We’re almost at the fruit trees when he steps in front of me, cutting me off so suddenly that I almost bump into him.
He holds out his hands, palms up. ‘You take risks, Sapphie.’
His fingers are long and clean. Mine are sticky and grimy but I thread them through his. ‘You were early,’ I mutter.
A silver scar in the shape of a cross. A worried, serious mouth. Grey eyes like storm clouds.
‘You hung up on me,’ he says.
‘You said my father has a different agenda than you. Asking about Hernandez blurs the lines.’
‘You didn’t give me a chance to explain.’
‘Miss Brown! Are you coming?’
Matts looks over his shoulder before facing me again. I free my hands and wipe them on my jeans before lifting a thumb to smooth the crease between his brows. ‘I’m sorry.’
Besides growling a little, he doesn’t respond. We walk side by side towards the farmhouse.
Archie, his scruffy blond hair wild about his head, and Mary, her hair tied neatly in a plait and a two-toned pink azalea flower behind her ear, sit next to each other on the steps of the verandah. When Archie bounces to his feet, Mary jumps up too. She grasps Archie’s hand and tugs. They walk towards Matts and me.
‘Say what Barney told you to!’ she hisses.
He yanks his hand free. ‘I know!’ He walks past me, turns and walks back. ‘I have to shut my mouth or I can’t ride because you’re going to kick me out and I can never come back not for the rest of my life. I won’t do it again.’
‘Archie.’ I bend my knees so we’re the same height. ‘Thank you for your apology. Did Barney say I’d kick you out? That wasn’t right. What I think he meant to say was that the horses will be much happier if you think about their feelings, as well as your own.’
‘I wanted to stay on Freckle.’ He holds out his hand and shows me his watch. ‘I had twenty more seconds to go.’
‘Sometimes we have to accept that we can’t have what we want—even if we think it’s the right thing to happen.’
‘Corey said I had to get off.’
When Mary bounces on her toes and raises her hand, I hide a smile. ‘Yes, Mary?’
‘Next Saturday, Archie can explain to Corey what happened, and ask for twenty seconds more.’
‘That’s a good idea.’ I turn to Archie again. ‘Freckle doesn’t mind if you shout, because he’s used to children. It’s the other horses who might get scared.’
‘They don’t like it,’ he says. ‘Prima ran away.’
‘You shouldn’t ever shout,’ Mary says primly. ‘Ever, ever, ever.’
I smile. ‘It’s okay to shout sometimes, Mary.’
She turns to Matts. ‘You were at the youth centre, weren’t you? Do you remember me? I’m Mary.’
‘Your pony’s name is Mischief.’
‘Yes.’ Mary beams.
Matts looks around. He frowns. ‘Where is he today?’
She tips back her head and laughs. ‘He doesn’t come here!’
With Mary, he pretended to be serious. With me, it’s genuine.
A black and gold butterfly hovers over the azalea bushes. There’s a butterfly in my stomach as well, nervously dodging and darting.
Five. Whole. Days.
CHAPTER
26
Sunshine bounces off the bonnet and streams through the windows, but I’m so busy thinking about deep steady breathing that I can barely talk. Every time we hit a straight stretch of road, Matts turns his head. Am I pale? Am I breathing too loudly? In through the nose and out through the mouth. Through the abdomen not through the chest. He doesn’t drive above the speed limit, but rarely goes below it.
‘Sapphie? Are you all right?’
He wanted to drive all this way. It’ll be his fault if I throw up all over his fancy car and—
‘Stop!’
‘What?’
‘I need …’ I wind down the window. I press the back of my head against the headrest. I close my eyes. I swallow. And swallow again. I slam my hand across my mouth. ‘I’m going to—’
The indicator ticks as the car slows and makes a right-hand turn. There are potholes on the road. Saplings scrape the side of the car. Dust comes through the window. The car stops, my stomach heaves. I wrench open the door and tumble out.
‘Sapphie?’ His door slams shut. ‘What the …?’
The narrow dirt road borders a broad, shallow ditch. My feet hit the ground and my knees buckle and I drop to my hands and knees. But I prefer to be down here where the road isn’t moving towards me and I don’t feel the need to keep watch. I grasp fistfuls of gravel as I retch into the dirt.
He pulls back the hair that’s come loose from my ponytail and tucks it firmly under my collar. He puts his hand on my back. I’m shaky and humiliated but want him here anyway.
‘Sairas pieni kissa.’
Sick little cat. I retch again and again, but all that comes up is saliva. And after a while, there’s barely even that. I’m in no hurry to explain what’s going on, so I turn and face the ditch. I suck in breaths and even through my runny nose, I smell the gum leaves. I draw up my legs and rest my cheek on my knees.
‘Don’t move.’
Didn’t he say that when I fell out of the tree? The rear door slams and so does the glove box. When he comes back, he crouches at my side. He hands me a bottle of water and tissues.
‘I have water in my bag,’ I croak.
‘Take mine.’
I don’t seem to be capable of opening the lid, so he prises the bottle out of my fingers and does it for me.
‘Drink.’
I press the bottle against my forehead. I lift my shirt and wipe my face. I swish mouthfuls of water around and spit them out. Finally, I drink.
‘Sapphie?’ He touches my shoulder. ‘Motion sickness? You never had it when—’
‘I was going to eat but you were early.’
‘You get sick if you don’t eat?’
When I scrabble to my feet, I slip on the gravel and he takes my arm. His hold is firm but impersonal. Isn’t that a good thing?
‘I’m fine.’
He leans against the car and looks at his watch. ‘Do you want to go home?’
I shake my head. ‘It’s not even night yet, so I don’t know why …’ I blow out a breath. ‘Pa and Hugo drive differently.’
He frowns. ‘I wasn’t speeding.’
‘No, but …’
‘When I proposed this trip, Gus said you weren’t keen on going in a car. What did he mean?’
‘Do you remember every single thing you ever hear?’
He shrugs. ‘Do you want to drive? Would that help?’
I take a step back. ‘No.’
‘You have a licence?’
‘Yes, but …’ I take a shuddery breath. ‘Last year, I hit a kangaroo.’ My voice wobbles. ‘It was night time and—’
‘I hit an elk.’
Did it lie on his bonnet and stare at him with dark and lifeless eyes? Does he have sleepless nights and panic attacks? I close my eyes but tears slip out. ‘You don’t understand.’
When he rests a hand on the side of my face, I open my eyes. His thumb slides softly over my cheek. He briefly closes his eyes. ‘Fuck,’ he mutters under his breath.
‘What?’
His thumb is wet with tears; it slips and slides. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this?’
‘You didn’t tell me about the elk,’ I croak.
When I blink back more tears, he swears again, turns his back and walks a few paces away. I scrub at my eyes with the tissues, open the door and sit sideways on the seat so my feet rest on the running board. I find a banana and mandarin in my backpack. The door is open, forming a barrier between us, but the window is down. Looking anywhere but at him, I hold out the fruit.
‘Would you like one?’
He shakes his head. ‘Eat, Sapphie.’
I sniff and peel the mandarin. ‘I liked Atticus and Alex.’ I chew a seg
ment. ‘I liked Jacqueline much more than I liked Robert.’
His lip lifts. ‘Are you ready to go?’
‘I don’t want to eat by myself.’
He reluctantly takes a segment of mandarin and I peel the banana. The sun is slowly sinking.
‘Should I slow down?’
‘Please.’
It’ll take much longer to get to our motel because Matts keeps well below the speed limit. I leave the window down and do my best to focus on the horizon. Face your fears and push through them.
‘Distraction is good.’
‘I should talk?’ he asks.
‘Yes, please.’
‘What about?’
‘Before I went to Canberra, you said we should talk about the wetlands.’
He reaches across the gearstick and touches my hand. ‘The Macquarie River,’ he says gruffly. ‘What do you know about it?’
‘Assume I know nothing.’
He sighs. ‘It runs from Oberon in the south to the wetlands in the northwest, over nine hundred kilometres. The wetlands drain into the Darling River via the lower Barwon River.’
‘Brindabilly Dam.’
‘When it rains, dams ameliorate flooding in the towns. When it’s dry, they act as an additional water supply and assist with irrigation. But catchments can have a negative impact on the rivers and wetlands—they restrict the natural flow.’
I nod stiffly.
He glances at me. ‘Would you prefer the radio?’
When I rest my head on the window frame, the wind rushes onto my face. My eyes begin to water. ‘Tell me about the marshes.’
‘The Macquarie River contracts in the north to freshwater channels, streams and swamps, and creates a semi-permanent wetland. If there’s sufficient rain, the plains will flood. In the last drought, there was zero surface water.’
‘What are we going to look at this week?’
‘Parts of the nature reserve, and also privately owned land. This will give me an overview. In the next month, I’ll kayak to remote areas that are difficult to access by road or on foot. Eventually I’ll get a team in to look at land contours, biodiversity and other things.’
‘The wetlands are different than they were, aren’t they?’
‘Towns, agriculture, mining, dams, drainage. There are many reasons.’
It’s not properly dark, but by five o’clock more and more cars have their headlights switched on. A truck comes over the crest of a hill towards us.
‘Stop!’
Matts pulls into a layby and I stagger out of the car, putting my hands on my knees and retching into the dirt. He stands back with his water bottle and tissues.
‘Sairas pieni kissa.’
CHAPTER
27
My room in the motel on the outskirts of town is sparse but clean, with a double bed, lamps attached to the bedhead, a small wobbly table and two upright chairs. Matts’s room is next door. Is he really working? Besides declaring I looked tired, he made writing a report an excuse to eat in his room. When I selected toasted sandwiches and salad from the motel kitchen, Matts did the same.
After I’ve eaten, I step into the shower. Water is even more precious out here than it is at home, so I turn off the tap while I wash and condition my hair. My nightie is like a petticoat—a simple sheath with shoestring straps that slips over my head. When I smooth the fabric over my hips, it slithers to my knees. Blue silk.
Azure, cobalt, indigo, navy.
Sapphire.
When Mum wore blue, and people complemented her scarves, dresses or shirts, she’d look at me and smile. ‘I search for the shade of Sapphire’s eyes.’
She didn’t seem to mind that I was a tomboy who refused to wear a dress. We were at a school event in Buenos Aires when I overheard a woman telling her I might grow into my looks. Matts was with me and I expected him to tease me, but he put an arm around my shoulders and we walked away together. He looked back and glared at the woman. ‘Idiootti,’ he muttered.
I comb fingers through my hair. It’s still damp, but I’m not sure that I can stay awake long enough to dry it, so I go back to the bathroom to clean my teeth. My face is pale except for the smudges under my eyes, and I yawn as I carry the tray to the door and leave it outside. The days are much warmer, but the air is cool at night. On the other side of the parking area there’s a jacaranda tree. The lights at the motel entrance shine brightly on the bursts of purple flowers. The scent will be too subtle to smell from my room, but we’re not far from the gums that line the roads and dot the paddocks. I stand on the bed and open the window. Now it’s more like home.
I’m almost asleep, the covers pulled tightly around me, when a car door opens. It’s very close by. Maybe Matts forgot to take something to his room? Was it a map? Did he want to see what the channels and streams and swamps looked like before the farmers arrived and the towns and mines were built and the dams blocked the river and changed things forever?
I’m on Prima’s back in a showjumping ring with tiered seating like you see at Olympic events. Which is odd, because I’ve never competed on horseback. Even so, I sense the crowd’s excitement as Prima clears each of the obstacles—a triple combination followed by a water jump, a double post and rail fence, and a jump that looks like the straw house built by one of the three little pigs.
Is my class in the crowd? I think I hear Archie call out and Mary cheering. The final jump is a vibrant red wall with stark white mortar between each row of bricks. Another effort from the three little pigs? The wall is high, but I’m confident that Prima can clear it. I sit forward in the saddle and lower my hands as she shortens her stride, rises up from the ground and—
Mary, with wattle flowers threaded through her hair, sits on the top of the wall. She waves and smiles at the people in the arena. And then she turns to me. She stiffens. Her eyes widen. Her mouth opens.
I’m behind the wheel of my car and I pump the brakes again and again but the car is in the air so the brakes don’t work and—
‘Mary!’ I sit bolt upright. ‘No!’
I shiver. I rub my eyes. My face is wet. I shudder with hiccups. Where am I?
My heart pounds.
My head pounds.
The door pounds.
‘Sapphie! Unlock the door.’
I fumble with the catch and slide it across.
His T-shirt is hanging out of his jeans. His fringe is in his eyes. He closes the door behind him and puts his hand against my face, sliding his thumb over my cheek in the same way he did yesterday.
When he pulls me into his arms, I press my face against his chest. ‘It was a dream.’
He strokes my hair. ‘What the fuck?’
‘I killed the kangaroo.’ My words are muffled.
He puts his hand under my chin and tilts my face. ‘It was an accident.’
‘Like Mum.’
He freezes for a moment. Then holds me tightly.
My breathing slowly settles and so does his. He smells of soap. One of his hands is firmly around my waist and the other hand glides over my back. He traces the edge of my nightie from one shoulder blade to the other. I look up and his hand stills.
When the breeze pushes through the curtains, they open a little and let in more light. Even so, Matts is only a shadow. A solid shadow with a hard chest and long legs and strong arms. He loosens his hold a fraction.
‘You okay?’
I nod, my cheek against his chest. ‘Did I scream a lot?’
‘Yes.’
His body is tense, like he’s about to let me go. Do I want him to? ‘No.’
‘What?’
I burrow closer. ‘Nothing.’
He runs his hand down my spine. ‘Sapphie. We should talk.’
‘About wetlands?’
‘About throwing up.’
‘You went too fast, and then it was dark, and …’ I blow out a breath. ‘I know I need help, which is why I’ve been talking to my psychologist again. It’s anxiety, and the only way to get over i
t is facing it. It’s getting better.’
He indicates my bed. ‘Is it?’
‘Hitting the kangaroo triggered thoughts about how Mum died. Seeing you again, and my father, has made things worse. Back in Horseshoe they give me time. They understand. And anyway, the dream wasn’t only about driving. It had Prima in it.’
He captures my hand and holds it between us. ‘That horse is too big.’
‘I can handle her.’
‘Not yesterday.’
‘She hasn’t done anything like that before. I rushed her.’
‘You don’t have the facilities.’
‘What would you know?’
He sandwiches my hands between his. ‘An idiot could see it.’
Dawn seeps through the window; wedges of light lay stripes on the bed. The sheets are bunched up and the doona is half on the floor. Matts isn’t as shadowy as he was. I can easily make out his features, his angular cheekbones and the line of his jaw, dark because of his bristles.
When I raise my face, he kisses my mouth, his lips lingering and briefly caressing. But then he lifts his head. His eyes travel over my body.
‘You like to wear silk.’ His voice is low and gruff. ‘This nightdress is blue?’
‘Yes.’
The right strap of my nightie has slipped down my arm, but I’m not sure about the left strap because my hair falls down that side. Would he care if he saw the scars? He knows so much already. He knows too much already.
‘Sapphie.’ He lets go of my hands and puts hair behind my ear. He steps back. Takes a deep breath. ‘You were upset. I should go.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘You say seeing me makes things worse in the car.’
I put my hand on his chest. ‘It’s not your fault.’
The silk clings to everything it touches. My breasts rise and fall with my breath. My nipples harden. Warmth seeps from deep inside my body and radiates out. I’m attracted to him. But it’s more than that. Want. Need. Every time we touch, I feel it more.
My arms around his neck. His arms around my body. Who moves first? The kiss is bruising and hungry. Our teeth clash. Our tongues spar. He murmurs my name when I grasp his T-shirt. His heartbeat is just as fast as mine.
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