Second Chance Family, page 19
‘Would Joey be able to play too?’ Callie asked.
‘Sure. Jenna and I can help Joey.’ Grace was obviously trying to sound cool and lowkey about this, but her eyes were huge with excitement. ‘I think Joey will love it, especially as Ben’s been telling him all about birds.’
Callie was inclined to agree, and she was actually quite grateful that her brood might be so conveniently entertained, while she also got on with kitchen preparations.
Grace was all aflutter as she texted back.
River arrived just after the girls finished the breakfast dishes. He’d walked through the rain while keeping the Wingspan game dry beneath his coat, and they set up on the dining-room table. Callie hung around at first, mainly to check if Joey was a nuisance and if any troubleshooting might be required. But as far as she could tell, while the game was slightly complicated and nerdy, River seemed to be very good at explaining the set-up.
The players would take on the roles of bird enthusiasts – researchers, birdwatchers or whatever. And each player’s aim was to discover and attract a beautiful and diverse network of birds into their wildlife preserve. The pictures of birds on the cards were certainly beautiful and Callie’s kids were all keen to give it a go. They divided into three teams, with Jenna and Joey as a single unit.
So Callie left them to it. ‘Just sing out when you’re ready for morning tea,’ she told them. Then, back in the kitchen, she texted Amelia before she forgot.
Hi Amelia, hope all’s well. We really should FaceTime for Christmas? Callie xx
Then she set to with making the stuffing for the Christmas turkey, carefully following instructions from her favourite foodie blog.
The bread cubes were in the oven, and she was dicing onion and trying not to rub her stinging eyes, when she heard a response on her phone and discovered a request from Amelia to FaceTime. Right there and then.
Callie had been planning a family catch-up, rather than a solo chat, and she’d pictured another cosy gathering with the Christmas tree as a backdrop. Instead, she was in the kitchen, alone and surrounded by mess, in an old T-shirt with a tear at the neck and splashes of sauce on the front.
But after Amelia’s long silence, she didn’t like to reject her sister-in-law, so she tapped to accept and set her phone on a shelf on the kitchen dresser. Amelia was also alone, but looking immaculately groomed as always, clad in spotless – of course it would be spotless – white linen. She was seated in what looked like a booth in a rather swish café. In front of her was a cup of untouched coffee, topped with a perfect latte heart.
It was almost as if she was posing for a celebrity shot, and Callie was instantly aware of her own messy hair, the smelly pile of diced onions on the chopping board and the lack of any sign of glamour in Hawkridge’s shabby and out-of-date kitchen.
‘Hi, Callie,’ Amelia said. ‘You look busy.’
‘Yes, sorry. I’m a bit of a mess. I’m making stuffing for tomorrow’s turkey.’
‘Wow. Turkey? That sounds full on.’
‘I thought I’d try to go all traditional this year, especially as it’s raining and a bit cooler up here.’
‘Good for you.’
‘But I’m only now realising why my mother always just buys a ham to serve with seafood and salad at Christmas. Dad peels the prawns and the bugs, Mum makes a couple of her favourite salads and dressings, and I pop the champagne cork. Too easy!’
‘I hear you,’ said Amelia. ‘It’s pretty much like that when we have Christmas in Townsville with my parents.’ Amelia sounded almost wistful as she said this. Had she finally begun to forgive Nora and Keith?
‘But you’re having a good time in Perth?’ Callie asked her.
To Callie’s surprise, Amelia pulled a woeful face and shook her head. ‘To be honest, Quentin’s family are giving me the—’ She looked around her, as if to check whether anyone might be listening. Then, leaning towards the phone and in a somewhat lowered voice, ‘Well, you know – rhymes with pits.’
‘That’s no good.’
‘You’ve no idea, Callie. They’re such dreadful snobs.’
Really? Callie hoped she didn’t look too surprised, but she’d always been conscious of Amelia’s own snobbish tendencies.
‘It was all right when I was an at-home mum, but now that I’m working they look down on me,’ Amelia said. ‘Because I’m in social media. They’ve actually said in front of me that only a certain class of people use Facebook and Instagram. As for TikTok, they practically vomit if you mention the word.’
‘Gosh, that does sound unpleasant.’ Callie could feel instant sympathy for her sister-in-law. ‘They must be very narrow-minded.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘Is Quentin supporting you?’
‘Kind of . . .’
Amelia seemed rather hesitant to expand on her answer, so Callie broke the awkward silence. ‘What about Henry? Is he having a good time?’
‘The worst.’
‘You’re kidding me?’ Surely Quentin’s parents would be kind to their grandson.
‘I only wish I was joking, Callie. They insist on taking him sailing. And the poor love hates it. He gets horribly seasick. But they claim if he stays out there long enough, getting bounced around by those horrible waves, he’ll get used to it. He’s having the most miserable time and they blame me, of course. No one in their family ever gets seasick.’
‘Yikes, that does sound tough. I’m so sorry, Amelia—’ Callie was about to add more to her sympathy, when the kitchen door swung open and Ben came in, carrying the cake and pudding and other Christmas goodies he’d bought.
‘I thought I’d better not leave it too late to bring you these,’ he said as he set them at one end of the kitchen table.
At the same time, Callie heard an exclamation from her phone, and when she looked at the small square at the bottom of her screen, she realised that Ben was quite visible in the background. She sent him a quick smile and mouthed her thanks, before nodding in the direction of the phone. His eyes widened when he saw Amelia.
‘This is Ben,’ Callie felt compelled to explain. ‘Ben, this is my sister-in-law, Amelia. She’s spending Christmas in Perth.’
‘Hello there,’ Ben said, smiling and waving politely to the phone. ‘Very pleased to meet you.’
‘You too, Ben.’ Amelia had gone totally goggle-eyed.
‘I’ll catch up with you later then,’ he told Callie, just as a crescendo of excited voices reached them from the dining room.
Clearly, there’d been a big moment in the Wingspan game.
‘They’re playing some board game about birds with River,’ Callie told Ben quickly. ‘You might like to check it out.’
‘Sure.’
As he left, Callie picked the phone up from the shelf and held it so it was simply focused on herself. Not that this in any way calmed Amelia down. She still seemed to be in shock.
‘Oh, my God, Callie. Is that the guy you’re sharing the farm with?’
‘Ben’s the other owner of Hawkridge, yes.’
‘And he’s living there with you?’
‘Not in this house. He has a cabin. It’s on the property, but down the hill a bit.’
Amelia waved this detail aside as if it were irrelevant. ‘But he’s so hot, Callie. I mean – like movie-star hot.’ And now she was making a show of fanning herself. ‘Some guys can really get away with longish hair like that, can’t they?’
Callie smiled nervously, not sure what to say. It didn’t help that she was worried the conversation might be overheard, even though she’d closed the door to the dining room after Ben left.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t tarted yourself up a bit,’ Amelia said next.
‘Why would I do that?’ The clueless card seemed the easiest option.
‘Seriously? D’oh!’ No surprise, Amelia wasn’t buying it. ‘My dear Callie,’ she said now in a lecturing tone. ‘You’re a good-looking woman. I know Mitch was as proud as punch when he won you, and I’ve seen plenty of other guys eyeing you off. But you really need to capitalise on your assets.’
Callie was on the brink of taking the phone outside the house while she set her sister-in-law straight, when she glanced to the oven and realised the bread cubes were in urgent need of rescuing.
‘Sorry, Amelia. I have something in the oven and it’s about to burn.’ Whipping the oven door down, she grabbed a padded mitt. The toasted breadcrumbs were supposed to be golden, not brown. ‘How about we FaceTime again with the kids? If you’re caught up with Quentin’s family tomorrow, we can try on Boxing Day?’
‘Um . . . okay.’
‘Sorry. Gotta go. Bye.’ Then she tapped to disconnect and set the phone aside as she pulled out the trays.
The day rolled on. Hopefully, the rescued bread cubes weren’t too overdone, and Callie finished making the stuffing, which she would reheat on Christmas Day and serve as a side, rather than inserting it into the turkey. Midmorning, she took drinks and cookies through to the kids, discovering that Ben had joined them for a round of Wingspan and seemed to be loving the game.
Back in the kitchen, Callie poached another big batch of peaches. There was so much fruit ripening in the orchard right now, she wished she had time to investigate bottling and preserving. Sadly, she might have to leave that dream for Hawkridge’s new owners.
Ben left before lunchtime, heading back to attend to gate hinges that were rusting, but River seemed to be hanging around and Callie invited him to stay. She had frozen pizzas she could heat for an easy meal, and as she set these on the table along with paper napkins, she realised, to her surprise, that her girls had been quizzing River about high schools on the Tablelands.
‘You mean they have actual cows in the actual schoolyard?’ Grace was asking.
River grinned. ‘Actually, yes. During term time, you can see them when you drive past Malanda High. There are weekly sessions on cattle handling at lunch and after school, and in May there’s a special week-long Handling and Judging School. Kids from other schools in the area can attend and some kids even go on the Show Circuit.’
‘Showing off cattle?’ asked Jenna.
‘Yeah.’
‘Do you do that?’
‘Nah. I prefer soccer.’
‘Soccer?’ Jenna and Grace echoed in unison while exchanging OMG glances.
‘You mean there are kids’ soccer teams up here?’ asked Grace.
‘Of course.’ Now River’s expression suggested he couldn’t believe she’d needed to ask this. ‘There are teams all over the Tablelands. It’s not soccer season now, though.’
‘Just as well with all this rain,’ said Jenna.
Which was when Callie added, ‘The girls are both keen soccer players. They play for the Warriors in Townsville.’
‘We got to the semifinals this year and lost by one goal,’ Grace told him.
‘In a penalty shootout,’ said Jenna.
‘Bad luck,’ said River. ‘That sucks.’
‘Sure does,’ said Grace. ‘Especially when I was the one who missed the vital goal.’
Across the table, River sent her a smile of sympathy. ‘Been there, done that.’ A moment later, he was holding out his hand and he and Grace exchanged shyly smiling high fives.
It was such a sweet moment of connection, and yet Callie found herself thinking, Uh-oh.
‘I’m going to play soccer next year,’ Joey announced brightly. ‘In the Under Eights.’
‘Wow,’ said River. ‘I coach an Under Eights team.’
‘Can I be in your team?’ Joey was almost bursting with delight.
‘Sweetheart,’ said Callie. ‘River coaches a Tablelands team, and you’ll be playing soccer back in Townsville.’
To her dismay, Joey drooped at this news, his expression as bleak as the weather outside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
It was quite late when Ben sent Callie a cheeky text.
Is that Christmas Eve dram still on offer?
Absolutely!!! came her reassuringly quick reply.
He didn’t need to knock on the kitchen door. Callie was already there waiting for him, looking quite lovely in a rose-coloured shirt tucked into jeans, with the added touch of the gold hoop earrings she’d worn to the theatre.
As Ben stepped inside, the kitchen held lingering scents of sugar and spice from the peaches Callie had been poaching, and she seemed so genuinely pleased to see him his heart must have skipped several beats.
‘Come on through to the loungeroom,’ she said. ‘The kids have had a big day and they’re in bed, but they’re probably not asleep.’
‘No, I seem to remember youngsters often have trouble getting to sleep on Christmas Eve.’
She nodded. ‘Too much excitement.’
The loungeroom was gently lit by the glow of a shaded lamp, a flickering fire and pretty strings of lights on the Christmas tree. They both sat on the sofa, with the whisky bottle and glasses and a small bowl of cashew nuts on a low table in front of them.
Callie, having poured a good slug of scotch, handed it to Ben. ‘So, here’s cheers.’
‘Thanks.’ He watched as she poured her own drink, then touched his glass to hers. ‘Slàinte mhath.’
She grinned. ‘I was hoping you’d say that. It sounds so sexy.’
Ben tried to ignore the way his body reacted.
Meanwhile Callie was cringing and screwing up her face. ‘Bad word choice. Sorry.’
Best not to comment, he decided, or they’d be back to the awkwardness of the platypus event. Instead, he remembered one of the questions he’d been meaning to ask her. ‘I should have checked, do you go to church at Christmas?’
‘Um, sometimes,’ she said. ‘But it’s not a rule. I must confess I haven’t brought my kids up to be particularly religious.’ She sent him a quick glance. ‘What about you?’
‘Same, I’m afraid. Mind you, there’s a vicar in Burralea called Father Jonno, who’s rather impressive. He conducted Sandy’s funeral.’
‘Was that a big affair?’
‘No, very quiet, really. But the service was sincere. I thought Father Jonno hit just the right note.’
‘That helps.’
Callie looked pensive now, and Ben wondered if she was remembering her husband’s funeral. He nodded to the Christmas tree. ‘It’s good to see that pine branch holding up well. It’s looking rather bonnie, isn’t it?’
‘The kids had so much fun decorating it,’ she said, smiling again. ‘They’ve never had a “real” tree before, so that’s a novelty, and having that fire adds so much atmosphere.’
‘Indeed it does.’
‘And I couldn’t resist buying an extra string of lights when I was shopping the other day. So now, with all the presents underneath, it really does look festive.’
Ben took another sip of his drink. He was conscious of an almost formal politeness about their conversation, but that came with the territory when they were both playing it safe. As he relaxed back into the ancient sofa, he said, ‘I’m actually looking forward to Christmas this year.’
Callie frowned. ‘Is that unusual for you?’
‘This isn’t my favourite time of year,’ he admitted. ‘Or at least, it hasn’t been in the past.’
She didn’t prod him to give reasons, for which he was grateful. He would find it hard to explain the unexpected appeal of being here with her in this ordinary house, with her family close by and simple festivities planned for the coming day. His memories of Christmases in his past were full of fuss and palaver and a whole lot of fighting.
‘New Year is a big deal in Scotland, isn’t it?’ asked Callie. ‘Or perhaps it’s New Year’s Eve? What do you call it? Hogmanay?’
‘That’s right. We have quite a few traditions.’
‘A few? Gosh, the only one I know is singing “Auld Lang Syne”.’
‘Yes, that’s to bring in the bells. And first-footing is still very popular.’
‘What’s that?’
‘An old rule that the first person to set foot in your house in the new year should be a dark-haired male.’
She chuckled. ‘We’ll be all set then. We’ll just have to make sure it’s you.’ Clearly intrigued, she said, ‘But I wonder why it has to be someone with dark hair?’
‘I think it’s a throwback to the Viking days when blond strangers on your doorstep meant trouble.’
‘Of course.’ For a moment she looked thoughtful again, and Ben wondered if she was thinking of her red-headed daughters and their possible Scot or Viking heritage.
‘These days the first-footer usually brings a bottle of whisky,’ he said. ‘But I think the original tradition hundreds of years ago was any kind of gift – from a lump of coal to a piece of shortbread.’
‘Shortbread!’ exclaimed Callie. ‘I’m glad you’ve reminded me. I must make some for New Year.’
But straight after New Year she would be leaving here. Dismayed by his reaction to this thought, Ben steered the conversation back to Christmas and her plans for the day – the timing of the meals, the exchange of gifts, the FaceTime link-ups with her family.
‘I’ll bring my gifts up in the morning,’ he said.
‘Yes, come as early as you like. Joey will be up at the crack of dawn.’ Then, lowering her voice, she added, ‘I have to sneak into the kids’ rooms later with their presents from Santa. The girls don’t still believe, of course, and I’m not even sure about Joey, but they’re happy to keep up the pretence. And it’s fun.’
‘Of course it is. They’re good kids, Callie.’
She nodded.
‘And their mother’s a totally amazing woman.’
Her blush in the lamplight was a beautiful sight.
She looked down at the glass she was holding and gave it a twist. ‘To be honest, I’m really surprised by how well the kids have settled in here. I was expecting all sorts of problems, but I think they actually seem happier. I know I’m happier. Although not having to rush off to work each day helps, of course. And then there’s the novelty of new experiences.’
