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“Can we call Rachel, too?”
John swung his legs over the side of his bed. “Rachel is probably spending time with her family today.”
“But can I call her? Mrs. Daniels knows her number.”
“Why do you want to speak to Rachel?”
Bella sat on John’s bed while he looked for a sweatshirt. “I like Rachel. She’s fun to be around and she teaches me really good things. I miss her.”
“Rachel was never going to stay here forever, Bella.”
“I know, but she’s pretty and smart. She knows lots of amazing things.”
John glanced at Bella.
“It’s true. She told me that otters sleep holding hands with their friends, and that a baby spider is called a spiderling.”
He smiled at the earnest expression on his daughter’s face. “Rachel is smart, but she also has her own life. She came here to teach you, Bella, not spend Christmas with us.”
Bella’s mouth set in a stubborn line. “She’s my friend.”
“We’ll talk about it later. Let’s go and open a present.”
Bella bounced off the bed and followed him down the stairs. “Santa ate his cookies.”
“Did Rudolph eat his carrot?”
Bella jumped off the last three stairs. “He ate most of his carrot. You can see his teeth marks in it.”
John held Bella’s hand as they walked through to the living room. The entire entrance was still smothered in glittery tinsel. It felt like they were walking through Santa’s magic cave, especially with the Christmas music he could hear coming from the kitchen.
“Mr. Daniels thought you might want to hear my music CD when you came downstairs. It’s the same carols that we sung in our Christmas play.”
John stopped inside the living room and stared at the Christmas tree. “Did Mr. Daniels turn the Christmas tree lights on, too?”
Bella shook her head. “That was me. Doesn’t the angel look pretty?”
“She does.” John gazed at the tree. It reminded him of when he’d been a boy. Everything had been sparkly and bright. He’d thought that Christmas would always be a happy, family time. It wasn’t until his mom and dad died, and then Jacinta, that he realized that Christmas could be one of the hardest times of the year.
This Christmas, for the first time in many years, it almost felt like it used to.
Bella sat on the edge of the rug under the tree. “This is for you.”
John took the carefully wrapped present out of her hands. “Thank you. I’ll find one of your presents.”
Bella shook her head. “Open yours first. I made it myself.”
He carefully undid the tape and peeled back the paper. Bella didn’t say anything as he pulled an album out of the paper. He felt her gaze on him as he opened the cover.
“I called it, Christmas Memories,” Bella said as she crawled across to where he was sitting. She kneeled beside his legs and pointed at the first photo. “Grant looked at the photos he had at home and found some of your old family ones. I looked through our photo albums and Rachel helped me copy them for the album.”
The first photo was a picture of John’s first Christmas. He would have been six months old. Grant was sitting on the ground holding him in his arms. His mom and dad were sitting either side of them. Everyone was smiling at the camera, frozen in that one moment in time.
“Keep going,” Bella urged. “It gets better.”
John turned to the next page. Another Christmas photo appeared, but instead of a Christmas tree, Grant and John were sitting on Santa’s knee, enjoying Christmas at the mall. The page was adorned with paper hearts and small Christmas pictures.
“Did you have enough scrapbooking supplies?”
“I had to make some of my own. Rachel couldn’t come here yesterday, so Mrs. Daniels helped me.”
He turned the page to the next photo and looked at Bella. “Have you got photos in here of every Christmas?”
Bella nodded. “That’s why it’s called, Christmas Memories. Do you like it?”
He put the album on the coffee table and pulled Bella close. “I love it. Thank you.”
Bella buried her head in his shoulder. “I wanted to make something special for you. Rachel took my photo at the mall with the Christmas elves. It was so much fun. That’s when I knew what I wanted to do. I found two photos of mom and me at Christmas, but we haven’t got any with all of us.”
John swallowed the lump in his throat. He picked up the album and turned to the two photos Bella was talking about. Jacinta looked back at him, laughing at the camera with the same carefree spirit that he’d loved. “I wasn’t home when you were a baby, Bella. I was working overseas.”
“I know. That’s why I added your military photo.” She pointed at the photograph she’d stuck to the page. “I put little flags around the edges.”
John kissed the top of her head, then turned to the back page. “Is this empty space for this Christmas?”
Bella smiled. “How did you guess?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It could be because we’ve got the most amazing tree this year. And Uncle Grant hasn’t stopped bragging about a new camera he bought last week.” John leaned forward and whispered in Bella’s ear, “He might be expecting to take the photo.”
Bella threw her arms around his neck. “He is going to take our photo. He’s got a tripod and a timer and everything. Do you think Rachel could be in the photo, too? It was almost her idea.”
John’s heart sank. “Bella, Rachel’s busy and can’t be part of our family photo.”
Bella’s arms dropped from around his shoulders. “I know.”
John watched her bent head and tried to think of something that would distract her. “You haven’t opened your present from me, yet.”
Bella’s head shot up. She slipped off his knee and watched him walk across to the tree. “It must be here somewhere,” he muttered, as he pretended to search through all of the gifts.
“I could help you look?”
“Here it is.” John found what he was looking for and passed it to Bella. “Happy Christmas.”
Bella tore the paper off the present and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, dad. I love it.”
John knew how much she enjoyed creating things, so he’d bought her a big paint set and four different sized canvases.
“Can I paint something now?”
John couldn’t think of a single reason why she couldn’t paint now. At least if she was busy, he wouldn’t have to get his brother out of bed too early. “Let’s go into the kitchen. You can paint while I make breakfast.”
“Can you make pancakes?”
“Blueberry, cinnamon, or maple syrup?”
Bella thought long and hard. “Blueberry, please.”
They walked through to the kitchen and John took some eggs and buttermilk out of the fridge. “You’ve got nice manners.”
“I know.” Bella sighed. “Mrs. Daniels said I need to be extra good to make up for running away from Tank and Rachel. I got them into trouble, didn’t I?”
“You shouldn’t have run away, Bella. You could have been hurt.”
“I won’t do it again. Is that why Rachel doesn’t live here anymore?”
“Some of the reason. Rachel has things she needs to do.”
Bella’s bottom lip wobbled. “Doesn’t she like me?”
“She likes you. You’ll see her at school in another couple of weeks.”
“But that’s a long time away.”
“It’s the best I can do. How many pancakes would you like?”
“Three.” She smiled at John. “Please. Do you think Mr. Daniels would like a pancake? He has been awake all night, but he didn’t see Santa Claus. Mr. Daniels thinks he must have been checking the garage when Santa snuck into the living room.”
John listened to Bella as she told him what Jim Daniels had been doing all night. With all of the hair-raising adventures that had happened, John was surprised that Santa had risked landing on their roof.
Jim Daniels, as well as being an ex-SAS officer and his housekeeper’s husband, was a good storyteller. And if John was lucky, his adventures would be enough to stop Bella asking about Rachel again.
***
John watched his brother flop down on the sofa. It was eight-thirty at night. Another Christmas had almost been and gone.
Grant sighed. “Bella is now happily sleeping after two chapters of Anne of the Island. She’s really got a thing for Anne Shirley. I’m surprised she hasn’t dyed her hair red.”
“Keep that observation to yourself,” John muttered. “If she thinks red hair is a possibility, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Grant snorted. “The trials and tribulations of being a parent.”
John cradled his coffee mug in his hands. “Do you remember when Spiderman hit the shelves at the library? You wanted to climb down the side of Mr. Garvey’s shed, just like Spiderman would have done.”
“It didn’t do me much good. You must have run like the wind to get home before I took my first step.”
John could still remember the terror that had propelled him forward. “You’re my older brother. You were supposed to have more common sense than me. Jumping off the side of a three-story barn wasn’t smart.”
