Page 103 of A Country Practice Christmas
She climbed out of the car and crossed the street, that same siren going off in her head. It had nothing to do with Owen Morgan. Everything to do with his brother.
A smile smarted her cheeks as she paused mid-step on the track.
Mint-white blooms for as far as the eye could see. An entire sea of flannel flowers. She ran her fingers over the soft surface of a petal. Like velvet. A pincushion of crimson and yellow spikes created a mossy mosaic in the centre of the flower. A bug landed, traversing the maze, collecting pollen along the way. Lacy grey-green leaves reached out from the stem like clusters of tiny hands reaching for the light.
Why had she left it so long to visit this place when it was no more than a fifteen-minute drive from town?
Work, of course. It was always work; that was the way she operated.
Righting herself, she made her way deeper into the scrub, the scent of salt air tickling her nostrils, a cool evening breeze prickling the skin of her arms. Focusing on each step, taking in the landscape, staying in the moment. This was what walking did for her: cleared out the cobwebs and allowed her to recalibrate. And right now, that was something she sorely needed.
How the hell had she let herself get so distracted in that session with Owen? Yes, his case had brought up things she’d spent her entire adult life trying to forget, and yes, she had the Lenore issue to grapple with, but she was a professional, for God’s sake, prided herself on the quality of her work, on her efficiency and integrity. Cracking up like that was totally unacceptable. Next week she’d make sure to be better prepared.
The walking trail wound through a series of boulders, rounded and smoothed by the coastal winds, stands of bright yellow grevillea and a sea of those breathtaking flannel flowers, until it reached a cliff overlooking the ocean. An ideal place for a rest. Settling herself on the rocky shelf, she took a sip of cool water from her flask and peered out towards the horizon. The sinking sun at her back had painted the evening a palette of peach and mauve, thin ribbons of light streaking the watercolour sky.
There was more to life than work, she knew that. Counselled her clients to create balance in their lives, even though she had very little. Helped them see that, to move forward, they needed to deal with their past, and yet she’d never managed to make peace with her own. But the droning inside her body that she generally managed to contain was working its way up to fever pitch, like an angry hive of bees ready to swarm, as it always did at this time of year. As a newcomer to town, she was happy to be a fish out of water in Yarrabee most of the time, but with festivities ramping up, and being so much harder to avoid than in the city, her resistance was wavering.
Then there was Lenore. Her request still hanging even though the answer was inevitable.As inevitable as death.
A movement to her left had Hannah twisting to the side. A gecko sunning himself on the still-warm granite, toes splayed, front legs upright, head angled as if listening. As if watching. Waiting. Her chest expanded like a freshly inflated ballon. How lucky she was to be here, to be alive, to be connected to a small lizard whose sole purpose in life was to exist.
But humans needed more. Maslow had taught her that with his hierarchy. And she’d achieved so much according to his scale: all her basic needs met, professional fulfilment, a sense of achievement and pride in her work, physical safety and financial security … but somehow she’d seemed to have bombed out in the love and belonging category. It was why she’d come to Yarrabee, certainly the belonging part, and yet she’d made no real effort to become part of the community. Maybe Crystal was right and the planets aligning was an opportunity to change. Maybe facing her Christmas demons once and for all would banish them completely. And having Lenore and Nancy come to stay provided exactly the right opportunity.
‘Thanks, little guy.’
At the sound of her voice the reptile scurried away, disappearing into a crevice. Laughter trickled up Hannah’s throat and spilled into the twilight.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and typed out the text she’d rehearsed over and over in her head. No mention of illness or failed treatment. No downbeat sympathy. Better to keep it breezy and positive. Even if it did mean turning her plans upside down andnotdisappearing into the wilderness like a female version of Bear Grylls.
Chapter 4
She needed to make a to-do list. That was the only way she was going to manage this Christmas charade; treating it as a set of concrete tasks to be completed would take the emotion out of it and ensure everything would be ready by the time Lenore and Nancy arrived.
Finishing off her salad wrap, she retrieved her iPad from across the desk. Time for a little lunchtime research.
Okay, so what do you need to get organised for Christmas? Her fingers hovered over the keyboard of her iPad but sadly, no neurons fired in her brain. It shouldn’t be that hard, but somehow she’d managed to erase any memories of her own family’s annual celebration. As an adult, she’d avoided anything and everything that held a remote glimmer of the festive season so …
Google.
She typed the question and watched the magic happen. AI was useful for something!
How to Plan for Christmas: 5 Top Tips.
1. Choose a Christmas tree
2. Select a decorating theme
3. Create a menu
4. Make a list of gifts to purchase
5. Start your own tradition
None of that sounded too onerous. All she had to do was begin at the top of the list and work her way down. Starting with the tree. A real tree, not one of those fake silver or snow-covered abominations. Something that showed true commitment. Hadn’t there been a sign in town somewhere about trees for sale? The scout hall? Or maybe the community centre. Crystal had her finger on the town pulse, she’d be sure to know. The woman was turning into quite the asset, had reorganised the online filing system and streamlined the appointments calendar. Her wage was money well spent, even if she could be a little on the eccentric side.
Behind the reception desk, the font of all Yarrabee wisdom was hard at work. What more was there to do? At least she wasn’t shirking.
‘Crystal, can I ask you a question?’
