A Little Christmas Charm

by Kathryn Freeman

  Owen drew a hand down his face and took a deep, steadying breath. His dad was okay. He needed an op, would need looking after for a bit, but he was okay. ‘I’m at a work do, but I’m not drinking. When do visiting hours end?’

  ‘No need to drag yourself away. I’m fine.’

  Frustration finally got the better of him. ‘You’re in hospital, Dad. You’re not bloody fine and I want to come and see you. Okay?’

  There was a short silence, followed by a grunt. ‘Visiting time ends at nine p.m.’

  Owen looked at his watch and did a quick mental calculation. ‘Right. See you in about forty minutes then.’

  ‘No need to rush. I’m not going anywhere.’

  Owen stabbed the call end button and let out a huff of sheer exasperation. How had their relationship degenerated to this level? Alice, his older sister by three years, didn’t have any of the problems Owen seemed to have. Then again, the lucky cow had snuck off to live in France. Even their dad could be civil in an occasional phone call.

  Feeling pissed off and out of sorts, and guilty because the pissed off feeling had drowned out the worry, he headed back inside in search of Gabby.

  He found her talking to the marketing team in the main function room, which was an explosion of red and silver. Cindy had gone crazy. Silver balloons on every table, big red bows on the back of each chair. A silver Christmas tree by the bar, dripping with red baubles. Strands of red fairy lights were wrapped around the pillars and ran along the raised stage where the live band were currently rocking out ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’.

  Walking up behind Gabby, he slid his arm around her waist. ‘Mariah Carey must have read my mind,’ he whispered.

  She jumped, then smiled and melted into him. But when her eyes met his, her smile slipped. ‘Is your dad okay?’

  He discretely eased her away from the group, taking her hand as he led her back out into the lobby. ‘Dad’s had a fall and he’s in hospital.’

  ‘Oh no, I’m so sorry.’ She touched a hand to his cheek, face full of concern. ‘How is he?’

  ‘Fractured his hip but other than that, he’s fine.’

  She winced, her eyes flickering away from his. ‘Umm, is there anything you need me to do? I mean, should I offer to go with you?’

  An odd question. ‘You don’t need to do anything, thank you. I’m driving over there now.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Guess it means I’ll miss sitting next to Hilda. And the quiz you were so insistent on.’

  ‘Better than you missing karaoke, and leaving only Cindy up for singing.’

  Again, she avoided his eyes. Owen tucked a finger under her chin. ‘Hey, what’s up?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Her shoulders rose up and down as she let out an agitated sounding sigh. ‘Crap, I’m sorry. I’m not sure what’s expected of me in this situation.’

  ‘Expected? What on earth is going on inside that beautiful head of yours?’

  ‘I just want to … do the right thing,’ she said quietly.

  Owen frowned. Gabby wasn’t like this. She was strong and confident. What the hell was going on? ‘Dad’s only fractured his hip. He’s not at death’s door. There is no right thing. You stay here and enjoy the party. I’ll come and find you when I’ve been to see him.’

  Her gaze flew to his. ‘You’re planning on coming back? I hope it’s not just to look after me, because I’m perfectly capable of making my own way home.’

  Now he thought he understood. Cupping her face, he planted a soft kiss on her lips. ‘You think I don’t know that? Or that I don’t realise you’re finding this role as my girlfriend a bit of a weird, uncomfortable fit?’ He smiled, tracing a finger down her cheek. ‘I’m coming back because I’m not missing a chance to smooch with you to ‘White Christmas’. As for the girlfriend part, it’s a bit like putting on a new pair of shoes. Feels a bit stiff, a bit odd at first, but soon you don’t notice they’re on your feet.’ He grinned. ‘Plus they look bloody awesome on you.’

  ‘First I’m confectionary. Now I’m a pair of shoes. You say the most romantic things, Mr Cooper.’

  He didn’t mind the sarcasm because her eyes smiled. ‘You wait till tonight. I’ll give you romance.’

  Chapter Eight

  Gabby watched Owen stride off, and sank into the nearest chair. Thankfully the lobby was deserted, so nobody was there to witness her mini meltdown.

  Well, except for a gigantic tree, but she figured it was too busy dispensing Christmas cheer to tell on her.

  God, she was a twit. I just want to do the right thing. She slammed her eyes shut as the embarrassing words floated through her head. Owen had been right, she was feeling weird and out of her depth. Flirting with an attractive man, allowing it sometimes to lead to sex, was nicely within her comfort zone. No attachments, no being dependent on someone else. It was all she’d ever looked for. But several weeks after their first date and she still wasn’t thinking I’ve had enough. Instead she was thinking When can I see him again? Worse, I want to see more of him.

  It was unsettling. She no longer felt like the strong, level-headed woman she’d spent most of her life trying to be. Instead she felt emotionally vulnerable, and more than a bit scared.

  ‘Hey, what are you doing out here by yourself?’

  Gabby’s eyes sprung open and she cringed as she saw Cindy hovering over her. The woman looked amazing, her generous curves and glorious dark skin highlighted by the cerise-pink dress. Finished off perfectly with a crooked silver party hat.

  ‘I’m just taking in a bit of air.’ A response unlikely to satisfy the woman who seemed determined to take Gabby under her wing.

  ‘Everything okay between you and Mr Dreamboat?’

  ‘Mr … oh my God, you mean Owen?’ Gabby didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered for him.

  ‘Of course. It’s what all the admin staff call him. I’m surprised you haven’t heard it before. Then again, maybe they all saw what I did. That you were a serious threat to his single status.’

  Gabby slumped further down the chair. What was she doing, dating the office crush? It wasn’t her. She went for the edgy, emotionally unavailable, closed off type. Not the charming flirt every single woman wanted to marry and have kids with.

  ‘Gabby.’ Cindy squeezed her shoulder. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Please reassure everyone that Mr Dreamboat is not about to be taken off the market. At least not permanently,’ she added quickly, the thought of him being with someone else making her queasy. ‘He’s a flirt and I’m enjoying a change of pace. We’re just having fun.’

  Cindy’s expression softened, sympathy flooding her eyes. ‘It doesn’t look like fun at the moment, honey.’

  ‘What, no.’ Gabby straightened and slapped on a smile. ‘Owen’s dad had a fall and he’s in hospital. Owen’s just left to go and see him. That’s why I’m out here.’

  ‘Ouch, poor Owen.’ Cindy cocked her head. ‘You didn’t feel like going with him?’

  Oh God, she should have done that. Of course she should. ‘I didn’t want to get in the way,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Are you coming in to eat then? Or are you going to wait out here all evening, hoping Mr Dreamboat makes a return?’

  ‘He is coming back. Not specifically for me,’ she added, aware as soon as she said it she was lying. I’m not missing a chance to smooch with you.

  ‘Of course not for you. Just as my table decorations aren’t that amazing.’

  ‘Oh they are.’ Gabby saw Cindy’s triumphant look and shot to her feet. ‘Right, I believe there’s turkey to be eaten, crackers to pull and a fiendishly clever Christmas quiz to run.’

  ‘Fiendishly clever?’ Cindy asked as they strode back into the function room.

  ‘Well, I did compile it.’

  ‘I thought Owen was doing it with you?’

  Unconsciously Gabby smiled. ‘He was. One of his better suggestions was; what happens to Elves when they’re naughty?’

  Cindy looked at her as if she was craz
y. ‘Err, they sit on the naughty step?’

  ‘According to Owen, Santa gives them the sack. And that,’ Gabby continued, as Cindy groaned, ‘is why I put the quiz together.’

  Two hours later, having just navigated the room through the after-dinner quiz, Gabby headed for the bar. Cindy greeted her with a wave, and patted the bar stool next to her.

  ‘Have they stopped giving you gip over question seventeen yet?’

  ‘No.’ Gabby eased carefully onto the stool. Not easy in a tight dress. ‘That’s why I’m hiding over here.’ The question had been simple; which two reindeer are named after weather phenomenon? Answer, Donner and Blitzen – thunder and lightning in German. Apparently expecting them to know German had been unfair. Gabby reckoned anyone forced to learn the language like she’d been, deserved a few measly points in a quiz. ‘What are we drinking?’

  ‘I know just the thing to make the last half an hour disappear.’

  A few minutes later a lethal looking cocktail was placed in front of her.

  ‘Don’t just look at it,’ Cindy encouraged. ‘Drink it.’

  Gabby took a sip, and immediately spluttered. ‘Bloody hell, what’s in it? Pure alcohol?’

  Cindy roared with laughter. ‘It’s Planter’s Punch, honey. Grenadine, lemon juice, angostura bitters and a good measure of fine Jamaican dark rum.’

  Gabby glanced at Cindy’s glass of water. ‘I see you’re too cowardly to try it.’

  Another booming laugh. ‘Do I look stupid? But I’ve had plenty in my time, when I was young and single like you. Now I have kids who get up in the middle of the night. I can’t be drinking cocktails any more.’ She indicated to Gabby to take another sip. ‘What are your plans for Christmas then, Gabby? You and Mr Dreamboat spending some quality time together?’

  Gabby spluttered for the second time. ‘Why would you ask that? Christmas is a time for families.’

  Cindy’s dark eyes studied her. ‘When I told you I had three brothers, you said you’d have liked siblings, but didn’t have any. You never talk of a father, and when I heard you on the phone to your mother, it didn’t sound too friendly.’ She smiled and nudged Gabby in the ribs. ‘See, you can’t hide anything from your admin.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Gabby took another sip of the cocktail, which, after the first burning mouthful, was slipping down nicely. ‘You’re right, about everything.’

  A slow grin spread across Cindy’s face. ‘Including the quality time with Dreamboat?’

  ‘Would you please stop calling him that?’ Boy, the cocktail must be getting to her. She could feel herself grin as she said the next words. ‘We’re going on holiday together.’

  Cindy whooped. ‘And this from the girl who tells me she’s not serious about her man.’

  ‘He’s not my man.’ She went to take another drink, realising she’d nearly finished it. How on earth? ‘And it isn’t serious. Going on holiday together is just … fun.’

  ‘Sure it is.’ Cindy waved over to the bartender. ‘Another cocktail needed over here when you’re ready.’

  Unable to find the strength to protest, Gabby sat back on the bar stool feeling all warm and fuzzy, her mind skipping forward to when she’d be jetting off to Florida. With Owen. ‘Oh God.’ She jerked upright. ‘What if he can’t come now? I remember him saying his father is on his own. He’s going to need help if he’s fractured his hip.’

  Cindy put a hand on her arm. ‘Slow down, honey. When do you lovebirds jet off?’

  The term should have annoyed her. Instead it sent a warm tingle through her. She must be tipsy. ‘Christmas Eve.’

  ‘Well, hell, that’s nearly two weeks away yet. Plenty of time for Mr Cooper senior to recover from his op. Here, this will help you relax.’ She pushed another tall glass filled with brownish liquid and a snazzy green umbrella towards her. ‘Drink up.’

  And like a crazy woman, Gabby giggled and did exactly that.

  Owen managed to catch the frazzled looking doctor just as she was leaving the ward.

  ‘Sorry to bother you, I’m Sidney Cooper’s son.’ The doctor frowned, obviously trying to click through the myriad of patient names she’d checked up on. ‘Cantankerous sixty-nine year old with a fractured hip.’

  The frown disappeared and she smiled. ‘Ah yes. You must be the culprit who didn’t nail down the loose stair carpet.’

  ‘That’s me.’ He ran a hand across his face, trying to collect himself, guilt and frustration winding through him in equal measures. ‘I understand he’s to have a screw inserted tomorrow, and will be discharged in a few days. How long before he’s likely to be able to travel? And by travel, I mean fly to France.’

  ‘There’s no health reason why he can’t get on a plane a week after surgery, but he will be suffering discomfort and have to use a walker, so he may not feel like travelling much.’

  Relief surged through him. ‘That’s great, thanks, Doctor.’ The old bugger might not feel like travelling, but he was getting on that plane. It was time his sister had a turn at looking after him. Alice had sloped off to live in France with her husband not long after their mum had died, so Owen had spent the last two Christmases with the old man and his squawking birds. He reckoned he’d earned this Christmas in the sun. With Gabby.

  Feeling like a weight had been lifted, Owen stepped back into the ward. His heart squeezed as he neared the bed. The man in it drove him nuts, but he was still his dad. And it was painful to see him looking so … old. When his mum had been alive, his dad had always seemed ageless. The last few years had knocked not just the fun, and the compassion out of the man, but the essence of him, too. Now he was just a frail frame, lurching from one day to the next. The only thing to get a smile out of him these days was his beloved budgie, and the damn hens his mother had insisted on buying when she’d been alive, because who doesn’t want a freshly laid egg?

  Owen didn’t, for one. Shift through a poop filled hen house for an egg, versus take it out of a clean, cardboard box? No contest.

  ‘Did you get some painkillers from the nurse?’ Owen asked as he sat down on the uncomfortable plastic chair. Clearly hospitals didn’t want visitors outstaying their welcome.

  ‘Yes, yes. Stop fussing. I can manage you know. I’m not senile.’

  ‘Just accident prone.’

  Owen smiled to show he was joking. Five years ago, his dad would have taken the jibe on the chin and rolled with it. Now he gave his son a sharp look. ‘If you’d fixed the ruddy thing like I’d asked you to—’

  ‘Fine.’ Owen held up his hand. ‘Let’s not go over old ground. The doctor says you should still be okay to fly out to see Alice, so that’s good, isn’t it?’

  His father grunted. ‘Don’t know why she wanted to live with a bunch of frogs.’

  ‘Jeeze, Dad, will you stop with the poor taste. She’s living in a country that makes fabulous wine and cheese. You’ll love it.’

  ‘Maybe.’ He shifted, a flash of pain crossing his face. ‘Haven’t you got some fancy party to go back to?’

  ‘When they kick me out of here, yes.’

  ‘No need for you to stay. You’ve satisfied yourself I’m not at death’s door.’

  Owen loosened his tie. ‘Thought I’d keep you company for a while longer.’

  His comment was met with silence and Owen sighed and jammed his back further into the chair, trying to get comfortable.

  ‘Who’s looking after the birds?’ his father asked after a few uncomfortable minutes.

  ‘Guess that’ll be me.’

  ‘The hen house needs cleaning out in the next couple of days, and the hopper, too. And make sure you collect their eggs—’

  ‘I know the routine, Dad. It’s not my first chicken duty. I used to look after them when you and Mum went on holiday, remember?’

  A haunted look entered his father’s eyes, and Owen felt his heart twist. Yeah, he could bitch all he liked about his dad, but the fact was the guy had loved his mum, and life without her was still beyond painful for him.
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  ‘Anything special I need to do for Clarissa, other than feed her?’ he asked more gently. Clarissa was the budgie his dad had bought for company two years ago.

  ‘She needs fresh water every day, and the empty husks removing from her food dish.’ A glimmer of a smile crossed his face. ‘She likes those seed bars. And dandelions. She’s partial to them.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll see to it.’ Owen’s liking of birds started and ended with the non-feathered variety. Still, it would only be for a few days. One of the neighbours had offered to take care of things when his dad went to France, but Owen didn’t want to take the piss. He could stomach a bit of aviculture short-term (yeah, he’d had to look that up when his father had first used the word). As long as he was on that plane with Gabby on the 24th December, he could put up with anything.

  The lids over his father’s eyes began to close, and Owen took that as his cue. ‘I’ll leave you to sleep. I’ll check in on you tomorrow after your op.’ A ball of emotion lodged in his throat as he bent to kiss him on the forehead. ‘Night, Dad.’

  When he received no response Owen figured he was already asleep, but as he took a few steps away from the bed, he heard a gruff. ‘Night, son.’

  It was after ten by the time Owen made it back to the party.

  Head down, no longer in the mood for raucous music and drunken conversation, he strode towards the function room and almost bumped into Hilda walking the other way.

  ‘Mr Cooper.’ She nodded, giving him a small smile.

  ‘Owen,’ he said firmly. ‘That was part of the deal, remember?’

  ‘Owen.’ She clutched at the beaded bag she was holding. It was the one sign of frivolity in an otherwise plain outfit.

  ‘Heading home already?’

  ‘Yes. Parties aren’t for me.’ Her eyes, usually so guarded, filled with compassion. ‘I was sorry to hear about your father.’

  ‘Thanks. He’s had a fall but he’ll be fine. Did I miss anything? Was the meal we agonised over any good?’

  ‘It was turkey, Mr … sorry, Owen. In my experience turkey is rarely good.’

  God, the woman cracked him up. ‘I trust the entertainment was better than the turkey?’