His Christmas Present (18 page)

He rested his hand on his right thigh, his
fingers curving over the end, above where his knee should be. It ached, as it
always did, mirroring the ache inside him that no amount of medication could
take away.

“We’re glad you’re home, son,” Robert said.

Hamish looked out at the palms and green
fields of the Northland, lush and verdant in the hot summer sun. “So am I.”

Robert rested his hand on top of Hamish’s,
large and warm. “It won’t get better overnight. What you need now is time.”

Hamish glanced at his father, surprised.
Robert McIntyre spoke little and was rarely openly affectionate. Hamish sighed.
All his family and friends would be touched and changed in some way by his
injury. He wasn’t sure if that comforted or disturbed him.

“Do you remember this road?” Eamon asked.
“We’re not far from Kerikeri.”

“Yes. I could tell you how to get to town.
But it looks different.” Buildings he didn’t recall lined the street, along
with trees and landmarks he had no recollection of.

“It’s changed a lot over the last ten
years,” Sarah said. “It’s not surprising it doesn’t look the same.”

Something flitted through Hamish’s memory
like a bird in a loft. It happened all the time—brief glimpses of his life he
couldn’t hang onto long enough to make sense of. But one name wouldn’t let him
rest. “I keep meaning to ask you...who’s Rose?”

Again, everyone fell quiet, and he glanced
around. His father had been watching him, but he turned back to the road as
their eyes met. Sarah appeared startled. Eamon looked interested and said, “Do
you remember her?”

“No.” Hamish frowned. “Only the name. I got
the feeling...” He was about to say
We were close
, but he didn’t want to
make a fool of himself when they revealed she was his old kindergarten teacher
or something.

Sarah gave a ghost of a smile. “You met her
last time you were home on leave.”

“When was that?”

“Back in June, at a midwinter party.”

Hamish looked from her to Eamon and back
again. “And...”

Eamon grinned. “Let’s just say I don’t
think the two of you got out of bed for three weeks.”

“Oh.” Hamish was pretty sure he wasn’t a
virgin, but he couldn’t honestly remember a single woman he’d been with. His
heart raced at the thought that there had been a girl so close to his accident.
“So what happened? Is she waiting for me?”

Eamon glanced at Sarah, whose expression
softened. “I don’t think so, love,” she said. “You ended it. You didn’t tell us
why, though.”

“Hmm.” The stab of disappointment surprised
him. He turned back to the view. He’d known that no wife anticipated his
return, but he’d hoped there might be someone pleased to see him come home. A
girl to put her arms around him and keep him warm at night.

Then again, maybe it was for the best. He
massaged his aching leg. What woman would be satisfied with half a man? He’d
been active, fit, and healthy. His records stated he’d loved practically every
sport under the sun—he’d played rugby, surfed, been a damn good athlete, a fast
sprinter. He’d undergone rigorous training—none of which he could remember.
This Rose, whoever she was, would have fallen for the soldier. She’d have no
time for the shell of the man he’d become.

“Hamish?” His mother touched his arm. “Are
you all right? I wish we’d said no to the party, but they all insisted... I’m
so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He’d known it was
coming—meeting his old family and friends, answering the millions of questions
about his leg and his memory. Best he get it over with so he could get on with
his life.

“Nearly there,” his father said. He
indicated at a roundabout Hamish was sure hadn’t been there before and headed
toward town.

“I wonder whether seeing the house will
help you remember,” Sarah said.

“Maybe.” Hamish doubted it though. His
parents had apparently moved there only two years before.

She smiled. “Brandon will be pleased to see
you.”

They’d told him about the boxer dog that
lived with them while he was away. Hamish couldn’t remember getting him, but
apparently when he was on leave they were inseparable. “I wonder if he’ll
recognize me?”

“He goes nuts whenever you come home,”
Eamon said. “He won’t have forgotten you, don’t worry.”

Robert slowed as they approached a turn-off
for an estate new to Hamish, although the trees looked well-established and the
sun had bleached the painted fences.

His father pulled up outside a large house
surrounded by half an acre of land. Lilac-colored petals from the bordering
jacaranda trees scattered the carefully tended lawn. Parked cars indicated the
waiting welcoming party, and he sighed as Robert turned off the engine.

“I’ll get your crutches,” Eamon said, and
he got out and retrieved them from the trunk. He brought them to Hamish and
offered his hand. Hamish studied it for a moment. This was how it was going to
be from now on—people offering him aid even though he was determined to manage
on his own. He didn’t have the heart to refuse his brother, however, so he
accepted Eamon’s hand.

At that moment, a brown blur appeared
around the corner of the house and flew toward them. The boxer dog covered the
grass in a matter of seconds, leapt up from the ground, and landed in Hamish’s
arms. He fell backward onto the car seat, laughing as a warm, wet tongue washed
his face. “You must be Brandon, I presume.”

Brandon replied with another huge lick.

“Yeuch.” He pushed the dog away, then
stroked his ears and kissed the top of his head. “I know we were close, but
sticking your tongue down my throat is taking it a step too far.”

Eamon hauled Brandon off. “Told you he’d
remember you.”

Hamish got to his feet again. Eamon was
tall, dark-haired, muscular, and good-looking in a rough, boy-next-door kind of
way. Until recently, Hamish had had twenty pounds on his brother, but he’d lost
weight since the accident, and he suspected they looked even more similar now.

“You okay?” Eamon frowned. “If this is too
much for you, just say. We can get back in the car and I’ll take you over to
the beach house.”

Hamish slipped his hands through the arm
rests and steadied himself on the crutches. “Nah, I’m good. Let’s get it done.”

Eamon rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s
good to have you back, bro.”

“Thanks. It’s good to be back.”

***

It’s good to be back.
He repeated those words throughout the afternoon until they rang in
his head. By six o’clock, he no longer had any sense of their meaning. He felt
no relief at being home, because it wasn’t home—not a home he could remember,
anyway. Although he appreciated everyone coming to welcome him, so many
unfamiliar faces unsettled him. Luckily, Eamon remained at his side, reminding
him who they were in a low murmur before they introduced themselves.

Thank God for Eamon
—four more words that circled in his head like a hamster on a wheel.
His brother made sure a drink was always to hand, brought him a chair when his
arms started to ache from steadying himself on the crutches, distracted those
relatives who demanded too much of his attention, and eventually announced they
were leaving when Hamish nearly dozed off in the middle of a conversation.

He said his goodbyes, gave his parents a
hug, and let Eamon bully him into his car. As his brother put his case and
Brandon onto the back seat, Sarah bent to give Hamish a kiss through the
window. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us?”

“He’s fine, Mum.” Eamon slid into the
driver’s seat and started the engine. “He just needs some peace and quiet.”

Robert and Sarah waved them goodbye, and
Eamon drove off, taking the road through town to the coast.

Hamish let his head fall back onto the
headrest. “Jeez.”

“I said you should have gone straight to
the beach house.” Eamon slid his sunglasses on. “Have a doze. It’ll take us
about an hour to get there.”

So Hamish closed his eyes and fell quickly
into a dreamless sleep, waking only when Eamon pulled up in front of the house
at Ahipara on the west coast of the Northland. “I went out like a light,”
Hamish said as Eamon switched off the engine.

“You obviously needed it. And you still
snore like a drain.” Eamon grabbed their bags while Hamish got his crutches and
let Brandon out, and the two men walked across the grass to the house, the
boxer bounding in front of them.

Hamish fell in love with the place
instantly. Built above the sand on a grassy bank, the house’s large windows
faced the glittering Tasman sea. Inside, white-painted walls and sparse
furniture gave a sense of light and air and let him breathe properly for the
first time since he’d returned home.

“What do you think?” Eamon had taken their
bags through to the bedrooms and now reappeared, joining his brother by the
windows.

“It’s perfect.” Hamish turned and walked
slowly around the large living room, examining the driftwood and shell mobiles,
the black and white photos of their family on the walls. “How long have mum and
dad had it?”

“Five years or so. You stayed here whenever
you came home on leave.”

“I don’t remember it at all.”
Disappointment threaded through him. He’d hoped visiting familiar places would
start the process of renewal for his memory, but it didn’t seem to be happening
that way.

Eamon opened the fridge and took out two
beers, then motioned with his head to the deck. Hamish followed him out and
lowered himself onto one of the loungers. He accepted the beer and took a long
draught. Brandon came over and sat beside him, resting his head on Hamish’s
right thigh, just above the stump. The dog’s eyebrows twitched as he looked up,
and Hamish swallowed down the lump in his throat at the sympathy he thought he
could see in Brandon’s large brown eyes. “Do you think he understands? About
the leg, I mean.”

Eamon stretched out beside him and tipped
his face up to the evening sunlight. “Yeah. Dogs know when another animal’s
been injured. They’re pretty smart.”

Brandon shifted on the decking and almost
fell off the edge. “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Hamish said.

Eamon gave a short laugh and shaded his
eyes as he turned his head to look at his brother. “So what did the doctor say
about your memory? Is it likely to return?”

“Usually it comes back in days or weeks.
It’s been nearly two months for me. Apparently it’s ‘never say never’, but it
becomes less likely the longer it goes on.”

The golden sand of the dunes across the
Hokianga harbor reminded him of the Afghanistan desert, and he shivered in spite
of the hot sun.

They sat in silence for a while and sipped
their beer. The waves lapped at the shore, and seagulls cried overhead. Brandon
sneezed, and Hamish ruffled his ears. Even though he couldn’t remember getting
him, he already loved the dog, whose complete adoration—regardless of Hamish’s
damaged physique—comforted him no end.

He leaned his head back and looked up at
the orange-tinted clouds. “Tell me about Rose.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What does she look like?”

“Tall. Slim. Brunette. She’s a secondary
school teacher.”

“Of what?”

“English. Shakespeare and all that crap.”

Hamish grinned. “Philistine.”

“Yeah, well, literature’s not my strong
point. But you two seemed to have fun discussing it. Metaphors and stanzas and
shit.”

“So what happened?”

Eamon shrugged and took a long swallow of
his beer. “Don’t know—you never told me. You met her the day you came home on
leave, at a party. Her folks have a beach house somewhere nearby. You brought
her back here for a drink. After the party, I went back to Kerikeri, so I only
met her briefly. Far as I know, she stayed the night—and every night after that
for three weeks. Mum and Dad loved her. So did Brandon.” He patted the boxer’s
rump. “But then you had to return to Afghanistan. I don’t know what happened.
You told me you didn’t want to talk about it.”

Hamish frowned. “And I didn’t tell Mum and
Dad?”

“Apparently not.”

Brandon licked Hamish’s fingers, and he
rubbed the dog’s nose. “Were there many other women?”

“A fair few before Rose. None after, far as
I’m aware.”

How strange that he couldn’t remember a
single one. “Anyone special?”

“A couple lasted a year or so. But there
was nobody you connected with like Rose, even though you were only with her for
a few weeks. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

A wave of sadness swept over Hamish. What a
shame they hadn’t been able to make it work.

He finished off his beer. “I think I’ll
take Brandon for a walk along the beach.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Hamish would have argued, but he wasn’t
sure how he was going to cope on the soft sand. “Okay.”