Page 206 of Men in Shorts

“Don’t panic,” Heather told Brodie. “Mind, it’s not how many rocks they’ve got in the house right now that decides the game. It’s how many rocksyou’vegot closer to the middle at the very end. You only need two, and you’ve already got one.”

Moments later, Duncan knocked that one out.

“So now you’ve got none,” Heather said. “But there’s still two for you to throw.”

Brodie examined the stones’ positions in the house. “I guess I’ll draw.” Drawing—placing a stone without touching any others—was often more difficult than hitting, but he’d been told he had a feel for it.

“All right, let’s do this,” John said as he joined them. Heather showed him where to place the head of his broom to offer Brodie the best target.

As Brodie walked down the sheet to take his shot, he saw Duncan coming the other way. He braced for an onslaught of competitive banter or a sly mind-game statement.

Instead Duncan gave him a quick broom-salute. “You got this,” he said without a trace of a smirk.

A Christmas miracle, indeed.

At the hack, Brodie took a deep breath, then got into position and took hold of the stone’s yellow handle. His pulse was pounding, despite the casual nature of this bonspiel.

He slid out of the hack at what he hoped was the right speed, then released his stone. The sweepers walked beside it, brooms at the ready, while John held them off with a steady, “No. No. No. No.”

Then all at once John let loose. “Yaaaasss! Hardhardhardhardhard! All the way! Haaaaaaaard!” He was clearly relishing this socially acceptable opportunity to scream his head off.

Brodie followed the sweepers down the sheet to the house, where his yellow stone came to rest on the side of the button.

“Great shot!” Duncan clapped him on the back. “Mum, what’s our best chance here?”

Mrs. Harris tapped her broom beside Brodie’s lone stone. “Take that one out.”

“What?” Brodie crouched down to line up Duncan’s proposed shot. “You can barely see it. You’ll crash on that guard.” He was pretty sure that was the correct terminology.

“Not if he throws soft enough,” Heather said. “A lighter weight will let him come round the guard. Tricky shot, though.”

Brodie straightened up. “Good luck,” he told Duncan, and to his own surprise, he actually meant it.

“Thanks!” Duncan strutted off down the sheet, broom tucked under his arm.

His mum turned to Brodie. “I’m so happy you’re home. I know you two will iron things out in no time.”

“We will do. Thanks, Mrs. Harris.”

“Wheesht!” She punched his shoulder. “I’ll not have you calling me ‘Mrs. Harris’ like we’ve only just met. I’m stillCarolineto you, always and forever.”

“Okay,” he said, hiding his wince. Then he stepped behind the house to stand with John. Together they watched Duncan’s stone zoom down the sheet.

“He might have this,” John said.

Duncan’s stone entered the house, then exited without touching Brodie’s.

“Missed it by a bawhair.” John collected the wayward rock to set it with the other out-of-play red ones.

Duncan came back to the house and flashed Brodie his signature broad grin. “Well, I gave it a go.” Then he quickly looked away, studying the head of his broom like it held the secrets of the universe.

Had he…no. Duncan of all people wouldn’t have missed on purpose.

Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe all that mattered was both of them letting go of their pride long enough to listen to each other.

Brodie turned to John. “We’re tied now, right?”

“Technically, aye, since we’re sitting one.” John pointed at the innermost of Duncan’s two red stones. “Your easiest shot is probably hitting that bang on the nose. Your shooter stays and we score two to win.”

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