Two Weeks 'til Christmas

by Laura Greaves

  Each other.

  It was so clear, but she’d missed all the signs. Scotty had known all along: Claire had needed to see what she stood to lose before the pieces of the puzzle could fit together. He had hurt her and he had embarrassed her but, damn him, he was right.

  And Gus was right, too. It was simple. If she loved Scotty, she should be with him. Maybe she didn’t have to lose him. Maybe it really was the simplest thing in the world.

  Claire wiped her mouth with her napkin, pushed back her chair and stood up. What was she going to do about it? She would show Gus and Vanessa exactly what she was going to do about it.

  ‘I’m going to get my man.’

  Gus squealed like the proverbial stuck pig. ‘I knew it!’

  An elated smile lit Vanessa’s face, but as Claire watched, her aunt quickly rearranged her features into an expression of familial concern. ‘Sweetheart, are you certain?’ Vanessa said. ‘Everything you’ve just said makes a lot of sense.’

  ‘Screw sense, Aunty Vee,’ Claire replied. ‘I’ve been sensible all my life and it’s got me absolutely nowhere. It’s time to embrace the crazy.’

  Claire watched Bindallarah recede into the distance in her rear-view mirror as she pressed the accelerator flat to the floor and headed for Thorne Hill. The back seat of her hatchback was littered with clothes and shoes. She hadn’t even bothered to pack them into her suitcase; she’d just tossed them into the car and hit the road. One way or another, she wasn’t planning on sleeping in Vanessa’s spare bed tonight.

  The sea breeze reached in through the open window and tousled her curls. The car’s interior was stifling and she was desperate to cool it down while she waited for the air conditioning to do its job. Now the salty-sweet Bindallarah air drifted in as if to underscore the choice she’d made.

  Scotty had wanted her to make a decision and finally she had. He was stuck with her, now and forever.

  If he’ll still have me.

  Who knew Gus was so wise, with her magazine psychology and her black-and-white view of life? There was, of course, nothing remotely simple about any of this – and yet the answer was as clear as the cloudless Christmas Day sky. Her cousin made her think of Scotty at that age. He’d been the same: so decisive, so sure he had all the answers.

  Claire watched as the needle on the speedometer crept past 110 kilometres per hour. She knew it was reckless, but she felt consumed by the need to get to Scotty as quickly as possible, to make sure he still existed, that he was still hers. She wasn’t sure whether he would even be at Thorne Hill – perhaps he’d be spending Christmas with his family at Cape Ashe. But she had to start somewhere, and if he wasn’t at home she would search the entire district until she found him.

  The car rounded a sweeping bend and in her peripheral vision Claire saw a flash of movement. Suddenly, an animal darted into the road directly in front of her car.

  Not just any animal, she realised with horror.

  ‘Tank!’

  Claire stomped the brake pedal with both feet. She felt the wheels lock and the rear of the hatchback lose traction and then she was spinning, fishtailing wildly across the highway. She heard the screeching of tyres on tarmac.

  Claire closed her eyes and braced for impact.

  Seconds passed with no bang, no crunch of metal on bone. When the acrid stench of burnt rubber filled her nostrils, she opened her eyes.

  Her car had come to rest on the dirt shoulder on the other side of the road, facing the wrong direction and surrounded by a thick cloud of dust and smoke. There was no sign of Tank. Claire began to tremble violently.

  As she fumbled for the doorhandle, Claire heard a shout. Her heart in her throat, she peered through the driver’s side window and saw a black four-wheel drive parked in a rest area a little further down the road. She squinted to read the lettering on the shiny black paint.

  Bindallarah Veterinary Hospital.

  Scotty.

  And then there he was, running towards her car, wrenching the door open, unfastening her seatbelt and dragging her to her feet.

  Scotty ran his hands over her face, her arms, through her hair. He checked over every inch of her and when he was satisfied she was still in one piece, he said, ‘You always were terrible at parking, Thorne.’

  ‘Tank,’ she replied, trying to catch her breath. ‘Is he okay?’

  ‘He’s fine. I only stopped to let him out for a toilet break and he ran off, cheeky little bugger. He’s back in the car.’

  Claire’s relieved sigh came out in a whoosh. ‘What is it with that dog and throwing himself in front of your girlfriends?’

  Scotty laughed, but the sound was hollow, mirthless. Gus hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said Scotty looked terrible. He was unshaven and his hair was unkempt. His skin looked sallow and his eyes were puffy. He was still in his wedding suit trousers and shirt, though both were as creased as if he’d slept on the beach. Maybe he had.

  But he was still beautiful.

  ‘You don’t look like you should be behind the wheel yourself, Scotty. Where are you going? It’s Christmas Day,’ she said gently. ‘Shouldn’t you be with your family? Or perhaps sleeping?’

  Scotty rubbed his face and stretched. Claire felt a telltale heat pool within her as she saw his muscles undulate beneath the thin cotton of his white shirt.

  ‘I’m going to Sydney,’ he said.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. Something akin to hope flared in her chest. ‘Why?’

  Scotty turned away from her and gazed down the long, straight stretch of road, as if trying to visualise the city that lay eight hundred kilometres to the south. ‘Because you’re going to Sydney.’

  ‘Actually, I’m going to Thorne Hill.’

  Scotty’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘But Vanessa said —’

  ‘Vanessa was fibbing,’ Claire cut in with a smile. ‘She was just looking out for me. That’s what she does.’ It was what she had always done, Claire could now see, and she loved her aunt for it.

  Scotty didn’t respond, but regarded her steadily. His guarded expression made Claire’s stomach twist. Not for the first time, she wished she could read his thoughts, to ensure she wasn’t about to make a total fool of herself.

  ‘So you’re only going to Sydney because my scary aunt told you to apologise?’ she continued, trying for a teasing tone.

  ‘No, Claire, I’m going to Sydney because I’m in love with you and I want to be wherever you are,’ Scotty said. ‘I thought I’d made myself pretty clear about that last night. Why are you going to Thorne Hill?’

  There was no trace of fatigue in his gaze now, but there was a challenge in his words. His green eyes were as hungry and penetrating as Claire had ever seen them.

  Tell him, her inner voice screamed. Don’t waste another second!

  Interpreting her silence as hesitation, Scotty said, ‘I know I’ve been an idiot. I know I’ve hurt you and I’m sorry.’ His tone was all urgency. He put his hands on Claire’s waist and drew her in close. ‘But I can’t lose you again. I can’t just stand by and watch you walk out of my life. I promise I won’t ask you to marry me again. I promise I won’t try to tell you what you think or how you feel. I’ll wait for you forever if you just tell me I’ve still got a chance.’

  With still-trembling fingers, Claire touched the triangle of smooth skin that was visible at the open neck of his shirt. She felt the throb of his pulse beneath her fingertips.

  ‘Well, that depends,’ she murmured.

  She felt rather than heard his reply. ‘On what?’

  ‘On whether there’s an opening for another equine specialist at the Bindallarah Veterinary Hospital.’

  Scotty laughed and the sound warmed her to the tips of her toes. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said. ‘I know the owner.’

  Scotty’s arms tightened around her and Claire let her head fall forward to rest on his chest. She remembered how good it felt to be wrapped in his arms, even in the blazing afternoon sun on the side of a dusty highway
.

  ‘Just so there’re absolutely no misunderstandings this time,’ he said, breaking the silence, ‘are you saying what I think you’re saying? What I hope you’re saying?’

  Claire took a deep breath and looked up at him, so that her gaze locked with his. ‘What I’m saying, Scotty Shannon, is that I love you. I’ve loved you since I was fifteen years old. I choose you. Forever.’

  And when Scotty’s lips claimed hers, it felt like the first time.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘Whose stupid idea was it to have a beach wedding in the middle of winter?’ Gus grumbled, pulling her faux fur stole close around her. ‘It’s freezing.’

  ‘Toughen up, princess. It’s not that cold. Only a few more weeks until spring,’ Claire replied. She handed her cousin a bouquet of lavender, snowdrops and soft pink hellebores. ‘Anyway, isn’t the excitement of finally getting to be in a wedding enough to give you a warm glow?’

  Gus couldn’t help but smile at that. She turned to appraise herself in the full-length mirror in Vanessa’s living room, which was doing triple duty as a dressing room, hair salon and makeup studio for the bridal party.

  ‘I do make a pretty spectacular bridesmaid,’ Gus said approvingly, smoothing the flowing skirt of her navy blue gown.

  ‘And so modest,’ Claire teased, nudging her cousin aside so she could give herself a last-minute onceover. She retied the satin ribbon that secured her own snow-white stole around her shoulders and tucked a stray curl back into her elaborate up-do, wishing she’d opted to leave her hair down. She was inherently uncomfortable in such a formal ensemble, but it was just for one day, after all.

  Claire glanced at the clock on the mantel. ‘We’d better get a move on,’ she said.

  ‘Chill, cuz,’ Gus replied. ‘It’s traditional for the bride to be late.’

  ‘What’s the bridesmaids’ excuse?’ Claire said, planting one hand on her hip and picking up her own bouquet with the other.

  ‘Don’t worry, we can go,’ came a voice from behind her. ‘I’m all set.’

  Claire turned and gasped as she saw Nina emerging from the hallway into the living room. She was a vision in a strapless ivory wedding dress with an elaborately beaded bodice and a skirt made of what looked like acres of tulle. A vintage rhinestone necklace glittered on her décolletage and a crown of creamy white roses gave her the dreamy quality of a woodland fairy.

  ‘You look like a princess,’ Gus breathed.

  Tears pricked at Claire’s eyes. ‘Nina, you’re absolutely breathtaking,’ she said, her voice thick with tears.

  Nina gave a wry smile. ‘The look is a little different from last time, huh?’

  Claire giggled. ‘If I’d known you better eight months ago I never would have believed Scotty’s and your wedding was the real deal.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m a bridezilla?’ Nina said, pressing her hand to her heart in mock outrage.

  Claire laughed again. Her friend was way too easygoing to deserve that label, but Nina had certainly been more proactive in planning her real wedding than she’d ever been in the lead-up to Scotty’s and her sham ceremony. From the flowers to the groomsmen’s boutonniere, this time around Nina had a clear vision – much to the delight of Gus and her library of bridal magazines.

  ‘Ready, sweetpea?’ Nina’s eldest brother, Brock, appeared at her side. In his rented tuxedo and shiny dress shoes, the tall Texan cattle rancher looked as uncomfortable as Claire felt in her own fancy garb – but his face radiated love for his little sister.

  Nina nodded and took her brother’s hand. ‘Let’s get this show on the road,’ she said excitedly.

  With Gus, Claire and Nina’s sister and Maid of Honour, Claudine, leading the way, the bridal party made the short walk from Vanessa’s cottage to the beach. It was a stunning early August day in Bindallarah. Though the afternoon air was chilly, there wasn’t a breath of wind and the sky was a brilliant blue. Contrary to Gus’s complaint, Claire couldn’t imagine a more beautiful setting for the wedding of two people who were so wildly in love with each other.

  When they reached the top of the path onto the sand, Nina’s younger brother, Doug, who was a groomsman, signalled to the waiting string quartet and they began to play the classic Beach Boys song, ‘God Only Knows’.

  Claire’s heart swelled as she saw Scotty waiting at the altar next to Doug and Callum Jessop, the groom’s brother. Scotty looked unbelievably sexy in his slim-cut royal blue suit, chosen by the bride to complement the girls’ gowns and the sparkling ocean that was the backdrop for the ceremony.

  As she glided down the sandy path towards him, Claire winked at Scotty and saw a familiar expression scud across his face. It was a look she’d seen often since she’d returned to Bindy for good in February: lust. The feeling was mutual. When they weren’t working at the vet clinic, looking after Autumn and her foal, January, who had both come to live with them, or tending Thorne Hill’s fledgling acai berry plantation, Claire and Scotty couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They had eight years of lost time to catch up on, after all.

  Claire reached the altar and paused to peck the groom on the cheek. ‘Wait ’til you see her, Alex,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘Your girl is an absolute stunner.’

  Alex said nothing, but smiled and squeezed Claire’s hand. His palm was clammy and Claire felt a rush of affection as she realised bombastic Alex Jessop, mayor and all-round renaissance man, was as nervous as a little boy on his first day of school.

  Or a grown man on his wedding day.

  Suddenly, the quartet segued from ‘God Only Knows’ into Wagner’s Bridal Chorus. The wedding guests turned to face Nina as she walked down the aisle on her brother’s arm, but Claire kept watching Alex. His chin trembled and his eyes shined as he drank in the sight of his stunning bride. Not for the first time, Claire wondered how she could have missed the obvious chemistry between Nina and Alex when she first came back to Bindallarah the previous Christmas.

  It wasn’t long after Claire’s permanent return to Bindy that Nina had confided her crush on Alex. Even while going through the motions of preparing to marry Scotty, Nina had admitted to Claire that she’d been fighting her growing feelings for her boss – but she was certain their professional relationship meant Alex would never entertain the thought of dating her.

  Claire knew from torturous personal experience that making assumptions about somebody else’s feelings was a recipe for calamity and convinced Nina to ask Alex out for a strictly not-work-related drink, just to test the waters.

  They were engaged by Easter.

  ‘What can I say?’ a rapturous Nina had said with a laugh when she told Claire the news of her second quickfire engagement. ‘I’ve never been a patient woman.’

  Now Valda Chadwick stepped forward and began to speak.

  ‘Good afternoon, everybody. Thank you for joining Nina and Alexander here on Bindallarah Beach on this lovely winter’s afternoon,’ the celebrant said.

  Claire took a deep breath. This is it.

  ‘Before we get on with the official stuff, Nina and Alex have asked that we get one little matter out of the way early. We all know what happened last time, so does anyone present know of any impediment that should prevent this marriage today?’

  Laughter rippled through the crowd.

  It turned into a horrified hubbub when Nina opened her mouth and said, ‘I do.’

  Claire saw Scotty’s jaw drop. Her own heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.

  ‘Don’t worry, guys,’ Nina went on. She held up her hands, appealing for silence. The agitated chatter died down. ‘Nothing is going to prevent me and Alex tying the knot today, but there’s some business that needs taking care of first. I made a scene at this point in proceedings once before and caused my two best friends a whole lot of pain. So it seems only fair that I fix that today.’

  Nina turned to Claire. She reached out her hand, her huge diamond engagement ring sparkling in the sunlight, and took Claire’s bouquet
. ‘Over to you, Claire,’ she said with a warm smile. Next to her, Alex beamed.

  Claire clasped her trembling hands together and stepped forward. Behind Alex, third in the line of groomsmen, Scotty stared at her, his beautiful face a picture of confusion and more than a hint of concern.

  As the entire town watched, Claire went to him.

  ‘Claire, what’s —’

  ‘Scotty, nearly nine years ago, you asked me to marry you,’ Claire began, cutting him off. Her voice was resolute and she was surprised to find her nerves had vanished. ‘I ran away from you then because I was trying to run away from myself. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but somehow you kept loving me through all the years we were apart and you were willing to wait for me to realise that I will never love anybody but you.’

  There was a murmured chorus of awww from the wedding guests.

  ‘At Christmas you promised you’d never propose to me again,’ she went on. ‘Do you remember?’

  Scotty cocked an eyebrow. ‘Vaguely,’ he said with a wry smile, prompting laughter from the crowd.

  ‘Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve decided that I can’t accept that.’

  Claire sank onto one knee.

  She reached for Scotty’s hands. ‘Scotty Shannon, will you make me even happier than I am already and marry me?’

  There wasn’t a sound bar the crashing of the waves on the sand. At nearly thirty, Scotty still had a terrible poker face. His thoughts splayed out in his expression, just as they had when he was sixteen. Claire watched as he made his decision.

  He pulled her to her feet. ‘It’s about bloody time,’ he said. He kissed her fiercely as Gus squealed and all of Bindy clapped and cheered.

  ‘What do you think about a Christmas Eve wedding?’ Scotty whispered in Claire’s ear as he held her close.

  ‘No need to wait that long,’ she replied. ‘What are you doing thirty days from now?’

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First and foremost, thanks to my fabulous editor at Penguin, Kimberley Atkins, for uttering those immortal words: ‘Want to write a romance about vets?’ Why, yes. Yes, I do!