A Dave addicted to green tea …
I was about to fold up the Dave Itinerary and put it away when I glanced at the top of the list. The third Dave of Christmas didn’t have a positive trait next to his name. But he wasn’t the psychotic one where I’d written ‘TBC’. My heart rate rose and hope stirred within.
‘Grandma! Number three, we didn’t actually meet him. There was no one home both times we tried, remember?’
She studied the list. ‘Back in Berrinda? Good gracious. I’d completely forgotten.’
‘We still have a chance.’ I grinned. ‘There’s still one Dave left.’ I bounced in my seat.
Grandma smiled then her lips straightened. ‘Oh, but I don’t want to get my hopes up all over again. He could be just like the others; interesting, unique, but not him.’
‘Or,’ I replied, ‘he could be interesting, unique, and him.’ I stuck the key in the ignition. ‘Berrinda, here we come!’
Chapter 13
After the long drive back up the coast, I was in dire need of an energy fix. We stopped in Berrinda and I bought a coffee and a muffin. I was just going to wander the main street or go back to the car to prepare for visiting the absent Dave, but Grandma had other ideas.
‘I think I need to go back there,’ she said. ‘To the gazebo in the park. I thought I didn’t want to but I do; for closure, if anything.’
I was glad. And I wanted to see the place that had meant so much to my grandmother a lifetime ago. We walked along the street and up towards the entrance to the town where the park spread its grassy, green carpet far and wide, and trees sheltered people from the late afternoon summer sun. The decades-old gazebo with its white columns and lattice-like structure was like a giant snowflake, sprinkling a little magic on the town; a reminder that life goes on, but some things don’t have to change.
‘Oh my.’ Grandma held a hand to her chest as she took in the sight of it.
I took a photo. I hoped she didn’t mind, but I wanted to remember this place too. ‘Shall we?’ I asked, gesturing towards the place that ached for two lovers to reunite.
She nodded and walked slowly towards it. I didn’t walk ahead of her; I wanted her to establish the pace. A soccer ball landed smack bang in the centre of the gazebo and a boy and his father chased after it, wide smiles on their faces. ‘I’ll beat you!’ the boy said, and although the father made a show of exertion, I could tell he slowed down a little so his son could get there first. The boy stood on the edge of the bright, white structure, and kicked the ball far across the park, his father chasing after it in the other direction.
We neared the gazebo and I took another photo, while Grandma Charlotte placed a tentative foot on the raised platform. ‘I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe it’s still here.’ She took a few more steps and stood in the centre of what was once the place that stood centre stage in her heart. ‘I can see they’ve replaced the slats, but the basic structure seems to have survived the years, though I guess they’ve had to repaint a few times.’
I remained at the edge of the gazebo’s skirt, my hand on the first column, letting Grandma take her time as all her memories came flooding back. I ran my fingers along the length of vine circling the column, occasional leaves and buds sprouting here and there. It struck me how strong nature could be. A thin, wiry, curly vine, growing and curving around everything it came into contact with and yet, as I tugged firmly on its ribbon-like stem around the column, it showed no sign of giving way, of snapping or weakening. If only human emotions could be that resilient and enduring. My fingers brushed over an area of the wooden column that felt scratchy and weathered, and its contrast with the rest of the column’s smoothness made me look. I pushed aside the vine as far as it would go, and as my eyes focused on it, my heart stopped.
‘Grandma,’ my voice shook. ‘Grandma, you need to see this.’
She came over and peered at where my fingers hovered. There, scratched deeply into the wood of the gazebo’s column were the words:
I came back ~ DS.
* * *
With renewed hope, we hurried back to the car. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. Even if Dave from Berrinda wasn’t the right one, we had proof that Grandma’s Dave Smith had indeed come back for her.
‘I knew I should have kept the faith! Oh, why didn’t I keep returning to the gazebo every weekend, why?’ Her voice was high and scratchy.
‘Hey, no regrets remember? Otherwise I wouldn’t have been born!’
I slid into the driver’s seat and drove to Crest Street, soon arriving at the house on the hill with the orange tree beside the driveway.
‘With any luck you will get to see inside this place, like you wanted.’ I smiled at my grandmother. ‘And with any luck we’ll see something even more important. You ready?’
‘Ready as I’ll ever be. Whatever happens, happens. It’ll be okay.’
Even though no one would be able to see her, she straightened her blouse and coiffed her hair with her hand as we got out of the car. Force of habit. When I die, I’d probably still carry a handbag around or a have a satchel strung diagonally across my body, and would most definitely still require lip balm.
The curtains were open, unlike last time, though no sounds were apparent as we neared the front door. Silently hoping for the best, I rang the doorbell. A moment later the door opened and I held in a gasp. There stood the tall, dark, handsome cliché I’d seen at the medical clinic, and at the supermarket during my ‘price check on women’s underwear’ situation.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked, as I remained speechless a little longer than was appropriate. Then he added, ‘Hey, I remember you. You’re the one from the supermarket.’
Oh yes, I’d be forever known as Underwear Lady, or Bonds Woman, and not the movie-star kind.
‘Um, yes. I’m actually looking for Dave Smith?’
‘You’re looking at him.’ He smiled.
‘Oh.’ My shoulders slackened, and I didn’t dare look towards Grandma. Strike twelve. Looked like we’d have to go through Plan B after all, but even that held no guarantees. ‘Sorry, I think I’ve got the wrong Dave.’ Reluctantly, I turned away, a sigh releasing all hope in my heart.
As I stepped off the porch, a cough sounded from inside the house, then a voice said, ‘David Smith, now you be a good patient and put that oxygen mask back on, you hear?’
I sucked the sigh and hope back in and spun around, my eyes wide and ears pricked towards the voice. Grandma rushed to the front door.
‘Do what your nurse tells you, Grandad,’ Dave said as the door began to close.
‘Wait!’ I thrust my hand against the door then, at his taken-aback expression, I dropped my arm and cleared my throat. ‘Sorry, but your grandfather’s name is Dave Smith too?’
He nodded. ‘I’m his namesake. Obviously.’
I stole a quick glance at Grandma, our hope reignited, then said to Dave: ‘It’s him we’re here to see.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘We’re?’
Oops. ‘Um, yes. I mean, me and ...’ My grandma’s ghost? An imaginary friend? My multiple personalities? ‘... God.’
He raised his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth twitched.
Did I just say God? I had a strong urge to do a facepalm but had to play it cool.
‘The thing is, well you see, I’m a … nun.’
‘A nun?’ He eyed me up and down. And I’d chosen this day to wear my skull-print belt, not to mention the fact that he could probably see my belly-button ring poking out from underneath my black lace top that skimmed my waist.
Grandma looked both amused and horrified. How was I going to pull this off?
‘I, ah, haven’t got my uniform yet. I’m a nun-in-training.’
Dave crossed his arms and met my eyes with a cautious glance.
‘They do things differently nowadays,’ I explained. ‘You know—on the job training and all that? Have to prove that I’m up for the job!’ I swung my fist in an upwards arc across
my body in an ‘I’ll be victorious’ way.
‘I’m sure you do,’ he said.
‘Anyway, we ... I heard that your grandfather isn’t well and wanted to come by and um, see that, make sure that … his spiritual needs are being tended to.’ I fiddled with the edge of my skull-print belt.
Dave kept his grip on the side of the door, as if preparing to slam it in my face should I erupt in a fit of religious determination and barge right in. But from my convincing performance, or perhaps his doctor’s curiosity, he opened the door wider to let me in. Maybe he thought I was a psychiatric case he could help.
I pressed my palms together in prayer and bowed in gratitude, entering the house. In the far corner of the living room sat an old man, sparse grey hair sitting gently atop his sunspot-ridden head. An oxygen mask made cloudy breaths over his mouth, nose, and chin.
Grandma rushed over to him and peered closely at his face, studying it from every angle. I prepared myself for disappointment, getting ready to make a hasty escape back to the nunnery should it not be the real Dave.
‘He has a dimple,’ she said. ‘And his eyes, they’re …’ She paused, then, ‘It’s him. Abby, it’s him!’
‘Oh, Jesus!’ My heart came to a halt in shock and relief.
Young Doctor Dave shot me a surprised expression, and I realised my mistake.
‘I mean, Jesus Christ in Heaven! Please bless this dear man.’ I hurried to the old man’s side and bowed again in prayer. Heat crept across my face. My acting skills were amateurish pathetic.
Grandma wept for joy and also what appeared to be despair at the man’s suffering. A lifetime of challenges lined his face, and his eyes looked weary, as though worn out simply from looking at the world for close to ninety years. He slowly glanced up at me, a petite nurse by his side, and something changed in his expression. I worried that maybe I’d scared the poor man by barging in like this, but he didn’t look scared. He looked intrigued.
‘Hi, Dave.’ I smiled. ‘My name is Abby.’
‘She’s a nun-in-training, apparently,’ McHotty said, with a hint of sarcasm. I knew he didn’t believe me, but yet he’d still let me in.
I bowed my head. ‘Actually, I’m not. Sorry, but I just needed to see Mr Smith to be certain he was the one I was looking for.’
The old man coughed and the nurse adjusted his mask. Grandma examined the equipment. ‘Gee, things have come a long way since I was a nurse,’ she said to me. ‘But one thing I can tell is he doesn’t look good at all, Abby.’ She moved about him, trying to be useful, frustrated that she couldn’t do a single thing.
‘My grandpa needs his rest. I don’t know who you really are, but perhaps you’d like to tell us the truth this time?’
Oh man. I’d been hoping for this moment but also dreading it. How was I going to explain the whole situation and tell them about Grandma’s ghost?
‘I won’t take up too much of your time. I just have something to give him.’ I opened my paisley-print vintage bag with decorative tassels, and Dave cleared his throat and took off his mask.
‘You look familiar,’ he said in a slow, gravelly voice. ‘It’s almost as though …’ He coughed and spluttered and his nurse replaced the mask, cutting off his sentence.
Did he recognise Grandma Charlotte in me? We did have the same light blue eyes and heart-shaped face.
Doctor Dave sat on the armrest of the couch his grandfather was on. ‘What is it?’
‘Two things.’ I first held up the old watch that still ticked away the hours of life though Grandma did not. ‘I believe this is yours, Dave?’ I placed it on the crinkled tissue-paper thin skin of his hand. ‘My grandma gave it to me, to give back to you if I ever found you.’
He brought his hand closer to his face, and his eyes brightened, a hint of a smile visible under his mask.
‘Wait, your grandma? What does she have to do with my grandfather?’ Young Dave asked.
Dave tried to speak, as though to explain, but only coughed again. I waved away his attempts. ‘It’s okay, I’ll explain. But I also wanted to give you this.’ I unfolded the tattered, sepia-coloured piece of paper. ‘You sent this to her, my grandma, during the war. She kept it all this time.’
For a moment I thought he stopped breathing; he seemed to freeze in time, and his nurse fussed around him. ‘Your … grandma?’ he managed. ‘Charlie?’
Grandma dropped to her knees in front of him and cried. ‘Yes, it’s me, Dave! It’s Charlie!’ She turned around to face me. ‘That’s what he used to call me, remember? He joked that by spending time with him and his friends I was one of the boys.’ She held her hand over her mouth.
‘Yes, Charlie. Charlotte.’ I smiled. ‘One of the boys.’
Dave’s smile widened, though it seemed to take effort. His fingers shook over the love letter.
‘Your grandfather and my grandmother, they knew each other in the 40s. They were … together, for a little while,’ I explained to the confused doctor. He leaned in close to try to read the letter.
‘Is she … here?’ Dave rasped, maneuvering himself sideways a little to turn his gaze to the front door.
‘I’m here, Dave. Right here!’
This was it. All or nothing. ‘Um, yes she is, actually.’
‘She’s waiting outside, this grandma of yours?’ Dave went to the front door and peered outside. ‘I don’t see anyone.’
‘You won’t be able to see her,’ I said. ‘Only I can.’ I sucked in a deep and hopefully confidence-boosting breath. ‘She’s here, in this room. In spirit. She passed away recently but returned, in a sense, so I could help her find Dave Smith, her true love.’ It sounded ridiculous, but there was no other way to say it.
Grandma looked at me with pride and gratitude, unlike Dr McHotty who walked slowly towards me and crossed his arms. ‘I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I think you should go.’
I stood from my crouched position on the floor. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound crazy, but it’s true. A couple of weeks ago I wouldn’t have believed it either, but she’s here. She’s been with me all of December and I’ve been on the road trying to find the right Dave Smith!’
He scratched his cheek and shifted on the spot, shaking his head.
‘I wouldn’t be too quick to dismiss the possibility,’ the nurse spoke up. ‘Let’s just say, in my profession, I’ve had my fair share of unexplainable experiences.’ She offered me a supportive smile.
‘But … how, it’s not …’ Dave said, clearly disturbed.
‘Charlie?’ the old man said in his rough and dry voice, then looked at me. ‘She’s ... passed on?’
I nodded. ‘But she came back. To find you. She thought you died in the war, but now we know you did return to the gazebo: we saw the engraving.’
‘Gazebo? Engraving?’ Young Dave asked.
‘Look, there’s a lot to explain, but right now I need Dave to know that she’s here. And to believe. And to understand that she never forgot him. She never wanted to give up hope but when all information suggested he didn’t survive the war, she had no choice but to try and move on with her life.’ I crouched in front of Dave and placed my hand on his. ‘She waited for you, every week after the war, right up until Christmas.’
‘I’m sorry, Dave. I’m sorry I didn’t wait longer.’ Grandma placed her hand on his other one, and Dave immediately glanced at it. A breath caught in my throat. Her hand didn’t pass through his, it rested on top. Like she was really touching him.
‘Charlie?’ he said again, then moved his hand from under mine and placed it on top of hers.
‘Yes, she’s here. Holding your hand.’ I held back a sudden rush of tears.
‘I can … feel … something,’ he panted.
‘Grandpa, are you okay? Do you want her to—’
‘Stay.’ The sudden certainty and strength in his voice took me aback. ‘I need to explain.’
‘Tell him if I’d known he survived I would have waited. I tried hard, I
really did!’ Grandma cried. I told him.
‘Did … did she have … a happy life?’
I smiled and nodded, giving him a brief rundown of her career and her family, and how she was the best grandmother I could have hoped for. Dave smiled, and his nurse wiped away tears. Young Dave remained cautious but intrigued, and for now, willing to allow me to keep the conversation going.
Dave tried to put the watch on his wrist but it fell. I picked it up and fastened it around his wrist, though his arm was so skinny it was more like a bracelet. He handed the letter to his grandson, who read it with one hand grasping his chin and the other as still as a cat waiting to pounce. I guessed that his career had taught him to be calm and steady under pressure, though this particular situation was probably not one they helped prepare for in medical school. And now, students and future doctors, time for The Afterlife 101 …
‘Tell her … tell her …’
‘She can hear you,’ I reassured him with a firm pat of his hand.
He glanced at his grandson and said, ‘The war.’
Dave sat back on the armrest. ‘I think he wants me to tell you why he took so long to come back from the war, is that right, Grandpa?’
He nodded.
‘Grandpa was captured, but at some point he escaped. That’s all he remembers. When he was assessed there was evidence of a head injury, and he suffered amnesia for quite a while.’
‘Oh,’ Grandma sighed. ‘That explains it.’
‘His memories eventually came back, though he still can’t recall the exact circumstances that led to his injury or the amnesia. For a while he wandered about aimlessly, not knowing who he was or where he was supposed to be.’
‘Oh, Dave.’ Grandma kept patting his hand.
Dave pulled aside his mask. ‘When I remem … bered, I … called her parents.’ He sucked in a breath. ‘But … too late.’ Another inhalation. ‘She was … gone. Married.’
Grandma bowed her head and shook it.
‘Gazebo … engraved it. Just … in case.’ Even though he had to choose his words carefully to conserve his energy, I understood him perfectly. And my heart broke at the thought of him as a young soldier, his memory returning, realising his true love had been waiting for him but he’d never showed. And on looking her up, realising that she’d moved on. He obviously didn’t want to disrupt the life she’d made for herself, so he’d gone one last time to the gazebo to prove his return, then tried to move on himself, settling down in the place he always said he would.
12 Daves of Christmas Page 8
