9. Ryan
CHAPTER 9
Ryan
D espite not drinking any alcohol last night, my head pounds like I have a hangover. When I went back to check on Lilac, who grilled me about what happened—I swear she has a sixth sense—I provided her with the bare minimum details: met Rae, sorted communication issues with Scarlett, delivered the folder as requested. No way was I going to tell her about my confession or ‘the kiss’. The kiss that kept me tossing and turning most of the night, along with flashbacks of teenage romps in the back of a Sandman, kisses that were perfect then … and now.
Clicking fingers in front of my eyes startles me.
‘You right there, mate?’ Larry is behind the Perry’s Café counter, hands braced on the edge of it, eyebrows raised. ‘You look like you could use one of these’—he pats the coffee machine—‘and a piece of Marge’s carrot cake.’
‘You, Larry, are reading my mind. Both to go, please.’ I hand over my trusty yellow reusable coffee cup and tap my phone on the EFT device. ‘You by yourself this morning? Where’s Marge?’
Larry rolls his eyes. ‘My lovely wife and Greta are knee-deep in getting things set up for the markets and the Lighting of the Jetty. The joys of having your own business—you can come and go as you need. Although, Marge had some sniffles this morning, so hopefully, she’s taking it easy.’ He looks me up and down. ‘No scrubs? Day off?’
An unsettling feeling tugs at the pit of my stomach. Larry is about to?—
‘I could use a hand with the lights if you have some spare time? Marge’s been nagging me to get them done, and with the weather much nicer today, she’s instructed me that today’s the day. And considering the lighting is only two days away, it’ll give us time to make sure they work and change any globes that’ve blown.’
Yep, called it.
‘You’d be doing me a massive favour, Ryan.’
As much as I want nothing to do with anything associated with the Christmas spectacle, I also can’t say no. It isn’t in my DNA. I’m a helper at heart, which is what led me to nursing. And how Christmassy can hanging lights on the jetty be? It certainly won’t be anything like the Reynolds’ farm, that’s for sure. And I’m sure a certain singer won’t be anywhere near the jetty today, according to Lilac’s itinerary for Scarlett, which I may have sneaked a peek at last night.
‘No probs at all. I don’t have any plans that can’t be moved to tomorrow.’
‘Great!’ Larry looks at his watch. ‘Can you swing by the town hall and pick up the lights? Councillor Giles said they’re in the storeroom. A few of us are meeting at the jetty in half an hour. Marge will be back by then, and I can scoot off and meet you down there.’
Hmm. The town hall … that’s where the itinerary said Scarlett would be this morning. But surely, I can get to the storeroom from a side entrance and avoid an awkward encounter. I’ve promised Larry and can’t back out now. ‘Will do. I’ll chuck my ladder in, too.’
‘You’re a lifesaver.’ Larry chuckles. ‘Quite literally, according to Lilac.’ He hands over my coffee, and I scrunch the top of the paper bag to carry the cake. ‘See you soon.’
The singing of the less-than-perfect-sounding choir smacks me in the face as I cross the town hall foyer in search of the storeroom, which is nowhere to be found.
As I discretely peek into the hall, it’s a scene of complete and utter chaos. What looks to be an out-of-control creche is set up in the back corner of the hall. Plastic toys, books and prams are spread out with babies lying on blankets, toddlers smacking each other with blocks and one child having a tantrum. A couple of older toddlers are scooting around on pedal-less bikes, coming close to running into some choir members from Seaside Village sitting in wheelchairs in front of the stage.
Sneaking in, I make my way towards the double doors on the side of the hall, confident that’s where I’ll find the storeroom.
‘Hello, Nurse Ryan.’ Ingrid holds up a shaky hand, waving gold tinsel around. ‘Have you come to join the choir with our lovely Scarlett? She truly is an angel.’
So much for coming in unnoticed. I send her my best smile. ‘You don’t want to hear me sing, Ingrid. I’m terrible. I’ll leave it to you. You sound great. I could hear you from down the street.’
‘Well, aren’t you just the kindest.’
‘Ingrid, is the storeroom through here?’ I point to the door. ‘Just grabbing the jetty lights for Larry.’
‘Yes, dear, go through that door, then through the kitchen. Storeroom is on the left, just down the corridor. So glad you’re helping with the lights. It’s such a lovely time of the year, don’t you think?’
‘Just great,’ I say through clenched teeth, throwing a wave over my shoulder as I head towards the kitchen. The sooner I get what I came for and get out of here, the better.
A yellow stream of light is coming out of what I assume is the storeroom, with the door slightly ajar. As I get closer, an unmistakable voice rises above the commotion in the hall.
‘Stephanie, there is no way I will be returning to any of your childcare centres while you have anything to do with them. I don’t want to be associated with you in any way or form. Please do not contact me again.’
The speaking stops for a moment.
‘I can no longer remain silent about your narcissistic bullying; you’re a horrible person, and I refuse to continue sweeping your behaviour under the carpet. The authorities are investigating you, and it won’t be long until word gets around about your shoddy businesses, and you’ll be left with nothing.’
I don’t want to eavesdrop or invade her privacy, so I linger in the kitchen, looking out the window at the metal Santa sleigh mounted on the roof of the auto mechanic shop and the posters for the Find a Grinch competition. Is someone playing a joke on me?
After what seems like ages of no further speaking, and assuming Scarlett has left via the exit at the other end of the corridor, I push the door open and step into the room. There are boxes of ‘stuff’ along one wall and what looks to be theatre props leaning against another. Spinning around to see what else is here, and hoping to find a box that says ‘jetty lights’, I find Scarlett sitting in the corner, knees pulled to her chest, head resting on top of them, Santa hat flopped forward.
‘Hey.’ I gently place my hand on her arm so as not to startle her.
When she lifts her head, there’s a tinkle from her bell earrings. I can’t read her face, though. I’m not sure if she’s angry or frustrated. She looks to be just totally over it. Whatever ‘it’ is. All her Christmassy joy has vanished, and this tugs at my heartstrings. Which leaves me bewildered, confused. But why? For all my hangups about Christmas, I’d rather see her festive cheer and over-the-topness than this woman who appears defeated.
I squat in front of her. ‘I kind of overheard some of that conversation. It sounded pretty intense. Is everything okay? You want to talk about it?’
When she relents with a slight nod, I sit on the grubby carpet and cross my legs.
‘Stephanie is the owner of a childcare centre I was working for. I quit.’ She sucks in a deep breath. ‘I’ve reported her to the Education Standards Board, and she’s being investigated, which is why I need to head back to Adelaide ASAP. I also have the small matter of finding another job and a mortgage to pay.’
‘And bullying? What’s that all about?’
‘You heard that?’
When I nod, she takes a while before she answers. It’s like she’s hiding something or contemplating her answer. Is there something more to her story? Is there a greater threat?
‘Everything’s okay.’ Scarlett quickly stands up and dusts herself off.
She reaches her hand to me, and I take it. Is that a little spark? As she pulls, I untangle my legs and stand. There’s barely an inch between us. Her chest heaves. My heart pounds. Her gaze lands on my mouth.
‘And that’s not the worst of it,’ she mutters, her eyes flicking up to mine, a flash of cheekiness in them.
‘It’s not?’
‘No.’
‘What’s the worst thing, then?’
She slips her hand out of mine and clasps both of hers around my neck. ‘The worst thing is I want to kiss you again?—’
‘And that’s a problem because …?’ I nuzzle my nose behind her ear. Hmm … cinnamon and lemon.
‘I can’t start something I can’t finish. I don’t want a five-day fling …’
‘Like when we were seventeen?’ Our bodies are flush now. Heat radiates from where we join. My arms slide around her waist and rest at the top of her butt. She has a point. Can I start this only to see her leave? Déjà vu. ‘Can you stay a little bit longer?’
Why did I ask that? That’d only be delaying the inevitable.
‘Ah, here you are. We were just about to send a search party out for both of you.’ Greta—aka Gossiping Greta—stands in the doorway, hands on her slim, sixty-something-year-old hips. ‘Now we know where you are, I’ll leave you to … whatever you were doing. As you were.’ She nods, does an about-face and is gone, no doubt to share the news of our compromising position, which will be around town before you can sing ‘Silent Night’. Great .
Interestingly, though, neither of us moved a millimetre while Greta was in the doorway. From my perspective, I didn’t want to let Scarlett go. She felt too comfortable pressed against me. Like we were two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that had finally found where they needed to be. The irony.
There’s no time to ponder this revelation as Scarlett’s lips are against mine. Hard. She moans; I growl. Her hands tug at the hair at the back of my head. My hands press her butt, forcing her hips into my erection. Then her hands move to my chest, and she pushes me until my back slams into a stack of boxes. They move, wobble. My balance is lost. The boxes topple. We stumble and end up on our backs, panting.
Scarlett starts giggling first as she sits. I follow suit, standing and adjusting myself before reaching out to pull her up.
‘I’m sorry, Ryan. I totally jumped you then.’ Her giggles subside. ‘Not sure what came over me.’
‘I’m totally on board with you jumping me.’ I can’t help but smile at the flush on her cheeks and the Santa hat that’s slipped to the side of her head.
‘But we need to finish that conversation from before when we’re not deep in Christmas stuff.’ She tilts her head to the door. A cacophony of screeching, squealing, crying and out-of-tune singing makes its way down to the storeroom. ‘And by the sound of what’s coming from the hall, I’d better get back and instil some order.’
‘And I better find the jetty lights before Larry hunts me down, and I want to pop in and say hello to Lilac, too.’
Her hands rest on my cheeks. ‘Tell Lilac I said hello and that everything is under control. And do you want to catch up later?’
‘Sure, that’d be great. Here’—I pull my phone from my shorts pocket, unlock it and hand it over. ‘Pop your number in and I’ll text you my address.’
When she’s finished, she hands it back to me, leans in for another sweet kiss on my lips, and then confidently strolls through the door, playfully flicking the bell on her hat over her shoulder, leaving me shaking my head with a silly grin on my face.
Is it too much to hope Scarlett will light up my heart this Christmas? Not sure I can survive her walking away from me again.