The Forever Gift

by Brooke Harris

  I hear the pitter-patter of her little feet scurrying across the landing, followed by the slam of the spare bedroom door as it’s opened with too much force and crashes into the wall.

  ‘Heather. Heather. Heather,’ Molly calls. ‘It’s time to get up.’

  ‘Oh God, she’s gone into Heather’s room,’ I say, as if Gavin can’t hear what’s going on.

  ‘Yeah,’ he says, pulling on a tracksuit.

  I stand up and slide my feet into my waiting oversized fluffy slippers and I wrap my warm dressing gown around me. I open the wardrobe and pull out another dressing gown to give to Heather. She was so reluctant to stay with us for Christmas. I practically had to beg her. But the thoughts of her home alone in Cork today was too much to bear.

  I walk across to Heather’s room and stop in the doorway. ‘Sorry,’ I say, feeling I should apologise for the four-year-old alarm clock that has just barged uninvited into her room.

  ‘S’okay,’ Heather says. ‘I wasn’t really asleep anyway.’

  The humongous bags under her eyes confirm it.

  ‘She’s just so excited,’ I add, feeling embarrassed or awkward or something. I’m not quite sure. But Molly’s excitement seems misplaced and upsetting right now.

  ‘Did he come?’ Heather asks, trying to be enthusiastic for Molly’s sake. ‘Did Santa come?’

  ‘He did, he did, he did. I could hear his reindeer on the roof.’ Molly spins around in a circle and jumps up and down.

  ‘Did you now?’ I say.

  ‘Yup,’ Molly says, brazen with confidence.

  Molly takes Heather by the hand and tries to drag her to her feet. Heather stands and I almost gasp seeing her in her night shorts. Her legs are so tiny and thin. I hadn’t realised she’d lost such a huge amount of weight since she first moved in. I pass Heather my spare dressing gown and she wraps it around herself and smiles.

  Gavin appears at the door behind me wearing a Santa hat. ‘C’mon. Let’s go downstairs,’ he says.

  Molly leads Heather by the hand past us and down the stairs.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whisper to Gavin, pointing at his hat.

  ‘Kayla asked me to make Christmas special for Molly and for Heather. And I’m trying,’ he says.

  ‘You just didn’t know it would be this hard,’ I add.

  Gavin swallows and I can almost see the emotional bubble making its way down his throat.

  Gavin and I follow Molly and Heather into the sitting room. All our stocking are hung by the fire. They’re heaving with gifts. I managed to find a stocking for Heather yesterday and I’ve stuffed it with presents.

  Molly squeals with excitement when she finds the pile of presents wrapped under the tree for her that weren’t there when she was going to bed last night.

  ‘These are from Santa,’ she says as she points and jumps up and down on the spot. ‘See, I told you he came.’

  ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Gavin asks. ‘Open them.’

  Molly drops onto her knees and picks up the first box. She tears into the bright green-and-red candy-cane wrapping paper.

  ‘A scooter with light-up wheels,’ she says, setting the box to one side as she reaches for the next one.

  She tears the wrapping paper on the next present even faster. And looks even more disappointed when she finds a giant, fluffy unicorn inside. She casts the teddy aside. And reaches for another gift. She continues to open every present from Santa, gradually becoming more and more disheartened with each one.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I whisper to Gavin. ‘It’s everything she wanted.’

  Molly reaches for the final present and when she opens the paper and discovers a Barbie with long pink hair she begins to cry.

  ‘Is this all? Is this all Santa brought?’ She searches around greedily for more boxes.

  ‘Molly, stop,’ Gavin says firmly. ‘Don’t you like your presents?’

  ‘There’s apposed to be more.’

  ‘Molly,’ I say, equally as frustrated as Gavin. ‘Don’t you think you got enough? You haven’t even looked at them.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ Molly begins to cry. ‘There’s apposed to be a big, special present.’

  ‘Is this the secret you told me about?’ Heather asks, and I tilt my head to one side unaware that Molly has been sharing secrets with Heather.

  Molly nods as tears trickle down her rosy cheeks.

  ‘Can you tell me what the secret is now?’ Heather bends down to crouch beside Molly.

  ‘I asked Santa to make Kayla all better ’cos he’s magic. But he didn’t do it. Kayla’s not here. And I bee’d the best, best girl but he didn’t bring Kayla back.’

  ‘Oh, Molly,’ Gavin says, crumbling.

  I wrap my arms around him quickly before he falls and I watch as Molly climbs into Heather’s arms and they hug and sob.

  Gavin turns his head into the crook of my neck and we all take a moment to wish that Santa really was a magic man who could give Kayla back to us.

  Fifty-Eight

  Charlotte

  It took a little coaxing but Molly gradually forgave Santa and began to play with her toys. She brushes Barbie’s hair and cuddles her unicorn. And she laughs, like a little girl is supposed to on Christmas morning.

  I make us some breakfast. I keep it light, mostly fruit and some granola. It’s not easy to get Heather to eat but she eventually nibbles on a banana. Gavin doesn’t eat much either. He seems to be relying on coffee to function. He plays with Molly for as long as he can keep it together before excusing himself to go upstairs.

  ‘Mammy, Mammy, look,’ Molly says, bounding into the kitchen to show me she has discovered that her unicorn talks when you press his tummy.

  ‘I like hugs,’ the soft toy says in a squeaky voice.

  ‘That’s nice, Molly,’ I say, as I concentrate on preparing starters I doubt anyone wants to eat.

  ‘He says more. Listen.’ Molly presses her teddy’s tummy again and again and the overzealous toy serenades us with chirpy catchphrases.

  Heather sits at the kitchen table staring into a cup of coffee I made for her almost an hour ago. It must be cold and disgusting by now, but I doubt she plans on drinking it anyway.

  ‘I love you,’ the cheery teddy says. ‘You are my best friend.’

  ‘Okay, Molly,’ I say, trying not to snap as the squeaky voice grates against my brain like nails on a chalkboard. ‘Why don’t you play with some of your other toys now?’

  ‘But I like Mr Rainbow,’ Molly says, cuddling her unicorn tightly under her chin.

  ‘Mr Rainbow is a nice name,’ I say, smiling at Molly, but my eyes are on Heather.

  ‘Erm. I think I’m going to go for a walk,’ Heather says, as she stands up slowly and shaky.

  ‘Okay,’ I say, worried that she’s exhausted and dizzy and might fall while she’s out. ‘Maybe Gavin might like to go too,’ I suggest. ‘I’ll go upstairs and ask him.’

  ‘Can I go for a walk?’ Molly asks. ‘I like walks. And I can bring Mr Rainbow.’

  ‘No, Molly, I don’t think—’

  ‘Walk. Walk. Walk,’ Molly chants.

  Heather moves into the hall. I rinse my hands quickly, washing away herbs and breadcrumbs and hope I’m not too late to catch her before she goes out the door still in her pyjamas.

  ‘Heather, wait,’ I say as she reaches for her coat hanging on the banister of the stairs. She’s not listening. Her body is here but her mind is somewhere else entirely.

  The doorbell rings unexpectedly and Heather jumps. As if the sudden noise has jolted her back to the here and now.

  ‘Who could that be?’ I say, thrown a little; we’re not expecting visitors for Christmas.

  ‘I don’t know, Mammy,’ Molly says very seriously, as if she’s disappointed that she doesn’t have an answer for my question.

  Heather lets go of her coat, leaving it on the banister as she turns and walks back into the kitchen with her head low.

  I open the door. ‘Jack.’


  ‘Hi,’ Jack says, smiling.

  A gush of icy December wind whips past and I shiver, blushing a little when I realise I’m facing my neighbour in fluffy slippers and an even fluffier dressing gown.

  ‘Is Heather here?’ Jack asks.

  I turn my head over my shoulder to find Heather has stopped walking and has turned around to face the door.

  ‘Yeah. Yes. She is. Do you want to come in? It’s freezing.’

  ‘That would be good. Thanks,’ Jack says.

  Jack steps inside and I catch the reflection of the small box he’s holding behind his back in the hall mirror. It’s wrapped in shiny silver paper and there’s a bright-red bow on top. It’s very pretty and I’ve no doubt it’s a gift for Heather, but she hasn’t touched the other presents in her stocking yet.

  ‘Did Santa come?’ Jack asks, as Molly shoves her new unicorn towards him.

  ‘Do you like him?’ Molly asks. ‘He’s Mr Rainbow.’

  ‘He’s very nice, Molly,’ Jack says. ‘You must have been such a good girl.’

  ‘It’s Christmas, Jack,’ Heather says, slowly walking towards us. ‘Shouldn’t you be with your family.’

  Gavin appears at the top of the stairs. The noise of the doorbell obviously caught his attention. The hall feels unusually crowded.

  ‘My sister is spending the day with her husband’s family,’ Jack says. ‘They invited me, of course, but it didn’t feel right.’

  ‘You’re on your own?’ Gavin says, descending the stairs rubbing his eyes and I think he’s just had a nap. I’m glad. I can’t remember the last time he slept.

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Jack says. ‘I’ll stop by the hospital later. Check on some of the kids.’

  ‘Well you must stay and have dinner with us in the meantime,’ Gavin says.

  ‘No, really.’ Jack winces. ‘That’s very kind, but please don’t feel obliged.’

  ‘We have more than enough,’ Gavin says. ‘Don’t we, Charlie?’

  I think of the oversized turkey that needs to go in the oven. ‘It would be lovely if you could stay, Jack,’ I say.

  Jack smiles and I watch as his eyes find Heather’s.

  ‘It would be nice,’ Heather says.

  ‘Okay,’ Jack says. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Is that a present?’ Molly says, pointing to the beautifully wrapped box behind Jack’s back.

  ‘It is,’ Jack says, taking his hands and the gift out from behind his back.

  ‘Is it for meee?’ Molly asks.

  ‘Molly,’ I say, sternly. ‘Don’t be rude.’

  ‘Actually it’s for Heather.’

  My heart sinks. I don’t think Heather is in any mood for gifts, but she takes a couple of steps forward and says. ‘For me?’

  I step aside and make room for Jack and Heather to stand face to face.

  ‘Yes,’ Jack says. ‘But it’s not from me.’

  There’s silence. Even Molly is standing still and quiet as we watch Jack and Heather share a moment.

  ‘It’s from Kayla.’

  Fifty-Nine

  Heather

  I’m sitting on the couch, next to Jack. There’s no talking but it’s not weird or uncomfortable. When I appeared to be frozen to the spot after Jack passed me the box, Charlotte guided us from the hall into the sitting room. Gavin is sitting in the armchair nearby, bouncing Molly on his knee. And Charlotte is pretending to be busy tidying up wrapping paper that Molly has left strewn under the tree and all over the floor.

  The fairy lights twinkle on the tree and the shiny, metallic wrapping paper in my hand picks up their pretty reflection. My hands are shaking as my fingers curl around the small neatly wrapped box. I’ve almost dropped it more than once. There’s a tag dangling from the centre of the red bow and it simply says, Love from, Kayla in her beautiful swirly handwriting. I read over the three simple words countless times, tracing the letters with my finger tip.

  ‘Open it, open it, open it,’ Molly says, finally losing patience.

  ‘Shh, Molly,’ Gavin says. ‘Let Heather take her time.’

  Gavin’s words contradict the longing in his eyes. He’s as desperate to see what’s inside as much as his giddy four-year-old is. And I want to see inside, too. Very much. But every time I reach for the red bow, ready to pull it open, I stop. I’m so overly aware that this is the last gift I will ever open from Kayla. The last time I will ever read a gift tag written in her handwriting. The last time I will ever wonder what gift she has picked out for me. The last surprise.

  ‘Would you like a moment on your own?’ Charlotte asks, standing up with a mound of torn and crinkly wrapping paper in her arms.

  ‘No,’ I gasp. ‘Don’t leave. Please.’

  Jack places his hand on my knee and lets me know that he isn’t going anywhere.

  I take a deep breath and tug on the ribbon, rip open the paper carefully and lift the lid on the box I find inside.

  ‘It’s a key chain,’ I say, confused.

  ‘It is,’ Jack says.

  I lift the rectangular silver keychain out and read the inscription on the front. ‘Kayla’s place,’ I say.

  Jack nods as if I’m supposed to understand what this means. ‘There’s more,’ he says, pointing at the box, encouraging me to look again.

  I glance into the bottom of the box at the piece of white card that says, Call Me. Picking out the card is difficult. My fingers are fumbling and making a complete mess of things. Finally I grip it and turn it over.

  ‘There’s a phone number,’ I say.

  Jack has taken his phone out of his pocket, ready and waiting. He passes it to me.

  ‘Call the number,’ he says.

  I take his phone, unsure, and punch in the digits and hold it to my ear. ‘It’s not ringing,’ I wait.

  ‘You should get voicemail any second—’

  ‘Hi, Mam,’ Kayla’s voice whispers softly into my ear. I almost drop the phone as tears trickle down my face. Jack is smiling and nodding.

  A message. She’s left me a message.

  ‘It’s me, Mam. It’s Kayla.’ Her voice is so beautifully familiar. My heart aches.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Mam. I hope you’re doing okay. I wish I could be there with you today. But I thought this voicemail would be the next best thing. Jack helped me. He’s so nice, Mam. You should get to know him better. Seriously.’

  I look up at Jack and smile and he smiles back.

  ‘Do you like your keyring?’ Kayla asks, followed by some giggles. ‘I bet you have no idea what it’s for, do you?’

  I shake my head as if she can see me. I wish she could.

  ‘It’s for the keys of your new coffee shop. Kayla’s Place. I know, I know. You’re not a charity case. But it’s not charity if you give something back. So, how about ten per cent of all profits go to Cancer Research. Wouldn’t that be great? We can help future kids get better. We can do that together, Mam, can’t we?’

  Fat salty tears trickle down my cheeks because it’s just so typically Kayla. Always thinking of a way to help others.

  ‘And you don’t have to call it Kayla’s Place, I just couldn’t think of anything else. I ran out of time before all the paperwork went through, but Jack and Charlotte promised to help sort it all out. What do you say, Mam? Will you open your dream bakery and live your best life?’

  I nod, unable to see though my tears.

  ‘I love you, Mam. I love you so incredibly much. No matter where I am now. Nothing will ever change that. And whenever you’re missing me, or we haven’t talked in a while, just call this number and my voice will be right here with you again. Bye, Mam.’

  ‘No. No. Come back. Kayla come back,’ I cry.

  Gavin is on his feet and over to me in an instant. His strong arms are around me, holding me close as I sob hard.

  Charlotte takes Molly into the kitchen, making some excuse about getting dinner into the oven and I eventually peel myself away from Gavin to look at Jack.

  ‘How long was she planning all thi
s?’ I ask.

  ‘A while,’ Jack says. ‘Once she realised she wasn’t going to get better her main priority became trying to take care of you.’

  ‘But I was supposed to be taking care of her,’ I say.

  ‘And you did,’ Jack says.

  ‘But she’s gone,’ I cry, my whole body shaking. ‘I’m her mother and I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t protect her. In the end I couldn’t do anything for her.’

  ‘You can do this for her,’ Jack says. ‘As Kayla would say, you can live your best life.’

  ‘I… I…’ I stare at the keyring in my hand without keys. ‘I don’t even know where to begin.’

  ‘The paperwork is already in progress. After that you can learn on your feet. Kayla believed in you. I do too.’

  ‘You can do this, Heather,’ Gavin says. ‘You can do it for Kay. You have to.’

  Epilogue

  Heather

  A little over a year later

  I give myself the once-over in the bathroom. I’ve got flour in my hair and my pretty red dress that buttons all the way down the front seemed like a good idea this morning, but it’s chafing under my arms now and I’m sweating with nervous energy.

  I flush the loo just as there’s a knock on the door.

  ‘Heather, are you ready?’ Charlotte calls.

  ‘Yeah. Just gimme two minutes. I’m trying to work a miracle in here.’

  ‘C’mon. People will be arriving soon and you can’t leave me out here on my own.’

  ‘Okay. Okay,’ I say. I hurry as I splash a little water onto my hair and it removes most of the flour.

  I open the door and smile when I see Charlotte on the other side with her apron still on. I point and giggle.

  ‘Gah,’ she says, reaching around her back to untie it. ‘I’m so nervous. Are you?’

  ‘I’m shaking,’ I say. ‘Do I look okay?’

  ‘You look amazing,’ Charlotte says, sweeping her eyes over me and nodding.

  ‘You look great too,’ I add, checking her cropped black trousers and pastel-lemon blouse for any baking stains.