A Mommy to Make Christmas

by Susanne Hampton

  Phoebe did, however, have a strong bond with her father John, and would miss him and their long chats about local and world politics, theology, and to which particular rat species Giles belonged. Susy was right—her father was one of the last good men. Over the years he had taught Phoebe to seek out answers, to find her path and not to be afraid to experience life and the joys the world had to offer. He had told her always to demand in return the same good manners and consideration that she gave to others, and most importantly to smile....even if her heart was breaking. There were always others far worse off.

  And, much to the chagrin of his wife, John had agreed that time away from Washington and the wedding debacle was the best idea for Phoebe.

  ‘We are now commencing our descent into Adelaide. Please ensure your tray table is secured and your seat is in the upright position. We will be landing in fifteen minutes and you will be disembarking at gate twenty-three. The current time in Adelaide is eleven-thirty. Your luggage will be available for collection on Carousel Five. Adelaide is experiencing a heatwave and expecting an extremely hot forty-three degrees for the fifth day in a row. For our overseas passengers, that’s a hundred and nine degrees Fahrenheit—so shorts and T-shirts would be the order of the week, since the hot spell is not ending for another few days! We hope you enjoyed your flight and will choose to fly with us in the future.’

  Phoebe rested back in her seat and her mind drifted back to the snow-covered streets of Washington that she had left behind. And to her cheating fiancé and quite possibly the world’s worst bridesmaids... She thought of her position at the university hospital...and of how, after the flight attendant’s announcement, she might quite possibly die of heat stroke on her first day in a new country...

  Fifteen minutes later, a disembarked and ever so slightly dishevelled Phoebe looked around the sea of strangers waiting with her in line at Customs and questioned herself for heading to a country where she didn’t know a soul. But then reason reminded her that the alternative would be crazier.

  Staying with the very charismatic but totally insincere Giles. Accepting his pathetic ‘last fling’ excuse and her mother’s unrelenting need to defend his abominable behaviour due to his impressive family tree... Giles’s womanising would have his notable ancestors with their seventeenth-century Pilgrim morals turning in their graves.

  She shook her head as she moved one step closer to the booth where a stern-looking official was scrutinising the passports of the very weary long-haul travellers wanting to enter the country.

  Despite her stomach churning with nerves at the prospect of being so far from home, particularly at Christmas, she knew she had done the right thing. Remaining in her home town wasn’t an option as the two families were joined at the hip, and that closeness wasn’t allowing her to heal and move on. Thanksgiving had gone a long way to proving her right, with both families and a supposedly contrite Giles gathering and expecting her to join them. She’d refused, but she had known immediately that Christmas gatherings would be no different.

  If she’d stayed it would have given her mother a glimmer of hope that she would rekindle her relationship with Giles. That an ensuing wedding of the year in Washington might be on the cards again, and that the wedding planner would once again ask Phoebe’s father to check the diary of the Vice-President to ensure he could attend.

  In Phoebe’s mind there was absolutely no chance that she would wed a man who had been unfaithful. She couldn’t turn the other cheek and ignore his indiscretions. It was the twenty-first century and she had choices. She wanted to be a man’s equal partner in life. That was what she needed and if she never found it then she would not take second best. She would rather spend her life alone.

  For better or worse with Giles would mean Phoebe always hoping his behaviour would get better, but knowing he’d more than likely get worse. The further away she stepped from her ex-fiancé the more she suspected he had done her a huge favour by showing his true nature before the wedding. No doubt, she surmised, having a wife who wouldn’t ruffle feathers but would instead add value to his reputation by having her own medical career, and whose father was a Presidential advisor, had all been part of Giles’ political game plan.

  It had become painfully clear once she’d broken up with him that Giles had manipulated her for his own benefit. She thought she had fallen in love, but now she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps it had been a little rushed, and she’d been caught up in the idea of happily-ever-after once the wedding momentum had started. All of her friends except for Susy were engaged or married and it had seemed a natural progression.

  The wedding had been set up so quickly by her mother who, along with Washington’s most popular wedding planner, had had everything moving at the speed of light.

  Susy had accepted the role of her maid of honour, and the two young women had been excited about seeing each other after so long, but the day before she’d been due to fly out Susy had called and broken disappointing news. She was unable to leave London as the jury had not returned the verdict on a very prolonged case. In her own words, she’d said she’d have to miss the wedding of her best friend in the world in order to see some bad guys locked away for a very long time in an English prison.

  Deflated and disappointed, Phoebe had understood, but it had left her with only two distant cousins in her bridal party. She had agreed to include the young women, who were both twice removed on her mother’s side of the family, because she had been secure in the knowledge that Susy would be beside her for the days leading up to her wedding and with her at the altar of the Cathedral Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul.

  She barely knew the girls. She hadn’t seen them in over five years and from what she had heard they were party girls who were living on the west coast and their antics in social media were a constant source of embarrassment to their respective families.

  It had been decided that it was time they returned to Washington and settled down. They were both single and in their early twenties, and the families’ combined strategy had been to use the wedding as their wayward daughters’ entrée into the right circles. They’d hoped that a society wedding would help the girls meet potential husbands and leave their wild life behind them.

  Unfortunately that had never happened. They’d flown in a few days before the final dress fittings and managed to ruin Phoebe’s life in the process.

  Looking back, Phoebe realised that everything about that day had been wrong, but at the time she hadn’t been able to step back far enough to see it for what it really was. But now she could. The three months since the scheduled wedding day that never happened had given her time to see Giles for the man he was. Controlling, calculating and ambitious. There was nothing wrong with ambition, but, fuelled by his other character flaws and good looks, it made for a man who would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted—and apparently with whomever he wanted. A misogynist, with a lot of family money and connections.

  Phoebe would be eternally grateful to the best man, Adrian, who had delivered the bad news the day before their nuptials. She appreciated that it had been a difficult call for him, but knew he had spent a number of months working closely as a political intern with her father and respected him enormously. Adrian had told Phoebe that he cared too much for her and her family to stand by and let Giles hurt her. He’d broken the boys’ club rules and she knew he would no doubt pay the price with his peers. She also knew that her father would do his best to support him, but Adrian was not motivated by professional gain and that made his act even more admirable. Honesty in the political arena was rare, and Phoebe and her father were both grateful.

  Phoebe’s head was spinning as she was finally called up to one of the immigration booths. She dragged her hand luggage behind her and handed over her passport. Then, with everything in order, her visa was stamped and she was waved through to collect her luggage.

  ‘Enjoy your stay, Miss Johnso
n.’

  Phoebe’s lips curved slightly. It was an attempt at a smile but she was still not sure how she felt and whether she had just made another of life’s bad calls—a huge error she would live to regret almost as much as accepting the first date with Giles and, six short months later, his proposal in the opulent wood-panelled and chandelier-filled dining room of that five star hotel in Washington.

  The ring was a spectacular four-carat diamond, set in platinum, and it had been served on a silver platter alongside her crème brûlée dessert. A single strategically placed violin had played as Giles had fallen to one knee. But it had only been a fleeting kiss on the forehead he’d given her when she’d agreed to be his wife.

  It hadn’t been a passionate relationship, but she had still believed their life together could be perfect. He wasn’t one to show public displays of affection and she had accepted that. In hindsight, she suspected he preferred to look around at all the enamoured faces in the room rather than at hers. He had enjoyed the attention the proposal had focused on him. In person and in the media.

  As she shuffled through the airport to collect her checked baggage Phoebe drew a deep breath and thought about the irony of his reticence in showing any public display of affection with her while enjoying very private displays of affection with other women. And she felt sure there had been more than the two she knew about. It was all about appearances. And what happened behind closed doors seemed inconsequential to him.

  She shuddered with the thought of how close she’d come to being his wife. And the lies that would have been the foundation of their marriage.

  No matter what lay ahead, her life had to be better than that.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE MOMENT PHOEBE saw the sign ‘Welcome to Adelaide’ she decided she would quiet her doubts. There was no room for second-guessing herself. She was already in her new home. This is it, she said to herself silently as she collected her luggage and then made her way to the cab rank. No turning back now.

  The airport was only twenty minutes from the centre of town, where she would be living. The town she would call home for six months. Six months in which she hoped to sort out her life, her head, and if possible her heart—and forget about the man who had seduced her bridesmaids.

  ‘You were supposed to meet potential husbands—not hump the groom!’ she muttered under her breath.

  Phoebe noticed the cab driver staring at her strangely in the rear vision mirror. His eyes widened. She realised that her muttering must have been audible to him and she bit her lip and looked out of the window in silence.

  Phoebe paid the driver, giving him a generous tip. She had been told it was not necessary in Australia, but it was second nature. He placed her suitcases on the pavement and tucked the fare into his pocket. She was left standing in the heat.

  It was a dry heat, like the Nevada desert, and it engulfed her like a hot blanket dropped from the sky. She was grateful that she had changed on the two-hour stopover in Auckland, and was now wearing a light cotton sundress and flat sandals. She lugged her heavy suitcases, one at a time, up the steps to the quaint single-fronted sandstone townhouse that she prayed had air-conditioning. The suitcases were so heavy it would have cost a small fortune in excess baggage if her father hadn’t insisted on paying for her first class flight.

  On Phoebe’s personal budget, post hand-beaded wedding dress, along with the purchase of the maid of honour’s and the bridesmaids’ dresses, beautifully crafted designer heels for four, three pearl thank-you bracelets and half of a non-refundable European honeymoon, she could only have managed a premium economy flight. But she’d been so desperate to leave Washington for the furthest place that came to mind she would have rowed to Australia just to get away from the drama of the cancelled wedding and her desolate mother.

  Phoebe drew another laboured breath. A week ago she’d known little of Adelaide, save the international bike race and the tennis that took over the city in January. Her career as a podiatric surgeon specialising in sports-related conditions made her aware of most large-scale sporting events worldwide. She hoped that her skills would be utilised in Adelaide, a city ten thousand miles from home. She was there with no clear plan for the future. She did, however, have a job.

  Her father had been wonderful. It was fortunate for Phoebe that his role at the White House gave him the knowledge and connections to assist her, which meant that her application to practise in Australia had been fast-tracked. She met all of the criteria, and her credentials were impeccable, so approval had been granted.

  She’d had the option of a small practice in Adelaide or a much larger practice in Melbourne that focused entirely on elite sportsmen and women. While the second option was her dream job, it was still a few weeks off being secured, and Phoebe had liked the idea of leaving town immediately. She had also done some research around the sole practitioner, Dr Ken Rollins, a podiatric surgeon in his early sixties with an inner-city practice and the need for an associate for six months. The position sounded perfect. His research papers were particularly interesting and Phoebe looked forward to working with him.

  So she was more than happy with her decision. They were two very different opportunities, but she felt confident she had made the right choice.

  Opening the door to her leased townhouse was heavenly. It was like opening a refrigerator. The air-conditioning was on high and the blinds were half closed, giving a calm ambience to the space. There was a large basket of fruit and assorted nibbles on the kitchen bench. Her father, no doubt, she mused.

  She dropped her bags, closed the front door and wandered around the house for a moment before she found the bedroom and flung herself across the bed. Embarrassed at remembering what she’d said to herself in the cab, she kicked off her shoes and then reminded herself that the driver would have witnessed far worse than a jet-lagged passenger’s mutterings. The pillow was so cool and soft against her face as she closed her heavy eyes. Exhaustion finally got the better of her and she fell into a deep unexpected sleep.

  It was nearly four hours before Phoebe stirred from her unplanned afternoon nap. Her rumbling stomach had woken her and she remembered the basket she had spied on her arrival. The fruit was delicious, and she had opened the refrigerator door to find sparkling water, assorted juices, a cold seafood platter, two small salads and half a dozen single serve yoghurt tubs.

  Thanks, Dad.

  She smiled. She knew her father must have called the landlord and arranged for the house to be stocked. She knew, despite what she said, that he felt to blame for the way everything had turned out as he had introduced to her young, ‘going places’ political intern fiancé.

  John Johnson had thought Giles was a focussed young man with a huge career ahead of him and he’d had no hesitation in introducing him to Phoebe. He’d been polite, astute, with no apparent skeletons in the closet, and from a well-respected Washington family. But they had all been hoodwinked.

  There was no way that John could have foreseen the disaster. And he had done everything in his power to get her away from the situation when it had turned ugly. Phoebe would never blame him for anything.

  After eating, Phoebe showered and sent her father a text message to let him know she was safe and sound and to thank him for everything he had arranged. Then she raised the air-conditioning temperature enough to ensure that she didn’t freeze during the night before setting the alarm on her phone and climbing back into bed.

  She just wanted to be fresh and not suffering the effects of jet-lag.

  * * *

  Eight hours later, as Phoebe lifted the blinds and looked across the Adelaide parklands, she felt refreshed. She had never flown such a distance and had expected to be exhausted, but she was feeling better than she had in months. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  The view from her bedroom window was picturesque. The morning su
n lit up the large pinkish-grey gum trees towering over the beautifully manicured gardens. The flowers were in bloom in the garden’s beds and it was like a pastel rainbow. It was a new beginning.

  She reached for her phone and took a snapshot, sent it to her father in a quick text, then headed for the shower. She wasn’t about to be late for her first day on the job. She wanted to get there early and learn the ropes before the patients arrived. Working with an older, more experienced specialist would be a learning experience for Phoebe, and she was excited by the prospect. It would keep her mind off everything she had been through.

  Ken Rollins’s papers focussed on his holistic and conservative approach in treating lower limb conditions, using a variety of modalities such as gait retraining, orthotic therapy, dry needling and exercise modification. Phoebe had printed the most recent before she’d left Washington and she’d read it on her flight over. He would be a great mentor.

  It was going to be a much-needed change and Phoebe couldn’t be more optimistic. After all, she had heard Adelaide was the place to raise children or retire, and it had the highest aging population of any other capital city, so she assumed there would be a lower than average population of single men. Single, arrogant, self-serving men, all incapable of remaining faithful. There truly couldn’t be a better city in the world for her at that moment, but for the fact that she knew she would miss Christmas with her family. It was her favourite time of year. But it was the price she had to pay for her sanity.

  As Phoebe stepped out of her house half an hour later the heat of the day was already building. She felt glad she had chosen a simple cream skirt that skimmed her knees, a black and cream striped blouse and black patent Mary Jane kitten heels with a slingback, so she didn’t need to wear stockings. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she had applied tinted sunscreen, a light lip gloss and some mascara.