There was silence for a minute, then he said, ‘And the baby’s father?’
‘He wasn’t the man I thought he was.’ She shrugged. ‘He was head stockman here after my grandfather died. I thought we were both in love, but the month we found out I was pregnant, he left. Took off to work as a contract musterer. I suspect he’d also discovered that Setabilly wasn’t going to make him a rich man and that my family had debts from previous years. I’d never gone into the finances and it wasn’t a pleasant surprise for him.’
‘Not someone you’d want to spend your life with.’
‘Absolutely. But he did make me wary of allowing my heart to rule my head.’ Lot of good that’s done me in the last week, she thought.
‘So your mother and grandmother were supportive?’
‘Every step of the way. Like lionesses, lined up beside me, unmoving, warrior women guarding me during labour and early motherhood, and while surgeons tried to operate on my baby. The first two they were successful with. Nobody could help me with the third.’ She remembered the morning she’d met Zac. ‘Before I met you on the plane, I’d been thinking of her at the airport. It was probably why I was vulnerable to your scintillating conversation on the flight.’ She wondered if he’d been thinking about Roslyn.
He said, ‘Any age is tough for loss, and twenty and single is tough for any birth, let alone one that ends in a baby dying.’ He thought about that. ‘No wonder you’re composed in your work.’
‘I’ve been blessed. My mother and grandmother were rock-solid supporters through everything. They showed me they were proud of me, and reminded me to be proud of myself. I remember every minute of being a parent and regret none of it.’ She glanced at him. ‘But you’re right. Guilt is out there ready to pounce. Forgiving yourself is underpromoted. I was a mother for a very short time and she changed me. Having known Amelia helps me every day in my work, especially the midwifery.’
‘I can see how she would. Thank you for telling me.’
The car sped down the highway towards their destination, and despite the emotion and scars from the past, despite the solemnity of the little white crucifix at the side of the road and the shared grief from different tragedies, empathy had cracked the walls between them and they both stared ahead with mutual understanding.
Chapter Twenty
Zac
An hour and a half later, the sun appeared and disappeared as clouds skittered past in a grey-blue sky. Zac’s legs ached for a stretch, despite it being less than ninety minutes since they had last stopped.
As Ava slowed to pull off the road again, he glanced at her profile. Their rapport took no effort, yet it still surprised him. However, there was still no hint of a past memory of them in his mind, no matter how hard he tried. She touched the corner of her eye every now and then and he wondered if that was a mannerism he used to know.
They pulled in at a red cairn piled under a wizened palm tree and the engine ticked down as she unclipped her belt. ‘We’ll only do a minute here.’ She opened her door and he followed suit.
He pushed his door and stepped into a flapping twist of red dust that wrapped around him like a coat then blew past, leaving him disorientated with grit in his eyes. He blinked and picked at the corner of his eyelids. Through the blur he saw her hand cover her smile. Her other had lifted to check he wasn’t going to fall. No, he wasn’t. He felt stronger every hour and the drinks she’d given him were doing their part. His private nurse?
Ava grinned at him. ‘You were hit by a willy-willy. Funny stuff. My friend Denise says it’s good luck to be brushed by the wind.’
‘Lucky? Guess I’ve had my fair share of it in the last week.’ He patted himself down and glanced after the tiny wind spout as it twisted and danced up the road on its merry way.
She smiled, then turned away and stretched her arms up. He kept his gaze on the horizon, even though she wasn’t looking at him. ‘We’ll just stay a few minutes. I think another dust storm is brewing and I want to get home in case it does something crazy like cut visibility again.’
‘Do you want to go now?’
‘No. I like to stop, and we’ll turn off the highway soon. I make myself do it where there’s a chance of traffic. Just in case my vehicle doesn’t start again.’
‘Does it do that?’
‘Not yet.’ She was so sensible, unlike him; he often drove from A to B with only the thought of getting there as quickly as he could.
They fell into step to pace the road for her required stretching time, and once again he thought how odd the ease between them was. ‘Can I ask what you were doing before you met me on the plane in Sydney?’
‘It seems so long ago,’ she said and shook her head at the series of events neither had expected. ‘I’d been to a conference on obstetric emergencies and breech births. Which was lucky for us, but that’s another story. I’d been trying to get there for a while because I’d won a scholarship for it.’
He was distracted from the ‘lucky for us’ by imagining her there at a conference. A sponge soaking up knowledge and ideas and analysing where she could use them to improve her practice. Standing quietly on the edge of the noisy ones.
He said, ‘I used to teach paediatric life-support courses a couple of times a year but stopped after the accident.’
‘You’d be good at it. Paediatrics are a specialist game. You have to have the knack to calm fear.’ She stared into the distance. ‘Kids get sick so fast, but at least when they turn the corner they heal swiftly, too. In clinics, I might put up a quick drip, and once they’re rehydrated they don’t look back. Let’s walk for another minute then we’ll go.’
He slanted a glance at her. ‘It’s not so easy to put up a quick drip in a dehydrated child.’
She smiled. ‘Everything is doable if it has to be done. Kids are like mothers. They know when people want to help them, so getting rid of the fear is the main thing.’
‘You’re amazing. How has nobody asked you to marry them all this time?’
She looked at him soberly. ‘I’ve been asked. But I don’t want to talk about it.’ She turned away from him and headed briskly back to the car. ‘Come on. Let’s go. We’ll be there in an hour.’
Chapter Twenty-one
Ava
The swirls of dust had blown from Ava’s windscreen as they turned into the stone entrance of Setabilly Station. There were only a few kilometres of driveway to go.
The conversation had flowed easily, except when she’d passed the SOLD sign on Dreamtime, the neighbouring station down the road from their gate. That had kept her quiet for a few minutes.
Granny Mim had said the Wilsons had gone, and Ava spared a thought for the family who had been there since the fifties. Like the Masons and the Mays, the Wilsons had been part of the struggle and the triumphs of the last poor years. Part of the serious discussions about rainfall, the good-natured teasing about comparative cattle weight, and the rollicking shed parties that raised money for the RFDS. All the community-minded stuff that station life encouraged to celebrate good times and the end of muster.
She wondered who’d bought the holding.
Almost immediately she thought, Does it matter? And then, terrifyingly, Will Setabilly be the next to change hands?
‘Is that a dam away there to the right?’ Zac’s voice interrupted her less than cheerful musings and her gaze fixed on his big arm as he pointed. Those arms. Good grief. She’d never had an arm fetish before, but then she’d sat beside Zac for nearly four hours. Every time she’d glanced sideways, his arms were right there. Big, sleekly solid, tanned and taut. And close to her. With him pointing, she couldn’t help following the sculpted musculature all the way to his long fingers.
She sighed for the loss. His fingers had been one of the things that had attracted her back on the flight from Sydney. So expressive and long, and capable of such gentle caresses. She really liked his hands. And his arms. And his chest and shoulders. And his eyes.
Seriously. Every barrier sh
e’d erected to protect herself if this didn’t work out had fallen on the way home. His loss and guilt had made her want to hug him, and his Weipa story had slid under her guard. It had made him so human and had joined them on a flight of fancy that had made her want to sob for what they’d lost.
‘The dams?’ he repeated with a friendly poke at her shoulder.
Right. ‘Yes. My grandfather put the dams in and that makes us a little more durable when the drought hits. The last drought hurt badly though: we were handfeeding, carting water, battling to get the cattle shipped out before they died. That’s when Mum decided to try the ecotourism. She modelled the concept on a station in Queensland that includes experiences and not just bed and breakfast. Mum enjoys the cooking and Granny Mim will enjoy showing people what we do.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m a bit sceptical that people would want to see how to cut and dress a carcass, but Mim is impressive when she gets into it. Maybe it’s feasible.’
‘It must be expensive to build cottages?’
‘Mim decided she could design the small cottages for minimal cost if she did them herself and had Jock, my brother, and Poddy – that’s Hana’s brother who came out from New Zealand after her – put them together.’
‘Hasn’t it started yet?’
‘They’re still setting up. You’ll be the guinea pig. Once you’re well.’
‘I’ve never been called that before.’
She shook her head. ‘It’ll do you good. You’re too sure of yourself.’
He smiled at that but only said, ‘You mentioned your brother before.’
Ava thought of Jock. Tall, a little too serious, big-hearted, too aware that he was the only man around the place but not allowed to be the boss. ‘My brother has delusions of being the father figure for the family. Nobody listens to him except his beautiful wife. So he tries to be discreet as he does what he believes is best for the family. We’re lucky we have him.’ She slowed the car for a cattle grid and they rattled over it. ‘Jock’s twenty-four and has a level head, though he did a few dumb things when he was younger and Mum won’t give him as much slack as he needs to run the station completely.’ She glanced at him. ‘I think she’s wrong. But that’s between her and Jock.’
‘Does your mother work as a nurse?’
‘Yep. Two out of three of us do. Mim hasn’t nursed for years, but she handles emergencies fine. But Mum is the calm head. As well as nursing agency work, she does part-time clinics. She takes relief work for the communities to the west and south, and the elders will come, or send people to her for emergency first aid when the normal clinic is shut. The workers and family at Dreamtime Station used to come as well if they needed her because we’re the closest medical help.’
‘How far away is the nearest Aboriginal community?’
‘About eight kilometres. Then there’s the community at Yulara. I have a group of antenatal ladies and new babies over there, who I catch up with. I knew them growing up. The caseload midwives are their midwifery contact, and all mums transfer to Alice for birth, but I like to know where everyone is at when I come home, and admire any new additions. The ladies make me welcome, and sometimes I can help when important things don’t get passed on to the other midwives. Granny Mim is a favourite over there.’
‘So it’s a big community?’
‘It varies, depending on the season, and some of the stockmen who work for us and their families still live here on Setabilly in the cottages some of the time.’ She gestured to the land on every side of them. ‘It gets busy. Mum and I both roster ourselves off the agency nursing during May and September for the mustering seasons when it’s all hands on deck.’ She tried not to sigh. ‘And this muster had better be good or the bank won’t listen again.’
‘Money problems?’
And the rest. ‘The drought by itself we can handle. It’s a way of life and good times roll around eventually.’ But the timing of outside influences had hit them hard. Her brother was feeling the weight of the world, and Hana was worried enough to pass her concerns on to Ava.
‘Sounds like other worries?’ Zac could be perceptive.
‘Just stuff.’
‘Sure, but I’m a doctor. You can tell me.’
She laughed, tempted to confide in him.
He pushed. ‘Think of me as someone to listen and not repeat. If it helps.’
‘I know. And thank you.’ She really wished she could share her worry with someone not related to her. And quite probably, Zac would be a good option. He’d be gone soon. Or he’d forget. No, she admonished. That is unfair. ‘Don’t tell Jock I told you.’
He made a show of crossing his heart.
This is a dumb idea, but here goes. ‘This drought is longer, harder, and we’d spent extra on infrastructure. I’m worried Jock will take it too hard if we do go broke. Blame himself for innovations we needed to have but he thinks now we could have waited for. I’m worried about him coping with the unfounded guilt that goes with responsibility. I know he’s seen the livestock perilously decline in condition as well, and that knocks you down.’ She thought of the baby. ‘Then there’s the usual stress any first-time dad has when his baby is coming soon and he’s the breadwinner.’
‘You’re worried he’s heading for depression?’
She didn’t know whether to nod, which felt disloyal to Jock, or shake her head and pretend she didn’t agree. ‘He’s not smiling as much as he used to. Hana tells me he’s even stopped working on my grandfather’s old gyrocopter, which I know he’s been rebuilding in secret. Granny Mim doesn’t know about that – she’d be horrified. It’s one of Jock’s dreams to be able to fly over the property and it always excited him. In the past, if he ever had any spare cash, he’d buy parts and spend a few hours tinkering and it always made him feel better. One day he wants to get his helicopter licence. Take an aerial view. But he’s stopped now, and won’t go near it. And Hana is worried.’
Zac drummed his fingers on the dashboard as he thought. ‘His wife shared her worries with you?’
‘Yes. So now I’m worried too. But maybe having you here, another man to talk to, will help as well. He’s outnumbered by all the women, although it’s much better since Poddy came to live here.’ She blew out a lungful. ‘But I’ve got it off my chest, so thank you. Enough is enough. Let’s talk about how a city boy like you won’t die of boredom while you’re here, instead.’
‘With all this going on? And Granny Mim slaughtering a beast?’ He gestured the way she had earlier. ‘Not going to happen. Besides, that would defeat the purpose.’
She frowned. ‘Meaning?’
‘I’m here to see and experience the outback. And find my memories.’
‘I’m all for you experiencing the outback. You are also here for the drive. Seeing as I knew you were good company on a flight.’ And you thought I was good company, too.
He turned and she could feel the intensity of his gaze. ‘I wish I could remember that.’
‘I wish you could too.’ But they’d get there, one way or another. ‘But it’s not going to dominate the next few days.’ They both smiled at that and Ava realised their relationship had shifted again. And it felt good. Right.
This was the Zac she’d found hard to forget. And he’d given her the opportunity to share something that had been worrying her. Something she hadn’t been able to share with anyone else. If they had a future, sharing stuff would be a part of it.
‘Thank you for listening about Jock.’
He didn’t pretend not to understand. ‘I will cling to him like a limpet.’
Ava laughed. He was quick. ‘His wife might have something to say about that, but that’s very sweet of you. Thank you.’
‘Either way, I won’t be bored. I’ll have you and hopefully I’ll be here for the musters?’ Zac’s voice held a spark of definite interest. ‘I’m keen for that. It’s fascinating stuff for a city boy to see. I could notch up an experience and trial it from the tourist’s point of view?’ Then,’ he lowered his voice, ‘
I could give you all a review on RateYourTrip.’ He nodded sagely and held up his hands to imply he’d only give his honest opinion.
‘Excellent. Ten out of ten. Mum will like that. But not for another few days. You’re here to recuperate under my watchful eye.’
He raised his dark brows with a hint of challenge. ‘Am I to sit on the verandah and rock while everyone else works?’
‘Just a little. A day or two will do it. If you get too bored you could run some community clinics,’ she teased. ‘It’s hard for all the mums and kids to be there when the clinics run.’
He showed his palms. ‘My boss has told me I can’t be a doctor for a fortnight.’ They exchanged smiles. ‘Tell me about the station.’
‘The station? Wow. Where to start?’ They’d be at the homestead soon. She tapped the steering wheel. ‘Setabilly has been in our family for a hundred and ten years. Compared to Aboriginal history, which sits something past forty to sixty thousand years, of course that’s nothing, but for us we have loved it for a long time. The holding sits at over a million acres and technically could carry up to eight thousand head, but we don’t have the people power for that at the moment. It’s around two thousand now, plus calves, which is about a thousand too many breeders for the drought in Granny Mim’s opinion, but my brother disagrees.’
She turned to look at him. He watched her thoughtfully. His brows had climbed at the numbers she’d been listing. ‘What’s that acreage in hectares?’ he asked.
‘Four hundred and sixty-two thousand, eight hundred.’
He smiled. ‘Is that roughly?’ The teasing Zac was back. ‘It’s hard to comprehend one holding of that size. It sounds so enormous.’
She shrugged. ‘Anna Creek Station in South Australia is Australia’s largest station, and it’s six times our size. So much of the land is dry and the foliage is sparse, so you need the size to carry the cattle.’
The Desert Midwife Page 14
