The January Wish (13 page)

The noise at the crowded restaurant provided a welcome distraction, and Judith directed everyone to their seats, Sylvia’s wedged between Judith and the maid of honour. Mark took his seat opposite her and immediately filled his glass with water from the carafe in the centre of the table, before downing it in one deliberate gulp. Forget the water, Sylvia hoped a waiter would offer some wine as soon as possible. When he did, she downed half of it at once, the liquid warmth spreading throughout her throat.

‘How’s work, Sylvia?’ Judith asked.

‘Good, thanks. Busy as usual,’ she replied.

‘And are you still seeing that nice young surgeon?’

Judith had a way of getting down to the nitty gritty right away. When Sylvia and Larissa were teenagers, she’d grill them after a night out until she was satisfied they hadn’t done anything dangerous, stupid or illegal. Most of the time her satisfaction was assured on the dangerous and illegal part. But stupid? Well, when you’re fifteen, stupid decisions are as normal as wearing a bucketload of eyeliner just to walk to the shops in case cute boys were there. Sylvia’s stupid decisions came to a halt, however, a few weeks after the night she was rewarded with a nine-month gift. From then on, she made it a priority to follow the rules and stick to her plans. Finish high school, go to medical school, become a general practitioner, and devote her life to helping the sick. It had all gone to plan, mostly, but she hadn’t planned on meeting Grace again, or breaking up with Richard, or meeting Mark who had inconveniently disrupted her sense of self-control and poise.

‘Ah, no. We’re not together anymore,’ Sylvia replied quietly. She noticed Mark glancing in her direction.

‘What? But you two were like peas in a pod—made for each other! What happened, love?’

‘Nothing, it just didn’t work out,’ she replied, before finishing her wine and gesturing to the waiter to refill her glass. Better make this one last, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to drive home.

‘Mum, I’m sure Sylvia doesn’t want to discuss her personal life right now,’ Larissa interjected, her eyes asking Sylvia if she was okay. Sylvia nodded a ‘thank you’. ‘So Mark, are you still playing soccer these days?’ Larissa turned towards Mark and clasped her hands together on the table.

‘Not at the moment, haven’t joined a club since moving here, but I’ve started playing squash at the gym. Doesn’t take up as much time.’

‘Yeah, you must be busy, setting up a new business. How’s it going?’

‘Pretty well. Some of my patients followed me here, and I’m picking up new clients as well. Still plenty of room for more though, so I’m spending a fair bit of time on marketing,’ Mark explained.

Sylvia never had to ‘market’ herself. Patients flocked to her, and she rarely had a free appointment slot. Thank goodness. She hated the thought of having to ‘promote’ herself, it seemed so desperate. But if Mark kept stealing her patients maybe she’d have to start. Out of concern for the health of the community of course.

‘Good luck with it all, I’m happy to hand out your business cards to friends if you like.
After
the wedding, that is.’ Larissa looked lovingly at Luke again, her eyes becoming red and shiny.

‘Thanks Larissa, that’d be great.’

‘So Mark,’ Sylvia began, assuredness seeping into her nerves—halfway through her second glass of wine, she really should have waited for the food to arrive before drinking. ‘Why did you give up a pharmacy degree for alternative medicine?’

Mark shifted in his seat. ‘I prefer to call it
complementary
medicine. It’s not an alternative but a complement to other forms of treatment.’ He took a sip of water before continuing. ‘While I was working as an assistant in my father’s pharmacy, I’d see regular patients coming in; some getting their prescriptions, and others seeing the naturopath we’d hired. It seemed those seeing the naturopath were getting healthier while the others were getting sicker.’

‘Really?’ Sylvia crossed her arms over her chest.

Mark nodded. ‘I got talking to the naturopath and realised how interested I was in it, and how much science there was behind it. Plus I’d been struggling with an old soccer injury, and the naturopath gave me some tablets and referred me to an acupuncturist. Haven’t had a problem with it since.’ He took another swig of water, while Sylvia tried to take only a small sip of her wine, before crossing her arms again.

‘So, you just quit?’

‘No. I changed paths. I realised what I
really
wanted to do—help people maximise their health, not just treat illness.’ Mark sat back in his chair, his eyes looking confidently into hers.

Isn’t that what
she
did? By treating illness she was maximising their health too.

‘You see, by using nutrition and lifestyle strategies, along with natural medicine, the human body becomes better able to withstand any stress or illness. It’s the body that does the healing, I just give it the tools it needs to do the work,’ Mark elaborated.

Thankfully, Sylvia didn’t need to respond as the food arrived and a symphony of ‘oooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ ensued. She quickly scooped up a few mouthfuls of risotto, hoping it would bind to whatever alcohol was left in her stomach and prevent her desire to further interrogate Mark.

Sylvia spent the rest of dinner chatting to Judith and Larissa, while the maid of honour seemed fascinated by Mark and his discussion of how a person comes to develop allergies. After dessert, Larissa dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, then stood. ‘If I could have your attention please.’

‘Oh my God, are you pregnant?’ Sylvia blurted out, then covered her mouth in effort to hold in any further verbal mistakes.

Larissa laughed. ‘Of course not! Not yet anyway…well, not as far as I know.’ She looked at Luke who suddenly went as pale as his napkin. ‘I’d like to ask my bridal party to follow me into the private room back there,’ she said, pointing to a door in the far corner of the restaurant. ‘It’s a bit last minute, but I’ve taken the liberty of creating a little
routine
I’d like us to perform at the reception.’

Sylvia’s hand dropped suddenly from her mouth to her dessert plate, propelling her spoon across the table and into Mark’s lap. Mark flinched, then politely returned the spoon to its proper place, his lips holding back a grin. Sylvia couldn’t help herself and let out a laugh, while the sleepy flower girl was now wide awake, giggling and pointing at Sylvia and Mark.

When she recovered her composure, Sylvia remembered what Larissa had just said. ‘Do you mean routine as in a
dance
routine?’ she asked cautiously.

‘Uh-huh.’ Larissa nodded.

Oh Dear Lord.
Not only did she have to walk arm in arm with Mark down the aisle, she’d have to perform a dance routine with him too. This was getting beyond humiliating. How could Larissa do this to her?

‘C’mon guys, let’s go.’ Larissa ushered the bridal party into to the private room. ‘Now don’t fret, it’s just a bit of fun. I’ve made up a medley of songs, and the choreography is very simple.’

Simple? As a child, Larissa would make Sylvia learn complex dance routines and perform them for her parents. One routine had them twirling lengths of pink satin fabric around in the living room to Madonna’s
Material Girl
. The only twirling Sylvia wanted to do right now was with a swizzle stick in a cocktail, preferably on a beach in Hawaii, or somewhere else far away from here.

Mark looked just as terrified as Sylvia felt, while the maid of honour bounced up and down in excitement and the best man rubbed his palms together in anticipation. Larissa moved everyone into position, and demonstrated the first few moves. Not too bad so far, at least there was no touching anyone.

Yet.

The next sequence involved partnering up and dancing to Michael Jackson’s
The Way You Make Me Feel
, followed by an energetic tribute to
Love Shack
by The B52’s. Mark managed to step on Sylvia’s toes twice, and she returned the favour by sharply whipping him in the face with her hair, mid-pirouette. Well, it wasn’t exactly a pirouette, but more of a lop-sided-spin-and-grab-the-closest-thing-to-avoid-falling-over kind of move. After several run-throughs, surprisingly, they had all memorised the routine, and by the end of it were laughing together in a heap on the floor. Sylvia’s belly ached, and just when she thought she’d recovered from laughing, she’d look at the best man grabbing his crotch and letting out a high-pitched Michael Jackson squeal, and the laughter would begin all over again. Even Mark was in hysterics, and he dabbed at his watery eyes with the edge of his shirtsleeve. Sylvia handed him a tissue she had tucked into her pants pocket, and took one for herself too. All the tension she’d felt today dissipated, and she forgot why she’d been so irritated with him. Trust Larissa to give everyone a night to remember. She was a bit overwhelming at times, but knew how to have fun.

Remnants of laughter hung on Sylvia’s lips as she walked back to her car, Mark alongside her and the others trailing behind. It didn’t remain for long. A loud metallic crushing sound broke the moment and the screeching of car tires followed, as a car U-turned and sped off out of sight.

‘No!’ Sylvia lifted her hands to her face as she looked at her mangled car hugging the telegraph pole on the footpath near the church. The driver had obviously turned the corner too fast and rammed into her Mazda. Idiot! She ran towards the car but slipped as light rain trickled from the sky, adding a gloss to the footpath. Bracing herself for a painful bump to her backside, she shrieked as her fall was broken by the same arms she’d linked with hers in the church.

‘Whoa, careful,’ Mark said, helping her to her feet. ‘Did anyone get the number plate of the car?’ He turned to ask everyone who’d witnessed the accident. Heads shook. He walked with Sylvia to the car and scrunched up his face as he surveyed the damage, while droplets of rain stuck strands of hair to his forehead.

Sylvia plucked her phone from her handbag and dialled the number she’d stored in her contacts but hoped never to need. ‘Hi, I need a tow at the corner of Church and Cobbler, in Welston,’ she instructed. It would be a twenty minute wait, and Mark insisted on waiting with her under the shelter of the church porch, then driving her home, as they both lived in Tarrin’s Bay. Sylvia shooed Larissa and Luke away, telling them they needed their rest for tomorrow, and once everyone realised Mark was staying they left too.

The rain grew stronger, and twenty-five minutes later the tow arrived. Sylvia told them to take it to her local smash repairs garage. She’d have to call them on Monday and drop the keys off before work. At least she didn’t have to drive to work, and most things in Tarrin’s Bay were in walking distance. Except decent clothing stores. She’d have to hire a car or take a bus with Grace to help her choose a dress for the charity concert. She’d also have to get public transport to Larissa’s house tomorrow, and catch a cab home after the wedding. All these thoughts raced through Sylvia’s mind in an instant. Her medical training had taught her to gather her thoughts quickly and work out solutions. In an emergency there was no time for hesitation. You make a decision and stick to it, then deal with the results.

Mark dashed through the rain to his car to open the passenger door, and Sylvia ducked in. ‘So, where’s the house of Dr Greene?’ he asked, his hand poised on the ignition. She told him her address and promised to lead the way when they arrived back in Tarrin’s Bay.

‘I live in the hills. Not as close to town but great views,’ Mark said. ‘Have you always lived here, or did you move away for uni?’

‘Moved to Sydney for a few years, but the Bay drew me back.’

‘Sure is a beautiful place.’

‘What about you, why Tarrin’s Bay?’ Sylvia asked.

‘Why not?’ Mark smiled.

‘That’s a good enough reason I suppose.’ Sylvia smiled too, and they drove in silence for a while. Was she actually getting along with him now? Maybe it was just the wine, and the food, and the dancing, and things would go back to their uncomfortable normality at work on Monday.

‘I’m sorry I interrogated you earlier, about why you switched university courses,’ Sylvia said. ‘I didn’t mean any disrespect.’

‘I know. Don’t worry, I had to deal with my father’s disapproval for a long time. He really wanted me to take over the family pharmacy.’

‘Yeah, it’s hard to disappoint parents,’ Sylvia commented. ‘But in the end you’ve got to do what’s right for you.’

‘I’ve realised that,’ Mark replied.

Their conversation dwindled, as thunder sounded and water lashed loudly at the windscreen, the wipers working overtime yet not doing a good enough job at maintaining a clear view of the road.

‘Geez, this is bad,’ Mark said loudly above the roar of the rain. ‘Do you want me to pull over somewhere?’ A jagged spear of lightning lit up the sky for a split second.

‘We’re close to my place, but it’s up to you,’ Sylvia yelled back.

‘We’ll keep going then.’

She instructed him to take the next left turn, and led him towards her house, just as the rain transformed into hard clumps of ice, pelting on the roof of the car like a thousand angry fists.

‘You can park in my garage till it passes,’ Sylvia said, gesturing towards the final turn into her street. She bit the corner of her bottom lip, realising that the hail would probably be adding to her car’s damage, and she didn’t think the tow truck driver would be concerned with finding shelter for it.

A wedge of light from Nancy’s window signalled Sylvia’s arrival home. A beacon in the night. She pressed the remote on her key ring and the garage door rolled upwards. They pulled into the garage, the roar of the hailstorm suddenly abating. Sylvia closed the garage door behind them and got out of the car, shaking water from her hair and clothes. ‘Would you like a cup of tea or something?’ she asked.

‘Love one,’ Mark replied, ruffling his wet hair.

They entered the door that led through the laundry into the kitchen, taking off their shoes on the way. Sylvia flicked on the lights.

‘Nice place,’ Mark said as his eyes scanned the room.

‘Thanks.’ Sylvia thought so too. She prided herself on keeping a tidy and clutter-free house. A person’s home was a representation of themselves. She turned the kettle on and a deep rumble grew, escalating gradually, until suddenly it stopped and darkness overtook the house. ‘Oh man! Two more minutes and we would’ve had boiling water. Can I interest you in a juice, or a glass of milk?’ Sylvia said into the darkness.