by Margaret Way
There were the usual flashes of violence before marriage. Nothing too much. Next, he began to show classic controlling behavior—the jealousy and paranoia. The Jekyll and Hyde syndrome. By day he was a rising star in open-heart surgery—the charming, eminently respectable Dr. Colin Morcombe. By night, the star image was left at the front door as Colin Morcombe vented his rage in private.
“I left him once,” Laura confessed, her lovely skin like marble. “He found me. I took refuge with a girlfriend. He convinced her I was having ‘problems.’ He was so good he almost convinced me.”
“You’ve had a rough time,” Sarah said matter-of-factly, having made her professional assessment. Laura’s story rang too true.
“Sometimes I’m so frightened I can’t breathe. Colin’s a very disturbed man. He relishes his power over me. He said our marriage would never end. I believe he means it.” Laura flinched.
“But what about your family, Laura? Didn’t you go to them for protection? The police? Did you get an injunction to keep him away?”
“He’d ignore that.” Laura gave a short laugh, sounding extremely sure. “My father died some years ago. My mother remarried and lives in New Zealand now. She met Colin two weeks before the wedding. She thought he was wonderful. He’d be so convincing as the desperate, loving husband with the difficult wife. The police would probably feel sorry for him. Anyway, I couldn’t ruin his career. And his parents would hate me. They’re prominent people and they idolize him. I’m sure they’re busy hating me right now. Colin’s their only son, and he can do no wrong. They’d rather accuse me of being mentally unstable.”
“I see. Well, we have to deal with this, Laura.” Sarah stared at the other woman intently. “I’ll help you in every way I can. I know how isolated you must feel, but I can tell you you’re among friends. Abuse in any form is totally unacceptable. Now, where are you staying? Are you sleeping? Eating? I’ll check your blood pressure for a start.”
“I’m booked into the pub at the moment.” Laura extended her arm. “You don’t mind my coming to you, Sarah? Bringing you my problems?”
Sarah smiled at her, wrapping the black pad around Laura’s arm. “I’m here to help, Laura. The town will protect you. Now try to relax….”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MONDAY-MORNING SURGERY started off in routine fashion. No dramas. No abused wives. No life-threatening cases. One or two minor accidents involving children. It was the beginning of the June holidays, characterized by “big adventures” in the bush. Not unexpectedly, adventures resulted in a lot more accidents than school did. Then, shortly after noon, Kyall strode into the hospital with news of a serious accident on a cattle station called Ngarara Downs, situated to the northeast.
“I can get you there faster than the Flying Doctor,” he informed Sarah, wondering if they’d get there in time. “Grab what you have to. The guy was pinned between his vehicle and a tree. Apparently he left the hand brake off and the thing rolled back on him. I was in the air. Heard the call. I’ve put the chopper down at the intersection. Radioed ahead. Bob’s cleared the street.”
Sarah wasted no precious moments. Even then, it seemed an eternity before they reached Ngarara’s borders. Flying over the actual site, they found themselves looking down at a group of people gathered on the open plains country. Here and there were a few native palms, ghost gums and stretches of mulga. It was against a ghost gum that the unfortunate victim had been pinned, screaming out in agony for more than thirty minutes before a couple of his mates, stockmen on horseback, found him.
“I don’t much like his chances,” Kyall murmured grimly, his glance sweeping around to size up the situation.
“Let’s pray we’re not too late.” Sarah wasn’t hopeful, either.
They were on the ground the instant the rotors stopped, losing no time covering the distance from the chopper to where the accident victim was lying prone on a rug someone had spread under him.
“Thank God you’re here, Doctor. Terry Hungerford.” The station owner introduced himself. A big man, iron-gray hair, firm handshake, deep husky voice. His expression was one of concern overlaid, as he looked at Sarah, with a kind of perplexity he couldn’t hide. “Hi, Kyall.” He acknowledged Kyall gratefully with another handshake. “Good of you to come. We’ve got real trouble here.”
“I can see that. We help one another, Terry. I’m just glad I picked up the message.” Both men watched Sarah go into action, her every movement assured. “What a damned awful thing.” Kyall’s throat tightened. That chest wound looked mortal. “Freakish, really. The vehicle could just as easily have missed the tree. He should’ve been aware of the grade.”
“’Course he should have.” Terry Hungerford shrugged fatalistically. “But some things seem meant to be. Couldn’t avoid them if you tried.”
For several tense moments, Sarah examined the unconscious young man, realizing what she was seeing, her urgency replaced by sorrow. They all fell silent watching her, until she slowly stood up, shaking her head. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Hungerford.” She gazed at the other stricken men, one by one. “This poor boy’s gone. The internal injuries are massive. I doubt if it would’ve helped having the hospital close by. It’s that bad.”
“My God!” Terry Hungerford was almost overwhelmed by his feelings. “Poor Sean!” he lamented. “He found life so exciting and wonderful. Dead at twenty-six.”
“Family?” Sarah asked painfully.
The station owner shook his head. “Employee. A good lad. A real worker. Full of life. Oh, my God!” he groaned, and swept the akubra from his head as a mark of respect. “To think he had to end up like this. My kids will shed some tears, I can tell you. They thought the world of him. A Kiwi, you know, having an adventure. I dread calling his parents. It’s going to be terrible. We’ll get his body back home.” He looked toward his men, then hesitated a moment, as though trying to remember his manners. “You’ll stay on for a cup of tea, Doctor, Kyall.” Terry Hungerford wanted to mention that his daughter had a school friend staying at the homestead, a dead ringer for the doctor, but it seemed inappropriate with Sean’s body lying only feet away. Of course, the boy should have known about the slope of the land; it would have saved his life. Terry stared bleakly at the body so recently full of life, then gestured to the silent stockmen who made no effort to cover their extreme distress. How could something so dreadful happen in this beautiful wide-open land?
Mrs. Hungerford, a slim, attractive woman in her early forties, rushed out onto the veranda as the Jeep carrying Kyall and Sarah hurtled up the drive to the front steps.
“Everything all right?” she asked fearfully, as if there could be only one outcome.
“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Hungerford.” Kyall addressed her, while nodding a thank-you to their driver. “Your employee has died. We’re so terribly sorry. There are no answers when it comes to tragedies like this. His death was caused by a freak accident.” He gestured at Sarah. “This is my fiancée, Dr. Sarah Dempsey from the hospital. She has the sad job of writing the death certificate.”
“Oh, my God!” Jill Hungerford covered her face with her hands. “I’ve been praying and praying. So have the children. They’ll be so upset. Poor boy. Poor Sean. I can’t believe this!”
“It’s a tragedy.” Sarah moved forward, with Kyall by her side. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hungerford. Even if help had been on hand, I don’t think he would’ve made it. That was a very heavy vehicle and he was a slight young man.”
“Terrible. Terrible.” Jill Hungerford visibly tried to pull herself together. Tears stood in her eyes; she tried to brush them away. “And Terry?”
“He’s seeing to things,” Kyall said gently.
“Come in. Please come in.” Jill Hungerford lowered the hand she’d been using to shade her eyes as they turned for the veranda that wrapped the homestead. Sarah lowered her sunglasses at the same moment. “But, my dear!” Jill Hungerford said in apparent confusion, her voice startled.
Sarah stepped
forward, taking the older woman’s arm. “Perhaps you should sit down, Mrs. Hungerford.”
“No, it’s all right,” Jill Hungerford assured her, still staring at Sarah as if at an apparition. “You don’t have a young relative by the name of Fiona Hazelton, do you?”
“No.” Sarah spoke gently, humoring her.
“It’s not possible?”
“Anything’s possible, Mrs. Hungerford, but not to my knowledge. You know someone of that name?”
“She’s right here in the house.” Jill Hungerford still sounded incredulous. “A lovely girl. She goes to school with my daughter Clementine. She could be your younger sister. The curly blond hair, big brown eyes, cleft in the chin. Everything! It’s quite extraordinary. They do say we all have a double. You’ll be meeting yours.”
Sarah didn’t respond, trying to make sense of it all. She glanced at Kyall. His face had settled into grim, daunting lines. As Jill Hungerford began to lead the way into the house, four youngsters, three girls and a boy of about ten, burst onto the veranda, their faces reflecting their anxiety. “How’s Sean?” They all spoke together.
Jill Hungerford couldn’t answer. She burst into tears.
“Sean didn’t make it, kids.” Kyall took charge. “We’re so sorry. Your dad will be here soon. Perhaps one of you girls could make your mother a cup of tea. This is Dr. Sarah, by the way. Head of the hospital at Koomera Crossing.”
Three of the children responded with a muffled, “Hello.” The one who’d remained silent separated herself from the group, staring at Sarah as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.
Lord God almighty! Shock drove the breath from Kyall’s body. He felt it rip right through him, hammering at his heart. Then in the next instant, he felt a strange certitude that had nothing to do with the known facts. He was aware of Sarah clutching at him, holding on to his arm as though her knees had turned to water and he was the only man in the world who could keep her upright.
The girl was Sarah at fifteen. As Jill had said, she had the same mane of golden curls, big brown eyes, the same sheen of beautiful skin. Even the shallow dimple in her chin. She carried herself like Sarah. Like a princess.
How did anyone make sense of the impossible? Unless he’d been lied to… White-hot emotions enveloped Kyall. Fury at the magnitude and utter inhumanity of the deception, the certainty that he could never forgive Sarah—and grief at what he had missed. All these years of his child’s life.
“This is my friend, Fiona,” Clementine Hungerford was saying in a startled voice. “Fiona Hazelton. We go to school together.”
Sarah couldn’t speak. Her blood was ice. Her limbs rigid. There could be no mistake. This was her daughter. This was her Rose.
With an enormous effort Kyall found his voice. “Hello there, Fiona.” He was astounded that he sounded so normal. “What part of Queensland are you from?”
Fiona named the coastal town, thinking Kyall McQueen was gorgeous. Clemmie had told her he was another station owner, flying the doctor in. A real outback hero or, at any rate, the way she liked to imagine one. And Dr. Sarah? She had to be a relative, yet Fiona couldn’t remember her parents ever mentioning a cousin who looked incredibly like her. A girl of imagination, Fiona started to put together a scenario in her mind. She and the doctor were connected. No doubt about that. A long-lost cousin? A secret in the family? And now their paths had crossed. Here in the grand and glorious outback. The place she had dreamed of visiting.
As for Sarah, the drumming in her ears was so loud she almost didn’t hear what the girl was saying. She knew in her soul that this was her Rose. The daughter who had died. The daughter who was very much alive. But how? There was only one answer.
“Are you all right?” the girl asked, arrested by the extraordinary expression in Dr. Sarah’s eyes, the way she was clinging to Kyall McQueen’s arm, as if she was about to cave in.
Sarah tried to take deep breaths. Couldn’t. There was such a constriction around her heart. She knew it was quite possible to die from shock. “I’m…I’m…” she began, then everything went black.
SHE RECOVERED from the faint quickly, aware that Kyall was carrying her into the house. A brooding expression on his face, he set her down on a sofa in the living room, and everyone clustered around her, looking on worriedly. One of the children asked, “What’s wrong?” Another whispered, “Are you all right?” Jill Hungerford took over, telling them gently to be quiet for a moment. Clearly everyone felt off balance, aware that too many things were happening.
With a great effort Kyall repressed his anger, taking Sarah’s wrist. “Okay now?” She didn’t look okay. She looked poleaxed. Pretty much the way he felt.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured in apology, focusing on his face. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”
“My dear, you’re paper-white.” Jill Hungerford leaned forward to touch her cheek. “I’ll make tea. Lie quietly. We’ve all had a terrible shock.” Jill hurried off, closely followed by her children, who were full of questions.
Fiona remained behind. “Are you feeling a bit better now?” Shyly she approached Sarah. “I didn’t know Sean, but I feel sad, too. This is such a strange day. I woke up this morning thinking I could hear a baby crying. Of course I couldn’t. There’s no baby here. Clemmie told me it must’ve been a cat. Then I meet you, Dr. Sarah. We look so much alike we have to be related.” Fiona’s small face was filled with joyful surprise and tenderness. “Mum never told me I had a cousin like you.” Fiona didn’t know why, but she felt like bending and putting her arms around the doctor who looked so…sad, so haunted around her eyes. Fiona recognized herself in those eyes.
Sarah tried desperately to get through this first stage. “How old are you, Fiona? Fifteen?” Her voice wasn’t her own.
The girl nodded. “My birthday’s in September.”
Of course it was. Sarah felt a wave of something like relief break over her. A measure of peace. The peace she’d yearned for. “And your mother’s name is Stella?”
The girl smiled at her, real delight in her eyes. “Oh, you must be a relative to know that.”
“Yes, I must be.” Sarah sat up with an effort. “Kyall, I need to go back.” She appealed to him, enunciating her words very carefully.
“I’ll take you.”
“Oh, aren’t you going to stay for a while?” The acute disappointment in the girl’s voice would have persuaded almost anybody to stay.
“Dr. Sarah is due back at the hospital,” Kyall explained as gently as he could, given that he wanted to cry out to heaven.
“What a shame!” Fiona’s head dropped, then she lifted it with Sarah’s characteristic tilt. “I’m so glad I met you, Dr. Sarah. You, too, Mr. McQueen.”
Don’t let me break down, Sarah thought. Don’t let me frighten and disturb this child. Yet how I yearn to take her in my arms. To pour out the love I’ve kept dammed up since the day she was born.
The ice in Sarah’s blood had thawed. What she felt was a kind of delirium, as if she might spin out of control. Instead, she put out a hand to her daughter.
But Fiona didn’t shake it. At the last minute she leaned forward and kissed Sarah’s cheek.
It was too much for Sarah. With Kyall’s glittering blue eyes resting on them, she gathered her daughter into her arms for one brief moment.
Rose. She could scarcely understand any of this, but she knew her baby’s smell. The sweetness. The freshness. The uniqueness. It had been trapped in her nostrils all these years.
With the grace of God—surely this time He would turn His face to her—all would be well.
THEY SAID NOT ONE WORD to each other until Kyall put down, not at the hospital but in a clearing on Wunnamurra, a short distance from their secret place. The blue lotus lagoon with its wonderful iridescent green waters. He didn’t help her out. He didn’t touch her but strode on ahead.
“Kyall!” She’d felt his dangerous withdrawal. Guessed he thought she’d become entangled in her own machinations. She knew h
e wanted to talk. She would have to be very careful in what she said. And yet, she knew she bore no guilt. Who’d broken the law here? The woman above the law. The woman who conspired to control the lives of others.
He moved down the grassy slope, crushing the native boronia beneath his feet. Corellas nesting in the trees took off, screeching in fright. A few early-winter showers had fallen, bringing pockets of fire-red color to the wild bush. Shafts of golden light penetrated the green, making the small yellow brushes of the mulga glow like lamps.
Kyall trod heavily, purposefully, his hard-muscled body making light work of the descent. Sarah, strengthened by a kind of prophetic serenity, made her way more delicately, drenched in the scent of boronia crushed underfoot.
Nearing the bank, she slipped a little, humbly accepting his hand.
“Oh, Kyall. I feel…I feel as if I’ve had a visitation from God.”
“I’ll bet you do,” he said harshly, turning her uncovered head deliberately into a blade of brilliant light. “All your lies have found you out.”
“I don’t have anything to hide, Kyall.” She stared up at him fearlessly. “I was told our child was dead. That she died of respiratory failure. It happens. I was fifteen. Don’t ever forget that. Fifteen. I knew nothing. I didn’t even know I could have a baby the very first time I had sex. I was an ignorant child.”
“Sarah, you were always clever.”
“I know you hate to hear this. I understand your grief—”
“Do you?” He grabbed her, lifting her clear of the ground. “I’ll tell you what. You don’t know a bloody thing about the way I feel. You’ve lived with all your secrets for years. I’ve had to take it in one almighty blow.” He fixed her with an intensely burning gaze. “So you think you’ve had some sort of divine visitation? Well, I’m devastated. To know you did this awful thing. I don’t see how I can tolerate being with you. I can’t love you. Make love to you. You gave away our child! Who was it to, again? Oh, yes—Stella. Stella Hazelton. Don’t think I won’t find her! That child is mine. I was denied her all the years of her growing up. That beautiful girl. I never held her. I never watched her take her first steps. Go to school. I never taught her how to ride. How to embrace her heritage. I can never forgive you for that.”
