Open Arms

Chapter Eleven

Fluttering his long lashes against his cheeks, a scene began to unfold in front of him. Voices filled his ears and a yawn filled his throat. The car drove over a few grooves in the road, tossing him back and forth. Malcolm's voice filled the car from the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel, the other holding Linda's hand, who sat next to him. "...back in '68, remember, Ang?" Angus put a hand to his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. 

"Maybe he's still asleep," Linda suggested.

"Nah, I saw his eyes open. Angus? You awake back there?"

"Me," he groaned. "an' the rest of Sydney." He yawned again, slowly sitting up so as not to disturb the girl sleeping next to him. "Where are we?"

"Less than a mile away I think. The road was out a way back an' I had to take a detour." Angus didn't answer, turning his head to see Hannah, her sky blue sweater sleeves covering the little hands balled up by her mouth, a little spot of drool on her chin. Using one hand to wipe it off, he used the other to fix her crooked sky blue hair bow that had been tussled on the drive over. Despite Angus' request to be woken up at a proper time, Malcolm woke everyone up at seven in the morning sharp, his apartment filled with drowsy faces and dirty looks. The group hadn't left until nine, and the drive itself was almost an hour long. It shouldn't have had to, but Malcolm of course had to make a few stops first. To help ease the hassle of travel, Angus suggested Hannah take something before they left, which she did. The medicine knocked her right out, and the result was now drooling in the back of Malcolm's car onto Angus' shoulder. 

"You can't expect your mum to cook everyone dinner, that's a lot of people," Linda told her husband. "I really don't mind helping, I don't want her to have to worry about all of us."

"My mum's a real pistol, ya' know, she probably wouldn't mind cookin' either. If you want to help that's fine, an' Ang an' I can help around, we know where she keeps things an' all that," Malcolm said turning the wheel. "Or we jus' let George do all the work, right, Ang?"

"Mmm, yeah," he agreed sleepily. "But his cookin' might send us to the hospital for Christmas ya' know."

"Him an' Alex," said Malcolm. "Now Margaret, she can cook I'll tell you somethin'."

"Hannah an' I are pretty good in the kitchen," Angus said, resting his chin on his hand. "She makes breakfast an' I make dinner sometimes."

"I guess anyone that wants to help can. I jus' know Mum likes to let her company rest while she works."

"Is that the house there?" Linda asked pointing out Malcolm's window. He followed her gaze.

"That's it, good ol' home." After a minute more of driving, Malcolm pulled his car up to the house, the driveway already filled with two cars. He pulled up behind the black one, one he knew to be George's. "George an' Harry are already here," he stated turning the engine off, pulling his key out. "The other one is probably Stevie's, I'm guessin'. Margaret doesn't own a brown car, does she? Hers is white?"

"I think so, or an off white," Angus sniffed. Hannah had just opened her eyes, adjusting to the light and her new surroundings. "Hey," Angus said, noticing. "Glad you could join us."

"Are we there yet?" Hannah asked, stretching where she sat. Angus' back pressed into the seat as Hannah pushed against him, her feet lifting from the floor to settle on his leg. 

"We jus' got there," Angus answered, putting a hand to the door to steady himself. "You okay over there?" Regaining her posture, she placed a hand to her head, checking that her hair bow hadn't fallen under the seat. Malcolm and Linda had left the car, standing together by the brown car, looking it over. Deciding her stretch was satisfactory, Hannah unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door, Angus doing the same.