18. Ryan
CHAPTER 18
Ryan
‘ H appy birthday to you; happy birthday to you …’
Seriously, my heart is going to burst. The sight of Scarlett, with her own hurting chest and a gash on the back of her head—my singing angel—leaves me speechless. After a restful night in hospital and the all-clear from the doctor, subject to me keeping a close eye on her, Scarlett was discharged this morning … and now I know why she was so keen to get out of there.
What looks like half the population of Point Perry clamour down my passage, filling the living area, all wearing party hats and blowing whistles in between the singing.
Rae is holding an arm full of Tupperware containers, Jack is carrying an Esky, Greta has her arm linked with Lilac’s, Curly has a child on each hip and Justine is carrying a birthday cake that looks like something out of the Women’s Weekly Birthday Cake recipe book my mother never used.
And Scarlett is front and centre. How the hell did she organise all this with everything else on her plate? I have no idea.
Tears stream down my cheeks; my throat is clogged. I can’t speak, so I just sit on the kitchen bar stool and sniff and bite my bottom lip and burn this image and feeling into my brain and soul, covering up the pain and hurt I no longer want to carry.
When Scarlett comes to stand between my legs, her now clean and shiny hair falls over her shoulder. Although there’s a darkness under her eyes, her cheeks are flushed fairy-floss pink. I pull her gently to my chest and rest my arms around her hips.
‘Welcome to your birthday party.’ Her breath whispers against my ear, and I catch the aroma of my shower gel on her neck.
‘But it’s Christmas Day, and all your family is here when you should be on the farm celebrating. And you need to be resting. Doctor’s orders!’
‘Thankfully, there’s twenty-four hours for Christmas, so we can do both. I don’t need to lift a finger because everyone else is doing all the work. And your birthday is just as important.’
‘This is my … first ever birthday party.’
‘Oh, Ryan.’ She pulls back and stares at me intently. ‘I promise it won’t be your last. From here on in, we will celebrate you every damn year.’
Jack steps in and pats me on the shoulder. ‘And we’ll celebrate that our Lettie is with us because of your heroics. If it weren’t for you doing her breathing, we’d be mourning, not celebrating. We owe you big time and welcome you into our family.’
‘Hear, hear,’ everyone else cheers.
After Rae gives me a generous hug, she sets out food on the kitchen bench: fairy bread, chocolate crackles, honey joys. And from the Esky, Jack pulls out a dish of ‘frogs in a pond’. Evie and baby Chad, her little brother, squeal in delight. Greta settles Lilac on the lounge and goes about hanging streamers around the room, and Curly blows up balloons that the kids chase around before they can get strung up.
While Scarlett is busy loading her plate with treats, I take the opportunity to sit down next to Lilac and make myself comfortable amongst the cushions.
Lilac places a wrinkled hand on my forearm. ‘So, you got the girl, saved the girl?—’
‘She saved me, Lilac. You all did.’ I squeeze her good hand, and she looks pretty darn proud of her efforts. ‘If it weren’t for you and Larry getting me involved, making me see how things could be different and?—’
‘And I didn’t know Marge was sick; Greta said it was you who did the hampers and gifts for the kids on the list I gave you. That was really special. You are a kind man, and I’m happy to see you happy. Now’—she bobs her head towards the deck—‘go be with your girl.’
As I followed Lilac’s gaze, my eyes land on Scarlett, who’s leaning on the deck railing, food forgotten, lost in contemplation as she gazes out towards the bay. My breath hitches as I settle in behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. She leans back against my chest, careful not to put too much pressure on the lump on the back of her head.
‘I feel like I’ve said this a lot, but thank you.’ I close my eyes and breathe in the air’s freshness and the citrus of Scarlett’s shampoo. Together, they’re intoxicating, something I want to smell every day.
Scarlett links her finger through mine and snuggles closer. ‘I want every Christmas and your birthday to be like this. Celebrating you with you, forever.’
‘Forever, I can do.’