Page 30 of The Twelve Days of Christian
“At the expense of people who don’t deserve it. Messing with their lives.”
“You see why I don’t usually watch this stuff, don’t you?”
She’s gentle in her chiding, but I’m still ashamed. Viewers like me feed this voracious machine that chews people up and spits them out simply to make money and boost ratings. A blushing warmth creeps up my face.
“Hey, it’s OK,” she says. “Don’t feel bad. This one was supposed to do some good, wasn’t it? I was watching too.”
She grabs at my arm, offering a solid squeeze.
“Yeah,” I say. “Looks like they had us all fooled.”
“I was even on Team Christeena,” she laughs. “Anything for the dogs.”
That’s another thing we have in common. Rachel’s a champion for dogs too, under that severe suit and stern lawyer demeanour.She’s been an angel, taking on pro bono work for the Trust. That’s why, despite her grumbles, she happily gave her time to help out Christian tonight. She knows his heart’s with the animals, too.
“How’s it going down there at the clinic?” she asks, her voice a little wary.
“A bit grim,” I say. “We’re all trying to keep positive, but it’s hard knowing we might be out of a job soon.”
“Something will come through, I know it will,” she says.
“Just notWild For The Win.”
“No, we might have to find our Christmas miracle somewhere else. This house looks like one great big summoning spell for it,” she teases, standing to gather her coat and briefcase.
“It had better start working its magic soon. The clock’s ticking.” I survey my beautiful decorations, savouring the small surge of happiness they bring, even in the middle of all this mess.
“It will happen,” she says. “All those rich people love to make themselves look good by splashing a bit of Christmas spirit around.” She quirks a brow. “What about Ollie? He’s always happy to throw money around. Would he come through for you?”
My breath comes out, a sharp exhale. Her eyes bore into me, and I shrink a little under her scrutiny, before deciding this is the one person who might understand my selfishness at not wanting my brother to help.
“Yeah, he would. But I don’t want to ask him.” I swallow, fearful of putting it into words. I wander over to the Christmas tree, rearranging an ornament that’s slipped, adjusting the arc of a strand of tinsel, moving a light that’s tucked behind a branch. Delaying.
“You know I think I only got the interview for this job because Mum knows one of the trustees, right?”
She nods, and her eyes soften. It might not be true, but it’s the thing that tarnished my delight when I phoned my parents to tell them I’d been offered the position—my mother pointedly mentioning how only a week earlier she’d seen the woman at some school fundraiser. When I voiced it to Rachel, of course she shot the idea down, trying to bolster my confidence. But I can’t let go of the sickening possibility. I blunder on.
“So, if Ollie was to give them the hundred grand, it would kind of feel like he’s buying me a job.”
“I get it.” She steps in, pulling me into a stiff hug, and I fight back tears, not wanting to dampen the front of her smart jacket. “Honey, if there’s another way, we’ll find it.”
She strokes my hair with awkward fingers. Warm fuzzies don’t come naturally to Rachel, so I know she’s worried about me. I step back, and she gives a small relieved huff, self-consciously smoothing down her skirt.
“Call me if you need anything else. Promise?” I nod. “And don’t worry. I’m not giving up on your miracle, OK?”
As I shut the door, I’m hoping Rachel is right. But our clinic isn’t the only thing deserving of a Christmas miracle. There’s a man locked in the room opposite mine who deserves saving, too.
Chapter 15
Day Six
I’m unloading the dishwasherwhile the dogs are out pottering in the garden. Over the clatter of sorting cutlery into a drawer, I don’t hear his footsteps. Christian’s at my shoulder before I realise and I startle at his voice.
“Thank you,” he says. “That was a really nice thing to do.”
I turn and he’s right there, his blue eyes soft and smiley, his lips so damn close; and then they’re on my cheek, a light brush, but it sends my senses spiralling. It’s only a kiss. Simply him thanking me. But I’m like a meteor; bursting into flame the moment I’m in his atmosphere, a blaze of fire across the night.
When he steps back, I see he’s clutching the frame with the pictures of Jet I placed on the bedside table. I knew he’d love it.
