"See?" Michael's voice was triumphant and his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Wasn't it lucky I was here to save you? You could have had a nasty fall then, you know."
"I…" Jill tried to speak but no words would come. For a moment, she was conscious only of his arms crushing her to him, the hardness of his chest, the smell of maleness he exuded, and the feeling of safety nestled in his arms. She had to fight the impulse to relax into his arms.
"Are you sure it's her honour you're interested in?" Rachel's caustic question brought Jill abruptly back to reality. She scrambled off Michael's lap and regained her seat on the bale.
"I thought it was her honour," he calmly replied. "I had no idea that I would be called upon to save her from physical injury as well. You know, you should really be more careful."
"I'm fine, thank you," Jill managed to sound composed as she assured him that she had not sustained any injury. Silently, though, above the pounding of her heart she repeated his warning. Yes, she really should be more careful—careful not to get so close again that she could hear his heart beating, careful not to let her imagination run away with her. Yes, she must be very careful indeed.
The trucks turned into the driveway of the Doyle's farm. Each year two or three of the farms closer to town would invite the carollers to stop by, and it was the perfect excuse to have a big party or at least a large family gathering with plenty of food and drink for all and enough to share with the visitors as well.
Now as the trucks turned into the driveway, the boy who'd been given the task of keeping lookout, jumped down from the old tree stump from where he'd been watching and running along beside them called excitedly to announce their arrival. There was already quite a crowd on the lawn and, as the trucks pulled to a stop, the rest of the assembled group came out to join them.
After a few moments of excited greetings, a hush fell over them as the carol began. This time it was O Little Town of Bethlehem and everyone joined in. When it ended, the singers were invited down from the trucks for refreshments while the collection tins were passed around.
It was a hot night and after all the singing there were plenty of parched throats eager for a cool drink. Jill was no exception and gladly accepted a glass of lemonade offered in preference to the beer which most of the men were enjoying. Having wished those around her a Merry Christmas, she spotted Vicky talking to Mrs. Doyle and walked over to join them.
"There you are, Roo. You'll never guess what!" Vicky's eyes were dancing with excitement. "I was telling Mrs. Doyle about your wonderful duet with Michael when you sang The Little Drummer Boy and she's offered to donate an extra $50 if you'll do it again now."
"Yes, do. Please," Mrs. Doyle cajoled. "If it really is as good as Vicky says, it'll be worth every cent."
"Oh, I couldn't!" gasped Jill in horror. Sing? Just her and Michael, in front of all these people? What on earth could Vicky be thinking?
"Course you can. You've got a lovely voice, and besides it's for charity." The finality in Vicky's voice made it plain that she could see no reason for Jill to refuse.
"No, really," Jill protested again. "I couldn't. Besides Michael might not agree to it either."
"Well, let's ask him. Look there he is," said Vicky, and ignoring Jill's silent plea for her not to, she marched straight over to her brother. Jill watched her explaining the proposition to him, saw him look over at her with a grin and a nod, and then watched with dismay as they both headed back to where she was standing with Mrs. Doyle.
"Michael agrees that as it's for charity, you can't refuse, don't you?"
Michael nodded gravely to Jill although she was sure that behind his facade of seriousness he was once more amused by her embarrassment.
"Tony says he'll accompany you," Vicky announced having disappeared for a few seconds and returned with a young man carrying a guitar.
"Attention everyone," Mrs. Doyle called to the crowd as Tony took a seat and prepared to begin.
"How could you do this to me?" Jill whispered to Michael as Mrs. Doyle quietened down the crowd.
"I couldn't miss the opportunity to sing with you again, could I? Just lean back against me like you did last time and you'll be fine." His voice was gentle but there was a twinkle in his eye.
"Why do you take such delight in teasing me?" Jill asked hotly, but slipping one arm about her waist, he drew her against him.
"Only because you are so beautiful when you blush. Now, shh. Our public awaits us. Okay, Tony."
On Michael's command the young guitarist began softly strumming and as Jill turned her attention to the music, her mind was distantly aware of two very important things: Michael had just told her she was beautiful, and from the front of the audience Rachel was glaring at her in rage.
Then she was unable to think of anything else other than the song. She felt a slight tightening of Michael's arm at the point in the music where they were to join in, and once she began to sing, she forgot all else—forgot Rachel, forgot about being nervous, even forgot the sea of faces watching her. As they ended to an appreciative round of applause and good-natured catcalls, though, she sensed something was wrong. A small group of people were standing in a circle just apart from the others, but Jill couldn't see what they were doing.
"That was great, you two," Vicky congratulated them as she emerged from the crowd "but I think Rachel wants you, Michael. She seems to have fainted or something."
With only a muttered curse, he was quickly off in the direction of the huddle.
"Is she all right?" Jill asked with genuine concern.
"Perfectly. It's nothing that being the centre of attention won't fix," Vicky said with a touch of bitterness. "Look, everyone's getting ready to leave. Do you want another drink before we go?"
"No thanks. I think I'll just try and find myself somewhere nice and unobtrusive to sit on the truck. You coming?"
"Yes. Save us a spot while I fetch Ali."
Jill climbed onto one of the trucks and found a comfortable place for them all. As she waited for the others, a car pulled out around the truck and drove down the drive and onto the main road. As it passed, she recognized Michael and Rachel sitting together in the back seat. So, she thought, Rachel has got her way after all. Michael was clearly taking her home.
If Vicky was right and Rachel's fainting spell had been feigned purely to take Michael's attention away from Jill and back to herself, Jill wondered if Michael realized that too. If he did, Jill found herself wondering how he would treat such childish and petulant behaviour. She had no doubt that if she were to pull a stunt like that, she'd quickly find herself across his knee and it suddenly occurred to her to wonder whether he also spanked Rachel. It didn't seem to be doing her much good if indeed he did spank her, Jill thought wryly as the trucks left Doyle's farm and headed back onto the highway.
There were only two more stops left and although the rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough, Jill couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing and she was secretly relieved when she finally arrived back at River Gums. She hadn't been able to get out of her mind the image of Michael taking Rachel over his knee and spanking her for her poor behaviour. She certainly had no sympathy for the spoiled madam if she was now nursing an inflamed bottom, she couldn't think of anyone who deserved it more, but somehow she hoped Michael hadn't. In fact, she realized, the thought of Michael spanking anyone but herself left her with a very unpleasant feeling in her midriff.
Upstairs in her bedroom, she tried to push the thoughts from her mind. She lay listening in the darkness for what seemed an eternity, but didn't hear the ute return, and eventually she fell into a restless sleep tormented by a mixture of images of Michael alternately spanking Rachel and making love to her.
* * * * *
By the time the family left for church on Christmas morning, Michael still hadn't returned, and it took an enormous effort on Jill's part to appear as excited as everyone else about the day ahead. When they arrived at the church, the service was just ab
out to begin, and they had no time to do more than take their places. The service was beautiful, but Jill found it impossible to concentrate, distracted as she was by the sight of Michael with Rachel and the rest of the Longroh family.
Escaping as quickly as she could once the service was ended, she was waiting outside for the others when she saw the Longrohs emerge from the church, and her breath caught in her throat as Michael spotted her. He turned and spoke to Rachel whose face immediately adopted the now familiar pout as she looked angrily across at Jill. Jill saw Michael speak quickly to her, though, and with a last vexed toss of her head, she followed her family to their car while Michael made his way over to where Jill was standing in the shade of a tree.
It was only a matter of hours since Jill had last seen him, but her disappointment at his leaving early and the knowledge of where he'd spent the night and with whom, had made it seem an eternity.
She looked up at his face as he joined her, marvelling yet again at how handsome he was, and realizing with a shock how much she'd missed him. It was ridiculous, she knew, but she couldn't deny the truth. She no longer felt glum or subdued; now Michael was here with her, she at last felt like it was truly Christmas.
"How did the rest of the evening go?" he asked breaking the silence, which hung pregnantly between them.
"Pleasantly enough." Jill couldn't admit that, for her, all enjoyment in the evening had evaporated with his departure.
"I looked for you before I left, but couldn't spot you. I'm sorry I had to run off like that. The evening was just getting interesting."
Jill couldn't believe her ears. Was he saying he would rather have stayed with her than gone home with Rachel? Why, then, had he stayed out all night? But before she could collect her thoughts, he spoke again.
"So, which lucky man did you choose to give the honour of taking you to the dance? I'm sure you had plenty of offers, judging by the number of bees buzzing around you last night."
"I don't want to go with any of them." Somehow, they'd moved closer to each other and Jill suddenly realized that she was almost touching him. His eyes held hers captive and his voice was so low that she had to lean closer still to hear him.
"Who do you want to go with, eh?" he murmured softly, his fingers gently pushing a strand of hair back from her face. "All these men have eyes only for you, but who do you have eyes for?"
"Roo, there you are. Hi, Michael." The sound of Vicky's voice approaching broke the spell.
"Will you ride home in the ute with me?" Michael whispered quickly as his sister caught up with them, and Jill nodded briefly, masking her face to hide her delight.
"Hi, Sis," he drawled. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," Vicky replied giving him a warm kiss. "You coming home now?"
"Yep. I'll just catch Bill and Chris before they go. I'll give Roo a lift home," he added casually. "Give you more room."
"Okay. Well, wish Mr. and Mrs. Longroh a Merry Christmas from Ali and me, too, and we'll see you two at home. Mum and Dad are waiting so I'd better go."
Jill waited by the ute while Michael took his leave from the Longrohs. It was obvious from the raised voice and venomous glares in Jill's direction that Rachel was not at all happy with the arrangements, but this time it was a stern word from her father that brought the conversation to an end and with a last look of pure loathing at Jill, she got into the car with her parents.
The depth of Rachel's hatred was so great that if the O'Connells hadn't already left, Jill would have changed her mind about accepting a lift from Michael. As it was, she had no choice when he opened the door for her but to climb in and fasten her seatbelt.
"I'm afraid Rachel didn't look very pleased about me getting a lift with you," she began hesitantly, not really wanting to broach the subject but unable to ignore it.
"That's her problem," Michael answered abruptly and with absolute finality. They were silent while Michael started the car, pulled out of the churchyard and headed back toward River Gums, and the town was well behind them when Michael finally spoke again.
"How are you enjoying your holiday so far, then?"
"It's wonderful," Jill answered spontaneously with obvious sincerity. "I always love coming here, and Vicky's here and it's Christmas, and the weather's been perfect, and…"
"Okay, okay, I think I get the picture. Vicky, Christmas, and River Gums is as good as anywhere to have a summer holiday." Michael's voice was friendly but Jill got the feeling that she'd somehow given the wrong answer, and besides that wasn't what she meant. She loved River Gums at any time of the year.
"So, what are hoping for from Santa this year?" he continued before she had an opportunity to explain.
"Nothing really." In truth, she hadn't really thought about it. "I guess I can't really think of anything I want. What about you?"
"Oh, there's something I want," he answered immediately, turning to look at her as he spoke, "but I'm afraid I can't get it from Santa."
There was no mistaking the underlying inference in his words, and Jill felt her flesh break out in chilled goosebumps while her cheeks blushed with hot colour. As she silently chided herself for reacting so easily to his teasing, the ute turned off the bitumen and into the gravel driveway.
"Why do you always tease me?"
He grinned at her. "Who? Me?"
"Yes, you. You can pretend innocence, but you've always teased me. I thought you might have grown out of it by now, but you seem to take the same delight in it that you always have."
"Don't you like it?" Michael looked mournful and Jill couldn't help laughing. "Besides," he continued, "don't you know teasing is a sign of affection?"
"See? There you go again. You just can't help yourself, can you?"
"On the other hand," Michael's voice sounded more solemn as the ute reached the end of the drive and turned into the shed, "perhaps I'm not teasing you at all. Perhaps I'm deadly serious."
"I've no idea what you're talking about," Jill declared, ignoring the way her heart had begun thumping in her chest.
"Don't you?" Michael asked softly turning the engine off as the ute came to a halt in the semi-darkness of the garage. Without answering, Jill started to open her door but he put his hand on her arm and stopped her. "Wait!"
Jill turned to him, but he didn't say anymore. For what seemed an eternity, he just sat and watched her, evoking in her as always those now familiar sensations: the tight, crampy feeling in her stomach, the loud knocking of her heart in her chest, and the growing inability to fill her lungs with air.
"Maybe we should go in..." she said at last, more to break the silence than because she wanted to leave him.
"In a moment." His voice was unusually serious and gentle. "I want to talk to you first. Ask you something."
Jill felt the electricity in the air between them tingling on her skin.
"Yes?" she whispered. Her breathing stopped in dread longing.
"Ah, you're home!" Vicky's beaming face appeared in Jill's door as she threw it open, entirely unaware that for the second time that morning she'd interrupted them. "Great. There's so much to do. I think Dad's looking for you, Michael. Come on, Roo. We're going to lay the table."
At the sound of her door opening, Jill had spun around to see who was there. Now she quickly glanced back at Michael before getting out of the ute and following Vicky.
He smiled ruefully and gave a small shrug. "Later," he whispered.
As Jill walked across the yard to the house, she tried to imagine what Michael had wanted to say to her, to ask her. She couldn't imagine. Later, he'd said. Later, alone with Michael. She shivered with anticipation as she confessed to herself that she hadn't been truthful with Michael earlier when she'd told him she couldn't think of anything she wanted for Christmas. There was something, or rather someone, she wanted desperately, but that someone was out of her reach with or without Santa's help.
As she neared the house, she turned once to see the tall, strong figure of Michael striding toward the p
addock to meet his father. Strangely, he turned at precisely the same moment. Their eyes locked for a brief moment and she saw him mouth one word. Despite the distance between them, she could not have understood it more clearly if he'd been standing next to her. He had, she knew, repeated that one word: Later!
Yes, later. Later she would find out exactly what he had wanted to say to her.
Once in the house, the two girls firstly helped Elizabeth in the kitchen, preparing vegetables while the turkey slowly cooked in the oven. When there was no more they could do there, they turned their attention to the dining room, turning the table into a festive work of art, crowned in the middle by the treasured centrepiece, two red candles wedged into a banksia nut arrangement glued onto a piece of carefully covered cardboard and sprinkled with glitter. Vicky and Jill had made it their first summer holiday together and it had taken pride of place on the Christmas table ever since.
By midday, all the chores and preparation had been completed and the family gathered in the lounge room for the ritual of exchanging gifts.
"At last! I don't think I could've waited another moment," Vicky said as she began handing out the presents from under the tree. The first two were for Jack and Elizabeth.
"Merry Christmas, Mum, Dad," she said, giving them each a kiss. "These are from Ali and me." Then without waiting for them to be opened, she returned to the tree for the next ones.
"Socks! Just what I've always wanted," Dave laughed as he opened his present from his sister.
"And what's this you've given me?" she asked in return. "Soap! I hope this isn't a hint!" She held the box of sculptured soap to her nose and sniffed. "Mmm, they smell lovely. Thanks, Dave. Now, Roo, can I please open my mystery present from you. The suspense is killing me!"
"Okay." Jill handed her a rectangle package wrapped in green and red paper and then picked up an identical one and handed it to Elizabeth. "Here, Mum. Open yours at the same time. They're the same."
As the two presents were unwrapped, Jill sat watching, her hands tightly clasped, her body tense.
"Oh, Roo," Vicky breathed in awe as she removed the last of the paper and realized what it was she was holding. It was a book, the front cover of which was a black and white photograph of a dead tree, its broken limbs stretched above like grotesque arms. Behind the tree spread an endless nothing, a flat open plain spattered here and there with a few hardy grasses. In the tree, a lone crow cawed out its sorrowful message to the tragic beauty of the landscape.
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