Michelle Douglas - His Christmas Angel

‘You do that?’

She shrugged, abashed by the warmth in his voice. ‘I love it.’

‘How long have you been doing it?’

Her eyes slid from his. ‘Ten years.’

There was a long silence. Finally Sol asked, ‘How long have you been helping Alec?’

‘Two years.’

‘Two years?’ He jerked around to face her fully. ‘He’s been sick for two years and he never told me?’

‘He’s being looked after.’

‘Yeah, but—’

‘But what? You’d have come home, seen he was getting the right kind of care, then left again.’

He raked a hand through his hair. ‘How long has he got?’

‘You’re a better man than I if you can get a straight answer to that one,’ she sighed.

He stared back out at the yard and Cassie’s chest ached. Why did it have to be such hell sometimes? Who had decided Sol should draw the short straw where family was concerned—the shortest of short straws—when Brian had had so much?

She froze that thought. Brian was dead. He didn’t have anything any more.

‘Why didn’t you let me know, Cassie? You could’ve rung or written.’

‘It was Alec’s choice. His decision to make.’ Her hands twisted together in her lap.

‘And?’

His eyes didn’t leave her face. It was almost frightening the way he could still read her. ‘And you didn’t answer the last time I wrote to you.’

His eyes darkened, then shuttered, and something inside Cassie squeezed painfully.

‘I would’ve come back for this.’

But her wedding hadn’t been important enough? It was as if he’d wiped Schofield from his mind completely. And her with it. ‘You left this town and all of us in it far behind.’ And maybe it had been for the best. ‘I never thought you’d come back. Ever. I didn’t try and get in touch with you because I thought hearing from me, hearing from anyone in Schofield, would be just about the last thing you’d want.’

His hands clenched into fists as he turned and stared at her. ‘Then you were wrong.’

‘You could’ve let me know that ten years ago.’

He stared back out at the yard and Cassie shivered. She’d never seen his eyes so dark…so…

Her mouth went dry. ‘Why have you come back, Sol?’

He shrugged. ‘Curiosity, I guess.’

He met her eyes, but the darkness still lurked in them and Cassie knew he was lying. She just didn’t know why.

‘IT’S pretty hot, Alec. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a salad?’

‘Sausages, mash, peas and carrots,’ Alec repeated. ‘I don’t care how hot it is.’

‘Okay, okay.’ She pulled the sausages out of the fridge. ‘Catch.’ She tossed him a carrot. ‘Peel that while I take care of the potatoes.’ She smothered a grin at his grumbling. She knew he liked her being here, bossing him about, not treating him like an invalid. ‘Where’s Sol?’

‘Out.’

‘Out?’ she parroted stupidly, then bit her lip to stop herself from asking, Out where?

‘Why’d you have to go and rile him up earlier?’

Indignation slugged through her. ‘I did no such thing.’

‘Humph.’

Or had she? She popped the sausages under the grill. ‘Maybe being home has riled him.’

‘Humph.’

‘You have to admit he can’t have many fond memories of living here.’

Alec didn’t even humph this time. He stayed silent.

‘Do you like having him back?’ She probably shouldn’t have asked but she couldn’t help it. Alec had not been a kind father. In fact, at times he’d been downright mean. That was what alcohol had done to him. But, as she’d told Sol earlier, Alec hadn’t had a drink in over two years. He’d changed. He’d mellowed. And she sensed he regretted the past.

She sliced the carrot. It didn’t mean he was glad to see Sol, though. Maybe he resented the reminder of a past that filled him with shame?

‘It’s good to see the lad,’ Alec mumbled.

She tried to school her surprise. ‘Good.’ His words made her fiercely glad and fiercely angry all at the same time. ‘Have you told him so?’

‘Humph.’

She turned the sausages. ‘I think you should tell him.’ She met his eyes. ‘Don’t you let him leave like he did last time.’ That would be too awful for words.

The older man’s eyes dropped. ‘He hasn’t come back to see me.’

She had an uncanny feeling Alec was right. ‘Maybe not,’ she agreed. ‘But all the same—’

‘Go on, tell me I deserve it.’

‘Okay, you deserve it.’ A shaft of pity spiked through her as he hunched in his wheelchair. ‘But you’ve an opportunity with him now that you never thought you’d get again. Make the most of it.’

He glanced at her. ‘You think there’s a chance?’

‘There’s always a chance.’ She set a place for him at the table. ‘Just don’t let him leave like he did last time.’

Maybe Alec didn’t deserve a second chance with Sol, but she knew if her mother had given her one she’d have jumped at it.

Maybe Sol was different. Maybe he—

No. She and Sol were two of a kind. Or they always had been, and ten years couldn’t change him that much.

She dropped into the seat opposite. ‘Tell me, Alec, do you have a Christmas tree?’

Cassie bounded up the back steps and into the kitchen. ‘Sorry I’m late, Jean.’ She kissed the older woman’s cheek.

‘You’re not late. You’re right on time.’

Cassie took in the tired lines around Jean’s eyes and a shaft of guilt speared through her. Normally she arrived early on a Thursday night to help prepare the meal. ‘What can I do?’

‘It’s all under control, dear.’ Jean picked up a platter of fried chicken. ‘You could bring those salads through.’

Cassie seized the bowls and followed Jean into the dining room to find the rest of the family already assembled. With a smile she relaxed into them. The Parkers—the family Brian had given her. And Thursday night was family night, when they all gathered here at Jack and Jean’s.

She loved them with a fierceness born of desperation. The desperation of someone who’d never had a family or known family life until they’d hugged her to their collective bosom with a warmth that had taken her breath away.

It still did, really.

She slipped into her seat beside Tracey, Brian’s younger sister, and across from Fran, his older one. Fran’s husband Claude beamed with good health and good cheer beside Fran. Cassie figured he had a lot to be cheerful about. She averted her eyes from the bulge burgeoning under Fran’s dress, tried to dispel the ache that gripped her.

From the corner of her eye she watched Jack as he said grace. He looked tired too. Neither he nor Jean had slept well since Brian’s death. Cassie smothered a sigh. It had been nearly eighteen months. She’d hoped…

Hoped what? Brian had been their golden boy—the whole town’s golden boy. The rugby genius who’d played for Australia and put the town of Schofield on the map. Some things you just didn’t get over, ever. And for Jean and Jack she had a feeling Brian’s death was one of them.

Maybe if she’d produced that much-wanted grandchild…She smothered another sigh and thrust the thought away, averting her eyes from Fran’s tummy as best she could.

‘How is your work going, Cassandra?’

She shot Jack a smile. ‘Fabulous.’ She knew how proud they all were of her community work. But then, they were a community-minded family. It was one of the reasons the town had rallied around so much when Brian had died. ‘Maisie’s twin nieces showed up the day before yesterday.’

‘Ooh, how are they?’ Jean cut in, always interested to hear news of youngsters who no longer lived in Schofield.