His mum handed them each a mug of tea. “Sasha sends her love and left a couple of pressies. They’re only small because we had to bring them with us on the plane from Adelaide.” She retrieved her own mug and perched on the end of the king-sized hotel room bed. “Speaking of bringing things with us, finish up your tea, and I’ll get you the pudding.”
Ah, the pudding.
It seemed so appropriate that a relationship that had started with a Christmas pudding featured one at this momentous step.
Once they’d finished the tea, his mum rummaged in a carry-on bag, returning with a deep round tin, the faded floral pattern and dented sides showing it had been well used over many years. As he took it from her, feeling the heft of the pudding inside, a flood of memories came back. That tin had held so many cakes over the years, first his grandma’s, then his mum’s. Now it held a smaller version of his mother’s family pudding, which was playing a star role in tonight’s festivities.
“Thanks, Mum.” His voice was thick.
She kissed him on the cheek. “My pleasure, darling. I’m just so pleased to be part of something so important in your life.”
“Here. Take this too.” His father reached into his jacket pocket and passed over a small drawstring calico bag.
Steve bounced it on his palm, the contents tinkling. “What is it?”
“Sixpence pieces.”
“You brought me Grandma’s coins?” Emotion welled.
“I didn’t bake them in the pudding, but I thought you could push a few into each slice when you serve. As you know, finding a coin in your slice of pudding brings you luck,” his mum said. “Not that you need any luck, darling.” Her palm was warm on his cheek, her touch gentle as she tried to reassure him.
Steve gripped the little bag tightly. Surely nothing could go wrong now? He took another deep breath and consciously loosened the hold he had on the precious family coins, easing the strain on fingers that had gone stiff. He smiled at his parents, throat tight as they both leaned in and drew him into a hug.
Operation: Christmas Pudding was another step closer.
* * *
“Hey. There you are.” Corey turned around as Steve entered the kitchen, the happiness evident in his voice. “I wondered where you were.”
“And I thought you’d still be out.” Steve handed over shopping bags at Corey’s gesture. “You finished early?”
“Uh-huh.” Corey leaned in for a quick kiss, bringing with him a waft of the aftershave he favoured, the one Steve had given him for his last birthday. “Everything went smoothly, so I got an early mark. Where have you been?”
Steve indicated the shopping bags. “I wanted to pick up a few things for dinner.” Well, technically thatwastrue. He just left out the bit about seeing his parents and what else he’d picked up.
“Oh, okay.” Corey’s voice was light as he accepted Steve’s answer. “Why don’t you put the stuff away, and I’ll get us a coffee?”
“Sounds good.”
When the seafood and cheese were safely tucked in the refrigerator and the drinks were ready, they made their way to the living room. Steve sank onto the couch and had a grateful sip of the coffee, wishing for a moment it was something stronger. Fortifying, his dad would call it, although come to think of it, his dad was more likely to have a fortifying sip or two of whisky. The thought put a smile on his face. He looked across at Corey sprawled in the armchair and calmed even more, the nerves settling somewhat as he took in Corey’s relaxed posture and his gentle smile, the way his eyes crinkled as he met Steve’s gaze over the rim of his mug—Corey belonged here; they belonged together.
Suddenly he noticed something behind Corey’s head. “Hey!”
Corey chuckled, sitting upright and glancing over his shoulder. “I wondered how long it would take you to notice.”
Steve placed his coffee on the coffee table as he stood. “Oh my God. Is that the same tree?”
“Uh-huh. The very one.”
Corey followed him as he crossed the room to the sideboard and reached out to touch the branch. It wasn’t overly big, just a single dead branch fallen from a tree, propped into a heavy vase to hold it up. The main branch divided into a number of smaller branches with fine twig-like ends.
He turned to Corey. “But how? How did you get it here?”
“I brought it back with me last year. Snuck it into the back seat of my car.”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “But why?”Did Corey know, way back then, how special this tree was and how much I regretted leaving it?
“Why not?” Corey shrugged.
