Page 123 of Under Southern Stars
On the flight back, Madison sits with Emma, their heads together as Emma explains something about the landscape below. I find myself beside Jack, the small plane not offering many seating options.
“Thank you,” he says quietly as we reach cruising altitude. “For letting me help. You could have…I would have understood if you’d pushed me away.”
“That would have been unprofessional,” I reply. “And stupid, given the circumstances.”
“Still.” His voice is soft. “It meant something. To work with you again, even briefly.”
I don’t answer, unsure what to say that wouldn’t reveal too much of my conflicted feelings.
After a moment, he adds, “I’ve missed it. The work. Being a paramedic.”
“You’re still a paramedic, Jack,” I say, surprised by the admission.
“Not here.” His gaze drifts to the window. “Here I’m just Jackson McKenzie, heir to the estate. Nobody sees the rest.”
The vulnerability in his voice catches me off guard. For the first time, I glimpse what it might be like for him—trapped between worlds, neither fully accepting him for all that he was.
I have no response that wouldn’t open doors I’m not ready to walk through, so I remain silent for the rest of the flight.
Back at the guest house, Madison is still processing what she’d witnessed, her initial nausea replaced with thoughtful curiosity as I try to shower away the stress of the day.
“Mom?” she calls through the bathroom door. “Can I ask you something?”
I wrap myself in a towel, opening the door to find her perched anxiously on the edge of the bed. “Of course, sweetheart. What is it?”
“That was…” She hesitates, clearly struggling for words. “I had no idea it was so…intense. And gross. And kind of terrifying.”
I sit beside her, water still dripping from my hair. “Childbirth is one of the most primal, powerful things a body can do. It’s not always pretty.”
“Is it always like that?” she asks, her voice smaller now. “So…scary? Do I have to go through that someday?”
The vulnerability in her question touches me deeply. “It’s not always like that,” I say carefully. “Hannah’s labor was unusually fast. Most first-time mothers have hours of labor before delivery.”
“That sounds worse, not better.” Madison looks genuinely concerned.
“It’s intense,” I acknowledge. “But also…miraculous. When I had you, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but also the most worthwhile.”
“Did it hurt? Like, really bad?”
“Yes,” I say honestly. “But they have pain management options, and the moment I held you…nothing else mattered.”
Madison absorbs this, her face thoughtful. “I don’t think I want kids.”
“That’s completely fine,” I assure her. “It’s your choice, always. And you have many, many years to figure it out.”
She nods, then changes topics with teenage abruptness. “The way Jack fixed it when the baby wasn’t breathing…that was amazing. He just, like, made a thing out of nothing.”
“That’s what paramedics do,” I say. “Especially good ones. They improvise with whatever they have.”
“You guys worked together like you were reading each other’s minds,” she continues, studying my face. “Even when you’re mad at him, you still…fit together. Like puzzle pieces.”
I sigh, not ready for this particular conversation. “That’s different, Madison. Professional compatibility isn’t the same as personal trust.”
“I know, but…” She hesitates. “You still care about him. I can tell.”
“It’s complicated,” I say, falling back on the phrase I’d been using for days.
“Adults always say that when they don’t want to talk about their feelings,” she observes with surprising insight.
