Page 17 of The Mistletoe Wish

After giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, Darim pushed open his door and stepped out into the night. He flicked on the torch and began a careful sweep; first of the Land Rover then finding nothing obvious, moved to the towbar and the front of the caravan.

“Damn.” Worse than a blown tyre. One of the metal struts of the A-frame that linked the chassis to the towing hitch, had split and was dragging on the ground. He bent down and ran his hands along the metal. Powdery residue coated his fingers. A closer inspection revealed a dodgy paint job had been applied to cover up the rusted metal. There could be rust all throughout the chassis. Lowering himself to the stony ground, he wriggled on his back under the van and shone the torch around. The axle had snapped into two, with the larger piece of metal now reposing in the dirt. They needed a tow truck.

A blue light flickered about. “Did you find the problem?” came Skye’s voice.

“Damnit, Skye. I told you to wait in the car.”

“It’s dark out here, Dad. I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Yeah, okay, I understand. Sorry, hon. Move out of the way while I get myself out.” He shuffled and slithered until he was able to stand. A thorough shine of the torch in all directions revealed nothing but an empty road in both directions surrounded by trees and yet more trees. No house lights. No signs of any oncoming vehicles. They were on their own.

“Can you fix it?”

“That’s a negative.” He explained about the rust and broken axle. “My fault, I obviously didn’t do a thorough inspection. Guess I was taken in by the seller being who I thought was a nice single mother.” He sighed and looked around again. “I can’t see any properties where we can ask for help. Let’s get back into the car. I’m going to drive the car and the van further away from the road. There’s a bit of a clearing a few metres ahead where we can park.”

As they walked back to the Land Rover, he slung an arm around his daughter and hugged her close. “We’ve got two options. Stay here and hope that someone comes along, and we can flag them down. The other option is we leave the van and drive on until we get a phone connection. I’m leaning towards the latter option.”

“I don’t want to stay here, Dad.” Shivering she snuggled up against him.

He popped a kiss on her forehead before opening the passenger door and shooing her inside. “That’s settled then. We’ll move the caravan away from the road, then go find help.”

As he closed the door, he remembered one of the stipulations of the bequest; no party to be away from the property for longer than twenty-four hours. He checked his watch. Fifteen past eighteen hundred hours. No sweat. He could still make it back well within the time limit.

Ten minutes later and the dark outline of the caravan was disappearing in the rear. The former gaiety inside the cabin had vanished. Skye sat huddled in the corner and clutching her mobile to her chest. Not the best start to what he hoped would be a turning point in their relationship. But as every good soldier knew, campaigns were fluid, always changing, and if you wanted to win you had to be prepared to re-group and re-evaluate at every eventuality.

It wasafter midnight when they finally arrived at the shack.

Darim took a moment to shake off his fatigue and drink in the sight of the welcoming lights flowing from the window and open door. Before he could rouse Skye awake, a figure burst onto the verandah and ran across the grass.

“What happened?” yelled Sara. She reached the Land Rover and wrenched open the door. The interior light switched on revealing her tense features. “It’s been hours!”

“Worried about me, were you?” He ran his knuckles down her pale cheek and felt her quiver at his touch. What would it be like to have her throw her arms around him and hold him tight?

Eyes flitting past him to rest on Skye, she muttered, “Don’t be ridiculous. I was thinking about your daughter.”

“Seriously, we’re fine. Although I can’t say the same about the van.” He sighed and entertained the insane idea of folding her into his arms and drinking in her sweet scent. “It’s a long story.”

Sara’s nose wrinkled. “I can smell McDonalds.” She smiled and it was as if everything was right in his world once more.

“That was dinner,” he admitted wryly then leaning over, he gently touched Skye’s wrist. “Come on, hon. We’re home.”

Giving a massive yawn, Skye blinked then stared at Sara before looking out the windscreen and frowning. “The house doesn’t look very big.”

Sara laughed. “It’s small but cosy. Come inside and relax while I make you a hot chocolate.”

“Really?” The doubt left his daughter’s face as her eyes lit up.

Chocolate.

The magic word which worked every time.

They trooped inside the house, with Darim pulling the suitcase and Sara taking the messenger bag off Skye. Under the brutal glare of the single light bulb, the furniture looked shabby despite the yellow and white checked throw rug adorning the grey sofa and the orange butterfly doona on the bunks. A pedestal fan blasted warm air in their faces, only marginally cooler than the air outside. Darim stuffed his hands in his pockets. Would Skye turn up her nose? How much of her mother’s snobby attitude had rubbed off on her?

“I claim the top bunk!” She scampered across the room and hauled herself onto the bed. Trailing a hand over the doona, she grinned. “My favourite colours.”

“Same. I’m a yellow and orange kind of girl,” said Sara.

They shared a smile.

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