Page 39 of Just Say Christmas
“What color is Grant?” Marko asked. “That could matter.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, yeh. He’s dark brown. Still not bad. Not evil. Just . . . controlling, I guess. Got his grip on everything. But never mind. He’s not here today. Today, we’re going to the ballet, because guess what? In exactly seven days, I’m getting married, assuming I get the coach’s wall painted. I’ve got my brother here, too, and all of you. And I’m celebrating.”
21
Hopeless
RHYS
Casey was all but bouncing off the walls. Actually, she was bouncing on her stool, while Rhys stood behind her and did his best to fix her hair in the bathroom mirror.
“Quit jumping up and down, monkey,” he said, “or this is going to be rubbish. I’m about to give up and get Zora in here. Wiggling takes you beyond my skill level.”
“I’m just very excited,” she said. “I never went to a ballet before. Plus we get to go get our Christmas tree.” She tried to twist for a better look, which, as you’d predict, didn’t work, since she still couldn’t see the back of her head. “Are you sure this is going to be special?”
“It is if you hold still.” He could command a group of thirty-plus hard-headed men. When he spoke, they listened. One little girl, though . . .
“OK,” Casey said. “I’m holding still.” She took a breath, and Rhys combed the second half of the unruly, wildly curly mass that announced “Maori” like nothing else could do into another high ponytail at the back of her head.
“Hard part’s done,” he said. “Breathe.”
“It’s pigtails,” Casey said, sounding disappointed.
“Yeh, well, I’m not finished yet. Hang on.” He pressed “Play” on the tablet he’d set up on the stone benchtop and watched one more time, then carefully pulled the hair in the first pigtail halfway back through the elastic band, so it was looped. It worked all right, so he did the second one. “Tuck and pin,” he muttered to himself, and started in on it, though his fingers, as always, felt much too big for the activity.
Zora poked her head into the bathroom. “Almost ready?”
“Dad’s concentrating,” Casey informed her.
“Oh,” Zora said. “Sorry.” And departed.
Rhys stood back at last and let out his breath, and in the mirror, so did Casey. He said, “Oh. Wait.” And did the last bit: two little red-velvet bows, stuck onto bobby pins. “There. Done.”
Zora stuck her head back in. She’d been listening from outside, clearly. She said, “Oh, Rhys. Adorable.”
“Well,” he said, feeling a bit proud of himself, “that’s what I thought.”
Casey was jumping some again, saying, “I want to see.” He got the hand mirror and held it for her. Two twisted knots of hair, as advertised, high up on her head, with a red bow placed neatly beside each one.
“Looks like a couple of breakfast pastries,” he told Zora. “Cinnamon buns, maybe.”
Casey said, “No, it doesn’t. It looks like Minnie Mouse ears. Iloveit. It matches with my red dress, too. I look very, very Christmasy, even though there’s no snow here.” The dress was sleeveless and extravagantly sashed, had a huge bow in back, and was patterned with tropical poinsettias. Zora hadn’t found it, because shewasworking too much. Rhys had done it himself last week, after their Christmas talk. He’d bought Casey a yellow one, too, patterned with different flowers. They’d been nice, and they’d been Casey’s size, so of course he’d bought both. Christmaswascoming up, and Casey liked dresses, when she wasn’t practicing rugby.
“You do look very Christmasy,” Rhys said. He told Zora, “You’ve been using your time wisely, I see, because you look beautiful yourself.” She was wearing a sort of wrap dress, with a tie at the side of the waist, like a short dressing gown. It was navy blue with tiny white polka dots swirling across it in a nearly Aboriginal pattern, the material silky and the short sleeves fluttery. Suitable for daytime, she’d told him, but still . . . it was a little short, and it was alotwrapped.
He wondered if every fella saw “wrap” and thought “unwrap.” He knew he did, because she was also wearing sandals. With wedge heels, and straps that crisscrossed over her slender ankles, which was nice, since her ankles happened to be some of his favorite things. He happened to also know that she’d painted her toenails with shimmery, pale blue. Her shoes covered her toes, but he’d seen the bottle out on the benchtop in their ensuite bath earlier. Blue toenails were daring, but he liked her daring side, and he loved taking off her shoes.
Ballet or not, he was already having a good day. She needed a necklace with that dress, though. It had a very nice V-neck, and she needed a necklace. He should do something about that. He’d discovered, this past year, the hidden benefit of a rugby coach’s travel schedule. You could bring home presents.
“Well, thanks,” she said. “You look very nice yourself.” He didn’t, not really. Gray trousers, white shirt with the sleeves folded halfway up his forearms, and his black hair going straight back from his forehead, brushing his chin. He’d shaved, but there wasn’t much he could do about his face.
“Isaiah ready?” he asked.
“He’s still hoping he doesn’t have to go,” she said, as Casey jumped down from her stool.
“No, I’m not,” Isaiah said, coming into the bathroom and surveying Casey critically. “I learned a new strategy for boring times. You think out maths problems in your head, and the time goes faster, plus you get better at maths, because doing hard things is better for your mind. You look kind of funny, Casey. Like you have mouse ears.”
“That’s thepoint,”she said. “It’scute.”
