A Christmas Rescue

by Diane Michaels

  Instead, I’m alone with my grandmother’s “Christmas tree” while she enjoys a post-physio appointment lunch with her friends in Noosa Junction. I bat a slender, spiky green leaf. Like the other native flowers, leaves, and berries on the tree, it is artificial. I suppose it’s pretty for a fake plant, but the only thing it has in common with my family’s tree is its conical shape. Nothing about it puts me in the holiday spirit.

  My phone buzzes. Jojo is calling again, not Brett. She may be craving a bedtime story about the end of Hannah and Brett, but I won’t indulge her. Having fallen two pages behind on my translation because of the epic hangover that overtook my week, nothing can derail my schedule from now through Monday. Not a cheating scum of a soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, not the adorable rescue animals. And most definitely not an adorable animal rescuer who just happens to have a knack for making me experience, well, a host of sensations even Brett hadn’t roused in me recently.

  Nope. I have devised a plan for today from which I cannot stray. My job and my reputation at work depend on it. I have to remain loyal to my employer because my parents are longtime employees of the company. Even if—and this is the world’s biggest if—I had no personal ties to the company, I wouldn’t want to leave my job until I had proven my worth to them. I have to submit a completed and proofed translation of the manual by five o’clock on Monday. What happens after the deadline is a worry I cannot take on when I’m in the weeds with the project, waiting to hear from Brett, and a day away from the fundraiser.

  I read aloud to myself from the manual, “As noted in chart 6-K, by turning the steering wheel to the right, the rotor valve opens.” A bit of hair sticks to my lips while I speak. Phhuh. Spitting the hair away, I say the sentence to myself in German before typing it.

  What drew me to this guttural language in the first place? I love coziness and prettiness and… It’s a cruel joke to be translating the least interesting text on the planet into a language I identify less and less with the longer I’m away from Frankenmuth.

  I wander onto the patio to rifle through boxes of decorations I need to bring to the shelter this evening. The lush garden weaves its magic on my train of thought. Would the situation have changed had Brett come to Australia with me? Would the climate and the vibe have seeped into his subconscious the same way they have for me?

  I’ve become less German here. I’m no longer guided by my practical brain. I move slower, more gently and seductively. That could be the reason I drew both Jason and Xave’s attention to me. My grandmother would probably insist the coral necklace did its trick.

  I’m sure she wasn’t trying to get me knocked up. But the metal rods must have stirred the soup of pheromones within me enough to waft over to any man within a certain radius and tickle their corresponding receptors. What if it had been Brett beside me on Tuesday?

  I slap the side of my head. I don’t want to cast a spell over a man who lies and cheats. He belongs in my old life. Wait. My old life? What am I saying?

  Do your freaking work, Hannah, and stop behaving like a hormonal teenager!

  ❅ ❅ ❅

  I deserve a medal because I slogged through four and a half more pages of translating by dinnertime. Only twenty more pages to go. While not an unreasonable amount, I’ve still missed my original goal of completing it today to leave the last three days for proofreading. But I have to step away from the laptop. The rest of the evening belongs to preparing for tomorrow’s fundraiser.

  It’s the middle of the night in Michigan. Brett is either asleep or doing things he shouldn’t be doing. Regardless, he never answered my text. Oddly, I’m angrier with him for ignoring me than I am for him cheating on me. I want to be done with him. Why do I have to carry him around my neck until he deigns to call me? We should be broken up, but we’re not. I hate, hate, HATE being in limbo!

  “Hannah, dear, I’m coming with you when you go to Xavier’s.” My grandmother steps into the living room, wearing a diaphanous mumu.

  “We’ll be engaging in heavy labor. Did you have a different project in mind?”

  “I’m going to smudge the space with sage. Perhaps do a few dances to ensure the spirits are on our side for the party.”

  “Um, sure. I’m leaving now.”

  “Wait a moment.” She holds her hand over my heart. “Something has changed. You’re still blocked, but the bad energy has moved. You’re one gesture away from opening yourself.”

  “I’m waiting to hear from Brett,” I say with a shrug.

  She draws her eyebrows into the bridge of her nose. “I wouldn’t expect him to be capable of dislodging your blockage.”

  “And you’d be right. First thing in the morning his time, I’m breaking up with him.”

  My grandmother hops around me in a circle. Raising her left arm above her head, she says, “Let’s get rid of him now. Imagine a ball of light in your chest. Let the light expand and flow through you with each breath. And repeat after me, ‘With this breath, I release all energy from me and from others who no longer serve me.’”

  Yeah, no.

  “Maybe later. How did you know Brett was my bad juju?”

  “I saw the way you carried yourself when you arrived. You were suspicious and nervous. A person in love would feel protected, even a world away from their love. And when you spoke to him, you did not glow. But whenever you returned from a visit to the shelter…” She smiles at me.

  “I swear I’ve never had a single romantic thought concerning Xavier.” I glance at the ceiling, hoping none of my grandmother’s spirit friends are eavesdropping on my little lie. “And until I am officially single, I will not think of any man in a romantic way.”

  “Everyone around here calls me a busybody, accusing me of interfering in their love lives. I’m not saying the only path to happiness is through sharing a sexual and spiritual bond with another person. Or multiple people, if that’s your thing. We each have a calling. But some of us don’t find our calling until we find love. Which is why I push people together. I can envision the good they could do in the world once they had completed themselves.

  “Xavier needs a partner. And so do you. You are kind and generous and have a gentleness with people that is a gift you may not yet appreciate. Guiding you to be the person you could not become until the path out of your heart was no longer blocked would be my greatest purpose.”

  “You’re very wise, Grandma. And nurturing.”

  “This is the blessing of being a grandmother. We raise children before we are wise. But when our children become parents, we can finally put all we’ve learned into our grandchildren. I can’t say I deserve a second chance, but I won’t let you slip through my fingers.”

  “Aw, Grandma!” I kiss her cheek. Jasmine and spice rise from her neck and envelop me in a cloud. It comforts me as thoroughly as Christmas carols and hot chocolate.

  At Aunt Sharon and my father’s goadings, I came to Noosa ready to interpret my grandmother’s affinity for the kookiest of New Age pursuits as proof she lacked the mental acuity to see to her wellbeing. But they were wrong. And so was I.

  If anyone possesses the awareness to know herself and her capabilities, it’s Grandma. Once the fundraiser is over, I will tell my father and his sister Grandma is perfectly capable of looking after herself and that I refuse to be a part of their scheme any longer.

  CHAPTER 24

  I wake up on Saturday experiencing a range of contrasting emotions. The display on my phone is frustratingly blank, so it’s clear that Brett still has not called or texted. I am also anxious about being behind on work, and there is a long list of tasks to complete throughout the day for tonight’s fundraiser.

  After I crawl out of bed and stumble into the kitchen, Grandma hands me a cup of herbal tea.

  I sip it gratefully. “This isn’t the usual lemon myrtle.”

  “No. I thought you needed something with additional calming properties, so I added some lavender, chamomile, and valerian. And then you’ll have to do the rest, with som
e deep breathing and visualization.”

  I visualize Brett crying in despair over his stupid decision to cheat on me and then begging me for forgiveness while I laugh in his face.

  Hmm… I’m not sure that’s quite the image my grandmother had in mind. But it does make me feel slightly better.

  I am determined not to let Brett ruin my day. I have more than enough to keep me occupied and a group of lovely people surrounding me.

  “How’s your shoulder today?” I ask her.

  She rolls it slightly, and I catch her trying not to wince. “Better.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Don’t worry about me. Especially today. You have more than enough on your plate.”

  “Well, let me know if you need anything. The whole reason I’m here is to help you, remember?”

  “You’ve been doing a wonderful job. And I know I’m not the only person who thinks so.”

  She looks out the window. In the distance, Xave drags a table across the grass. He’s not wearing a shirt, and I have to physically stop myself from sighing out loud. That is one beautiful torso.

  Grandma catches me staring and opens her mouth to say something.

  I stop her. “Nope. Whatever you were going to say, I don’t want to hear it right now.”

  She smiles knowingly. “OK.”

  I finish my tea, dress in an old pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and lather my arms and legs with sunblock. I’m going to be spending a lot of time in the sun today, and I don’t want to get burnt.

  Xave has disappeared when I head next door, but Taara is standing on a crate mounting fairy lights on the surrounding trees. She’s humming the song Happy and looking quite pleased with herself.

  “Hi. You’re chirpy this morning.”

  “I am, aren’t I?”

  “Any reason?”

  She jumps off the crate and lowers her voice. “Great sex.”

  I laugh, surprised. “Good for you. Anyone I know?”

  I’m not sure why I asked that, but it was the first thing that popped into my head.

  “Actually, you might. You met Jason the other night, didn’t you?”

  I blink. “You slept with Jason?”

  I don’t know why I suddenly feel so deflated. Is it because I’m already depressed about Brett, and it was so nice to be the center of attention when I was out with Xave and his friends the other night? It doesn’t help my mood to consider that Taara has kissed one of the men from that evening and slept with the other. And here I am, with no one to kiss.

  “How did that happen?” I ask casually.

  “Oh, you know. It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and if you’re single…”

  “Yes, of course,” I say weakly. What is wrong with me?

  She notices my expression. “Are you all right?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  I let out a puff of air. “My boyfriend is definitely cheating on me, and I can’t get in touch with him to officially break up.”

  She snorts. “He doesn’t deserve an ‘official’ break up. Screw him. I say consider yourself single as of whenever you heard the news and move on. There are plenty of hot guys to take your mind off that loser. And several of them will be here tonight.”

  Almost as if to illustrate her point, Xave walks past, this time carrying a stack of chairs.

  I restrain a laugh, and Taara wriggles her eyebrows. “See? They’re everywhere.”

  I don’t want to encourage her, so I divert the subject back to her. “Are you and Jason a thing now?”

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that. I suppose it could possibly lead to something one day, but I don’t like putting labels on things. And I suspect if I asked Jason to classify what we were, he’d run a mile.”

  “And you’re OK with that?”

  “Sure. I’ve had a couple of serious relationships in the past, and I’m not in a hurry to jump back into one. For now, I’m content having a little fun when I’m in the mood.”

  “I wish I could be more like you.”

  “You can. Just let go of any preconceived ideas about what your life should look like and let it unfold naturally. It’s a lot less stressful than forcing a situation.”

  Maybe Taara is right. It appears that I’ve been trying to force my life with Brett to be something that he doesn’t really want, and that perhaps, I don’t want either.

  And when I think about it, I realize that even if he hadn’t cheated on me, I probably wouldn’t have been happy staying with him.

  Another epiphany crashes into my brain. I no longer enjoy my translation job either. Having to finish my current project is one of the least interesting things I will ever do.

  Jeez. So, if I don’t have love or a career back in Michigan, what do I have?

  Obviously, there’s my family and Jojo, but are they enough to sustain my happiness?

  My reverie is interrupted by Grandma, who has appeared from nowhere, carrying a bag containing a bottle of iced tea and some plastic cups. Taara is back on the crate, pinning another strand of lights to the next tree.

  “I thought I’d make sure you all stay hydrated,” Grandma says, putting the bag down on a nearby table. “Oh, and Hannah, I got an email from your father. He said he’d speak to you later, but he wanted to get some travel tips for when he and your mother go to Europe in February.”

  My eyes widen in shock. “They’re going to Europe?”

  She frowns. “Yes. I assumed you already knew.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Oh. I guess it must have been a recent decision, then. I’m sure he’ll tell you about it later when he calls.”

  “How long are they going for?”

  “Three months, although I told him to extend it if they have the time and money. You need at least a couple of weeks in each country to really appreciate the local culture…”

  I tune out. Mom and Dad are spending a quarter of the coming year in Europe and didn’t even think to tell me? I mean, I know I’m not a child anymore, but I was living in their house. Surely it would have come up in conversation naturally unless they were deliberately keeping the news from me.

  And why would that be? Did they think I’d want to tag along? Or that I’d be upset?

  The more I think about home, the less it feels like somewhere I want to be right now.

  A gentle breeze blows through the surrounding trees, brushing against my face and bringing the scent of the forest with it.

  Grandma removes the tea and cups from the bag, handing the bottle to me so I can pour drinks for everyone. Taara is smiling to herself, probably remembering the fun she had with Jason last night. And Xave is busy unpacking the tent that we’ll soon be erecting.

  I feel very lucky to have these lovely people around me at a time when home feels so turbulent.

  Today, I’ll focus on them.

  CHAPTER 25

  Congratulations, Brett. You received my text over twenty-four hours ago and haven’t yet responded to it. You are a coward in the first degree.

  I wonder what the award should be. A bucket of chicken fat?

  It’s two in the morning in Michigan and one hour before the guests arrive for the fundraiser. I officially consider us to be through. Sharing our relationship status update with him is merely a technicality I’ll deal with later.

  I certainly haven’t let his cowardliness influence today. Quite the opposite. I have been in flammen, baby. Which is to say on fire. I’ve even managed to translate two pages.

  “Grandma, I’m ready to go to Xavier’s. Are you coming?”

  Her feet slap against the tiles in the hallway at a frantic pace. With a huge exhale, she enters the living room, holding a pair of gold sandals. “Here I am!”

  “Are we going to the same party?” I ask. She has decorated her sling with swirls of neon-green puffy paint to match her neon-green sports bra. Light catches on the white sequins of her miniskirt, which she wears over a pair of black
leggings. Circles of slender glow sticks snake around her neck and left arm.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. You’re dressed like a missionary.”

  My hands slide against the calico fabric of my dress. “Since I’m the party planner, I want to appear professional.”

  “You’re not applying for a position in a law firm. Put on an outfit that shows the world you’re a Walker.” Her hand pats her hip.

  “Again with the Walker hips? I’ve always thought mine were too wide for the rest of my body.”

  “Your hips are perfect. You have five minutes to put on something less appropriate. Go!”

  I run into my room and stare at my clothes in a panic. Grabbing the first items I spot, I make an outfit out of a hot-pink knit top that leaves more of my midriff exposed than is appropriate for the occasion and a tight black skirt I kind of hate because of the way it skims my body. But I have zero time to do better. I buckle a pair of black sandals, fluff my hair, and call it done.

  My grandmother scans my body with a nod. “That’s more like it. Now, let’s party!”

  It doesn’t matter that I had spent hours in Xavier’s backyard earlier today or that I designed and constructed most of the decorations. The impact of seeing the space fully decorated and bustling with catering staff sends a ripple through my belly. We created a perfect setting for a party from nothing.

  No two tables match, but the collection of random pieces of furniture unified through the decor has exactly the kind of charm I had aimed for. Each table has branches of eucalyptus running from end to end, interspersed with white pillar candles of varying heights and tiny brass figurines of koalas, platypus, and other native animal species.

  Larger branches hang between the trees surrounding the patio, and each bears bouquets of local flowers and greenery, encircled by white fairy lights. Gold ornaments dot the branches, and the impact is Christmassy, but not traditional.