Christmas Where They Belong

* * *

The moment they walked out of the house they knew they were in desperate trouble. The heat took their breath away. It hurt to breathe.

The wind was frightening. It was full of dry leaf litter, blasting against their faces—a portent of things to come. If these leaves were filled with fire... She felt fear deep in her gut. The maps she’d just seen were explicit. This place was going to burn.

She wanted to bury her face in Rob’s shoulder and block this out. She wanted to forget, like last night, amazingly, had let her forget.

But last night was last night. Over.

Concentrate on the list. On her dot-points.

‘Windows, pits, shovel, go,’ Rob said and seized her firmly by the shoulders and kissed her, hard and fast. Making a mockery of her determination that last night was over. ‘We can do this, Jules. You’ve put a lot of work into that fire plan. It’d be a shame if we didn’t make it work.’

They could, she thought as she headed for the shutters. They could make the fire plan work.

And maybe, after last night... Maybe...

Too soon. Think of it later. Fire first.

* * *

She fixed the windows—fast—then checked the pits. They were overgrown but the mounds of dirt were still loose enough for her to shovel. She could bury things with ease.

She headed inside, grabbed a couple of cases and headed into the boys’ room.

And she lost her breath all over again.

She’d figured yesterday that Rob must have hired someone to clean this place on a regular basis. If it had been left solely to her, this house would be a dusty mess. She’d walked away and actively tried to forget.

But now, standing at their bedroom door, it was as if she’d just walked in for the first time. Rob would be carrying the boys behind her. Jiggling them, making them laugh.

Two and a half years old. Blond and blue-eyed scamps. Miniature versions of Rob himself.

They’d been sound asleep when the road gave way, then killed in an instant, the back of the car crushed as it rolled to the bottom of a gully. The doctors had told her death would have been instant.

But they were right here. She could just tug back the bedding and Rob would carry them in.

Or not.

‘Aiden,’ she murmured. ‘Christopher.’

Grief was all around her, an aching, searing loss. She hadn’t let herself feel this for years. She hadn’t dared to. It was hidden so far inside her she thought she’d grown armour that could surely protect her.