Echoes Of The Past (Fermosa Bay #1) (12 page)

Chapter Eight

Christmas in Fermosa Bay was different. It was an experience of a different kind as Connor found out. First of all, it was stinking hot and humid. As soon as he got out of bed, he noticed the stickiness in the air. He looked outside and saw a few clouds on the horizon, but nothing threatening like the first week he’d been here.

It took him a while to get up and have a shower, before he picked up his clothes from the previous night when they’d all gone to church for the Christmas Eve church service. Not one who liked going to church, Emily had been able to convince him, and in the end he’d admitted to have enjoyed it thoroughly. Most likely because of having her with him, but also because it’d been a joyous event. All he was able to remember were chapel services twice a week while he’d been a boarder. He’d been bored out of his brain.

When he heard Jack coughing down the hallway, he threw his clothes onto the bed and headed towards the lounge room. The Christmas tree was lit up with lots of presents underneath. The array of colours on the tree, and the loud colours of the wrapping paper did something to him inside, something he wasn’t able to pinpoint.

Happiness?

Anger for having missed out on Christmases like these?

“It’s going to be a hot day.”

Connor shot around and saw his dad with a cup of coffee in each of his hand. “Merry Christmas, Dad,” he said with a smile as he stepped closer. He nodded towards the tree in the lounge room. “Looks great.”

Jack nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“You all right?”

Again, a small nod before he replied, “I’m an old man and I’m allowed to be a bit sentimental. Hopefully you will not be mad with me, but I just had that moment when I cursed your mother.” He held out one cup to his son. “It hasn’t happened very often, if at all, but yes, thinking of the Christmases I had to spend without you…”

Connor ached inside. Being mad was the last thing on his mind. The opposite was more the truth; he felt the same way. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in the end, not sure what else to say. Or whether there were any words expressing exactly the pain and loss he felt.

Jack coughed, and Connor took the other cup as well. “Let’s sit down.”

Holding up his hand, Jack finished his coughing fit, before he said, “I’d like to go to church again. I want to say thanks for spending this time with you.” Meeting his son’s gaze, he whispered, “Would you mind coming with me? Just you and me. Our Christmas.”

Taking a few deep breaths, Connor nodded, not able to speak, too scared he’d cry. Tears were burning behind his eyes, and his whole body trembled from this one small request. He thought of the day on the oval and his father’s words about Connor calling him
Dad
being his best Christmas present, and now the simple request to go to church. Suddenly the realisation of the impact of his mother taking Connor away from Jack now hit him. It hit him so hard, he wasn’t sure whether he’d make it through the day without tears, but he couldn’t care less. His dad wanted to go to church to say thanks he was here. How could that not affect anybody?

“Of course we can.”

Connor had a quick breakfast and half an hour later they were in the car, driving to church.

“Have you called your mother, yet?”

He shook his head.

“It’s Christmas.”

Turning towards his father, he replied, “I am very aware of it. And I’m not letting her destroy another one for me.”

Jack placed his hand on Connor’s arm, but remained silent.

Morning mass was more along the lines what Connor had been used to, but he sat back and listened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father wiping his eyes a couple of times, and it nearly brought him to his knees. Although he was in church, even more so during one of the most festive events of the year, he wasn’t able to subdue his resentment against his mother. All he wanted to hear from her was a reason why she’d left. Why she’d taken him with her only for him to end up in boarding school. Christmases at his grandparents, sometimes with his mother and Duncan, often on his own though. There was no doubt he’d had a good life, although not the same as Ethan and Niall. If he tried hard enough, he’d even say, his mother tried her best to give him the best chances in life.

Had that been it? Did she think he’d have no chance of a good life in Fermosa Bay? Was it as simple as that?

When he heard Jack coughing, he stood and helped him outside until the fit was over. It was about the worst one his father had had so far. It scared him. It scared him to the bones, because he knew time was running out. As he looked at his father, he tried to put himself into Jack’s shoes knowing the days were numbered. He wondered how it’d be to know. The consciousness of hurry, but enjoying each minute at the same time.

Gently he rubbed Jack’s back up and down. “Better?”

“I’m okay, Son.”

What a lie, and Connor was sure his dad knew it as well.

Back home, they had a small lunch on the deck while Jack sat on his swing seat with a cup of tea. Connor moved a chair next to him and sat as well.

“I’ve got a little present for you,” Jack said after a while. “It’s on my desk. Could you go and get it?”

Connor nodded, stood, and walked to the study. He looked around and assumed that the simply wrapped square parcel was what his father was talking about. He took it and returned to the deck.

“You found it.”

Connor sat with the present on his lap.

“Emmy helped me with it. She’s a genius when it comes to those things.” He waved his hand over the present. “Go and open it.”

Slowly, he removed the sticky tape on the wrapping paper. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jack’s impatience and the little boy in him liked it.

“Good grief, Son. Hasn’t anybody ever showed you how to open a present. You rip it.”

Laughing, he looked at his father. “Sorry, Dad, just teasing you. I noticed your impatience.”

Jack’s face spread into a smile. “Rip it!” he demanded.

So he did. And discovered a photo album. It was simple and black, but his breath caught as he opened the book and saw the carefully arranged photos—the first one a wedding photo.

He looked up at his father.

“My parents. Michael and Bridie Delaney. They came from Ireland, settled here in Fermosa. Dad was a fisherman. One year was good and profitable, and he started a little bar in a shack on the other side of town. Years later, he built the pub down the street.”

“He’d be proud of you, if he knew what you’ve built since then.”

Jack nodded. “He’d died a few years before I met your mother. Even in his old age, he stood behind the bar serving his long standing friends.” He chuckled. “Charging them the price from twenty years earlier. It still surprises me that we didn’t go broke.” With a shrug, he added, “But friends were important to him. Something that he instilled in me.”

“Is that why you helped Ethan and Niall?”

“Yes.”

After Jack’s next bout of coughs, he leaned forward and pointed to another picture. “That’s me as a baby and right next to it, that’s me holding you. You were about three or four days old.”

A suffocating sensation tightened his throat as he touched the picture of himself with his father. “Look at all the hair,” he whispered with a chuckle.

“Look at the ears,” his father countered. “You were an ugly baby.”

Connor laughed. “Yeah, thanks, Dad.”

Then he felt Jack’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Son. You were four weeks early, but you fought hard. Always been a fighter.”

Tongue-tied, he stared at his dad. He’d come to terms with the fact that his mother had more or less done her hardest to make sure he wouldn’t remember anything about his life here in Australia, but why on earth hadn’t she ever mentioned such an important part? It had nothing to do with his upbringing in Fermosa Bay at all.

Four weeks early? He didn’t know much, if anything about little babies, but even he was aware that four weeks was early for a child to be born. A lot of things could theoretically still go wrong when born so early. He took a deep breath and made a mental note to bring it up in his next phone call with his mother.

“You didn’t know?”

Connor shook his head. “I know nothing about my life here.” He touched his scar. “Apparently I fell from the bike, but Ethan’s version is different.”

Jack leaned back, and Connor noticed him wiping away some tears. It seemed it was an emotional trip into the past for him as well.

“You were four weeks early. I know, because I’d accompanied your mother to each doctor’s visit. Dr. Miller was a good friend of mine. His daughter runs the practice nowadays.” He rubbed his hands over his face before he continued. “There was something wrong with your lungs. Not fully developed or…I can’t remember.” He met Connor’s gaze. “But you fought. Fought hard and made it.” His laugh surprised Connor. “And never had a cold or sniffle after that.”

“Never been one to be sick,” Connor confirmed.

“Yes, Sabrina…Niall’s grandmother…made sure I fed you with all the nutritious foods in the world.”

“I’ll make sure to pay her a visit and tell her my thanks.”

Jack laughed as he shook his head.

They spent hours looking at photos, and Jack telling him about Connor’s childhood. It was emotional, but rewarding.

“Dad, why did Mother take me with her?” He closed the photo album and leaned back into the chair. “I don’t want to complain, because I know she did the best she was able to, but we both know she wasn’t the mother of the year.”

The old man took a couple of moments to reply. His gaze lingering on the water, he leaned back as well. And then he closed his eyes, speaking quietly. “She was never happy here when it’d always been a matter of time for her to leave. But why she took you? Only God knows. She broke my heart that day. She broke a grown man.”

Connor blinked a couple of times, but didn’t fight the tears. “Why don’t you take the medicine, Dad?”

Jack took a deep breath. “I’m old and tired. I’ve got you here. It’s the last chapter, and the story needs to finish somewhere.” He opened his eyes and took Connor’s hand. “It’s the right way. I’ve told you many things I always wanted to tell you. I missed out on many, many days in my and your life I wanted to share with you. Medicine doesn’t bring that back. When I go, I go with the knowledge that after all these years I found you and you’re here with me.”

The conversation with Jack left Connor emotionally raw and exhausted. Ignoring the tears falling, he looked at his dad. All these years he’d had an empty part in him and had never realised it. His life in Fermosa Bay had been short compared to his thirty years on this earth, but he’d never known anything about it. God damn, he hadn’t even known it’d existed. He knew that blaming his mother or anybody wouldn’t make him feel better, wouldn’t bring back the lost time. It was what it was and he had to try to take it as that.

When he’d boarded the plane a few weeks earlier, he’d wondered about Jack, never expecting such an old father, especially not with a demanding mother like his. There’d been a few other odd thoughts tumbling around his head, like Jack asking for money, which he’d tossed aside very quickly because after all, he’d spent all this money finding him. He’d expected Jack to go on a rampage to discredit Connor’s mother. But most of all, he’d expected a bitter old man.

But Jack had surprised him in more than one way. He’d worked hard to build his business. Worked hard to help others, not letting close friends of any age fall through the gaps. But most of all, the rampage to shame Connor’s mother never came. He’d spoken of his love for her, his broken heart, and disappointment, but never said a bad word about her. If it had been close to bad, it had probably been close to the truth.

“Thanks for the Christmas present, Dad. I’d say it’s the best present I’ve ever received.”

Jack let out a little chuckle. “Except for the boogie board.” He shook his head. “Had to take it into the bath as well, pretending you were the biggest surfer on this earth.”

Connor’s mouth quirked as he brushed away his tears. “I’m really glad it’s in good hands nowadays.”

His father nodded. “It is. World champion surfer number two.”

Connor laughed as he imagined little Nick surfing the waves. He checked the time. “When are we supposed to be where?”

Jack nodded, his thoughts obviously still somewhere else. A smiled tugged on Connor’s lips as he pulled out his phone texted Ethan for information, leaving his father with his thoughts.

***

Emily gave her mother a hug. “Thanks for lunch.” Then she turned to her dad. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

“Merry Christmas, darling. And thanks for your present. Are you going to have dinner at Sabrina’s?”

She nodded with a laugh. “I don’t think I’m going to do much eating, but more socialising.”

“Will Connor be there?” her mother asked.