One More Song

by Nicki Edwards

  He quickly typed out another text. He couldn’t help himself. If he’d already disturbed her with his first message, then sending a second one wouldn’t hurt.

  This is Harry Baxter, BTW. Hope I didn’t wake you.

  A message pinged back immediately.

  I figured it was! Looks like I’m not the only early bird. Merry Christmas to you too.

  He grinned as he sent a reply. Forgot to give you my number last night so here it is. Just in case you needed rescuing again. He added a winking face emoticon.

  I promise you won’t need to rescue me ever again, but thanks for the offer. See you later. E xx

  He dropped his phone into his pocket and stepped outside with a smile on his face. He could picture her dimpled face and had an overwhelming urge to see her and kiss her full, pink-tinged lips. A flock of sulphur-crested cockatoos flew past, almost deafening him with their distinctive caw-caw sound. He needed to do something to stop thinking about Eddie.

  He whistled, and seconds later Digby appeared from his kennel on the back veranda. The dog stretched, yawned and looked at him with confused eyes for a moment as if working out who Harry was and what he wanted.

  ‘Are you getting too old for these early morning runs?’ Harry asked as he scratched the dog’s head. Digby replied by wagging his tail and taking off towards the shed like a puppy.

  ‘Apparently not.’

  Harry followed Digby with a laugh. The early morning sun dappled through the gum trees. Magpies warbled, singing songs to the pale blue sky. It actually felt good to be home, until his gaze rested on the disrepair of the farm. As he walked down the wide lane to the shed, he noticed how many wire fences were in need of repair. He unlatched the gate to the paddock and wrested it open. It had dropped and was hard to lift and open. He’d shared his concerns with Simon the day before when he was helping out around the farm. Simon had explained that because Jim had been so sick he was doing all the farm work on his own. He guiltily admitted he wasn’t keeping up with things.

  Two bay horses and a Shetland pony stood under the trees in the paddock eating grass, their tails swishing at the flies. Harry stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. The dark head of Claire’s mare Kiri snapped up immediately, ears pricked when she recognised him. She trotted over, followed closely by the dirty white Shetland with a forelock so thick it was a wonder he could see where he was going. The other bay was more wary and it followed the pair at a distance. The bigger horses belonged to Claire and Simon. Who owned the little shettie? It dashed ahead, trotting as fast as it could but it was no match for Kiri’s long strides.

  The horses skidded to a stop at the fence and Harry held out his hand while Kiri nibbled at his palm, searching for a treat.

  ‘Tart,’ he said. ‘You didn’t miss me, you missed the sugar cubes.’

  He patted Kiri’s neck and she blew in his hair, nuzzling his ear with affection. He hadn’t ridden since he was a kid, but he still loved horses, especially Kiri.

  ‘Who’s your little mate?’ he asked.

  The curious little Shetland was trying to get closer to the fence, but Kiri had lost interest and wandered over to the water trough. Harry glanced at it. It was green with slime. Jeez, when was the last time it’d been cleaned out? He’d do that now before he went for his run.

  After cleaning the water trough and tossing the horses a biscuit of hay each, he took off, following the line of the creek that weaved through the back of Thornhill. But as he ran, he fought rising panic. They needed answers. Lots of answers. And quickly. Normally running helped him relieve his stress, but today it was impossible to switch his mind off.

  Unfortunately there was nothing he could do right now except get through Christmas. The day after Boxing Day he’d phone the local GP for an urgent appointment. They’d get to the bottom of whatever this was, his father would get the right treatment and he’d turn the corner in the New Year. Later they’d all laugh at how foolishly frightened they’d been. But as much as Harry wanted to pretend it was nothing serious and his father simply needed to get his stuffing back, he couldn’t forget the look of desperation on his mum and Claire’s faces.

  He checked his watch, surprised to find he’d run for so long. It hadn’t done much to remove the ache of worry in his chest, but it had cleared his head. Swallowing past the tennis ball-sized lump in the back of his throat, he headed for home. It was time to face the music.

  *

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’

  Claire stood on the back veranda, hands on hips, watching him jog across from the shed, still catching his breath. Digby was at his heels, but when he got close to the house and heard Claire’s anger, he slunk behind Harry with his tail between his legs. Harry wished he could do the same thing.

  He studied the lines of anxiety and fatigue on his sister’s face. Had something happened? ‘I was just out for a run.’

  ‘On Christmas morning?’

  ‘Is there a law against that?’

  Claire flicked her head towards the house. ‘You should have been here helping Mum with Dad.’

  His heart landed in his Nikes. ‘Is he worse?’

  ‘No, he’s not worse, but I stayed at home to open presents with the kids. I didn’t come over this morning to help Mum get him out of bed. I assumed you’d do that. It’s taken Mum over an hour to get him up and dressed and now she’s stressed because she didn’t know where you were, breakfast will be late, then she still has to fix lunch and get over to the hall for the community dinner by three –’

  Harry held up a hand. ‘Hang on a second. How was I supposed to know Mum needed help?’

  Claire glowered.

  ‘He was okay yesterday.’ Not that Harry had spent much time with his parents since he’d arrived.

  She exhaled loudly. ‘He’s bad in the mornings, Harry. He can’t make his muscles work.’ She turned on her heel. ‘Go and take a shower. I’ll help Mum get breakfast. Don’t be too long.’

  When Harry entered the lounge fifteen minutes later, the TV was on but no one was watching it. Jim dozed in his recliner chair, eyes closed, his head slumped forward on a slight angle. His chin almost rested on his chest and a rivulet of drool pooled in one corner of his mouth. Worry ricocheted around Harry’s veins. His father looked older than a hundred, nothing like the usually fit and trim sixty-nine year old he was.

  Simon was on the floor with the kids building Lego. He looked up when Harry entered the room and gave him a weary smile. ‘G’day, mate.’ He stood and gave Harry a hug and hard slap on the back. ‘Merry Christmas.’

  From their position on the floor, Jackson and Olivia gave him tentative smiles. His heart sank. It had been a long time since they’d seen him. Had they forgotten who he was? He’d hoped to spend some time with them the day before, but Simon’s parents had taken them for the day to give Claire a chance to get the food prepared.

  ‘Have I lost favourite uncle status too?’ he asked Simon quietly. ‘I’m no longer the favourite brother, that’s for sure.’

  Simon shrugged. ‘Give them all some time.’ Was he talking about the kids or Claire? Or both?

  ‘I hope they haven’t forgotten me.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. They’ll warm up to you again.’

  Simon turned his attention back to the Lego and Harry stood watching them for a moment. The tension headache that hadn’t left since he’d arrived home was now jabbing painfully behind his eyes. He needed to get out of this oppressive room. ‘Perhaps I’ll go see if they need any help,’ he said, pointing to the kitchen. He heard Claire and his mum clattering around.

  Simon grimaced. ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t. I’d give them both space. Claire was ticked off at you for not being around to help this morning.’

  ‘All the more reason to help now.’

  ‘I know my wife. Space.’

  Harry wanted to remind Simon that Claire had been his sister for a long time before she became his wife, but there was no point. Simon was a good bloke and n
one of this was his fault. It wasn’t fair to take his own concerns out on his brother-in-law. Instead, he dropped to his knees and grabbed a handful of Lego.

  ‘Can I help?’

  Jackson bobbed his head and shoved the instructions into Harry’s hands. Olivia edged closer and tugged at his sleeve. Soon the tightness in his chest loosened and his head stopped spinning. Until they knew what they were dealing with, there was no point getting worked up. He simply had to get through the next few hours and play happy families for the sake of the kids. After all, it was Christmas.

  Chapter 10

  Eddie woke around six o’clock on Christmas morning feeling hot and clammy. Pale sunlight bathed her bedroom in a golden honey glow. She tried to recall the dream she’d been having but it was out of reach.

  ‘Give me some room, Jarrod,’ she grumbled.

  His arm was heavy and trapping her tight. She tried to ease away, but she was already at the edge of the bed. He inched closer, his breath hot against her face. She heard a snuffling sound and felt something wet on her cheek.

  She jerked awake and realised it wasn’t Jarrod, it was Titus. She groaned. The flyscreen door was broken in one corner and the naughty dog must have worked out how to sneak his fat body through the gap. Now he had taken over half her bed. She shoved Titus onto the floor, swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat on the edge, wiping sleep from her eyes.

  It was Christmas Day, usually her favourite day of the whole year, but her enthusiasm quickly plummeted when she remembered she was alone. She closed her eyes as unwelcome thoughts crowded in. Forty-eight hours had softened the initial impact of her break-up with Jarrod, but now the reality of it flooded back in vivid technicolour and Eddie felt freshly adrift. She’d planned her entire future with him – engagement, marriage, kids, the whole deal. So where did that leave her now, other than depressingly single and one step further away from her dreams of motherhood? Staying with someone as selfish as Jarrod wasn’t the answer, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

  She checked her phone, surprised to see two text messages, both from Harry. She smiled. He was an early riser too. She sent back a reply, thinking how nice it felt to know he was on the other end of the phone should she ever need him.

  After she left the hall the day before, she’d started to feel a little bit foolish. Despite some serious flirtation between them, she decided she’d read too much into it. He’d probably only offered to go out for a drink to be friendly. And besides, she was still too fragile to be considering another relationship.

  Deciding not to waste any more emotional energy thinking about something that might not happen, she sprang out of bed humming a carol, and bounced down the hallway to open the back door. Solomon bolted inside, tail twisting with joy to see her. Titus remained unrepentant about ripping a larger hole in the flywire but, because he was so cute, Eddie forgave him for it anyway. After all, it was Christmas.

  After showering, she rifled through her wardrobe and found a pair of never-worn white pants that still had their price tag attached, and a flowy turquoise shirt she’d forgotten she owned. It looked Christmassy and was the perfect colour to complement her eyes. She slipped her feet into a pair of wedges – the only heels she owned – scoffed her breakfast and ensured the dogs were enjoying their Christmas bones. Grabbing her phone and bag, she left the house and drove to church for the Christmas service.

  Holy Trinity Anglican Church sat proud and tall at the highest point in town. It was a small stone church set amidst a large garden surrounded by towering pine trees. The road leading up the church was full of parked cars and Eddie ended up having to park almost half a kilometre away and walk. As she strode up the dirt hill she congratulated herself on her choice of pants but wished she’d considered flat shoes instead of the wedges.

  History between the Campbell family and the church was long. Although she was only an occasional church attendee, she was on a first-name basis with everyone in the congregation and, as Frank and Daisy Campbell’s only granddaughter, they always made her feel welcome. Eddie’s own mother had been baptised in the church, as had Eddie, when she was too small to remember. According to Nan, the congregation was very supportive when Eddie’s mum fell pregnant. The women rallied around Daisy and Frank, promising to support their teenage daughter instead of encouraging her to give up the child for adoption, or going to Melbourne for a secret abortion.

  By the time Eddie turned in through the stone gates and crossed the grass to the main doors, she heard the first carol coming from the old organ. She accepted a printed order of service from Barry Johnson, one of the ushers, and greeted his smiling sidekick, Helen Moore, before taking her usual seat in the timber pews towards the back. She scanned the crowd for Harry, but couldn’t see him. Not that she really expected him to be there – she’d never seen him in church before.

  After the first carol finished, the minister, Libby Gilchrist, stood to pray. She was young – as far as ministers went – and avoided the whole collar and robe thing, which Eddie thought was a good idea. It made her more approachable. The music started again and Eddie smiled as she glanced over at the organist, old Charles Cambridge. She always got a kick out of watching him play triumphantly, hands and feet constantly moving as he coaxed music out of the large pipes at the front of the church. Nan said he’d once played in a packed English cathedral in front of royalty and Eddie wasn’t surprised.

  The service was filled with joyful music and plenty of Christmas cheer – precisely what Eddie needed. As soon as it was over, wellwishers surrounded her.

  ‘Everything ready for tonight?’ Christine asked.

  ‘I hope so,’ Eddie said. ‘As you know, I had a few issues but I think things are sorted now.’

  ‘How’re Frank and Daisy doing?’ Helen asked.

  ‘Very well. Nan’s hoping she’ll be home next week. I’m heading to the respite place now to have lunch with them.’

  ‘She’ll be itching to get back in time for the concert,’ Christine said.

  ‘Tell me about it. That’s all she’s been talking about for the past six months.’

  ‘I hear Frank’s loving his little holiday,’ Pam said, joining the group.

  Eddie frowned. ‘What do you mean, holiday?’

  ‘Holiday. Respite. Barry went to visit him and Daisy last week and he said Frank loves it.’

  Barry nodded in agreement. ‘Frank reckons he wouldn’t mind living there permanently. Said the grub’s good and they have some lovely nurses.’

  As Barry wandered off to chat to someone else, something snagged in Eddie’s heart. ‘I’m sure he was just saying that. You know how much he and Nan have always said they want to stay at home as long as they can.’

  ‘We old folk are allowed to change our minds, Eddie,’ Christine said with a twinkle in her eye.

  ‘True. But I know Nan and Grandad and there’s no way they’d ever want to move into a nursing home. Frank would say he’d feel one step closer to the grave.’

  ‘Maybe not a nursing home, but have you considered the retirement village next door to the church?’ Helen asked.

  Eddie hadn’t considered any such thing.

  ‘It’s very good,’ Helen continued. ‘That’s where Dennis and I are now. We have our own little place and it’s perfect. If Frank and Daisy sold Glenview, they could move in there and you could get on with your life,’ she said.

  Eddie’s frown deepened. What was that supposed to mean? ‘I do have my own life,’ she replied. Yet why did her chest feel so tight?

  ‘Yes, I know you do, dear, but it’s not the same as living on your own. At your age you should be thinking about getting married and starting a family. Bit hard to do that if you’re still basically living under the same roof as your grandparents,’ Helen said.

  Eddie bit back a retort. ‘I’m not going anywhere. After all they’ve done for me, I need to be here for them.’

  ‘Eddie, dear, you have such an overdeveloped sense of responsibility,’ C
hristine said.

  ‘And why shouldn’t I? They put everything on hold to raise me. I owe it to them.’

  Christine, Helen and Pam looked as if they were about to launch into another opinion piece, but they were interrupted by Kathy Peters, a girl Eddie had gone to school with. Twice married with six, or seven kids – Eddie had lost count – Kathy and Eddie weren’t friends.

  ‘How are you going, Edwina? I heard about your boyfriend. You must be devastated. There go those wedding plans, eh?’

  Eddie clenched and unclenched her jaw before replying. ‘News travels fast.’

  Because Kathy usually spread it.

  ‘In a town this size it does, that’s for sure.’ Kathy laughed. ‘You should know that.’ She’d probably already posted something on the town’s Facebook page. She placed a pudgy finger on Eddie’s arm. ‘Such a shame. Did he meet someone else?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Won’t be easy finding another man in these parts. All the good ones are gone – married or moved away.’

  ‘Who said I’ll be looking for another man?’

  Kathy sniggered. ‘I was over at the hall briefly yesterday. The look of longing on your face when Harrison Baxter walked through the doors said enough. Bit young for you, isn’t he? He’s not even thirty.’

  Eddie resisted the urge to turn and walk away. Or hit Kathy. ‘I don’t need a man.’

  ‘If you want babies, you do.’ Kathy rubbed her belly with a lack of subtlety and Eddie glanced down, stunned to see she was pregnant – again.

  ‘My nephew is coming to visit over the holidays. Perhaps I can introduce you to him,’ Helen said, breaking the tension between the two women. She smiled at Eddie. ‘He’s recently divorced and has two children. You could have a ready-made family.’

  Eddie grimaced. She didn’t want a ready-made family. She needed to escape. Fast.

  As she was about to pray for divine intervention, her phone rang. She snatched it from her handbag and stared at the screen. For some bizarre reason she hoped it was Harry rescuing her again. ‘Sorry, I need to take this.’ She turned her back on the circle of women. ‘Hello, this is Eddie.’