An Aussie Christmas Angel (7 page)

Pip read the card over her shoulder. “A poem?”

“You’re just jealous because Rob doesn’t write poetry for you.” She read it again. Her heart pounded and threatened to leap from her chest with the joy spreading through her. “He wrote me a poem.”

“It’s two lines.”

She jumped up and down on the spot, hugging the card to her chest. “It’s still a poem.”

“Squeeing doesn’t become you. Hey, where are you going?”

Jo glanced back as she ran to the door. “E-mailing him.”

“It’s the middle of the night there.”

“Don’t care. I’m going to e-mail him anyway. It’ll be in his inbox when he wakes.” She dashed to the computer, grateful for Pip’s insistence on leaving it on all the time. At least she didn’t have to wait for it to boot up. Bringing up a fresh e-mail she typed in John’s address.

“Dear John.”
She shook her head, a fit of giggles erupting from her. “You can’t put that,” she chided herself. She deleted it and started over.

“Hi, John. Glad you’re home safe and your suitcase made it, too. Thank you for the postcard. It came today. I love the poem. No one has ever written me a poem before. The house is quiet without you around. Not that you were noisy, because you weren’t, but yeah—quiet. Anyway, I’m heading out to the Quay in a few. I have to buy Pip’s Christmas present since she’s leaving soon for the UK. I can’t imagine it being cold for Christmas. Kind of jealous she’s going to experience it firsthand. Anyway, better go.”

She paused. “Love, Jo. Much love, Jo. From, Jo. Yeah, from, Jo.” She typed the last sentence and hit send.

****

John yawned and glanced at the clock. Time for bed, but before he went, he’d check his e-mail. Just one sat in his box. From Jo Heyward. A huge smile crossed his face as he opened it. He’d hoped when he gave her his e-mail address she’d write. Intense happiness filled him, setting every nerve tingling. As he read, he could almost feel the blood rushing through his veins.

His fingers couldn’t type fast enough. “
Hey, Jo. Just about to head to bed, once these photos finish uploading. It’s bitterly cold tonight, minus seven Centigrade right now. Or nineteen degrees Fahrenheit in old money, as we say here. There is some snow on the ground already, with more to come. Really feeling the difference in the weather after Australia. Sydney was definitely the highlight of the trip.”

He took a deep breath.
“Actually meeting you was the highlight of the trip.”
He couldn’t put that, no matter how much he wanted to and deleted the line.
“It’s strange being back at work, kind of surreal almost. OK, the photos have finished uploading. I’ll attach a couple for you. I was wondering if I could ring you at some point. Just to say hi. I’m eleven hours behind, so not sure which time would work. Perhaps you could reply and let me know. I’d imagine the weekend is best. Though Saturday’s no good because I’m going to the football. Headley Cross are playing Whitgate United. It’s a sold out game, but I have a season ticket. Anyway, better go. John.”

He added two photos and hit send. Slowly, he scrolled through the photos he’d taken in Sydney. He looked at the one he’d taken in the restaurant the night he’d asked Jo out. The fairy lights lit her hair. His fingers ran over the screen. “My Aussie Christmas angel,” he whispered.

If only…

He hit print and waited. The larger photo could go in his Bible. That way he could pray for her a lot. The smaller one could go in his wallet. The e-mail chimed and he pulled it up. From Jo. That was fast.

“Dear John. Thanks so much for the photos. I’m printing them off as I type. So you have snow? It’s never really cold enough for frost here. Mind you, we call cold twenty degrees Celsius.”

John quickly converted that to sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit and laughed. “That’s not cold.” He laughed harder as he realized he was reading it in a broad Australian accent.

“We get snow in the Snowy Mountains, hence their name, and a lot of people go skiing there. I prefer skating. Should have taken you to the indoor rink. Oh. I shouldn’t have started Dear John. I’m sorry. Jo. PS—I go to bed around eleven thirty, so any time before that is good.”

John laughed and typed.
“Dear Jo. I don’t know, two e-mails and I get a ‘Dear John’ already. Not sure if I should be insulted or find you funny. ;-) LOL. At least my name isn’t Jack, otherwise it’d be hi, Jack. (Hijack). I’ll ring when I get back from church on Sunday. Will Fed-ex you some snow soon as I can. It makes the commute into the country horrible. Better go before I fall asleep on the keyboard. That’s not a pretty look. Good night. John.

He logged off and headed up to bed, taking Jo’s photo with him.

****

Sunday took at least two years to come, never mind just twenty-four hours. John raced home from church, wanting to get there first, only to find he arrived at the same time everyone else did. He settled on the telephone table and dialed Jo’s number. He should buy his parents a cordless phone, rather than the corded one they’d had and then he could take it upstairs with him. She answered on the second ring. Had she been sitting by the phone?

“Hello.”

“Jo?”

“Yes. Hello, John.”

He pushed a hand through his hair. “How did you know it was me?”

“Your accent kind of gave it away. We don’t get many English blokes ringing in the middle of the night. How are you?”

“I’m OK. How are you?”

“I’m good. Is it nice to be back at work?”

Behind the closed kitchen door he could hear his parents talking. He smiled as he replied. “That depends whether I’m in a nice warm lab or up to my knees in a freezing cold river in a snowy field.”

“You still have to do that? In this weather?” Surprise filled her voice. He could almost see her brows shoot up into her hair and the way her eyes twinkled.

“Yeah. No samples means no work. And some mug has to go and collect them.”

“It doesn’t sound like much fun. Maybe you should change jobs.”

“I have no idea what I’d do instead. Well, in an ideal world I’d be a photographer, but that doesn’t pay the bills.” He took a deep breath wondering what to say next. He missed her smile and the way she tilted her head as she spoke. He hadn’t realized until just now how much. There was a pause for a few seconds then he started telling her about Auckland. As he spoke, he realized exactly what he’d left behind. He loved her. As crazy as that sounded, his heart was well and truly in Sydney. “But you should have been there. It would have been so much more fun with you there.”

“Me personally or just someone that you knew tagging along for company?”

“You personally. It’s not the same without you around.” If only this was a video phone. His parent’s computer didn’t have a webcam so he couldn’t use a web chat program even if he wanted to. And he did. He needed to see her.

When she spoke, his soul just filled and bubbled over. He wanted her, more than any other girl he’d asked out before. It had to be all or nothing. “Tell me about it. The unit is so empty now. Pip’s out a lot, either working or helping Rob house hunt and I’m just rattling around on my own. Wish you were here.”

“Not that our paths crossed much.”

“I know, but even so…” Jo paused. “Maybe I’ll get over to England one day. Look you up.” Her tone was wistful.

“I’d like that.” Oh, he would like that so much. Just to have her around, see her smile. Go for a walk along the river, her hand in his. He should have taken her on one of his day trips. So much wasted time. “Or we meet half way or something.”

“Sounds good.” She stifled a yawn.

“I’m keeping you up. It must be really late there.”

“Gone midnight.”

“Then go to bed,” he said. “I’ll email you and you can read it when you get up.”

Jo yawned again. He pictured her forcing her eyes to stay open and failing. “OK. Really enjoyed speaking to you.”

“Me too. Sleep well. Night, Jo.”

“Night, John.”

The phone clicked off and he hung up. Pushing to his feet, he headed to his bedroom and shut the door.

Kneeling by his bed, he took a deep breath.
Lord, You know how I feel about Jo. How incomplete I feel knowing I’m here and she’s there. Am I just dreaming, or is there a way for us to be together? I know You can move mountains if only we have the faith of a mustard seed, and I know it says to ask and we’ll receive. So, Lord, I’m asking. If it’s Your will and if she feels the same way I do, please find a way for us to be together.

He pulled out notepaper from his desk and sat down to write. The pen was more than a little chewed by the time he’d finished pouring out his heart and soul and laying it out in as few words as possible.

The last thing he wanted to do was bury his feelings in flowery words that weren’t necessary, so that the thrust of the letter was lost in the wording. He folded the paper and put it inside an envelope.

Writing the address, he then laid it on the desk and went down to dinner. He’d take his nephew, Taylor, to the post box after dinner and then he’d leave everything in God’s hands. If He wanted him and Jo together, then mountains and continents would be moved.

“Dear Jo,

Ever since I met you, you have filled my thoughts like no one else. Everywhere I go, everything I do is tempered by the fact you aren’t with me. I know we didn’t spend long together when I was in Sydney and for that I’m sorry. But I was wondering.

Would you like to start a long distance relationship?

We could ring and email and maybe meet up half way next time you’re in Europe or something. I really like you. More than like you. But it’s your call. Let me know.

Love, John.”

****

For two weeks Jo heard nothing. She’d gotten the one e-mail the day after that phone call, but that was it. For a few days she wondered if he’d written. She knew ‘snail mail’ was slow from Pip writing to her gran. Mail from the UK could take up to a month to arrive, which she found ludicrous as it didn’t take that long for mail to get from Australia to the US.

Slowly she resigned herself to picking up the pieces of her shattered dream and filing them under the title, “Never Date a Bloke Who’s on Holiday. Especially One Who Lives Half a World Away.” Life seemed flat without the little contact she’d had with John. She kept praying for him. That was the least she could do and that way she could fool herself into thinking they still had a connection. Anything more was a stupid pipe dream, but she thought of little else as she visited her parents over the weekend.

She arrived back in Sydney on Sunday evening, determined to enjoy the early Christmas with Pip and not mope over something she couldn’t have. Truth be told, all she wanted for Christmas was a blond English bloke named John. Even if he had forgotten all about her.

She set her bag down in the hallway. “Pip, I’m home.”

Pip came into the hall and hugged her. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Weekend was fine. How are you?”

“I’m good. You got mail.”

Jo hung her coat on the hook. “I did?”

“From England.”

Jo took the envelope and her heart leapt as she recognized the writing. The postmark was just over two weeks old. He’d written it the day of the phone call. She caught her breath and ran upstairs into the bathroom, locking the door firmly behind her. She pressed the letter to her face. It smelt faintly of the aftershave he wore. Her hands trembled as she slit the envelope.

Unfolding the letter, heart racing, blood pumping, she read it. Nine words leapt out at her.

Would you like to start a long distance relationship?

Jo screamed. She clutched the letter to her chest and closed her eyes. Was she seeing things?

She risked a peek.

Yes, she read it correctly.

She screamed again. Unlocking the door, she ran down the stairs, letter grasped tightly in her hand. “Pip! Look…” She held out the letter. “Does it say what I think it does?”

She watched Pip’s face, then beamed as Pip first nodded, then hugged her.

“Wow. What are you going to do?”

“Call him. Going to do it now.”

“What will you say?”

Jo winked. “Need to tell him first.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “Get that kettle on.” She crossed to the phone and dialed the number of his mobile phone. It was switched off. He’d probably done a Pip and left it behind. So she tried his parent’s landline.

It rang four times and the answerphone picked up.
No! Where are you?
She glanced at her watch. John was in church. She left a short message. “John. Ring me as soon as you get in.” And hung up.

6

John opened the door and went into the hall. Still buoyed from the blessing he’d received in church, he stood to one side and let Dorrie, her husband and the kids in. His parents followed them, and he shut the door against the cold. Minus five and only lunchtime. He didn’t hold out much hope for the temperature getting above freezing all day. He busied himself with hanging up his thick overcoat and then took the kids coats from his sister.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the answerphone was flashing. That reminded him. His mobile phone was by his bed and switched off. He headed towards the stairs to retrieve it and change out of his suit as his mum pushed the button on the answerphone.

“You have one new message,” the phone intoned.

“John. Ring me as soon as you get in.”

He stood stock still. She must have gotten his letter. What had he done? He should never have sent it. But he had and besides this was what he’d been waiting for, right? He’d know one way or the other. It was time to man up and hear her answer. Before he could chivvy everyone out of the hall, they all began to chip in with advice.

“Call her,” Mum said. “You’ve got time before dinner.”

He looked at his watch. He wasn’t putting it off, but he didn’t want an audience. Not even one behind closed doors. “She’ll be going to bed about now.”