She tried not to hold her breath in case he reverted to being distant if they ran into someone from the hospital. Nobody passed before they came to his four-wheel drive.
He opened her door first, and when she was settled she watched him stride around to his side.
Nice manners … Nice butt.
What was it about this man that penetrated her barriers? Apart from mind-blowing sex the night before last, that was. There’d been plenty of guys around at work and at the few social occasions on the station since Jai but she hadn’t been interested.
Was it a positive sign that he was obviously doing this against his better judgement, or a bad sign? And all that baffling subtext. Was it a lack of real feelings and he was just a sex maniac who fancied her, or was it something else?
Maybe she should just ask. For her own protection.
He climbed in and shut his door, then glanced across at her as he reached for the key. When he smiled, she felt her resolve soften and the need for answers fade.
‘We’re mad,’ he said.
That took her words away until she managed, ‘It’s only breakfast.’ But they both knew it wasn’t. As a reflex she added a little too forcefully, ‘Why did you want me to pretend we didn’t know each other last night?’
His hands rested on the steering wheel, fingers open. A good sign he planned on telling the truth? ‘I told myself I’m leaving in a month.’ He said it slowly and very clearly, as if reciting something he’d said over and over. ‘It’s nobody’s business except ours. And I didn’t want to kick the rumour mill into gear and fly away unscathed.’
Ava nodded. ‘Okay. On the face of it.’ But why was he worried? She believed she had enough credit to survive one affair without damage from the gossipmongers. ‘I know you lost your wife – you told me on the plane – but is that why I’m getting mixed messages?’
He started the car and it surprised her that he still took off. They were having a big conversation – maybe too big for multitasking after a long night shift.
Ava watched his hands – confident, competent and far too sexy – as he drove out of the hospital car park and onto the road to his hotel. He had beautiful fingers, and her skin shivered with goosebumps as memories of their night together flashed through her mind, and suddenly she wished she hadn’t asked about his departed wife. She dreaded the answer, actually.
Then he said, ‘My wife died two months ago. Car accident.’
She tried not to suck her breath in too loudly. Ouch. She’d never thought he could have been so very recently bereaved. He had to be feeling guilty and chock-full of Regrets’R’Us. Should she ask him to pull over and let her out? Her stomach sank at the notion.
Before she could act on her jumbled thoughts, he went on. ‘Roslyn had been in a coma for a year after the accident.’ His voice remained level, like he was describing an unknown patient. Too level for the occasion, which hinted to her that emotions ran deep, and he wasn’t letting them out. That was fair enough, but his wife being in a coma for a year made his actions more understandable.
‘Her EEG showed flat since admission.’ He turned the car left. ‘She was cared for privately until she succumbed to a respiratory infection twelve months later – two months ago.’
Ava furrowed her brow and tried to think. Once she’d handed over her patients to the next shift, her mental processing after night duty took that little bit longer. While she tried not to get too bogged down with his guilt, or the fact that she was the one he was feeling guilty about, her brain reeled with the inconsistency of what she knew about long-term coma patients. It wasn’t a situation she’d had much experience with in Alice Springs, as any such patient would be airlifted out. ‘Is long-term care usual with a flat EEG? To be maintained on respiratory support for that long?’ Ava had always thought flat brainwaves meant flat brainwaves – forever. Tragedy in a shell of a body. The ultimate donation of life with a harvest of organs.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel and she winced and looked away. How badly did she need to know? She shouldn’t have asked. He deserved his privacy. ‘Don’t answer if you don’t want to.’ Then she had another thought. ‘Or maybe it would help if you haven’t talked about this stuff with anyone.’ It wasn’t exactly her idea of a light pre-breakfast conversation, but if it would help Zac, her new friend, ex-lover – whatever he was or could be – then she would survive.
A minute passed, then two, but it didn’t faze Ava; she and patience were old friends. It was a part of her work.
‘Yes,’ he said finally. ‘After the accident, within a day, the hospital suggested organ donation and the removal of ventilatory support. It was Roslyn’s parents who insisted she be admitted to a private facility. In case of a miracle.’ He shook his head and she knew he didn’t agree. ‘I didn’t feel I had the right to overrule them.’
His hand lifted briefly from the wheel, as if trying to catch the sense of the past. ‘But she lay for months, unchanged, except towards the end her chest became worse – a hospital-acquired infection. Her body was racked with fever and she wasted away in front of us, every day thinner, more wraith-like, trapped in our decision to maintain life support despite the fact that everything real, everything that made her Roslyn, was gone.’
‘Pull over, Zac. I’d like you tell me, but you don’t need to do it while you’re driving.’
He looked at her a little startled, but he did what she asked. When he’d stopped and turned off the engine, staring straight ahead with his hands resting lightly on the wheel, she murmured quietly, ‘Thank you. Did she die or was life support withdrawn?’
‘We turned it off.’ The words fell like cold stones between them and she blew out a breath. Tough love.
He shrugged helplessly, with his hands tighter on the wheel. ‘It became obvious, even to her parents, that we were increasing her suffering without any hope of a future. They finally agreed to a day.’ Although he was talking, she felt it wasn’t to her. Maybe to himself, maybe to his wife, maybe to her parents or his friends, who didn’t understand.
But she was the one listening. She and listening were old friends, too. ‘That must have been heavy on you.’
‘Thank you.’ His face turned towards her. ‘Funny how you pray for someone’s suffering to pass, yet when the time approaches you wish for more time.’
She nodded. ‘I’ve had a little to do with palliative care, with babies who come home to die because nothing can be done for them. I’ve seen that. Felt that tension, that maybe if we waited something would change.’
He nodded. ‘I think you do understand.’
She did. Life was precious. But sometimes the cost was too high.
He sighed. ‘So the morning came.’ His voice dropped and she strained to hear. ‘It was a beautiful day. I think that made it harder. Like that song about the seasons in the sun. Her seasons were all gone and Roslyn needed to sleep in peace, and this machine that hissed in and out, dragging the air in and out of her reluctant lungs, had to let her go. We had to let her go.’
‘And this was two months ago?’ No flipping wonder he’d looked emotionally drained after one night shift. He wasn’t just physically empty, he was also spiritually empty. Her heart ached to give comfort. To him. To Roslyn’s parents. To Roslyn, even.
He said, ‘The machine stopped. I’ll never forget the silence in the room as we watched her heart slow, falter and stop. No breaths. No heart rate. Nothing. What was left of her was gone. It was tragic. Horrible. But Roslyn’s death was a release for us all.’ There was another pause and then he said, ‘Especially Roslyn. Twelve months is a long time to be held back from peace.’ His eyes briefly met hers. ‘But those internal conversations make you guilty, too.’
Ah, guilt. Ava understood feeling guilty even when everyone else said you were innocent. She’d been there. Guilt explained a lot. Poor guy. He’d made the sort of horrible decision she hoped she’d never have to make. ‘It’s tough all around,’ she said, and impulsively rested her hand on h
is arm. She squeezed and felt his muscles tense under her fingers.
He lifted his other hand and touched hers briefly in appreciation, then put it back on the wheel. He huffed out a pent-up breath. ‘After the funeral, I needed to get out of the city. Thought I’d try remote locum posts. Last month, Weipa …’
Ahhh. ‘This month, Alice.’
‘Correct.’ He ran his hands through his hair. Roughed it up very nicely, Ava thought, with a tug of attraction.
‘Weipa proved to be a steep learning curve and a good reality check from all the sympathy that hung around my own hospital. I went back to Sydney for a few nights and then I was on a flight out to Alice for a month while my house sale is going through. It was Roslyn’s dream home and it’s far too big for me on my own. The plan is to return a new man and start a new life. That’s it.’ He looked at her for a moment and shrugged, then turned on the engine.
Then he’d met her, Ava thought. Of course he was still going back to Sydney in a month. His intention to not form any lasting relationship with her made a little more sense now. She should have the same sense. He had given her more than enough to chew over, and maybe regret she’d come back with him. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you.’ He pulled out into traffic and drove the short distance to the hotel. In no time, he was slowing the car for the hotel entrance.
He parked and switched off the engine, and they gazed at each other. His story sat between them like a heavy mist they were trying to peer through. Funny how sure she was that on the other side of that mist there could be glorious weather.
Well. Ava scooped her handbag off the floor. It was too late to wish she hadn’t come, and being out of the car and in fresh air would help. ‘Breakfast?’
‘Please.’
They left the car and walked together towards the main entrance. After a small silence, strangely not awkward as it should have been, she said, ‘I hope one day you’ll tell me about Weipa. That’s one of the places where I’d like to do a stint, and they say it’s an amazing flight into the town.’
He laughed without amusement. ‘I hope you’ll tell me about your world out here, too.’ He gestured behind them. ‘But shouldn’t you be criticising me for being an uncaring husband? Cheating on my just-buried wife?’
She shook her head. ‘That’s not my call. Out here we promote the “don’t judge others” habit and I agree.’ Then she stopped and he paused too. She held his gaze. ‘From the little I know of you, you’re not a cold person, Zac. Not someone who’s uncaring about your wife’s recent death.’ She raised her brows. ‘You might be conflicted about what we did.’ Wicked thoughts swirled in her brain, and no doubt in her eyes, and she flicked him a very brief smile, then started to walk again. ‘But you’re not cold.’
‘Not cold now.’ His voice followed her, low and definitely more upbeat. The glance he sent her as he caught up promised as much warmth as she could handle, and her cheeks heated when he said, ‘What we had two nights ago warmed me right up.’
With a room full of people inside the hotel, they needed something else to think about. The air between them had shrunk like plastic wrap, and she could feel the warmth of him and the sizzle of her own skin. Her belly swirled with remembered sensation and she dared not meet his eyes in case this new wanton woman inside her, the one she didn’t recognise in sensible Ava, took his hand and steered him upstairs instead. That would not be a good idea.
Say something, she urged herself. ‘Um. We really should think about food.’ Or she wouldn’t get to eat.
He said, ‘You could sleep here today and we could go to work together tonight.’
Oh my, she thought, but she couldn’t stop her smile from forming.
Chapter Seven
Zac
Zac closed his mouth. Well, that had come out in a rush. He glanced at the profile of the woman beside him. Who wanted food?
But he’d promised. Both of them. And he did want to know more about her. Needed to. She was a mystery to him. A being from another world brought up on a far-flung station and extremely comfortable in her own desert skin. Ava was capable, skilled and quietly amused at life without ever mocking it. An outback oracle and a dancer who made him think of another kind of dance. And boy did he want to tango.
‘You know when you move, at work, or outside, you move like a dancer. Have you ever danced?’
‘I grew up on a cattle station. But funny you should say that. I’ll tell you the secret one day.’ She smiled at the doorman, who opened the door for her. ‘Hello there, Ken. How’s your wife? And the baby?’
‘Great, thanks, Ava.’
‘Say hi. And thanks for the door,’ she said over her shoulder as they sailed through. Zac nodded his own thanks and wondered how many people in this town she knew. He guessed it was proportional to the number of babies she’d helped deliver. Ava showed kindness and warmth towards others because it was right, but he couldn’t help thinking this was not something Roslyn would have thought of. She wouldn’t have seen the doorman. Comparisons. He shook his head at the memories that were guaranteed to bring him down. Not today.
When they were seated and had given their orders, he said, ‘Thank you for coming with me this morning. Despite my odd behaviour.’
‘Right, then.’ She lifted her chin higher and stared straight at him. ‘Do you regret what happened between us after the flight?’
‘Regret?’ He felt cold that she’d think that. ‘Lord, no. I don’t regret what happened between us. I couldn’t have stopped asking you up to my room if my life depended on it.’ His gaze rested on her and he recognised that same thrill. ‘It was as if we’d been together forever.’ Then his scalp crawled at the disloyalty to Roslyn and he ran his hand through his hair. ‘But … my wife died two months ago. What sort of man does that make me?’
Her bacon and eggs appeared before her. ‘I’ve been thinking about that.’ She considered him. ‘I’ve thought about it all the way from the car.’
She played with her fork without taking her eyes off him and he couldn’t look away from the gentle expression she regarded him with. There was no judgement there, and as if by osmosis, his tension eased away.
‘I think you’re a man who’s been grieving for twelve months already,’ she said, her tone careful. ‘You said there was no brain activity from the first day. It isn’t only two months since you lost her. You lost Roslyn more than a year ago.’
Why did his own theory sound more plausible coming from her?
‘Thank you. That’s the argument I’ve been using, but until now it hasn’t helped.’
The waiter came with his food and all of a sudden he had a big appetite.
She put the fork down with a metal chink and nodded at something he suspected had nothing to do with him. ‘We do love to make ourselves feel guilty.’
‘I feel guilty about making you lie last night.’
She nodded. ‘I wasn’t going to call you on it. I felt confused too.’
Lord, she was so honest.
Her chin went up. ‘Maybe I wanted to come back, even if it was on your terms,’ she said, meeting his eyes and laying herself bare.
He could do the same. He hoped. ‘I couldn’t process it. Pretending I didn’t know you kept things distant.’ He spread his hands. ‘At least I did come to my senses after I left you in maternity this morning. I’m sorry.’
She shrugged, but he knew he had caused her angst. Then she confirmed it. ‘I’m not an expert on the morning after with a stranger, but I’ll survive.’
‘I see that.’ He admired her resilience. ‘But I don’t want to be a stranger to you. I want to get to know you.’ These were words he didn’t know he’d been going to say, but they felt so right once they were out.
‘Why?’
His gaze swept over her face. ‘Because I have to?’
He heard her swiftly drawn breath, saw her hand lift to rest over her sternum as if her heart hurt.
She said very slowly and quietly, ‘W
e both need to slow down. We come from different worlds.’
The problem was, she didn’t look any more convinced that she could slow down than he was.
‘We could eat breakfast slowly before we go back upstairs,’ he suggested.
She grinned at him. ‘I dare you.’
Chapter Eight
Hana
In a two-storey flat in Alice Springs, Hana May felt her baby’s feet drumming against her uterus, and a warm surge of maternal love made her eyes mist. Life felt so darn good it frightened her, and she stared at the ceiling of Jock’s mother’s townhouse. She missed the serenity of the station, but they were lucky they had this, a place the family used if they had to come the four hundred kilometres into town for the monthly shop or a doctor’s appointment. Or in her sister-in-law’s case, agency midwifery work.
Hana sent up a little prayer for her wonderful life to stay wonderful. Normally she was not a worrier, but pregnancy had heightened her awareness of risk, and this drought, which was affecting Jock’s family station, made her neck prickle with unease. Especially with her normally easygoing husband’s unreasonable and escalating guilt that the station’s perilous financial position was all his fault. She had her own small online baby-clothes business and was grateful that she could contribute towards their household expenses.
She couldn’t dispute that he talked less and less and seemed to have trouble finding anything to smile about. Which was crazy when they were having a baby. And then he’d made that off-the-wall comment that if anything happened to him, she should ‘find a good man and be happy’. The chill had well and truly run up her arms at that, but he’d waved her concerns away with an ‘accidents happen’ and he was just thinking of their baby.
She pushed the thought away as her baby kicked again.
The Desert Midwife Page 4
