Christmas at Waratah Bay (7 page)

And then, she paused. A vehicle was coming along the long track to the house and it wasn’t Max’s truck. It sounded old and hiccuppy, a car on its last legs?

Well, why not, she thought. It was Christmas, and surely Christmas was a time for visitors. And she had all these mince pies!

“Hooray,” she told Gerome, wiping her hands on her floury jeans. “Even if they’re selling life insurance it’s okay by me. I need someone to taste my pies. Hooray, let’s go meet them.”

*

With Gloria safely
dug out and on the far side of the fence to the dam, with the rest of the cattle checked and found fine, Max headed back to the house. And slowed as he reached the drive. There were two cars parked under the veranda. One was Sarah’s hire car. That was bad enough. Christmas was for savoring all by himself.

The other . . . Dammit, he recognized it. He’d last seen this car six months ago when he’d called in on his half-sister. He’d been in Sydney researching a cattle insemination service. He was staying in a hotel not half a mile from Katie’s place, so he’d done the right thing.

The right thing had horrified him. Katie was married to a builder and they were renovating a tumble down house. They had three kids and were expecting their fourth. They also had two dogs, three cats, a budgie and a tank full of goldfish. The kids had been suffering withhead colds. Their place was chaos, and it’d taken all his will power to stay for an hour.

He’d backed away, promising to keep in touch and he had, sort of. From a distance.

But, this was definitely Katie’s car. Who wouldn’t recognize it? The back had started to rust, so Doug had stripped it back and painted it with orange anti-rust. Six months later it was still bright orange.

What . . . why . . .

Worst case scenarios were running through his head as he drove—slowly now—toward the house. He knew the pair of them didn’t like the city. Doug had been the younger son on a farm that wouldn’t support two, and he and Katie hated the city but that was the only place Doug could get a job. So . . . had Katie left Doug? Had Katie had run home to mother—only instead of mother it was Max because that was what Max had always been?

No!

But, Katie was definitely here. Katie’s two dogs, a fat pug and a young, bouncy Corgi were flying down the steps to meet his dogs.

The door was wide open. He could hear kids inside. Multiple kids.

Max Ramsey wasn’t a man to run, but he wanted to run now. It took all the courage he had and a bit more to set the excited dogs aside and head for the kitchen.

They were all seated round the big wooden kitchen table. Doug was holding their toddler, Christabelle. Three-year-old Sam was at his side and clingy, and Vicki, who must be five by now, was sitting up looking importantly adult. Katie was sitting at the end of the table with her feet propped on another chair in front of her. She looked so pregnant she must be near term.

They were all eating mince pies. Sarah was topping up mugs from his cracked, old teapot. She was beaming.

She looked up as he reached the door and her beam widened. Wife welcoming husband home?

There was a weird thought. It jolted him badly. It was nonsense of course, but she looked so at home here. So happy . . .

Home and hearth?

His sister was here. Pregnant. With all her family.

“Max, look who’s here?” Sarah beamed. “Isn’t this lovely? It’s such a privilege to meet your sister.”

“Katie . . . ” His voice was wary. He couldn’t help the way he sounded, but Katie didn’t seem to notice. She bounced up, bump and all, and hugged him, the same way she’d hugged him as a kid.

She was nine years younger than him. When she was upset she’d turned to him for hugs. They all had.

He hugged her back—of course he did—but the familiar claustrophobia was there. Good old Max. He’d get them out of trouble.

“Katie? I . . . Hey, I didn’t expect you.” He was trying to keep dismay from his voice, but he didn’t know if he managed it.

“Drama,” Katie said, hugging him still more. “You know we’re renovating? Doug’s built an extra room out the back. On Saturday, we had the big knock through ceremony—pushing out the wall between old and new. And discovered asbestos. Major asbestos. Once we disturbed it we had to get out fast and we can’t get the disposal experts in until after New Year.”

“So you headed here?” It wasn’t meant to sound accusatory, but he met Sarah’s gaze over Katie’s head and he saw Sarah flinch. Why? What had he said?

But Katie was oblivious and so, it seemed, was Doug, who rose, toddler in one arm, the other outstretched to grasp his hand.

“We’re real sorry to do this to you, mate,” he told him. “But spending Christmas in a motel with this crew wasn’t an option, so we decided to go to my brother’s. The kids love the farm and Katie and I . . . well, a bit of country will do us all good. But you know my brother’s at Wyalong, a hundred miles thataway.” He gestured north with his thumb. “But now, the head’s gone on the wagon. For the last fifty miles, we’ve been filling the radiator with gap sealer every few miles but when we neared here Katie said enough. We got the car to the mechanic at Waratah, but he says there’s no way we can get a replacement this side of Christmas and there’s no way the car can go any further. With all the kids . . .Jeez, mate, I’m sorry to land on you, but Katie said you wouldn’t mind . . . ”

His voice tailed off.

Everyone was looking at him, and most of all . . . Sarah was looking at him.

He’d told her how he felt about his family. He’d told her how he felt about Christmas.

And in her face he saw . . . sympathy? She understood, he thought suddenly. She knows how trapped this is making me feel.

“How pregnant are you?” he asked Katie, in a voice he couldn’t quite recognize.

“Thirty-eight weeks,” Katie conceded. “But Waratah hospital’s only ten miles in if I go into labor and I’ve been late with all of them. We should be fine.”

“You couldn’t have rung first?” Yeah, that did sound accusatory, and he saw her flinch.

“The thing is,” Katie said, and for the first time her smile slipped and he saw the vulnerable kid she’d been so many years ago. “We didn’t know what to do if you said no.”

Silence.

“Well of course he’s not going to say no,” Sarah said across the stillness, her bright smile at odds with the loaded silence. “I’ll organize things. We’ll need to pick up a turkey when we go into town to pick up Harold and a few more provisions but the rest . . . hey, I have it covered.”

She was cutting him off at the pass. She was making him more trapped.

“And I’ve told Katie and Doug about Harold,” she told him, quickly now, as if she was fearful he’d say no. “And me. I’ve told them Harold and I are only here for Christmas, and that I’m only here on sufferance. I didn’t want your family getting the wrong idea about . . . us. But it’ll be good. Harold loves kids and I can help. Max, it might even be fun.”

She was pleading. Her eyes were full of longing. Why? Why on earth was Christmas so important?

“You have a very big Christmas tree,” Vicki announced, full of five-year-old solemnity. “And Dad says Santa will know we’ve stopped here. I have a present for Mum. Can I put it under your tree?”

And there it was. No choice. Blackmail by loving?

“Of course you can,” he told her but he wasn’t happy.

But suddenly, Sarah was there, by his side, her hand slipping almost unconsciously into his.

“It’ll be fun,” she repeated, but this time she wasn’t pleading. It was a statement of fact. “I have presents, too. Let’s put all our presents under the tree first thing and then it’ll really feel like Christmas. And then, we need to do something about dinner. Dinner for how many? Oooh, I think I love cooking. I have spaghetti and sauce, lots of it. Max, you figure out where everyone can sleep. Isn’t it lucky this place has so many bedrooms? Do you have enough linen? We might have to make do tonight and organize a supply run in the morning. I’ll figure what everyone can eat and keep on cooking. Doug, you might like to take the kids down the paddock to see the calves. Katie, can you choose bedrooms and figure what linen we need? Tell me, and Doug and I can make the beds up later. Max, that leaves you free to take yourself into your study and do the bookwork you told me has to be done urgently. There. The thing’s organized.”

Her hand was still in his. Her grip tightened.

It was full of all sorts of messages, that grip. It was a plea. It was an order. It was a hope?

He looked down at her and she smiled up at him. She was tall—she wasn’t all that far from his face.

And that smile . . .

He had an overwhelming urge to kiss that smile.

Yeah, and then what? Complication upon complication. He had a sudden vision of what might happen if he let himself kiss . . .

She was asking him to have a family Christmas. More, she was pleading with him. Why did she want it? She didn’t know his half sister and her family. She didn’t know him. In truth, she hardly knew Harold. What possible reason could she have for wanting everyone to stay?

But everyone was looking at him. Everyone.

“Max, do you mind?” Katie’s voice was small.

So the choice was? He could kick everyone out. Sarah could go back to Harold’s stark little house. She could even put Katie up, seeing she wanted it so desperately. She could take Harold to his home tomorrow and she could . . .

Yeah. Put on Christmas for his half sister and her menagerie. Take care of Harold. Do the whole thing herself.

Her hand gripped more tightly and he thought suddenly, she would. She’d do just that. Take on the world . . .

Hey, this woman was part of Harold’s appalling Family-Vampire. He told himself that but he no longer quite believed it. She was smiling up at him with such trust . . .

“Fine,” he heard himself say, weakly though, because how the hell could he put enthusiasm into it. “Sorry, Katie, it’s just been a surprise, that’s all. Sarah’s right to welcome you. It’ll be great to have you here. But Sarah’s also right in that I have urgent bookwork to do. I was an anticipating a quiet Christmas locked in my study.”

He hadn’t been, but Sarah had given him an out, a reason for locking himself away. He could, he thought. He could just go . . .

“But you need to sit yourself down and eat mince pies and catch up with your sister first,” Sarah said, her beam widening even further. “I think Christmas just started, here and now. A family Christmas. Ooh, I think I might be about to cry.”

*

She didn’t. She
couldn’t cry. But they ate more pies, then dispersed. Sarah was left in the kitchen and she promptly sat on the floor and took a wriggly Gerome from his pouch and hugged him. And then, hugged him again.

Tears were very close.

“I know,” she told him. “I’m pretending but oh, it feels so good. I can preside over this kitchen, I can cook, and I can make Harold smile. If the stars align I might even be able to make Max smile. Then I’ll go back to New York and I’ll be content. Sort of. I know none of this is real, but at least you’re real. At least I don’t need to leave you behind.”

But then, she thought of the impossibility of her lifestyle and the little dog’s needs and . . .and . . .

“I’ll think about that after Christmas,” she told him. “You do that, too. For now, let’s just live it. Let’s just do Christmas like it ought to be, and not think past it.”

*