Two Weeks 'til Christmas

by Laura Greaves

  She needed a few more minutes to get used to the idea that she was about to say goodbye to the only man she’d ever loved.

  ‘Are you okay, Claire?’ Alex asked suddenly.

  ‘Yes,’ she said a little too quickly. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

  He looked down at her white-knuckled grip on his hand. ‘No reason. It just kind of seems like you’re trying to break my fingers.’

  ‘God, sorry, Alex,’ she said, releasing his hand. He shook it and flexed his fingers several times. ‘Actually, you know what? You were right about these ridiculous shoes. They’re killing me already. I’m going to go put my thongs on.’

  He flashed a cheeky grin. ‘I’m not one to say I told you so . . .’

  ‘Yes, yes, you’re very astute,’ she said, returning his smile. ‘See you up there?’

  He nodded and continued along the path. Claire took off her shoes and breathed a sigh of relief as the pain in her feet abated. She hurried back to the unlocked car and threw the offending heels in the back seat, then slid her feet into her rubber thongs.

  And then she kept right on walking – away from the wedding.

  She went to the stables and paused, listening. Usually she would hear the soft chorus of a dozen or so mares chuntering in their stalls. But tonight all was quiet, the horses having been dispersed for their own safety to isolated paddock shelters dotted around the Shannons’ vast property.

  Only one horse remained in the stable block. Claire slipped into Autumn’s stall and found the mare standing motionless but for the occasional swish of her tail. Her stillness alarmed Claire and she hurried to her, checking that her trach tube and incision site were clean and running her hands over her satiny hair to ensure she wasn’t too warm. Everything seemed normal, aside from the distended belly that told Claire the arrival of Autumn’s foal was imminent.

  She realised that Autumn’s inactivity wasn’t caused by illness. She was still simply because she was tired. She was heavily pregnant and had fought her way back from the brink of death twice in as many weeks. The mare was just trying to rest, to replenish and ready herself for her next great challenge.

  ‘I think I could learn a thing or two from you, girl,’ Claire said softly as she stroked Autumn’s muzzle. ‘Less do, more be. Maybe I wouldn’t be quite so crazy then, huh?’

  ‘You’re not that crazy,’ came a voice from behind.

  She turned to see Scotty leaning against the doorframe, his hands thrust in his pockets. Her heart sank as her eyes devoured him. He wore a charcoal-grey suit with a skinny black tie and had used a copious amount of gel to tame his hair. He looked like a schoolboy going to his first job interview. Or a country vet on his way to go through the motions of pretending to marry a stranger.

  He was beautiful.

  She heard Scotty’s breath catch in his throat as he looked at her. ‘God, Claire. You look . . .’ His gaze travelled the length of her body, then back again. He cleared his throat. ‘That’s a lovely dress.’

  ‘What are you doing here, Scotty? Shouldn’t you be getting ready to say “I do”?’ Had he come to remind her that she’d missed out? To warn her not to make a scene and ruin his big day?

  To tell her she wasn’t welcome there at all?

  He came into the stall, stepped close enough to her that she could feel the heat of him radiating against her bare skin. When he looked down at her, Claire felt small and exposed. He towered over her in her flat shoes. Scotty had no idea how easy it would be for him to break her open in that moment.

  ‘I’ve hardly seen you this week,’ he said. ‘Not since . . .’

  A bitter laugh escaped her lips. He made it sound like they were old girlfriends who were overdue a catch-up. ‘Not since Wednesday night,’ she supplied. ‘I didn’t think you wanted to see me, Scotty. You seemed pretty adamant that I’ve done my dash with you.’

  He looked away from her, absently reaching out to pat Autumn’s nose. Seconds passed, but it felt like days.

  They hadn’t spoken at all since the party. Unlike the volley of calls and messages he’d sent after he kissed her and she fled to Thorne Hill, this time Scotty hadn’t even tried to contact her. Claire was glad. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to summon the courage to confront him with what she knew about the wedding. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to hear him lie to her again.

  ‘The things I said to you at the beach that night . . . I shouldn’t have unburdened myself like that, dumped all that stuff on you. It wasn’t fair to you,’ Scotty said. ‘I’m sorry, Claire.’

  Sorry he said it the way he did, she thought, but not sorry about what he’d said. He meant every word. He was done with her.

  ‘Look, Scotty, if my being here tonight makes you uncomfortable, you can say so,’ she said. ‘I’ll understand if you want me to leave. I’m sure Alex or Vanessa won’t mind running me back into town.’

  Scotty took a step back. ‘Alex? You came with him?’

  Claire nodded.

  ‘And, what, are you two together now?’ He clenched his jaw.

  She frowned. ‘No, we’re just friends,’ she said deliberately. ‘What does it matter to you anyway? You’re about to marry Nina.’

  Claire bit her lip. It was the closest she’d come yet to admitting to Scotty that she was jealous of his intended; that she wished she were in Nina’s glamorous shoes instead of her own cheap thongs. She could never compare. She should have seen that from the start.

  It was Scotty’s turn to laugh; his was every bit as bitter as hers had been. ‘You’re right. It shouldn’t matter. But it does,’ he said. He closed the gap between them and let his hands rest on her hips. He leaned in close. ‘You’ve never done your dash with me, Thorne,’ he whispered.

  Her thoughts were a maelstrom as his lips brushed her ear. This is wrong! He’s five minutes away from getting married!

  And yet Claire felt her body respond to his touch the way it always had. She rose up on her tiptoes and tilted her face towards him, aching for another kiss that would feel like the first – the one they’d shared on the roof of the stables thirteen Christmas Eves ago.

  This would be their last first kiss.

  She closed her eyes as she felt his warm breath on her cheek. And then . . .

  ‘Scotty! Where are you, bro?’ Chris’s voice shouted from somewhere close by. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

  ‘Time to rock’n’roll, mate,’ yelled another voice, followed by a burst of male laughter.

  Scotty pulled away from her as sharply as if she had burned him. His emerald eyes widened in horror. He backed out of the stall.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Scotty said. ‘For everything.’

  And then he was gone.

  Scotty stood at the altar, sweating into his wool suit as the guests took their seats. The temperature had to be close to thirty degrees, despite the lengthening shadows. Why had he picked Christmas Eve? What kind of idiot got married outdoors in the middle of summer?

  Nina stood opposite, looking gorgeous in her green dress. But she wouldn’t meet his gaze and Scotty felt her hand trembling when he took it in his.

  They’d decided not to bother with the whole walking-down-the-aisle thing. None of Nina’s family was in attendance, so there would be no traditional ‘giving away’ moment. There wasn’t much about this wedding that was traditional – least of all the fact that it wasn’t really a wedding at all.

  It looked the part, though. The branches of the surrounding trees were festooned with fairy lights and the streamers and balloons Claire had bought. Scotty was sure he hadn’t hung them the way she would have, but decorating wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

  He saw Claire slip into the chair next to Alex Jessop and wondered if she’d noticed the decorations, if she thought he’d created a fitting setting for a hasty betrothal. Alex turned and said something to Claire. She nodded and gave him a shaky smile, but her eyes glistened. Scotty knew she’d been crying.

  Scotty’s heart rate
kicked up a gear as he watched Valda Chadwick advancing down the aisle towards him, clutching an official-looking leather compendium. Nina had balked when he’d booked a real marriage celebrant, but Scotty had insisted. It wasn’t going to look legit if he asked Ken Broome from the footy club to officiate, was it? And Valda was okay with performing the fancy ceremony now and then doing it again, officially, in January.

  A hush descended on the crowd as Valda took her place in front of them. Nina suddenly turned to Scotty, panic in her eyes.

  ‘Are you sure, Scotty?’ she whispered. ‘Are you really sure you want to do this? It’s still not too late to change your mind.’

  ‘Shall we get started?’ Valda said pleasantly.

  He gazed out at the congregation – if that was the right word for a group of people witnessing a civil ceremony that wasn’t legally binding between two people who didn’t love each other. The faces of two hundred friends, acquaintances and family members beamed back at him. They all thought they were watching a fairytale love story play out: the joining of two people who were so mad about each other they decided to throw caution to the wind and get married after just six weeks.

  Well, all but one of the wedding guests felt that way. As Scotty’s gaze alighted on Claire, something broke inside him. She was the only person in his life who had expressed doubts about the speed of his relationship with Nina. The only one who seemed to care about his wellbeing – or his sanity. Her concern for him wasn’t driven by the feelings he’d so fervently hoped she still had for him, but by genuine care nonetheless. Care that he’d repaid with lies and manipulation and more lies.

  Claire’s face was the picture of misery. Hardly surprising, since he’d nearly kissed her just minutes ago and then left her alone in a horse stall while he went off to marry another woman.

  Scotty turned to Valda. ‘Absolutely.’ He tried for resolute, although his voice sounded flat. Best to just get on with it now. He had no choice but to lie in the bed he’d made and let Claire find someone who actually deserved her.

  Valda opened her compendium. ‘Friends and family, on behalf of Nina and Scott, I would like to welcome you all to the beautiful Cape Ashe Stud this evening. My name is Valda Chadwick and I am a marriage celebrant duly authorised to solemnise this marriage in accordance with the laws of Australia,’ she read.

  Nina hid a smile. ‘Scott?’ she mouthed.

  Scotty nodded. He’d almost forgotten the name everyone called him wasn’t the name his parents had given him at birth. ‘Scott’ sounded so formal, so adult. It was a name for a man who knew what the hell he was doing.

  ‘We are here today to celebrate with Nina and Scott a very important moment in their lives,’ Valda continued. ‘While they may have known each other for only a short time, that was all the time they needed to know they wish to spend the rest of their lives together as husband and wife.’

  A chorus of awww came from the crowd.

  ‘All of life’s most important relationships can be found within a marriage. A husband and wife are each other’s best friend, staunchest ally, biggest critic’ – Valda paused for knowing laughter – ‘patient teacher, loving listener and passionate lover.’

  Scotty’s gaze met Nina’s and he saw his own shock reflected back at him. Where did that come from? He cursed himself for failing to read through Valda’s speech before he had signed off on it. His grandmother had heard that. He didn’t want people picturing him and Nina in the throes of passion.

  One person in particular.

  ‘But marriage is also a decision,’ she went on. ‘It demands that two people commit to walking through life together, weathering whatever storms and challenges may come their way. It is not a decision to be made lightly. Nina and Scott have made that decision and that is why we are all here this evening.’

  There was that word again. Decision. Claire couldn’t make one, so Scotty tried to make it for her. But every decision he made, it turned out, was the wrong one.

  ‘A little bit of housekeeping now and then we’ll get to the bit you’re all waiting for,’ Valda said conspiratorially. ‘Before you are joined in marriage, Nina and Scott, I am required by law to remind you of the solemn and binding nature of the relationship into which you are about to enter. With that in mind, I ask you and the witnesses present whether you know of any impediment that should prevent this marriage today. Speak now, et cetera . . .’

  More laughter. Scotty stared down at his shoes. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Nina or their guests. He couldn’t bear to see the one undeniable reason he knew the wedding shouldn’t go ahead. Claire didn’t want him, he understood that, but he shouldn’t be marrying someone else when every cell in his body still wanted her.

  Valda paused. Nobody said a word.

  ‘Wonderful,’ she said. ‘In that case —’

  ‘I do,’ said Nina.

  Valda smiled patiently. ‘We’re not quite up to that part, dear.’

  ‘You’re keen, Nina!’ someone shouted from the crowd. A collective nervous titter followed.

  ‘No, I mean I know of an impediment to the marriage,’ Nina said. She looked up at Scotty. ‘You don’t love me, Scotty. And I don’t love you either.’

  The audience gasped in unison as Nina turned to face them. She searched their faces, looking for the one she was sure would be there.

  Scotty realised with horror what was about to happen. ‘Nina, no,’ he whispered. ‘Please don’t do this.’

  But Nina had found her target. ‘This is for you, Claire,’ she said, her voice loud and clear. ‘This is all for you.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Claire had seen enough movies to know that an objection at a wedding was swiftly followed by pandemonium. There was outrage and accusation. People fainted. Elderly relatives clutched their pearls. Explanations were demanded. Sometimes punches were thrown.

  But in the movies it was always the mistress or the jilted lover who interrupted proceedings. It was never the bride objecting to her own wedding.

  Maybe that was why, in the moments that followed Nina’s declaration, there was nothing but silence. Nobody knew what to make of her announcement that she and the groom were not in love, so nobody said anything.

  Except Nina herself. Once she started talking, she couldn’t seem to stop.

  ‘I’m so sorry, everyone,’ she said, but she was looking directly at Claire. ‘Scotty and I – we’re not a couple. We never really were. He’s just a wonderful friend who offered to help me and didn’t want to go back on his word. Even if it meant losing everything.’

  Claire waited to feel vindicated. She had been right all along. Scotty and Nina’s wedding – the entire relationship – was a farce, and now the bride herself was admitting to it. But all she felt was numb. The shock of it was paralysing.

  She turned to Alex. ‘What’s happening?’ she managed to say. She could hardly speak. Her chest tightened as she struggled to make sense of what Nina was saying. She felt two hundred pairs of eyes swivel to stare at her. The weight of their judgement was like an anvil pressing on her heart. They thought she was responsible for this. They thought she was about to ruin Scotty’s life – again.

  Alex just shook his head, clearly as baffled as she was.

  ‘It should be you standing up here, Claire, not me,’ Nina went on. ‘This wedding isn’t even legal.’

  Scotty put his hand on her arm. ‘Nina, stop,’ he said, his voice forceful. ‘Please.’

  But Nina wouldn’t stop. She gathered up a handful of her chiffon skirt. ‘This should be your dress. It looks better on you anyway. Remember how you tried it on? Couldn’t you picture yourself wearing it on your wedding day?’

  ‘That’s enough!’ Scotty snapped.

  Claire heard the whispers reverberate through the congregation. She tried on the dress! Claire Thorne tried to hijack Scotty’s wedding! She’s crazy!

  Somehow, she got to her feet. ‘Is this true, Scotty?’ she demanded. ‘Does this have something to do with m
e?’

  He stared helplessly at her. She saw a hundred emotions flash across his face, watched a thousand explanations form on his lips, until finally he opened his mouth and said, ‘Yes, Claire. This has everything to do with you.’

  His words tore her in two. She wrapped her arms around her abdomen as if physically trying to hold herself together. And then she was moving. She forced her way down the row of seats, treading on toes and painfully bashing into knees as she went.

  She had to get away from this place, from all of them.

  Claire blundered into the aisle and tripped on the hem of her dress. She heard the gossamer fabric tear as she fell to her knees. From the corner of her eye she saw Alex start after her.

  ‘No,’ she spat, holding up her palm to him. ‘Just leave me alone.’

  She scrambled to her feet again and kicked off her thongs. Then she ran, barefoot and blind, into the night.

  She fled down the magically lit pathway, past the paddock-cum-car park and onto the gravel drive. She darted past the stable and the main house with its gaudy Christmas tree in the front yard. When she reached the road, Claire kept running. The rough bitumen scraped the soles of her feet, but she didn’t care. She would run until her skin was bloody and raw. She would run until she had an answer, until she found peace.

  It was completely dark now and for a moment she wished she’d had the foresight to bring her bag, with its handy telephone torch. But a moment later the road ahead of her was illuminated and she heard the roar of an engine approaching from behind.

  She moved to the side of the road, praying whoever it was would just drive past her. As if the sight of a desperate woman in an evening dress running barefoot in the dark was nothing unusual.