A Christmas Miracle
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Amy Andrews
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15,1K
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18
Chapter One
TRINITY WALKER WAS having a bad day. In a life that had been punctuated by bad days, it was a drop in the ocean. Sadly, they were beginning to have an accumulative effect.
She was twenty-four years old but she suddenly felt ancient.
She’d just needed three more days. Come Monday her government payment would be in the bank and Oscar would be walking through the school gates for the first time.
She could finally get some order to their lives.
Regular child-free hours to dedicate to a job that would bring in regular money for things like rent instead of relying on government support and a variety of other dodgy alternatives.
Couch surfing, shonky hostels, single room rentals in share houses and the occasional night—like last night—sleeping rough in her ancient Mazda, was no life.
Not for her or her five-year-old.
Every now and then she’d get lucky and land a job with some form of accommodation attached. A room, sometimes a small flat or bedsit. It never usually lasted though. More often than not it was Oscar’s health issues that ended the job and therefore their housing. Yesterday it had been Terrible Todd.
Her big, ugly, bearded, tattooed boss who drove a motorbike and reeked of cheap cologne and engine grease. Todd had announced that he did, after all, want her to pay for the accommodation.
Just not with money.
He’d felt they could come to an arrangement. She’d walked.
Bastard.
Bloody hell, why even bother with a permanently stressed-out, exhausted single mother who wasn’t even that much to look at? She was five feet four, her long dark brown hair was so fine it hung limply down her back and she was somewhat on the thin side.
And not the sleek, glowing, deliberate thin of a catwalk model. The stringy, wrung-out thin of a woman who’d been stressed and struggling to make ends meet for the last five years. She’d used to be passably pretty back in her size twelve days, but even a fairy godmother would baulk at Trinity’s current state.
Hell, it had been so long since she’d even thought of herself as a sexual being it always surprised her when someone else did.
Someone like Terrible Todd.
And here they were. With nowhere to go and no money to pay for anything much until Monday. Homeless again.
Homeless.
The word cast a sinister shadow as a cold hand crept around her heart. Fear over the welfare of her child, always present, threatened to overwhelm her.
Seriously, when was she going to ever catch a freaking break?
Maybe she could impose on Raylene again for the use of her couch tonight. Just one night. They could go after dinner and be gone by breakfast so Raylene, who was also doing it tough, wouldn’t have to feed them.
‘Look, Mummy! Look at all the ducklings. They’re hungry.’
Trinity broke free from the sticky tendrils of anxiety. She was sitting on a park bench about two metres from Oscar, keeping an eye on him near the pond’s edge, but had mentally tuned out.
‘Yes, darling.’ She smiled.
Her own belly growled in hunger as she also smiled at the old man standing next to her son at the pond’s edge. He’d brought the bread with him about ten minutes ago and Oscar had followed him from the slippery dip like the freaking Pied Piper.
The elderly gentleman had said hello to her and had looked down and smiled at an eager Oscar as he’d asked the man politely if he could watch him feed the ducks.
‘Watch me?’ The old man’s fuzzy eyebrows had drawn together before he’d given a hearty belly laugh. ‘Goodness, young man, you can help me.’
Oscar had beamed and for a moment, Trinity had almost burst into tears. It was utterly ridiculous. She didn’t cry. She was not a crier. Tears didn’t put a roof over her kid’s head or food in his belly. But she was feeling so damn low after her brush with Terrible Todd, such a simple act of human kindness had restored her faith in people.
She thought the elderly gentleman might be about eighty. There was a slight stoop to his shoulders and his clothes hung a little as if he might have lost some weight recently but Trinity could tell he once used to be a large man.
A giant next to Oscar that was for sure.
Her heart filled with love for her little guy. He was everything to her. Her stars and moon. Her reason to keep striving, to wake up every morning and eke out a survival when everything seemed so hopeless. A dear little boy who had changed her life.
Who had saved her from a life going nowhere.
It made her sick thinking about the number of times she’d nearly lost him. Born at twenty-six weeks, with tiny lungs and a major heart condition, he’d had an uphill battle. Six months in the NICU including two major heart operations. Another three months in the children’s hospital until he was finally discharged home on sub-nasal oxygen. Then the next few years being knocked flat by every cold and flu bug going, in and out of ICU.
Trinity had been scared out of her wits for nearly five years.
Although he hadn’t been sick for over six months. She hoped that it was a sign and not just flu season being over. That he was finally growing out of his chronic lung condition as the specialists had predicted, that his lungs were finally growing big enough to cope.
She really hoped so. He’d frightened her out of nine lives already.
A group of three teenage boys who should, no doubt, have been in school, were climbing all over the play equipment behind her. They were far too big for it, laughing too loud, talking too loud.
The bread all gone, Oscar ran back and started chattering at her, his voice high and excited. The old man walked by, nodding his head at her and saying, ‘See you later, alligator,’ to Oscar who laughed as if it were the funniest joke in the world.
‘In a while, crocodile,’ he called out after the man’s disappearing back, hopping from foot to foot.
Trinity smiled, pulling his skinny little body hard against hers. His wispy white-blond hair tickled her face as a lump rose in her throat. Just three more days.
She could do this.
A shout interrupted the hug and they both turned to investigate. The teenagers had bailed up the old man. They were shoving him none too gently from all directions and the old man was not taking it quietly.
‘What are they doing, Mummy?’ Oscar said, anxiety trembling through his voice. She’d heard that anxiety too often during his hospitalisations.
The man stumbled and almost fell and a surge of red-hot fury flashed through Trinity’s veins. How dare they? This was a suburban park in a reasonably well-to-do neighbourhood—it was safe. That was why Trinity had chosen to pull the car up here last night. They were nothing but thugs.
‘Stop it,’ he said, his voice strong and angry. ‘You have no right to do this!’
‘We can do whatever we want, old man.’
Trinity’s heart hammered as rage took hold. Yes, these guys and the Todds of the world always thought they could do whatever they wanted.
She looked around—there was no one else in the park. She was it. Her pulse skyrocketing, she set Oscar down on the bench beside her. ‘Darling, I want you to stay here and don’t move, do you hear me? Stay very still.’
His little fingers clutched her forearm. ‘Like when they give me the drips, Mummy?’
Trinity hated that so much of her son’s young life had involved needles and doctors and hospitals and pain.
It fuelled her anger.
‘Yes.’ She kissed his forehead. ‘Exactly like that. Mummy will be back in a minute.’
She rose then, covering the distance quickly. ‘Oi!’ she yelled. ‘Stop that right now.’
The three teens were clearly startled enough to obey as she stormed up to them. There was thunder in her veins and lightning in her eyes. She was furious but there was a clarity to her anger as skills from a distant time in her life surfaced again.
These guys had chosen the wrong person to mess with today.
The guys laughed when they realised from whom the demand had come. ‘Oh, yeah?’ the beefiest one sneered at her. ‘What are you going to do if we don’t?’
‘I’m going to put you on your ass.’
The old man looked bewildered, his white hair mad-scientist-wild. ‘It’s okay, my dear,’ he said, a gentleman to the core despite his confusion.
There was more hysterical laughter before it cut out and sneering guy locked gazes with her before giving another, very deliberate shove, right in the middle of his victim’s chest.
‘I say!’ he objected, his voice quivering with outrage, causing more laughter from the moron gallery.
And an eruption inside Trinity’s head.
The rage she’d been trying to keep in check exploded in a blinding flash. She grabbed the hand of the beefy guy just as he was about to push again and in one swift, practised, if a little rusty move he was on his back, his arm twisted painfully in her grasp, her foot jammed hard against his throat.
His friends’ eyes widened as he gurgled on the ground, clutching at Trinity’s foot with his spare hand. A second or two passed before either moved, then one of them puffed his chest out and lunged. Trinity was ready for him, landing a solid blow to his solar plexus with one efficient chop, dropping him to the ground.
She cocked an eyebrow at the third guy. ‘You want some?’ she demanded, her voice icy. ‘Get out of here, now,’ she snapped, giving an extra little twist to the guy’s arm before removing her foot from his throat. She pulled her phone out of her pocket. ‘I’m calling the cops.’
The three guys didn’t wait around; they scarpered.
It was only then Trinity realised how fast her heart was beating. Automatically she turned back to Oscar, who was watching her with an owl-like expression, his big eyes huge and unblinking.
She rushed to him, her hands shaking as she scooped him up. ‘Mummy, you were like a superhero,’ he whispered, his voice reverent.
Trinity laughed. A kid who spent three quarters of his life in hospital had seen a lot of cartoons and the superhero ones were his favourite.
‘C’mon,’ she said, ‘let’s go and check on your friend.’
She turned around to find he’d walked away and was almost at the road near where she’d parked her car. He walked hesitantly though, looking around.
She put Oscar down and they half walked, half jogged to catch up. ‘Excuse me,’ Trinity called. He didn’t answer. ‘Excuse me, mister?’
The old man turned around, his face blank until he saw Oscar. ‘Are you okay?’
‘What?’ he asked, ruffling Oscar’s hair. ‘Oh, yes, thank you, dear. I just...’ He looked around him as if he didn’t know where he was. ‘I’m not sure why I’m here. Do you know where I am?’
A spike of concern knitted Trinity’s brows together. Had the incident with the teenage boys traumatised him? They hadn’t physically hurt him but she couldn’t blame him for being shook up.
‘It’s Monno Park,’ she said, laying a gentle hand on his arm. ‘You came to feed the ducks.’
The man stared at the pond for long moments. ‘Oh. Did I?’
‘Do you live around here?’
The man glanced at the park around him and the houses on the street opposite. ‘I...think so,’ he said, his big hairy eyebrows beetling together.
Trinity was really worried now. Maybe this wasn’t a reaction to his confrontation with the thugs; maybe he wasn’t of sound mind to begin with? Maybe he had dementia? Had he wandered or...escaped from somewhere?
‘Is there someone I can ring for you?’
‘Oh, yes.’ His face brightened. ‘My grandson, Reid Hamilton.’
‘Okay.’ She nodded encouragingly. ‘Do you know his number?’
His expression blanked out again. ‘He works at Allura. The veterans’ hospital.’ He stood taller. ‘He’s a doctor.’
‘Right, then.’ She smiled. Not even dementia, it seemed, diminished a grandparent’s pride. She felt a momentary spike of envy at that. ‘I’ll look it up.’
Trinity wasn’t at all confident as she rang the hospital and asked for Reid Hamilton. If the man had some kind of dementia, who knew if the information was correct? She might need to ring the police, after all.
The phone picked up and a male voice enquired who was calling, then informed her Dr Hamilton was with a patient. Trinity was relieved that she was on the right track. ‘It’s about his grandfather,’ she said. ‘I’ve found him wandering in a park. I’m sure he’ll want to know.’
‘One moment.’
Trinity smiled at the man, who was watching her intently, rubbing his creased forehead as if it would help clarify things for him.
‘Hello? Who’s this?’
Trinity blinked at the brisk voice. There was an authority to it she doubted few messed with. But she was over boorish men. ‘Is this Reid?’
‘Yes.’ The impatience in his voice could have cut diamonds.
‘My name’s Trinity. I think I’ve found your grandfather wandering around in Monno Park. He seems a little...’ she dropped her voice, not wanting to hurt the man’s feelings ‘...confused.’
‘Goddamn it,’ the man cursed, low and growly. ‘I’ll be there in fifteen.’ And the phone cut out in her ear.
* * *
The low rumble of a motorbike engine always put an itch up Trinity’s spine and today was no different as, fifteen minutes later exactly, a big black bike pulled up at the kerb not far from where she, Oscar and Edward—he’d asked her to call him Eddie—were standing.
‘Ah, here he is,’ Eddie announced with palpable relief and obvious pleasure.
Trinity watched as the guy on the bike, dressed in top-to-toe black leather, dismounted with a long-legged ease that spoke of many hours in the seat. His helmet was a sleek black dome—gleaming and aerodynamic.
A little hand tugged at her pants and Trinity glanced down at her son, who was even more bug-eyed than he had been witnessing her drop two beefy teenagers to the ground.
‘Mummy,’ he whispered. ‘It’s the black Power Ranger.’
Trinity almost laughed—he did look very Power Ranger-esque in his boots, leathers, gloves and helmet. But then he took the gloves and helmet off, unzipped his jacket and completely destroyed that theory.
Reid Hamilton was more lumberjack than superhero. He certainly looked like no doctor she’d ever met and she’d met many. He had endless blue eyes, a wild mane of dirty-blond hair, pushed back off his forehead, and a full, thick beard that was neatly trimmed rather than long and scruffy. He was big and rangy like his grandfather and she could just make out tattoos on the backs of his hands.
‘Hey, Pops,’ he said, smiling at his grandfather as he strode towards them. When he drew level he enveloped Eddie in a big bear hug, holding him close for long moments before clapping him on the back a couple of times in a very manly demonstration of his affection.
He pulled back and flicked a glance at Trinity. ‘Ma’am,’ he said.
Trinity, who despised everything to do with beards, tats and bikes and hadn’t had an orgasm in five years, almost came on the spot.
