An Aussie Christmas Angel (6 page)

“Really, that big?” He looked at her and widened the gap between his own hands. “You sure it wasn’t this big?”

Jo smiled and stretched her arms as wide as they’d go. “No, this big. Anyway, I was driving to church, singing away as I do and the spider just drops from the mirror. How I managed to pull over without crashing I have no idea, as I must have swerved all over the road. Anyway, there I was standing by the car, panicking, and this guy I’d never met before pulls over behind me and asks if I’m OK.”

He laughed as he set his glass down. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. So I explained and he offered to help. Now, normally I wouldn’t dare let a stranger into my car, but I wasn’t staying in there with the spider and couldn’t drive the car until it had gone.”

“Dorrie hates spiders.”

“The English ones don’t kill you though.”

John pointed his finger at her across his fork. “True, but try telling her that. I mean, a giant spider killed off her TV hero when she was eight. And if a time lord can be killed by one then so can she.”

“I can understand the logic there. I’ve never liked them, but the one in my car was a huntsman. Anyway, the bloke found it, removed it and we both went on our way.” She paused. “How are you with spiders?”

“I can get rid of them. Not sure I’d want one as a pet.”

“Nor would I.”

John smiled and turned his attention to his food. “That’s something else we have in common then.”

She looked at him. “What else?”

“Well, there’s God. He plays such a big part in our lives, and we both love and serve Him and obey Him, even when it does seem hopeless.”

“Or when He doesn’t answer prayer.”

John smiled. “Oh, He always answers. The problem is the answer isn’t always yes. Sometimes it’s no or not yet.”

“Not yet, I can cope with. No, now that’s one I always struggle with.”

“Same here. We also both come from large families. We both like the same food.”

“We have different ways of worshipping though. You didn’t seem totally comfortable in church on Sunday.”

John paused with the fork partway to his mouth. “Honestly? No. I find the hand raising and clapping distracting and yeah, I was rather self-conscious. But just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Jo smiled. “In My Father’s house there are many rooms. One for the hand-waving, dancing…”

“…enthusiastic in their worship Aussies,” John put in.

“And one for the Brits and their stiff upper lip.” She winked, and tried to look British, failing miserably.

He laughed, shaking his head. “We have to maintain our stiff upper lip image. It’s what we Brits are famous for. You guys have beaches and sunshine and barbies. We have our sense of humor that no one else gets and the rain. Did you know the Victorians even tried banning singing in church at one point?”

“Really?”

He reached for his glass. “Oh yeah. But that would make it boring, right? Can you imagine an eternity with no singing praises?” He paused. “I could no more stop singing than I could stop looking at you and seeing how beautiful you are.”

“I’m not—”

He reached across the table and took hold of her hand. “Yes, you are. Your eyes sparkle and you resonate with joy and love for God. And that makes you beautiful on the inside as well as the outside.”

She smiled. No one had ever called her that before and it had more than thrown her.

He held out his glass. “I want to propose a toast.”

Jo picked up her glass. “What are we drinking to?”

“An unexpected song,” he said. “One that sneaks up when you least expect it and resonates through you so much you can’t stop singing it.”

She held his gaze, knowing the song he was referring to. Was he thinking the same as her? “To an unexpected song.” She chinked her glass against his and drank.

He set his empty glass down, his eyes never leaving hers. “That was wonderful. Do you want dessert?”

“No, thank you. I couldn’t eat another thing.”

“Then let’s pay and go for that walk.”

****

The moon hung low and full in a jeweled sky. Glancing up, Jo marveled at its majesty and the fact that John walked under the same moon in his own country, even if the constellations were ones she’d never seen. Lights reflected off the bridge onto the still waters of the harbor as they walked. His hand was warm in hers, sending ripples straight through her. She didn’t think it possible to be happier and more content.

Well, there was one way. She had to know and she wasn’t one to hold back and not speak her mind. At the risk of sending him running for the hills or the nearest train station and then the airport, Jo took a deep breath and plunged headlong into unchartered waters. “John, could I ask you something?”

He turned towards her, the moonlight shining behind him, lighting up his whole profile. He really did look like an angel. “Sure.”

“If you lived in Sydney, would you date me again?”

“Absolutely.” The one word spoken with so much force and without thinking sent her heart soaring.

“Really?”

The moonlight and the halo of stars surrounded his head. John’s sincere fathomless blue eyes held her attention. “Absolutely I would date you again. And again. And again.”

Her heart somersaulted within the tight confines of her chest, before it settled into a repetitive rhythm of ‘it’s not fair.’ Before she could stop herself the words escaped her lips. “It’s so unfair.”

“What is?”

“I finally find someone who likes me, whom I like, too, and he lives twelve thousand miles away.”

John smiled wryly. “Typical huh?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad I met you. My only regret is not asking you out sooner.”

“Me too. But we had tonight.”

He smiled at her. “And memories.”

****

John carried his bag and case into the hall. He smiled at Jo, and wondered if she felt as sad as he did at the prospect of him leaving.

“Have you got everything?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“We can always send stuff on.” She looked at his bags. “Just hope that your case makes it this time.”

“I got all the important stuff in here.” John patted his hand luggage. “Including a change of clothes.”

“That’s good.”

An awkward, heavy silence no one wanted to break descended. Then Jo held out a hand. “Well, have a good flight.”

John took her hand, electrical current surging through him straight to his heart, lighting it up like the Christmas tree in the lounge. “Aren’t you coming to the airport?”

“No.”

The breath caught in his throat and his head reeled as if he’d been hit with a mallet. Surely he’d heard wrong? After last night he’d thought… “You’re…you’re not coming?”

“I’m going to church. I’m doing the coffee after the service.”

His heart sank. “Oh, the mission starts today, doesn’t it?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Anyway, I’d better go so I’m not late. It was really good to have met you.”

“And you.”

“Maybe we’ll meet again one day.” She let go of his hand, grabbed her handbag and hurried to the door.

John stood there dumbfounded, unable to take his eyes off her retreating figure. So that was it? Had he got the signals confused?

I thought she liked me, Lord. Just like I like her. Was I wrong?

Perhaps this had just been a vacation romance. Is that why Jo wasn’t going to see him off?

Or is it just she doesn’t want to say goodbye?
He didn’t want to say goodbye to her. He’d far rather it be ‘til we meet again, not goodbye.

Pip came out of the kitchen, keys in hand. “Was that Jo?”

“Yeah, she just left for church.” He shoved his disappointment to one side and picked up his rucksack and case. “Shall we?”

The drive to the airport seemed to take years. When they arrived, Pippa stopped just outside the departure lounge, in the drop off bay. She pulled his bags from the boot. “Here you go.”

John shook her hand. “Thank you for having put me up the last few days. You guys were a real blessing.”

“You’re welcome. And it worked both ways.”

The smile on his lips belied the way his traitorous heart was breaking within him. “Thank Jo as well, for me.”

Not looking back, John picked up his bags and headed into the departure section. He walked slowly across the concourse and checked in. Despite the fact he had plenty of time, he headed straight through security. He sat by the gate, flicking through the photos he’d taken. A lump formed in his throat as he looked at the ones of Jo.

The boarding call came over the tannoy, and John slid his camera back into his hand luggage. He forced himself to take every step to the gate and handed over his boarding pass. Whatever else he may see on his trip, it couldn’t hold a torch to what he was leaving behind in Sydney.

The plane barreled down the runway, filling him with an overwhelming sense of loneliness and grief.
Why put her here where I can do nothing about it? I like her, really like her, but we don’t stand a chance. Why give me a glimpse of something I can never have? To use her words, it’s not fair.

He closed his eyes as the plane ascended out over the harbor. He was leaving a piece of his heart behind.

****

Jo sat in church, her mind not on the service at all. The only thought filling her was of a certain Englishman who was, at this very moment, flying away from her.

Thank you God for sending John to us.
Thank you that we changed his mind about Sydney. Give him a safe flight on to Ayres Rock and then home. I am so grat—
She was lying to God. Even in her anger she knew that was pointless as He knew how she felt. She sniffed back tears
. Why? You finally send a bloke my way who gives me a second look and then You take him away! Fix this. Please fix it.

A week later she was still mad with God.

Oh, she still read her Bible, went to church, and prayed, but her prayers were angry, self-centered ones. She picked up the mail, hoping there would be something from John there. Her heart leapt as she found a postcard from Auckland.

And then fell as she turned it over. The note was addressed to Pip and Jo.
Pip and Jo? Am I an afterthought now?

“Dear Pip and Jo. Having a great time in Auckland. Weather good, and lots of things to do. Dorrie would love the volcanoes. Thanks again for having me to stay at such short notice. I really enjoyed it. If you’re ever over my way and need a place to stay, let me know. Will probably be home by the time you get this. John.”

She took the card into the kitchen where Pip chatted on the phone. Pip glanced up and pointed to the coffee cup on the side. Jo gave her the card and picked up the cup.

She wandered across to the window until Pip finished talking and hung up. “Who was that?”

“That was John.”

“Oh. Didn’t he want to talk to me?”

Pip shook her head, reading the card. “No. He said he’d gotten home safely with his suitcase. Thanked us for having him. Spoke about his trip a little.”

“Oh, I see.” She put down the coffee and turned, heading from the room, anger spilling from her.
Obviously I read way too much into the time spent with him and what he said about dating me. I was a holiday romance, an interlude, nothing more.

She flung herself onto her bed, her eyes burning with tears she refused to shed. Then she heard John’s voice echo in her mind.

“God knows what’s best for us, besides life would be boring if we got everything we asked for. We may well end up like spoilt children. Always whining and wanting more and throwing tantrums when we didn’t get it.”

“Very true. We’d all end up doing time out on the naughty step.”

With a thud she realized she was probably on God’s naughty step right now. She’d lost her temper with her Father, and like a parent ignores a toddler throwing a tantrum, He was probably giving her time out until she calmed down. Sliding off the bed, she dropped to her knees, and closed her eyes.
Sorry.

5

A week later, Jo sat in the kitchen, chin propped on her hand, left leg tapping the base of the stool. She heard the door open and shut, but didn’t bother to turn around or glance up until the cup clinked on the worktop in front of her.

“Coffee.”

“Thanks.”

Pip eyed her thoughtfully. “Are you ever going to stop moping?”

“I’m not moping.”

“Yes, you are. You’ve got it bad, girl.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. And that should be
who
I’m talking about.”

“Whom,” Jo corrected.

“Whatever. If the cap fits…”

Jo pushed a hand through her hair in irritation. She jumped from the stool. “And I don’t need a lecture on how foolish I was from you.”

“OK. If you’re not interested, then I guess you don’t want this.” She waved an envelope under Jo’s nose. “It’s from England, and it’s addressed to you.”

Jo reached for it. Pip jerked it away teasing her, and Jo squealed in protest. “Give it me.”

“Give it me? Where’s your grammar, woman?”

“In her house, probably knitting blankets. Now give me my letter.”

Pip finally relented and handed her the letter.

Jo retreated across the kitchen to the safety of the far corner and stood there. She carefully opened it and pulled out the postcard. Divided into four, it depicted an arch bridge over a river, a steepled church set in fields, several shops around a pedestrian area, and a park filled with flowers. She turned it over, eager to see what John had written.

‘Hi, Jo. The sun’s not shining, the sky’s not blue. I wish that I were there with you. They’re even forecasting snow, which’ll make the commute to work interesting as it’s over the Downs. Which are actually “Ups” as they’re hills. From, John.’

He’d included his home and e-mail addresses. A warm fuzzy feeling started in her toes and spread like wildfire through her entire body. “Oh, that’s so sweet.”