos of the week there wasn’t one. She had an inkling Isla might of said something anyway, so she was resigned to digging up her ghosts from the past, not that she was keen to.

“Something happened to me. Years ago.”

He looked at her expectant and she could see him internally steadying himself. He knew what was coming next wouldn’t be pretty.

“On Epi’s orders. It was supposed to be an execution. Revenge. For what he did...”

He closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. He knew she entered his world whilst Epi was hunting her, and all guilt and pity he ever felt for her ex evaporated instantly.  “When?” His voice cold as ice whilst heat radiated off his body.

“3 days before we met. No one, except Poté knows. And now you do too.” And she wasn’t going to go any further with that story as he really wouldn’t understand.

He swallowed hard. “Is he still alive?”

“No. I killed him. The second time he tried.”

His eyes open wide then. “The second?”

“Yeah, when I ran, just before I met you at El Limpiadors. Epifanio had found me, again. The second time, he never got to touch me.”

James nodded.

“So, can you see why I put the bullet in Epi? He deserved it, and he should be thankful I showed him mercy. And if I hadn’t run, I know they wouldn’t have found me again and perhaps Brenda would still be alive. You would have ensured it. That was never lost on me.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. “You did what you had to do. You are still the bravest person I know.”

A small, wry smile touched her lips.

“Are you mad I never told you?”

 “Mad? Of course not.”

“Sometimes I felt I should have. I just… there wasn’t a good time. Or a time that felt right. And then it had been so long. I didn’t know how to drop it in. Like, oh by the way, some fuckwit assaulted me.” She gave a small, hollow laugh. “I honestly don’t even think about it. But if it can help Isla, or the girls, or anyone in this family, then we can hold onto that.”

“It doesn’t change a thing,” he said, voice steady. “It only makes me want to protect you even more.”

“That’s the thing. You and Poté, have always kept me safe. You both showed me through actions, rather than words, that you would never harm me, so I couldn’t let any harm come to either of you too. I guess that’s why I had to keep rescuing you – for my own benefit!” and she gave him a wide smile.

He kissed her cheek then grabbed her hand. “Thank you for telling me. I am sorry it happened, but I know you don’t want my sympathy.”

“You know me too well.”

“I am glad you got to put the bullet in him, though – both him and Epi. I wasn’t into torture as you know, but, I would have made an exception.”

“Good to know,” she chuckled. “We won’t always be able to protect our kids the way we want to, but if we give them the grit and smarts to survive, then that will be our greatest gift to them.”

“Agreed.”

She rolled over and fell asleep with her back to his chest; his arm wrapped around her like he could shield her from the past. He’d always known his wife was as strong as they come - he just never knew how much.

Chapter Text

The French Bay Yacht Club was a hive of activity as six teenage boys bustled about the deck of the Merribella, as they undertook final preparations before their adventure – a sail from Auckland to Wellington via the notorious West Coast. Xavier had been sailing since he was seven, and now at sixteen, he walked confidently around the vessel, his arms folded across his chest as he carefully watched the final provisions come aboard for his first multi-day sail without direct adult supervision. He’d inherited his father’s height and his mother’s slender build and olive complexion and cut a striking figure in the morning sun.

His parents stood on the dock, coffees in hand, trying to hide their apprehension, even though they’d undertaken far more dangerous and nefarious pursuits at a similar age; that didn’t matter when it came to their own flesh and blood. "You triple-checked the EPIRB and radio?" Teresa asked, her voice laced with motherly worry.

"Mum, yes. It's all good. We ran over everything twice yesterday," he replied, trying not to show his annoyance. “And what’s the worst that can happen? We get blown off course and end up in Sydney!” He flashed a cheeky smile that was meant to be reassuring. Xavier jumped off the boat for his final goodbyes and James pulled him into a hug. "We are so proud of you, Xav. Just remember weather can turn fast. Rely on your instincts, respect the ocean and most of all have fun!!"

"We’ll be in Wellington in 5 days max Dad. Easy sail.”

It was then his mother’s turn as she fiercely wrapped him in her arms, but also remembering how she too once longed for independence. “We’ll be waiting,” she assured him. “Remember your Dad and I are flying down early so we’ll be there when you arrive.”

“Ok Mum, I will see you then. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Bye Xavier, we’ll miss you,” said Maya and Michael in unison, which secretly melted his heart. “I’ll miss you too, but I’ll take some great pics.” Isla was there in the background, still seething that she couldn’t join the adventure. She’d spent most of the morning moping around the club and all Xavier got was a simple wave as she headed back inside. He empathised with her situation. Truth be told he wouldn’t have minded her on board, she was just as competent as he, but club rules wouldn’t allow it.   

Within 30 minutes, the Merribella slipped free from its berth, sails swelling with 6 boys grinning broadly, wind in their hair, looking as carefree as youth in their last years before adulthood only could. A large crowd had gathered to see them off, including 6 sets of proud and apprehensive parents all waving them off with vigour.  

James went inside to find Isla, hoping to offer her a scrap of wisdom.

“It’s just not fair, Dad.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. But one day it’ll be your turn, and it’ll be wonderful. In the meantime, I think we should have churros and ice-cream for lunch from that dessert bar today. What do you think?”

“Really?”

“Really. Just don’t tell Xav,” he chuckled. “I’ll get your mum; you round up the others.”

When he stepped back outside, he spotted Teresa unmoved on the dock, watching the boat until it disappeared over the horizon.

“Come on,” he said gently as he came up behind her. “Let’s go home. Nothing to do now but wait. He’ll be fine.”

“He’s the same age as…”

“Shhh...I know. Let’s go home – except plan is to have Churros and ice-cream for lunch. Then you can stalk Xavier on the satellite to your hearts content in a sugar coma.”

That elicited a smile. He gently placed a hand on her lower back and guided her toward the clubrooms. They said their goodbyes to the other parents, rounded up their other children and walked to their car, hand in hand. James felt 10ft tall as these were the days he loved the best. Being with family.

3 days on and the sail had been textbook, making all check-ins and keeping good time - the boys felt invincible. However, as Ben, the more cautious of the boys kept reminding them, the most dangerous stretch in their journey, the Cook Straight, was at the end. Many an adult sailor would avoid coming in from the West with good reason, but not these boys. They felt ready and had been practicing for years; they were bored with the East coast and thought it wasn’t challenging enough; much to their parents’ displeasure.

They were well aware the Cook Straight has some of the strongest tidal flows in NZ, and given this factor, coupled with an incoming squall, they were all on edge. The Meribella was currently lurching from side to side, the salty spray continually stinging their wind burnt faces. Xavier kept his hand firm on the tiller, jaw tight as he helplessly watched the tide drag them off their line.

“We’re getting pushed miles,” Simon snapped, leaning over the rail, examining the ocean. His face was pale and he was half seasick, half furious. “We should’ve tacked ages ago!”

Xavier didn’t bite. He’d been sailing since he could remember and knew shouting into the wind never fixed anything. “I’ve got it under control. We’ll adjust in the next window.”

Beside him, his best friend Liam crouched low, hands steadying the mainsheet. He caught Xavier’s eye for half a second, a reassurance without words.

Then the tiller gave a sickening jolt. Xavier’s grip slipped as the boat swung broadside into the chop.

“Shit!” Xavier shouted. “We’ve lost the rudder pin!”

“What?!” Simon scrambled to his feet, eyes wide.

“The pin’s out!” Liam yelled, already diving to the transom to look. “It’s lifted clean out of the gudgeon!”

Xavier barked orders without hesitation. “Peter. Ease the jib! Spill wind, now!”

“Simon. Tool kit and a line, hurry!”

Simon fumbled with the hatch and his hands shook as he dragged the heavy box free, spilling contents onto the floor as he opened it.

“12 mil spanner,” Xavier snapped. “And give me that line!”

Simon shoved them at him. Xavier dropped to his knees, threading the rope through the space where the pin should’ve been. He lashed it tight, muscles straining, then jammed the spanner through as a makeshift pin.

“Liam, tension the line!”

Liam hauled hard, pulling the rudder snug against the sternpost while Xavier knotted the rope with practiced speed.

Xavier tested the tiller, pulling port, then starboard. It wasn’t pretty, but it was working. Success.

“Good,” he muttered. “We’re back in business everyone.”

But even as relief flickered, he didn’t let up. “Ben, get the bucket ready. If this gives out again, we’ll use it as a drogue. Liam, double-check the lashings every ten minutes. We can’t lose it a second time.”

The boat staggered back into the swell, not graceful, not steady, but doing what it needed to do. Xavier’s jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

“Now come-on, this is what we live for. We know the wind and tide can be a bitch here, it’s just testing us, we got this.”

Peter was vomiting during Xavier's gee-up. He didn’t share his enthusiasm.

Ben, Liam and Simon were all huddled around the GPS, trying to work out the best route to get them back online. “Fuck,” Ben yelled. And Ben never swore.

The GPS flickered after the screen was washed with saltwater for the umpteenth time.

Liam swore under his breath. “It’s dead.”

“It can’t be,” Xavier said.

“Well, it is,” Liam gravely responded.

“Great,” Simon said, throwing his arms wide. “Fucking brilliant. We’ve got no rudder, no bloody position, and we’re being flushed out into the middle of nowhere! Fuuuuuuuk.”

Xavier stayed crouched at the helm, knuckles white but voice level. “We’ve still got compasses, charts and we’ve got the rudder pin sorted. The boat is fine. We can ride this out. Let’s not cave in at the first sign of trouble.”

Simon’s laugh was harsh, broken by a retch as he wiped his mouth. “You and Liam think you’ve got all the answers. The rest of us are sick, freezing, and sick of watching you steer us into a death wish.”

The air between them tightened, heavier than the wind. Liam straightened, his voice low. “We’ve done worse crossings together. You know Xavier’s right.”

“Not this time,” Simon muttered, eyes darting to the dark horizon. “Not this time.”

“Alright,” Xavier said, steady but grim. “I agree it’s not pretty, but it’s something. We are so close to the end.”

Simon slumped on the bench, dripping wet and pale. His chest still heaving from the recent events.

Liam put a reassuring arm on his shoulder. “We’re fine. We’ve got it.”

“Fine?” Simon snapped, jerking upright. “The rudder almost tore off, we’re being dragged off course and the GPS is dead. How the hell is that fine?”

“Because we’re still floating,” Xavier shot back, ice cold. “That’s all that matters. We stay calm, we stay smart.”

“We need to get help now.”

“No. We don’t.”

“Yes, we do. Admit it. We are fucked and sustained too much damage. You’re an idiot. It’s over. Don’t be a bloody hero. I am not waiting around to die out here.” He stumbled to his feet and lurched for the hatch.

“Simon!” Xavier barked. “Leave it.”

Simon ignored him, and seconds later re-emerged, clutching the EPIRB, knuckles white.

“I’m calling it!” he shouted over the wind, fumbling with the safety cap.

“Not yet!” Xavier’s voice was a whipcrack. “It’s for when we’re going down, not for this bullshit! Put it back in the cabin, you don’t even have a lanyard on it.”

Peter even chimed in. “Simon, what are you doing?”

Simon’s hands were trembling too much to listen. He tore the switch open and the small LED beginning to strobe.

“Simon!”  Liam lunged forward just as the boat pitched. The EPIRB slipped from Simon’s wet grip, skittered across the deck and into the foamy seas below.

For the first time, Xavier lost his cool as he slammed his fist on the coaming. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

Simon stood frozen, pale, lips working but no words coming out. He knew. His knees buckled and he collapsed onto the wet deck, curling in on himself.

Liam dropped down beside him, hands hovering helplessly, then looked up at his best friend. “Xavier. He’s done. Leave him.”

Xavier gripped the tiller so hard his knuckles blanched. His chest rose and fell, fury consuming him too. He wanted to shake Simon, scream at him but instead he forced a deep breath and joined in the silence on the deck.

“At least it’s transmitting,” Liam offered helpfully.

He knew Liam was right. The Rescue Coordination Centre New Zealand (RCCNZ) would now know they needed help and a chopper or boat would be launched in the next 15 minutes.

“Wasn’t planning on giving them a challenge though; they are going to hate us!” He knew the rescuers would find their EPIRB floating in an empty sea and probably think the worst. The beacon could drift kilometres away from their vessel before they were found. More so, he just wanted to finish this trip without giving up so easily.

“New plan. Let’s try and stay as close to the bloody thing as possible. We know they’ll have someone in the air in 15 mins, and we are no more than 80 miles from Wellington – could be less so help could be here in 1 – 2 hours but daylight is against us. We also need to plan for the rescue.”

Even when the pressure threatened to become too much, Xavier clung to his father’s advice: stay calm, stay smart, and don’t show panic. He knew the others were watching him for cues. He couldn’t afford to fall apart.

The regrouped, and mercifully the squall had subsided so they could gather their thoughts. They fashioned a makeshift flag from a towel and a length of fiberglass pole. Ben started keeping track of drift estimates using a compass and charts. They had flares ready too. Xavier made jokes to keep spirits up.

In a quiet moment, he told his crew this is going to be the stuff of legends.

At 4:45pm, RCCNZ received their signal around 180 kilometres offshore. A rescue helicopter was launched by 5pm. The team found the EPRIB at 6:10pm, but what every rescuer dreads, no vessel.

They relayed the message to their headquarters.

Rescue team: EPIRB located. No vessel.

Headquarters: Any signs of life. Vessel.

Rescue Team: Negative. No sign of life. No wreckage.

Headquarters: Ok spend another hour searching and then return.  We will resume at first light and track the EPIRB and tidal movements. Let’s hope for the best.

Rescue team: Agree. Get everyone on this, there was no wreckage so let’s assume they are still on the boat or in life raft.”

At 7pm James received the phone call every parent dreads. By 8pm, Teresa was pacing the Portside Sailing Club in Wellington which was now a makeshift search and rescue centre. Her face was hollow, her eyes rimmed red. Every sound from a phone made her jump. James kept one eye on her but let her go for the moment, he knew she needed space to process her emotions.

James was with the other parents watching the search teams working. He’d also told them he would fund part of the rescue so they had sourced several extra planes. He was staring into the abyss of every parent's nightmare, their boys lost at sea, but James calmed himself by knowing that if Xavier had inherited any of his parent’s street smarts and survival instincts, he’d be just fine.

"He’s out there. He has to be. He’s smart. He’s capable." Teresa was trying to reassure herself.

“That he is,” as James came up beside her. “He’s got your smarts and survival skills. He’ll be fine, probably having the adventure of a lifetime.”

“What if it’s a curse…he’s the same age as…”

He cut her off before she could say the words, and spun her round, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Hey. He’s our kid. And he’s not just capable, he’s you. He’s got your grit. He knows what to do. They’ll be home soon."

He waited a beat. “Unless they did get pushed to Sydney then we’ll need to collect him from Kings Cross – I wouldn’t put it past him to try and get into a nightclub.”

She knew he was trying to lighten the mood, so she gave him a scoff and maybe even a glimpse of a smile – but it was gone as quick as it came.

They sat under the bright florescent lights of the Portside Sailing Club, surrounded by low voices and uncertainty. Teresa kept in constant contact with Pote and Kelly who were now at their house in Auckland with Isla, Maya and Michael.

It was midnight now and the rescue coordinator told the parents to go and rest for the night and come back at first light. Teresa and James decided to take shifts; one stayed at the centre and monitored the phones just in case. Neither slept a wink and at dawn, several search planes and two coastguard vessels expanded their range. James went outside and stood on the dock, watching the sunrise, silently willing it to bring his son home. He hadn’t smoked in almost 20 years but he was certainly contemplating buying a deck to calm his nerves.

It had been a long night on the Mirabella too, Xavier hadn’t slept and the boys had dozed in and out of sleep at various times. There had been no other squalls, the sunrise was glorious, and they were drifting with little wind. It was eerie, beautiful and peaceful, despite not knowing exactly where they were. They now had the sun, a compass and maps for navigation so even if they didn’t know where they were, they could tell which direction they were going.

He’d seen the other boys fall apart at various stages of the night, but Xavier hadn’t yet, as he didn’t allow himself time to think about his family. But now, with nothing but calm seas and first light, his mind started to wander. He thought about his parents, how lucky he had been to be born into a family that was cohesive and full of love. They had money too. It wasn’t lost on Xavier that he went to a top private school, grew up in a beautiful house, and didn’t want for much. All his sailing mates came from fairly wealthy backgrounds too, but he noticed his parents didn’t like to flaunt their wealth.

He sometimes still felt like a slight outcast as his parents didn’t grow up in New Zealand. To Xavier, all he knew was his Dad was Irish, but grew up in America and his Mum’s real name was Maria but went by Teresa to those that new her well and was Brazilian. Details about anything before he was born were sketchy when he asked. No grandparents, no overseas holidays, no biological aunties or uncles to report.

He then thought of his sister Isla and felt a tug at his heart. He loved her fiercely (even though he would never admit it out loud). She was feistier than he was and knew she gave her parents a hard time at the moment. He said a little prayer that she wasn’t here, although he’d give anything for her to be here by his side too. He felt his tears welling up but then stopped himself. He needed to do something to take his mind off things.

“Breakfast, I’m cooking!” He joked.

They sat around talking, joking, laughing, playing cards all day. And around 3pm, Liam told everyone to hush and they all started to hear it, the unmistakeable hum of an aircraft, flying much too low to be commercial.  Ben, whose hands were shaking held up a mirror and angled it just right. “I’ll get the flares,” Liam said. A patrol plane caught the flash and started to circle around them. The mirror had been enough. They’d been found. They cheered through their sobs.

Coordinates were relayed and within 3 hours, a rescue vessel reached the Merribella, now drifting nearly 60 nautical miles off their line. The boys were sunburned, tired, but alive and unharmed.

When the rescue crew stepped aboard, Xavier didn’t speak at first. He just let out a long breath and finally sat down. He watched as the others were helped aboard the rescue boat and allowed himself, for the first time, to close his eyes.

The reunion at the sailing club was filled with chaos and tears.

“Mum!” he gasped as he threw his arms around her. For the first time in two days, he let himself breathe. Teresa’s sobs were racking his chest as her voice trembled. “You’re home, Xavier. You’re home.”

“I am,” he said, the words catching in his throat. “It’s ok.”

He then looked up and saw his Dad, standing as still as a soldier but with eyes red from no sleep. Xavier then found himself caught in a grip that nearly crushed the air out of him. His father’s arms, solid and shaking at the same time.

“I’ve got you, mate,” his Dad whispered into his hair, voice low, rough. “You did it. You brought them back.”

His Dad was right. As Captain, he’d been the one giving orders, holding the tiller, keeping everyone together. But here, in his dad’s arms, he was sixteen again, not a skipper. Just a son. His chest heaved, and the tears finally came, hot and unstoppable.

“I thought…” His voice broke. He tried again. “I wish we’d….”

“Shhh. You’re home. That’s all that matters.” His dad’s hand pressed the back of his head, anchoring him in place, keeping him from drifting.

Xavier clung tighter, and for the first time in forty-eight hours, he let himself believe it was over. His mum pressed a hand to his cheek, brushing the tears from his face. “We were so scared,” she whispered. “Don’t ever do that to us again.”

Xavier managed a shaky laugh, clinging to both of them, feeling the warmth, the solidity, the reality of being safe. For the first time, he realised he didn’t have to be in charge anymore.

After spending time with the rescue team and sharing stories, all boys boarded a flight back to Auckland later that day.

The next morning, the media frenzy began.

Headlines blared: Teen Sailors Rescued in Heroic Ordeal, Bravery on the High Seas, Teens' Courageous Survival in Cook Strait. Journalists gathered outside the Gulf View Sailing Club, their home club on Auckland’s East Coast. Local radio stations called. A news crew came by Xavier’s house.

But the front door to the Callaghan house remained shut.

James issued a firm statement through the sailing club: no interviews, no cameras, no press. Teresa refused to answer calls. They both knew what exposure could mean. Their past wasn’t just buried; it was locked behind layers and layers of careful anonymity. A quick call to Michael Reid also helped ensure that Xavier was kept out of the coverage.

Xavier, however, didn't understand. His friends were being celebrated. Their names and photos were on the front page. He, the Captain, the one who had kept them calm, who had led them through the challenges, was being silenced.

"Why are you shutting this down?" he demanded, storming into the kitchen. "Simon’s on the radio. Liam's giving interviews. But me? Nothing. You won't even let me talk to the Sailing Times. Fuck." As he slammed his fist onto the dining room table.

“Xavier,” Teresa flinched at his anger. James held up a hand, calm but resolute. "It’s not about you, Xavier. It’s about our family. We are private."

"Why? What's going to happen if I tell the truth of what went on out there?”

"Some stories attract more than admiration," Teresa said softly, her voice strained. "They bring questions and attention. The wrong kind."

Xavier’s face flushed red. "You’re not making sense. I didn’t ask for any of this. I just want to be proud of what we survived and share our story. Why won’t you let me?"

Neither parent could answer him without undoing the threads of the past. The lies, their escape and the names they'd left behind. They couldn’t tell him. Not yet.

Sick of the silence, Xavier left the room, slamming the door behind him as Teresa sat down slowly at the table, her hands trembling. "He hates us."

James rubbed his face. "He’ll come around," he sighed. “Although if he has half the stubbornness of you, it will be a while.”

Almost a week passed, and Xavier still wasn’t speaking to them. Polite words, yes. Nods at breakfast. But the dark clouds of resentment loomed over the house. His eyes no longer carried the glow of pride from surviving the storm. Instead, they were laced with betrayal, and he wanted blood.

He couldn’t understand why his parents had denied him the chance to shine. Every time he saw another news article featuring his crewmates, it twisted him like a knife. Simon had been invited to speak at a local school, even though he’d completely lost his shit on the boat. Liam had done another live interview with a morning show.

Xavier had been told to stay quiet.

He sat on the end of his bed that Thursday evening, flipping through the articles he’d saved on his phone. Each one had headlines he should have been proud of. But he wasn’t in them. Not one.

He turned on his phone and opened the group chat with the sailing crew. Liam had just posted another link to a podcast. "You totally should’ve been on this too, Xavier," he commented.

Xavier finally typed back:

Xavier: I’m still not allowed to talk. Parents shut it down. Won’t give in. Beyond pissed.

Liam: What? Why? That’s insane. You were the calmest out there.

Simon: That’s messed up. You saved us, bro.

Xavier: I hate them.

Isla:  I’m with you Xav. Everyone’s talking about you even without your name in it. It’s bullshit.

Xavier stared at her message longer than the others. Isla, his younger sister, had been quiet since the ordeal. She hadn’t said much either way, but now, her loyalty was clear. She was siding with him.

Downstairs, James and Teresa sat at the dining table as she read the exchange in the group chat through the family tablet that was synced with Xavier’s account.

Her heart sank. "He said he hates us," she whispered. "And Isla's siding with him."

James rubbed his hands over his face, a habit which was becoming a very regular occurrence, sighing deeply.

"Maybe we should reconsider. Just one interview. Let him have that." James offered.

Teresa shook her head. "And risk everything we’ve built? We don’t know who’s watching. We don’t know who might put it together. One photo, one name, and it could unravel all of it."

"I know, but he’s hurting," James said. "And we’re the ones doing it."

"We’re protecting him," Teresa replied, though her voice wavered. “Do you still think he’ll forgive us?”

“Of course, but it’s going to take time, that’s all.”

“Hopefully he’s inherited his ability to forgive from your side.”

“Teresa, don’t say that.”

“It’s true. You are the forgiving one. You can’t change my mind, don’t even try.” And she leaned into his shoulder and let it be her refuge.

Xavier had been thinking. Over, and over and over. He knew his parents kept everything low key and were super private and got that they didn’t want his face splashed everywhere, but radio, magazines, who would care?  He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t add up. Perhaps there was something in their past they didn’t want found out.

So, after school the next day, Xavier didn’t go home. He and Liam headed straight to Liam’s place, his trusted best friend and secret tech wizard.

Liam’s computer room was a chaos of tech: multiple monitors glowing in the dark, a 3D printer half-way through something that looked like a drone shell, several servers humming away and empty chip packets everywhere. Liam’s parents had no idea about half the things he had built and deployed, and Xavier was 100% sure most of it wasn’t legal, but he would never betray his friend, not in a million years. He knew Liam would do the same for him. There was an unspoken loyalty that they both cherished.

Liam had confided in him months ago that he was developing facial recognition software, so it was time to give it a spin.  "You sure about this?" Liam asked as Xavier slumped into the beanbag.

Xavier nodded. "Yep. I can’t stop thinking about it. They are totally sketchy with anything before New Zealand and their stories are suss as. I want to know what they are hiding.”

"Ok, this is going to be juicy, man? You sure they are hiding something?”

Xavier took a deep breath. "I don’t think. I know. Let’s go digging my friend and take this software for a spin.”

Xavier pulled out his phone and air-dropped a pic of his Mum and Dad. "Let’s run these and see what we get.”

Liam didn’t need more convincing. He launched his facial recognition software barely containing his excitement.

He uploaded the photos. They waited. At first, nothing. Then, a thumbnail popped up – potential match.

Liam narrowed his eyes. " What do we have here."

It opened a web page belonging to a restaurant in Culiacán, Mexico. The webpage was no longer on the net but was cached so new software like this could find things that had been long thought buried.

The photo showed three ‘comensales’: Two smiling, carefree women and a small boy, about 3 years old, in a red cap nestled between them, grinning at the camera.

The caption read:
"Mi hermana Teresa y nuestro sol, Tony. México, 2010.
My sister Teresa and our sunshine, Tony. Mexico, 2010.

His stomach dropped.

"Liam… that’s my mum. That’s definitely her. Get out google translate." Maria my arse he thought to himself.

"Yeah, I think you’re right. Look at the mouth. And your Dad does call her that name. And her sister?"

Xavier shook his head. "I don’t know. She’s never mentioned any family – said her parents died and she didn’t have siblings."

Liam stared at the screen. "Where is that kid now?"

"No idea. But he’s my nephew"

"Why would they hide that from you?" Liam asked. "It’s not something you just forget to mention."

“Ok let’s see if we can get more hits on the woman.”

They ran another check and after about 15 minutes a match came up. They opened a Facebook post of a Brenda Parra. Liam scrolled Brenda’s profile – oh shit. The last post was over 20 years ago, and after a quick google translate it indicated she had passed away.

"Shit?" Xavier said, voice low.

"Do you think your mum’s Mexican dude?" Liam asked.

“I don’t know, but what I do know is they are liars.” Xavier’s pulse beat heavy in his ears. "I think it’s starting to make sense. Both Mum and Dad went full suss when the press came knocking, just way too over the top – like fear in their eyes shit."

"Man," Liam said, exhaling. "Your family’s life’s like… a shadow of something else."

Xavier didn’t respond right away. He stood, looking at the photo again. At Teresa, and Brenda, and the little boy. He lifted his phone and took pictures of the screen.

“Right, let’s give Dad’s photo another whirl. This is next level Liam – you should sell this man.”

They waited and waited and waited. Nothing.

“Your Dad is a tech whiz so he probably has the same gear.”

“Hmmmm….”

"So you going to confront them?" Liam asked.

"Not tonight. But soon. I want the truth. All of it."

"You think they’ll tell you?"

"I think they’ll have to. And Liam. Gods honour you cannot tell anyone about this.”

“Xav, I’ve known you since you were 5. If you can keep my secret about this tech, I can keep yours buddy. Always thought your family was too perfect anyway. Good luck man.”

“Cheers man.”

***

Xavier sat opposite his mother and father at the kitchen table, the photo lying between his parents on his phone screen. The rest of the family were over at his Aunty and Uncles – Xavier had ensured it. Teresa hadn’t moved since he laid it down. James sat stiffly beside her, eyes scanning the image.

"Let me help you, Mum. Their names are Brenda, Tony, and Teresa," Xavier said, his voice even.  Teresa’s face drained of colour. James sat back slowly in his chair. “Brenda is dead.” He added.

Still silence.

“The photo came up from a restaurant in Culiacán. 24 years ago. Apparently, you were regular diners. It says Brenda was your sister.”

Teresa still couldn’t move. James let out a slow, heavy breath, letting the questions wash over him.

" Do I have a cousin called Tony and where is he? Truth."

At this question Teresa looked up at her husband. They shared a look that held the weight of a lifetime together, and in it she found the courage and strength to go down memory lane. She looked across at her son with eyes full of history, ready to talk.

"Brenda was my best friend. Tony was Brenda’s son. My godson. My light. He died at 16.”

As Xavier listened, he saw his father’s leg shift, resting lightly against his mother’s knee under the table. The touch was so small, so instinctive, yet it carried a weight Xavier felt in his chest. A silent proof they were in this together, an impenetrable team.

“Brenda died when Tony was eight,” she said, her voice shaking. “I was meant to be there for him. I was supposed to be looking after him, protecting him. He died in an accident, on my watch. We vowed to give you the life he never had. A life filled with everything he deserved and more.”

“How did he die?”

“In a car bomb, meant for me”.

Xavier blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He looked at his parents, eyes wide, his anger mingling with confusion. “For you? Why would someone want to kill you, Mum. On your watch? Where were you, Dad?”

James spoke next, voice gravelly. "Your mum and I made enemies in a past life. People we helped put away. Unfortunately, I was away for work so wasn’t there to protect them. I regret that every day." And he grabbed his wife’s hand, unable to look at her.

Xavier’s chest tightened, he had never seen his parents so raw and vulnerable

“They wired it under the car. I was supposed to be driving that day, but Tony was practicing for his driver’s licence and I thought it would be something nice to do for him, let him drive the car I mean.”

She swallowed hard, her voice cracking. "The car exploded outside the house. I was told it was instant – he wouldn’t have felt a thing"

Xavier felt the air disappear from the room. "Mum, I am so sorry. I had no idea."

"You weren’t meant to," James said quietly. "We vowed to leave the past buried. To raise you in peace."

Xavier stared at the photo again. This boy. This life. This death that had been hidden behind layers of protection and love. "Why didn’t you just tell me?"

"Because," James said, "that world was full of danger. Even after all these years, we never knew who might be watching us. We chose silence to keep you and your sisters and brother out of that shadow."

Xavier let the silence hang. Then he looked up.

“Is anyone still coming for you…us?”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s been so long, and they would have come by now. No one knows we are in New Zealand, except your Aunty and Uncle. Not even the friends we left behind. You are safe.”

“Everything else is true. My parents died when I was 8. I have no siblings. I am sorry.”

"I forgive you," he said softly.  Teresa’s tears fell freely now. James, always composed, looked away to hide the tremble in his jaw.

Xavier stood and stepped toward his mother. She reached up and pulled him into a long, aching hug. Over her shoulder, Xavier met his father's eyes. Something passed between them - a new honesty.

"We wish we could have given you your moment to shine. Know that we feel guttered. But world-wide attention Xavier, the risk was low but the consequences too great.” he said.

“I won’t do any media, but how about something at school, if they ask?”

Teresa and James looked at each other, and then back at him.

“Then we’ll support you.”

Xavier exhaled, as a weight lifted off his chest. “Okay. Now what’s for dinner I’m starving.”

“I’ll go and get you dinner” and she glanced over at her husband with a look that said email the school and see if he can do a talk!

***

“Hey,” he said as she finally came to bed, eyes barely open.

“Hey.”

“What a night.”

“You could say that.”

“I would have thought Isla would have been the one to work it out though if I was a betting man. Bloody Xavier – like a dog with a bone.”

“Not exactly a fun trip down memory lane, though was it?”

“No, it was not. I felt ill.”

She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his as the warmth of his skin steadied her.

“You’ve given me the best life I could have ever hoped for. And more. Sometimes it almost feels unreal, like it couldn’t possibly belong to me,” he was lying on his back now, eyes closed.

“I didn’t realise you still think about the bomb,” she whispered. “But it was fate. If you hadn’t gone to Devon, I wouldn’t be here. You were protecting us in a different way.” She shifted closer, her forehead brushing his temple.

He turned then, finally meeting her eyes, and in the dim light she saw the sheen of tears he hadn’t let fall. She cupped his cheek, her thumb tracing the stubble there, and he leaned into her touch as if it were the only thing keeping him whole.

“You’re more than enough,” she murmured. “You always have been.”

He pulled her into his arms then, her head pressed against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her ear. For the first time in a week the tension had gone.

Lying with him now, she realised just how much he had been holding inside. Carrying the stress of almost losing their son, and the aftermath of the week, on his shoulders.

“You’re one of those annoying people that’s good at everything,” she added offhandedly, but he laughed quietly at that, a chuckle that conveyed you are incorrect, but I am too tired to argue.

She tipped her head up to meet his eyes again. “You’d have been a brilliant step-dad to him,” her fingers brushing against his cheek.

“You really think so?”

“I do.” Her answer came without hesitation. “You were always Dad material. I saw it in you from the start.”

He rested his forehead against hers, letting their noses touch and whispered: “I wanted to be. For you, for him, for Brenda. But life had other plans.” And within a few moments he was asleep. She hoped he was at peace.

***

No less than a week later the invitation came in the form of an email from the principal’s office. Subject: Student Recognition Assembly.

He arrived home and found them both in his Father’s office so now was as good a time as any to broach the subject.

“I got asked to speak at school,” he said, holding up his phone. “By the principal,” he added.

Teresa’s brows rose slightly. “About....the trip?”

Xavier nodded. “They asked if I’d talk and share what it was like out there at the next assembly.”

James leaned forward. “Are you going to do it?”

“Yeah,” Xavier said. “I am. And I want you both to come.”

Teresa’s breath caught. “Us?”

“Who else mum, of course!” he said.

“We’d be honoured.”

The day of the assembly, the auditorium was buzzing. A slideshow looped quietly on the screen: photos of the sailing crew, maps of their journey, a grainy satellite shot of the rescue boat finding them.

Xavier stood backstage, adjusting the collar of his school-shirt that was underneath his blazer. Isla, Maya and Matthew, along with James and Teresa were all seated in the front row, watching the stage with quiet pride.

The principal gave a short introduction, describing the courage the students had shown. Then Xavier’s name was called.

He stepped up to the podium and for a moment, he looked out over the crowd, students, teachers and a few parents. And then he spoke.

“I’m not going to talk too much about the trip,” he began. “You’ve read about that. You’ve heard the stories. What I want to talk about is before and after.

“We were just six keen sailor’s on that boat, bonded by the love of adventure and the sea. On this particular trip things didn’t go exactly to plan, and we had to rely on each other, our training and our instincts.”

His voice didn’t shake.

“I was calm out there because I’d grown up with people who taught me how to stay calm. My dad taught me to read the sky. My mum taught me how to feel a storm coming before you see it.”

He looked at them in the front row.

“They’ve spent years teaching me how to survive. Not just out there,” he pointed toward the photo of the damaged boat on the screen “but in here.”

He tapped his chest. The room was quiet now.

“And in the aftermath, it was also about family and friends. Supporting each other, seeking understanding, and finding love on a deeper level.”

“I’m proud of what we did out there. I’m proud of my crew. Even when we were scared. Even when we made mistakes. We never stopped supporting each other. And I realise now, with gratitude, that my family has never stopped supporting me my whole life.”

A pause as he got ready to deliver his final words.

“I guess that’s what got us all through.”

When he finished, the auditorium erupted in applause.

His crewmates clapped hardest.

Isla whooped and wiped her eyes and Teresa wept openly.

Backstage, Xavier caught his breath. His hands were still slightly shaking when Teresa and James appeared at the curtain.

“That was beautiful,” she whispered.

James placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re an amazing human, Xavier.”

“Thank you both, truly,” as the emotion swelled in his chest.

His other siblings found their way backstage too.

“One last request to celebrate my return. Family dinner tonight. My choice. Taco Tuesday. New tradition.”

James and Teresa glanced at each other not sure if Xavier was taking the piss, but his grin gave him away, though luckily none of his siblings seemed to notice the subtext. They had made a pact between the three of them that they would share the news with their siblings at the right time, but that might be a year or two away at least.

“You really are a little shit-stirrer,” James said under his breath, shaking his head with a smile. “Alright then – Tacos it is. See you all at home tonight!”

And in that moment, Taco Tuesday became their Tuesday night family tradition.