15. Small Gifts
15
Small Gifts
Billy
“I ’m not going sit and pretend to have a civilised, grown-up dinner with my uncivilised and very non-grown-up parents,” Seth declared, when Billy relayed the morning’s exchange. “No way. Not this Christmas. Plus, I’m not missing your family’s party. It’s the highlight of my year, and I’ve just about convinced Sharee De Luca to be my date.” Seth waggled his eyebrows higher with each of those last three words, clearly impressed with himself.
“Funny,” Billy said, handing the tree net to the customer they were assisting, “the twins said the exact same thing five minutes ago.”
Muttering under his breath, Seth checked the tree one last time for the pickle ornament, coming up empty. Billy tried to hide a smile, failing miserably, before wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
The morning mist had burned off and the breeze had died, resulting in a particularly blistering summer day. With every trickle of sweat, he thought of Breanna, hoping she was relinquishing her stubbornness, and that Piers, Jaxon and Trudy were being true to their word – forcing her to slow down.
“I don’t know this De Luca lady,” said the customer, a red-faced man Billy had seen occasionally at his pub. “But I thought you were dating that girl in town, Seth. Lillian? Laura?”
“No girls in town,” Seth assured him. “Not for a long while, anyway. Though I did meet that new bartender Liam and Connor keep going on about. Meredith is it?”
Billy nodded.
“She’s a firecracker! Where’d you find her?” Turning to the customer, Seth continued, “She’s basically from that movie Coyote Ugly . You wait and see. The Pope won’t be recognisable as the friendly neighbourhood pub by the time that woman’s through with it.”
“Luckily I am the owner,” Billy grumbled, helping Seth net the tree and load it onto the customer’s roof racks. “And I dislike change.” Until he said it out loud, Billy hadn’t considered just how astute Bre had been in her observation of this fact. Was this why she’d avoided him all these months? Why she’d wanted to resume their festive plans as per normal? Because of his own stubbornness and dislike of change? Clearing his throat, he shook his head wearily, admitting that the idea had merit. “Plus, nothing gets past my rather meticulous, over-planning manager.”
“Nothing gets past Bruce,” Seth agreed. “How can my mother just expect us to drop everything and come home for one painful dinner? And, honestly, mate, I have no idea how your parents deal with this Montague/Capulet situation my mother’s upheld all these years.” He sighed, continuing on an honest, frustrated rant that reminded Billy too much of Breanna.
“My mum is blatant vandalism and disrespect. The desiccated fences, and minor terrorist acts – like that time they graffitied the letterbox and the barn walls? I didn’t even know my mother knew that kind of foul language! It was kind of impressive, actually. But if I were Nick and Holly, I would have ensured old Constable Kenneally slapped cuffs on her long ago.” Seth sighed again. “I wish I knew how it started. We all have theories of course, but … By the way, speaking of theories, I have one about why my sister snuck into your place in nothing but a sheet this morning …”
Billy blinked slowly, waiting for the customer to close their car door and start the ignition before responding. “You literally sat bare arsed in my mother’s kitchen only a few days ago. Seems this naked bug is a Henderson affliction.”
“Must be,” Seth laughed, waving as the too-small car drove a too-big tree towards the gate of the farm, where today’s greeter, Nick Carmichael himself, would check everything over.
“Your dad’s hidden the pickle really well this year,” Seth grumbled.
“Your mother stole the ladder,” Billy replied, wiping his hand down his beard, trying to erase the smirk he felt growing there.
“Yeah, well, what can I say? She’s … different.” Seth threw the customer’s discarded tree necklace into the back of the ATV. “Has Bruce, you know, said anything about who the father is yet? I mean …” Colour rose in his cheeks, freckles darkening. “What I mean is, I hope it’s you. Is that too weird to say? I know you guys think you’ve been so sly all these years, but, mate, we’re adults now. You’re not fooling anyone. There’s literally no need for that ladder anymore. So while I don’t condone my mother’s kleptomania, or her complete lack of maturity, I do think what she’s done isn’t actually so wrong …”
Billy clapped his hand onto Seth’s shoulder, the smile blooming wide across his face.
“Thank you, Seth. That means a lot.”
“You’re my brother.” Seth shrugged. “I hope … I hope she tells you. One way or another, you know? Eventually.”
“Me too, mate, but honestly? Knowing wouldn’t change a thing.” Billy leaned in to check Seth’s watch. “Gotta go.”
“See ya.” With a wave, Seth peered down at his wrist before rubbing his hands together. “Sweet! Lunch time.”
Days passed, the farm settling into the rhythms of all work and little play as Christmas drew nearer.
Trucks loaded with fresh seafood came and went from Warner’s Bay, delivering stock for his mother’s famous prawn cocktails. Boxes of decorations shifted from one place to another, the farm transforming each hour into a more dazzling, glittery, explosion of festivity.
Everything seemed to progress smoothly, until Iris, the local florist and owner of Bloomin’ Brilliant, arrived. After speaking with his mother about arrangements for the Christmas Eve party, Iris spoke at length with Breanna about Jillian Maitland – Bre’s best female friend and Iris’ employee.
“Struggling,” Iris explained, shaking her head. “The passing of her mother has hit hard, and she’s retreated from a lot of social interaction as she tries to get a grip on her grief. I worry for her. Has she connected with you, Bre?”
He saw the weight of Bre’s guilt in her hung shoulders. Making the effort to reach out, she messaged Jillian and tried calling a few times. She stared so longingly at her phone, waiting for her other best friend to reply, that Billy began to feel jealous of the device.
Each evening, he asked her to leave the phone with its shiny new glass screen, and they’d wander aimlessly through the pines, true nemophilists, haunting the trees. After long, heated days spent in the midst of noise and crowds, their evenings became an eagerly awaited cool, quiet solace.
Each night, they gazed up at the stars and Billy matched the constellations to her freckles, kissing the patterns into her skin like a brand. He’d leave imprints all over her with his lips and tongue, before claiming her with his cock when she begged him to do so. They chatted – everything from philosophical discussion to local gossip gleaned from Meredith as she tended the bar in their absence.
Often they shared thoughts about Sharee and Piers, how their respective projects were progressing, and how, after all, Breanna hadn’t needed to be so worried about micromanaging it all. Billy waited for Breanna to broach the subject of her baby’s father, but there was nothing beyond general discussions of her pregnancy. Reece came and went, concerned about her ability to cope with the summer heatwave.
“It doesn’t matter. It will not change anything,” Billy repeated to the doctor, head hung.
“It won’t change anything,” Reece acknowledged lightly, “but still, you should probably know.”
As Christmas Eve drew nearer, Bre settled into a pattern that merged productivity with leisure. Filming with Piers consumed her mornings, while the thermometers read just below a million degrees. Then, the crew would spend their afternoons editing in the van, or on their laptops in the cool air-conditioning of the house, and Piers would lounge by the Carmichaels’ pool, scrolling his phone constantly, looking utterly bored and often a little intoxicated.
Bre would assist Billy’s mother, grandmother and Sharee each afternoon, creating the candy cane bonbonnieres, making wreaths of eucalyptus, banksia and flowering gum, and ordering Graham, Liam, Connor and Seth to move this box or that ridiculously sized ornament two centimetres to the left so it was perfect for Sharee’s shots of the big event. Still contributing, and able to assert herself, Bre seemed content, the swell of her stomach growing each day.
“You Carmichaels really know how to throw a party!” Sharee chirped. The woman was joy personified. Unlike Revv, she was a sheer delight to be around. “I can’t wait for the big event!” Sharee continued, pleasure and pride in her voice as she eyed the big barn that would house the annual gathering.
“It will make for one hell of a blitz!” Holly laughed, showing the influx of page visits and social media followers to Billy’s reserved grandmother, who was up to her elbows in dough for yet another batch of his mother’s festive phallus cookies. “Sharee, you have been an absolute delight! Thank you for all that you’ve done. The insight. The kindness. Breanna’s dr–”
Both Sharee and Breanna shushed her, Holly’s mouth slamming shut. Billy’s eyebrows drew up, but all the women refused to look at him, or acknowledge his curiosity. All except Bre. Snagging him with those glinting hazel eyes, she only shrugged, oddly wordless, before going back to glueing Santa hats to tiny koala and kangaroo ornaments.
“I can wait,” he told them, eyes still locked on Bre. “I am sure it will be worth it.”
“Holy Jesus in a manger, I did it!” Bre stormed inside, arm held high like Lady Liberty.
“You did … what?” Graham asked, dropping the Moonshine Gazette to the table.
“Pick your nose?”
“Pick a wedgie!”
“Pick a–”
The children’s guesses grew increasingly revolting.
“Hush, you heathens!” Bre grinned widely at the assembly. “I found the pickle!”
“No way!” Max exclaimed.
Lachlan smacked his forehead. “Aw, c’mon!”
“That’s so unfair!” Leo added.
Only Billy wasn’t surprised that Breanna had managed to locate the ornament. They had taken their evening walks when the lights from the windows shone at just the right angle to catch the glint of green in the trees closest to the house. She’d been sneaky, pretending she hadn’t seen the pickle two nights in a row, before mysteriously disappearing this morning for an ‘additional coddiwomple’, returning with it in her hand, wearing a grin bigger than the house.
“Good for you, Aunty Bre,” piped up the quiet voice of ten-year-old Callum.
“Thank you, sweetie.” She laughed, and raised her voice. “You know what that means?”
“Favours,” grumbled the adults, sounding like a group of misbehaving schoolkids who’d been kept in by their teacher at playtime.
“My area of expertise.” Piers winked, and was completely ignored by everyone in the room. Even the children had stopped giving him the celebrity treatment he so badly craved.
“Actually, I was really excited to open a present.” Bre grinned at the children who’d already risen from the table, bouncing on the balls of their feet. “C’mon, kids, you can help me choose which gift I’m going to open early!”
The screaming that ensued was loud enough for the townsfolk of Moonshine, a few kilometres away, to hear.
“Settle down, wee ones! Yer great grannie is asleep!” Richard scolded the youngsters with a grin, unsuccessfully attempting to trip them with his cane as they scrambled to the base of the beautiful tree that now dominated their living room.
“Which one will you pick?” wondered little Leo, wide eyed. “There are so many!”
“Most are for us, numbskull,” Max scoffed, full of eight-year-old sass.
“This one says ‘Bruce’. That’s you, right, Aunty Bre?”
“Sure is, Lachlan. Good reading!”
The three-year-old beamed.
“I think you should open this one,” Callum offered, sliding a suspiciously large, suspiciously wiggly gift her way.
“If you’ve put a snake in there, Callum Carmichael …” Bre warned. The children drew back, squealing, Callum swearing he didn’t.
“Connor? Liam? Is this one of your pranks?” She eyed the shifting box.
“Never seen it before, Bruce,” the twins both claimed.
Billy saw her consider them, the twins’ genuinely curious expressions eventually convincing her of their innocence. Nick and Holly drew near, eyeing the red-bow-topped package that rustled with each shaking motion.
“Neither have I,” Seth commented, approaching cautiously.
No one expected Billy to respond, which was perfect. He was a terrible liar. “Open it,” he encouraged, adding, “carefully.”
Never one to back down from a challenge, his formidable best friend squared her shoulders. Plopping cross-legged before the big red bow, she tugged gently, evidently expecting something to explode out.
“Oh my god!”
“What is it?!” the children chorused, peering closer, despite the adults’ wary attempts to keep them well back.
“It’s a puppy! I always wanted a puppy!” Diving into the now open box, Breanna extricated a fluffball of black, white and brown, pure joy lighting her face from within.
“He’s your pickle present,” Billy said quietly, pleased with himself.
“A Kelpie? No … Australian Shepherd.” Nick nodded, approvingly. “Probably the only dog who could keep pace with you, Breanna. Good farm dogs. Great companions.”
“When Reece and I stole your planner,” Billy told her, running his hand over the pup’s head, “we found your Life Plan.”
As the furball licked her vigorously, tears welled. “I remember … my Steps to Living a Happy Life. The first thing I wrote was ‘Adopt a dog’.” She laughed lightly, snuggling the pup before looking up, up, meeting Billy’s eyes. “Thank you, Billy. For everything.”
“You are most welcome, honey.”
He’d never used the endearment in front of his family before, but nobody reacted.
“Aye, what a clever lad ye are.” His grandfather chuckled as he made his way past, walking cane tapping his ankle lightly. “Yon lassie will be able te sit for hours now, doin’ nought but fussing and bossing that pup, instead of yer brothers.” He chuckled again. “Clever man indeed.”
With a small nod, Billy acknowledged the praise. What he didn’t confess was that he had many, many other plans for Breanna so she could tick off what remained of her first and most important list – Steps to living a Happy Life.
1- Adopt a dog.
2- Travel the world.
3- Never. Have. Kids.
4- Always come home for Christmas.
Like all her plans this Christmas, the list had changed somewhat, but Billy would ensure that these items were struck off, one way or another. All he needed was a little time.