A Christmas Rescue

by Diane Michaels

  She laughs. “You know, I love snow at Christmas as much as you, but I could really use a couple of weeks in weather slightly warmer than one of Santa’s reindeers’ butts.”

  I feel my forehead starting to perspire already, even with the ceiling fan on. “Well, this place only feels a few degrees cooler than the sun.”

  “How’s your grandmother?”

  “Probably less capable of some tasks than she’ll admit. Or maybe it’s the pain meds speaking. Who’d think an eighty-one-year-old fresh out of surgery would go to a rave? Regardless, she’ll still need me to help out around the house until at least the end of the year. Grandma also volunteers at an animal shelter next door, so until she can handle the tasks, I’ve been roped into helping out over there, too.”

  Jojo cackles. “They expect you to help with the animals?”

  “I know, I know. But so far, it’s not as bad as you’d think. The cats are quite sweet for the most part.”

  “And the dogs?” Jojo knows about my phobia.

  “I’m not willing to speak of them right now.”

  “So, if you won’t be spending all your spare time nursing a relative, I suppose you could look at the trip as a real vacation.”

  “I guess, except for when I’m working on translating the manual. I’m still kind of jet-lagged and adjusting to being on the other side of the world, so I’ll be able to think more clearly in a day or so.”

  “Do all the guys in Australia look like the Hemsworth brothers?” she asks. I can hear the humor in her voice, but I can’t help thinking of Xave as soon as she says it.

  “I literally drove from the airport to my grandmother’s house, and I haven’t explored farther afield than the shelter next door, so I can’t answer that yet. Apart from Grandma, I have spoken to a total of two people.”

  “Were any of them male?”

  “One was.”

  “And was he under the age of sixty?”

  “I don’t know how old he is, but I’m assuming he’s less than ten years older than me.”

  “Ooh. Is he cute?”

  “Stop it! Why are you trying to pair me up with someone when I’m already spoken for?”

  “Sorry, hon. I’m just jealous that you get to hang out with hot Aussie boys with sexy accents.”

  “I didn’t say he was hot.”

  “But I know he is from the way you wouldn’t answer me just then.”

  I shake my head. My friend can be a bit of a troublemaker when she wants to be. “Is your work busy this week?”

  “I can tell you’re just trying to change the subject, but I’ll allow it. Yes, it’s been insane with everyone wanting their pre-Christmas waxing. And it’s only going to get crazier leading up to New Year’s Eve.”

  Jojo works as a beauty therapist. She got a job at a salon right out of high school and never left. I envy the fact that she’s always known exactly what she wants to do and is so passionate about it.

  “You love this time of year, though, don’t you?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I do. I love making people feel pretty and sharing in their holiday excitement.”

  “Oh, I wish I was there now, sharing that excitement with you.”

  “Babe, it’s one Christmas you’re missing. We still have so many more to come. Visiting Australia isn’t something you get to do every day.”

  “You’re right. I’m acting like a spoiled brat. This is an opportunity of a lifetime. Anyway, I should probably go. I have to check in with Mom and Dad and let Brett know I’m all settled in. And then I have to take my grandmother to the physical therapist.”

  “Thanks for prioritizing me first. Have a blast over there! And I expect regular photo updates on social media!”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  I hang up, feeling a little better. I may be on the other side of the world, but it’s not like I can’t talk to everyone at home whenever I want to. Well, obviously as long as I take the time difference into account.

  Grandma knocks lightly on my door. “Hannah? Will you be ready to leave in ten minutes?”

  “Yes!” I decide to text my parents, vowing to actually call them later, and then I dial Brett’s number. He doesn’t answer, so I leave a voice message. I wonder what he’s up to this evening.

  There’s no time to dwell on it, though. I have duties here to fulfill.

  ❅ ❅ ❅

  I finally get to check out the local scenery as I drive Grandma to a part of town called Noosa Junction, which contains an eclectic range of businesses and eateries. There’s not a single Dairy Queen or Arby’s in sight, but I did see signs for McDonald’s and KFC on the highway yesterday, so I know there are at least some familiar fast-food restaurants. The sidewalk is filled with people wearing swimsuits and minimal clothing, presumably either coming from the beach or heading that way.

  “Just park over there,” Grandma says, pointing to an empty spot on my left. It’s quite challenging attempting a reverse park on the wrong side of the road, but my rental vehicle has a backup camera and sensors that let me know if I’m getting too close to another car. After a little cursing under my breath, I finally manage to park the car sufficiently out of the traffic.

  “Why don’t you have a wander around while I’m at my appointment, and I’ll call you when I’m finished?” Grandma says.

  “Are you sure?”

  “If you get time, you can head over to Coles and buy some snacks. Maybe something for lunch. It’s just in the street behind here.”

  “OK.” I watch her disappear into a nearby building and look around. It’s a little intimidating being left on your own in the middle of a town you’ve never visited.

  I take my time absorbing my surroundings as I walk down one side of the main road and back up the other. There’s a sushi restaurant, at least three Mexican restaurants, and several pizza outlets. It appears I’ll have my pick of cuisine while I’m here. Back home, the southern part of town has a very European influence, while the northern part has some Asian and Mexican choices. But because it only has a permanent population of five and a half thousand, the number of places to eat is limited.

  I discover that Coles is a supermarket, and I instantly feel more at ease when I see some brands I recognize on the shelves. But I also spot some decidedly Aussie products and load them into a basket to take back to Grandma’s. My purchases include Pizza Shapes, Twisties, Caramello Koalas, and something called Wagon Wheels. And while there’s tinsel and baubles hanging from the ceiling, I find the section of the store dedicated to Christmas food quite off-putting. Watermelon? Fresh berries? Fruit cheese?

  My phone buzzes.

  Brett: Hey, babe. I wasn’t sure if you’d be asleep so I thought I’d text just in case. Everything’s the same as always here. I hope you’re having fun. Have you cooked any shrimp on the barbie yet?

  I should be happy that Brett got in touch, but the contents of his message annoy me. He didn’t know if I’d be asleep? It would take two seconds to look up a world clock online. I decide to wait to reply, even if it means he’ll think he was right. I huffily grab some bread and cheese, along with some tomatoes and hummus, which they weirdly spell as hommus here, and go through the self-serve checkout. I love that even the electronic voice talking to me on the computer has an Aussie accent.

  Just as I’m scanning my credit card to pay for everything, Grandma calls. “I’m finally done. I’ll meet you at the car.”

  I make my way back to the main road and find her already waiting. I swear she’s fitter than I am.

  She inspects my purchases and wrinkles her nose. “Sandwiches won’t cut it on your first real day in Noosa. I’m taking you out for a proper meal. My shout.”

  Even though my Dad uses the word shout instead of treat when offering to pay for a meal, I still always do a double take whenever I hear the word.

  “I’m happy to split the check,” I offer. “Or even cover it completely. You can consider it a thank you for letting me stay at your house.”

&nbs
p; “Pfft, we all know you were forced onto that plane to come over here and babysit me, so this is my way of apologizing for my ratbag children putting you in that position.”

  I open my mouth for a second and then pause.

  “You know what? You’re right. Until I got here, I wasn’t the most enthusiastic volunteer, but I promise it wasn’t anything personal. I have a few things going on at home that are going to be difficult to resolve while I’m on the other side of the world.”

  “Well, let’s go over to the river, and you can tell me all about it. Being old has some advantages, and one of them is decades of experience solving problems.”

  I smile at my grandmother. “OK. Let’s do it.”

  “Just a moment.” Instead of getting in the car, she walks farther down the path.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, following her.

  She pauses in front of a disheveled-looking woman sitting on a park bench. “Are you all right, honey?”

  The woman stares at her dully. “Not really.”

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  “I…I’m just doing it a bit tough at the moment.”

  “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Grandma opens her purse and reaches into her wallet, pulling out a one-hundred-dollar bill. She presses it into the woman’s hands.

  The woman glances at it, her face agog. “Really? I can have this?”

  Grandma says, “Of course. It’s not doing me any good sitting in my wallet.”

  “Thank you! I will never forget you!”

  “You’re welcome.” Grandma scrutinizes my face. “Don’t look at me like that. I still have enough to take you to lunch.”

  Considering how tight my father is with money and how he told me that Grandma lives on a fixed budget, he’s going to flip when I tell him about this incident.

  CHAPTER 9

  Lime, quince, and gum trees shade the patio behind my grandmother’s house. Even they can’t stave off the oppressive afternoon heat, but in the cooler early to mid-morning, I can’t resist enjoying the paradise she has cultivated in her yard. Having translated a measly three pages yesterday, I need to put in a few more hours today. But I’m not aware of any rules stating I can’t work outside, so I set my laptop on the patio table and try to focus on my job.

  Today, December 1, is the official first day of summer in Australia, but my grandmother says it has been hot since October. Unlike me, her garden loves the hot weather and is a tropical oasis. She gave me a botanical tour this morning over cups of lemon myrtle tea. The tree from which she harvested the leaves blooms with fluffy white blossoms, which is the closest thing to snow I will see in Noosa.

  Most everything Grandma grows is medicinal, or at least edible. She shoved me away from the quinine tree when I had approached it to admire its leaves. Apparently, some people consider its berries to be a form of birth control. Taara didn’t understate my grandmother’s fixation with fertility.

  Shaking off thoughts of making babies, I play around with the ideal way to translate “preventing drift,” tapping my pen against the edge of the table. A blast of music tears through the soundtrack of bird calls and play of the wind in the trees I had been enjoying. The thudding bass infests my brain, scattering my concentration.

  “Isn’t nine-thirty in the morning too early for loud music?” I ask no one in particular. Tucking my laptop under my arm, I move inside and close the sliding door. It does little to insulate me from the noise.

  Maybe my room will be quieter. I sweep three figurines to the side of my desk, replacing them with my laptop. I’m just about to start work again when I spy the gift my mother had put in my luggage. It had a note that instructed me to open it today, so I pick it up and rip off the wrapping paper.

  Huh. It’s an Advent calendar, which explains the December 1 opening date. It will be nice to have a little reminder of home each day leading up to Christmas.

  Although, when I inspect the packaging closely, I note that this particular calendar has a very odd theme.

  Chocolate penises.

  I open day one and remove the chocolate, holding it up against one of the figurines I just moved.

  Yep. It’s definitely a penis. What on earth was my mother thinking? She’s a very traditional woman, and I can’t imagine her tainting the religious aspect of Christmas by giving me what is essentially a novelty adult toy.

  I’m not sure whether to eat it or put it back. This feels like something my grandmother would buy. I wonder if she swapped out my real gift for this as a prank.

  I carry the chocolate out to the living room and wave it at her. “Do you have anything to do with this?”

  She squints at my hand and frowns. “Did you break one of my statues?”

  “No. It’s chocolate. From my mother.” I have to speak loudly because the music outside is still deafening.

  Grandma laughs, surprised. “I didn’t think Frieda had a sense of humor. I must say, I approve.”

  “I don’t think she meant to give it to me,” I explain.

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t think it’s her style. But God knows what she thought she was giving me instead.”

  “Well, if you don’t want it, I’ll have it.”

  “I don’t know. It would feel completely weird giving my grandmother a chocolate penis.”

  At the moment I say penis, the music stops, and the word seems to echo through the house.

  Grandma wipes the tears forming at her eyes as she continues to snigger. “It’s not very big. Is there just the one?”

  “No! There’s almost a month’s worth. It’s from an Advent calendar!”

  This seems to set her off even more, and she sits down, clutching her side with her good arm. I flip between wanting to join her in the hilarity and still feeling slightly bewildered by the whole incident.

  But then the music starts up again, and I come to my senses.

  Who’s blaring their stereo this early in the day?

  “Oh, that will be the people who live on the far side of Xavier.”

  “I’m going to ask them to lower their music.”

  “You can try, but don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Hmm.” I always process information better when I can see it. I’m not in the mood for a confrontation, but it wouldn’t hurt to investigate. I absentmindedly pop the chocolate in my mouth and head outside.

  The driveway is already my least favorite part of Australia. I expect I’ll wear out both the clutch and the brakes on my grandmother’s car from navigating the slope by the end of my visit. Better her car than the rental, which I returned yesterday. Walking partway down the hill to reach the neighbor’s driveway, I have to lean backward to maintain my balance. With each tiny step I take, the music grows louder.

  The driveway leading to the neighbor’s house is less steep. Weeds grow over it, unlike my grandmother’s. Her gardening style may mimic the way she dresses and has decorated my room, lush and bold, but it has an order and flow to it.

  A rusted-out car chassis supported by cinder blocks sits next to the single-story house. Leaning against the house is a pile of dirt-streaked toys and bikes, most of which look broken. Three plastic vegetable crates, stacked atop each other, block the stairs leading to the back yard, which I determine to be the epicenter of the rock concert.

  While far too loud for my tastes, I have to smile. They’re playing You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC. My father is a diehard fan of the band.

  I navigate around the crates and up the stairs. Two men and a woman sit in beach chairs, smoking. Another man and woman stand under a clothesline. She holds a laundry basket against her hip and leans forward to yell at him.

  Something taps my shoulder, and I jump a foot away.

  “Sorry, did I scare you?” Xavier’s smile confuses my heart, which beats furiously from being startled.

  “No, it’s fine. I suppose you and I are here for the same reason?”

  He grimaces. “Yup. And it’s hardly
my first visit. I don’t know why I bother.”

  I follow him to the group seated in the beach chairs.

  “Morning Mack, Heath, and Lynne,” Xave says, extending his hand to the man closest to him.

  The man stabs his cigarette on the top of a beer can before extending his hand to Xave. “Hey.”

  “So, the animals are agitated again because of the music.”

  Our neighbor slumps into his chair. “‘S not my problem. There’s no rule sayin’ we can’t play our music during the day.”

  Xavier holds his breath for a second. “True, but in the spirit of neighborliness—”

  “We don’t own the house. If you’ve got a problem, talk to the landlord.”

  I hardly know Xave, but this is the first time I have seen him where his face didn’t convey his good-natured vibe. He gestures toward the driveway with his head and takes a step away from me, ready to admit defeat. A new track plays.

  I give a quick laugh and say to the man next to Xave, “I saw the Rock or Bust tour a few years ago.”

  The couple who had been fighting have joined us. “You’re American?” asks the man.

  “Yeah, but my dad’s an Aussie. AC/DC is his favorite band.”

  He nods appreciatively. “You saw them with Axl Rose?”

  “That’s right. They had to delay the tour dates after they replaced Brian Johnson, waiting for the Guns ‘n’ Roses tour to take a break.”

  “What did you think?” The man in the chair lights another cigarette.

  “I had heard the original lineup live a couple of times. Honestly, even though it wasn’t the same, I thought the band sounded as good as before.”

  “Yeah, if anyone could do a good job, it’d be Axl. I’ve never seen them live myself.”

  “You should go to a concert next time they tour. They put on such amazing shows.” I stretch the hem of my T-shirt, gathering my courage. “I could listen to these guys all day long, but I have to get back to work. And since the music is also bothering Xavier’s animals, maybe we can find a compromise regarding the volume?”