His Christmas Pearl

by Renée Dahlia

  ‘I will.’

  Zoe grabbed her purse from the side table and bolted after Kiet before she got any more unhelpful advice from anyone else. She could look after herself, and besides, it was the height of arrogance to believe that Kiet had any interest in her beyond her accounting skills. No one had ever wanted her for herself. Her parents always wanted to change her, to fit her into a shape that contained her in ways she didn’t like. She stepped outside and closed the front door behind her. The cool change was here, and the strong cold wind whipped her dress around her legs. She bundled the fabric in one hand to stop it flicking up and exposing her thighs.

  ‘Which one is your car?’ Kiet sounded much more like the man she’d met in the kitchen earlier. Gone was the growl and the slight slur, replaced by a baritone that surrounded her just like the wind did. Swirling against her skin. He was leaning against a pillar on the front porch, casually sozzled, yet still in control.

  ‘Wait. I just want you to know that I’m sorry I assumed you didn’t belong. It was wrong of me.’

  ‘You and the rest of this town.’ He hauled in a deep breath as if he was trying to push aside his irritation. ‘Apology accepted.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s just that … well …’ She paused. ‘You make me nervous,’ she whispered rapidly hoping he wouldn’t hear her.

  ‘Christophe is right, I’m mostly harmless.’ He ran his gaze over her, then looked away before the heat settled on her skin.

  ‘My car is the red one over there.’ Zoe pointed in the direction of her small car and pressed the key button to unlock it, with a slight tremble in her fingers. Did he just imply that he desired her? She didn’t wait for Kiet as she paced towards Betty and slid inside. He folded himself into her car with an ease that she didn’t expect from him. He wasn’t overly tall, a touch under six feet, but he was strongly built—typical for someone who worked outdoors—and the width of his shoulders were emphasised by her small vehicle.

  ‘Which way?’ she asked, and he gave her quick directions before resting his head back and going back to sleep. She glanced at him. Was he pretending to sleep so he didn’t have to talk to her? He wasn’t snoring softly like before. She hated the doubt that his presence brought. Shouldn’t she enjoy this moment? She had a handsome man in her car, and she was helping him. She liked helping people—Jade would say it was just the way they’d been brought up—but Zoe truly liked to be useful. It all circled back around—people only liked her because she was helpful, and she wanted to be liked, so she helped them.

  She turned on the car, checked her mirrors, and pulled out onto the road. A flicker of a memory made her stamp on the brakes. Two years ago on Christmas Day, around the same time that she and Jade had stormed out of their parent’s house forever, there had been an awful car crash, and the town had mourned for Emily’s sister, Lisa. The split in her own family had gone largely unnoticed by the town—thanks in part to that dreadful accident—but mainly because the Russell family were good at pretending. Zoe triple-checked for cars, before quietly venturing onto the road. She drove vigilantly as the road took them away from the small grouping of houses towards the long country road that ended at Kiet’s oyster farm on the river mouth at the opposite end of the cove to Xander’s resort.

  After ten minutes of driving, big splats of water started landing on the windscreen heavily. Zoe turned both the windscreen wipers and headlights on and slowed the car to drive carefully along the winding road as the storm blustered. Maybe she should pull over and wait it out. These summer storms didn’t usually last long. The wind buffeted against the little vehicle as the road took them along the top of a hill, and Zoe’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Soon they’d be over the hill and on the lee side as the road made its way down towards the river entrance. Zoe usually enjoyed this drive out here, but not today, not with the weather roaring around them.

  The storm didn’t let up, not even as she drove cautiously down the gum tree-lined driveway towards Kiet’s house. She managed a weak smile—he’d slept the whole way, completely unaware of the storm battering the car, and the way she’d driven impossibly slowly with the rain reducing visibility.

  Lightning flashed. Crack! A gum tree fell in front of them. She jammed on the brakes. The car skidded on the gravel driveway, and she wrestled the wheel as the tyres locked up. Kiet grabbed the wheel and turned it the other way. The car impacted with the tree with a solid crunch. Zoe’s body jolted forward on impact. She glanced over at Kiet whose hand had been jerked off the steering wheel. Zoe wasn’t hurt, but the crash didn’t sound good.

  ‘Out,’ Kiet commanded, his voice far too loud in the enclosed space of the car.

  ‘Out? It’s pouring out there.’ Zoe patted down her body. Yeah, she was alright. She started to breathe again, as her heart beat faster than automatic machine-gun fire in her chest. Her neck was probably going to hurt tomorrow, and she rubbed it gently.

  ‘You’d rather stay in the car while it explodes?’ he yelled at her, his eyes wide and his face deathly pale. Zoe turned off the engine. Poor Betty.

  ‘The car isn’t going to explode. At the worst, the front bumper is dented, and the car is written off.’

  ‘Trust me. It’s not worth the risk.’ Kiet leaned across her, his body completely filling the space between her and the steering wheel, and opened her car door. The wind pushed it shut again. He swore. ‘You’ll have to climb out this side instead. The wind is too strong.’ He threw open the door on his side and jumped out.

  Zoe leaned back and sighed. What was his problem? Her neck hurt a little from being jerked around in the impact, but they’d hit the tree at such slow speed that the idea of an explosion sounded far too dramatic. She’d rather stay here where it was dry and wait for the storm to blow over. He leaned back inside and undid her seatbelt.

  ‘Come on. Now.’

  ‘Fine.’ She pulled on the handbrake, shoved her keys in her purse, and started to awkwardly extract herself from the driver’s seat. He tugged at her arms. ‘Leave me alone. You aren’t helping.’

  ‘Hurry.’ Kiet sounded … frightened? Panicked? Maybe there was a risk. She scrambled to get out of the car, and as she landed on the passenger seat, Kiet grabbed her around the waist and lifted her from the car. The wind and rain slapped her in the face as he ran back up the driveway away from the crashed car, carrying her. Her legs banged against his, as he held her tight against his body. She felt oddly protected by his size and strength, and she marvelled at how easily he carried her. She wasn’t exactly light. His panicked actions poked at her natural curiosity.

  ‘Kiet?’

  He stopped moving. ‘Yeah?’ The rain ran off his hair in long rivulets down his cheeks. The summer evening light had almost disappeared with the dark of the storm and she had to peer closely at him to see him properly.

  ‘What is the panic? If we’d stayed in the car, we’d be dry.’

  ‘It’s—not—safe.’ Each word came out on a sharp breath, and she wondered if he even knew how wild he sounded.

  ‘It’s fine. It’s just a storm. And it’s nearly blown itself out already.’ The rain had stopped beating down so rapidly, and the wind had dropped from a gale to a strong blow. The gum trees lining the driveway weren’t swaying quite as much as they had a few minutes ago. Zoe would bet that in ten minutes there would be no sign of a storm at all. Kiet put her down, gently, but kept his arms wrapped around her. She wanted to rest her head against his heaving chest, to soothe him from this panic. His chest rose and fell rapidly against her, and she counted his breaths until they slowed back to a more regular rate. It took several minutes, lining up with the easing of the storm, and eventually Kiet released his grip on her and stepped back. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face.

  ‘Crap. What happened?’ He blinked at her and his alcoholic breath made her head swim.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Was he serious? Could he honestly not remember panicking and dra
gging her out here?

  ‘Um, so there was a Christmas party, and you drank too much, so I drove you home. But there was a storm, and a gum tree fell on the driveway. Unfortunately I crashed into it—not much—and then you … ah … panicked? And now we are standing here all wet from the rain.’

  His eyes widened and a slash of colour across his face made his nostrils seem larger than normal.

  ‘A storm?’

  Zoe shrugged and her wet dress dragged against her skin. She pulled it from her legs and gave it a shake. ‘Yeah, one of those quick summer thunderstorms that dumps about twenty mils of rain in ten minutes, then blows over.’

  ‘I see.’

  Zoe was glad someone did. ‘What now?’ She was stuck here at his place with no change of clothes, and no car. It would be impossible to get a tow truck on Christmas evening around here. And it was going to be dark soon.

  ‘It’ll be dark soon,’ Kiet echoed her thought. ‘You’d better stay in the guest room, and we’ll work out this mess in the morning.’ He started walking back towards her car and whistled as he approached it. ‘We were lucky. Here. Give me your hand.’

  ‘No, thank you. I can manage myself.’ Zoe watched him lift himself onto Betty’s bonnet. He extended his hand for her, but she ignored it, and clambered up by herself, glad she’d only worn mid-sized heels to the party. From the bonnet, it wasn’t too hard to lean onto the fallen trunk, climb over, and slide down the smooth eucalypt trunk to the ground on the other side.

  ‘The house is to the left, over there.’

  Zoe followed the line of his arm and nodded. A couple of ramshackle green corrugated-iron sheds stood beside the edge of the water, with a short jetty jutting out. Three stainless-steel boats were tied up next to the jetty. Next to the sheds were stacks of trays, and more trays were stacked in a paddock beside the sheds. To the left and slightly uphill was a small white wooden cottage that looked like it had been built fifty years ago or more. If someone bothered to paint it, and maybe plant a garden, it would be the cutest little country cottage. Instead, it had an air of neglect. A couple of utes were parked outside, and the grass grew in straggly patches around the house. The whole place was functional, rather than pretty, and completely opposite to the gorgeous view across the river entrance. Now the storm had blown itself out, the setting sun behind the hills cast an orange and pink glow across the water.

  ‘The sunrise over the cove must be magical,’ Zoe murmured.

  ‘Yeah. If you like that kind of thing.’ Kiet’s voice was still tense after their little crash.

  Zoe walked towards the cottage with Kiet. He wasn’t her puzzle to solve, so she took care not to touch him as she walked with her sodden dress clinging to her legs.

  Chapter 4

  Kiet woke with a mean headache, a sore neck, and the unsettling knowledge that he’d lost the plot in yesterday’s storm and subsequent car crash. Usually storms didn’t affect him like that, but it’d been Christmas and he’d hidden from his problems in too many beers. He deserved the way his head thudded with every breath. His mouth was dry like the salt crust on a dirty spat tray, and his guts rolled like a buoy on rough waves. He blamed the beers for his overreaction and suddenly cursed. Zoe was in his house. He’d better tell Sam before they had an awkward meeting over breakfast. Given the way Sam had drowned his sorrows in beer yesterday, his head probably hurt too. Weren’t they a pair? It wasn’t the wisest plan to leave his hurting brother home alone. It didn’t matter that Sam was a grown man now, Kiet had looked after him since that fateful day nearly a decade ago, and he couldn’t seem to let that role go.

  He breathed in. Was that bacon he could smell? Good for Sam—someone in this house had the right idea.

  Kiet hauled himself out of bed, muttering curses under his breath. His head felt like someone was whacking it with a brick. Damn, he’d over-indulged yesterday. Bloody Christmas. He dragged on some pants and stumbled out into the kitchen.

  Zoe stood at the stove, her back facing him, cooking bacon. Her hair was tied up in a simple ponytail, giving her a wholesome appearance. She wore a blue shirt that looked vaguely familiar and when she turned around with a beaming smile, he couldn’t move. Gone was the bright red lipstick of yesterday. Today her lips were a natural pink. Kissable. His heart stopped, just for a second. She looked like she belonged here in his kitchen, and he wanted to figure out how to keep her here.

  ‘Hungry? I figured bacon and eggs would be just the thing after yesterday.’

  ‘Thanks.’ His voice sounded like he’d dragged his throat across the gravel driveway outside. He forced his feet to move towards the cupboard to grab a glass for some much needed water.

  ‘Want some paracetamol too?’ Zoe asked.

  ‘I’ll get it.’

  Zoe seemed to know that he didn’t want to talk, ignoring him as she cooked. He gulped down the headache-zapping pills, then quietly set the table for three. She brought toast to the table, then dished out the most amazing-looking scrambled eggs and placed four decent strips of bacon on both his and Sam’s plate, giving herself only two pieces.

  ‘Why are you having less? You did all the work.’

  ‘That’s plenty for me. I assumed you guys would want more since you have a physical job …’

  ‘Right. I’ll get Sam.’ He paced down the hall, away from the overly pleasant sense of being looked after.

  ‘And put on a shirt.’ Her voice dogged him down the hallway.

  The smell of Zoe’s food, and the way she knew exactly what he needed this morning, was a bit too much. He could get used to this, could let himself crave more of this. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  ***

  ‘Decent storm yesterday afternoon.’ Sam leaned back in his chair, having polished off Zoe’s cooking in record time.

  ‘Yes. Speaking of which, I need to call a tow truck.’ Zoe started to collect the plates.

  ‘No. You cooked. I’ll clean up. Want a coffee?’ Kiet felt a lot better now his stomach was full, and the paracetamol had kicked in.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Why do you need a tow truck? Did you break down? Kiet can fix most things.’

  ‘Not this one, mate. A tree blew over and Zoe pranged into it.’

  ‘Oh shit. Are you alright?’

  Kiet nodded at Sam’s question, and glanced over to see Zoe also nodding. A tightness in his chest eased, and he hadn’t realised he’d been worried about her.

  ‘I hope you didn’t panic.’ Sam’s eyes flashed with a blend of pain at the memory, and the hint of teasing. Baby brothers couldn’t help it. All Kiet felt was the same old grief.

  ‘He did freak out a little, actually. Why’s that?’ Zoe tilted her head slightly.

  ‘Nine and three-quarter years ago …’

  Kiet rolled his eyes, glad to be able to tease Sam in return, then regretted it when a dull pain reminded him of his hangover. ‘So precise.’

  ‘Scientist.’ Sam flashed him a grin.

  ‘It’s not funny.’ Kiet raised his eyebrows at Sam’s cheeky smile.

  ‘I know that.’ Sam’s voice deepened. ‘You weren’t the only one orphaned that day.’

  ‘Orphaned?’ Zoe gasped. ‘In a storm nearly ten years ago? Did your parents drown?’

  ‘No.’ Kiet would have grinned at the way Sam spoke in unison with him, if it wasn’t for the awful subject.

  ‘They wouldn’t be so daft to go out on the boat in a storm.’ Kiet busied himself with making coffee. He really didn’t want to talk about how his parents died—especially not when yesterday’s little crash made the memory real. The sound of the storm, and the crunch of metal, and all the little smells, had thrown him back a decade to the worst day of his life.

  ‘You must remember. Half the town came to their funerals.’ Sam blinked and Kiet knew exactly how he felt.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t recall …. Oh, hold on, I remember asking where you were because you stopped coming to school. I had to get a new lab partner.’

 
‘I wasn’t your lab partner.’

  ‘I know. But they did a shuffle about in the class, and I felt so bad that I didn’t notice you before you left, and there was that weird rumour about how your parents had—’ Zoe didn’t finish.

  ‘They didn’t commit suicide. Argh, this town.’ Sam summed up Kiet’s feelings on the matter. As if it wasn’t bad enough that they died in a terrible accident, the town gossips couldn’t help but embellish to the point where Sam couldn’t stay at school. Kiet had been orphaned as a twenty-year-old adult, but Sam had coped it much worse being a teenager. Kiet had used some of the insurance money to send Sam to boarding school, to get him away from the town’s mean gossip.

  ‘A storm blew in from the coast that day, and my parents were tying down some of the equipment. A stack of spat trays fell on Mum, blown over by a gust of wind. Pa grabbed the forklift to get them off her, but there was a gas leak in the machine, and it exploded.’ Kiet corrected Zoe’s assumption with the true story, trying to take all the grief out of it. His voice cracked—no matter how many times he was forced to relive this moment, it didn’t get any easier.

  ‘Oh my.’ Zoe grabbed her mouth, her eyes wide and round. ‘I understand, and I’m sorry that I laughed at you yesterday.’

  ‘You did?’ Kiet frowned at her. She apologised too much—it wasn’t her fault that the bloody forklift had been old. Or that salt had corroded the connections, allowing the propane fuel to leak out. All it had taken was a spark from the engine to create a terrible accident.

  ‘I did. You dragged me out of the car, saying that it might …’

  ‘Explode. I remember.’

  ‘Imagine that. Big manly Kiet panicked.’ Sam’s snarky comment irritated Kiet, and his fists bunched at his sides.

  ‘Grow up, Sam.’

  Sam pushed his chair back, the legs scraping loudly on the wooden floor, curled his top lip, and stormed out of the room. Kiet growled under his breath. What was his problem? They’d both lost their parents that day, and Kiet had done everything he could to keep this family together. Obviously it hadn’t been enough.