Finding His Wife, Finding a Son

by Marion Lennox

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Rules,’ she said, flatly, not bitterly. It was simply stating what was. ‘My eyesight’s not up to standard. Maryanne Clarkson’s the other doctor in town and she’s a stickler for perfection. When Ron and I approached her to do the combined job she was appalled that we both had health issues. Ron had arthritis that affected his joints—he had to use me to do fine work like finding a tricky vein. Which I could using my magnifying lenses.

  ‘Then Maryanne saw me bump into a post in the car park one night and she rang the medical board the next day and said she doubted my ability to work. I copped a rigid assessment—which I passed—but she’s been looking askance at the pair of us ever since. We’ve provided an excellent service but I doubt she’ll support me without Ron, even though the town was desperate for more doctors before we went and will be desperate again now.’

  ‘It’ll be a month before you need to make that decision.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said bleakly. ‘And for that month Namborra will only have Maryanne and she doesn’t do house calls...’

  ‘You and Ron did house calls?’

  ‘Don’t say it like it’s a criminal act.’ She glared.

  ‘Beth, working in a clinic where you know where everything is is one thing but—’

  ‘But there’s the elephant again. Beth’s blind. Beth is not blind.’

  But he could see Maryanne’s view on this one and it was doing no one a kindness pretending there wasn’t an issue. ‘You must have trouble,’ he said reasonably. ‘One of the biggest problems with house calls is that people have lousy lighting.’

  ‘So they do,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘And I don’t drive so Ron and I did house calls together. And you know what? We had fun. So not only have I lost a friend, I’ve lost my job and I’ve lost...fun. Freedom. Dignity. And we did good. No, we did great, so don’t you dare imply we were wrong to do it. Leave me be, Luc Braxton. I’m going to bed.’

  And he was left, sitting alone watching the moon rise over the sea. Trying to get his head in order.

  The phone rang.

  Yay for phones, he thought. Yay for work. And it was work, a callout to a fire in a holiday rental farmhouse twenty minutes away by chopper.

  ‘An explosion.’ Mabel was curt. ‘It’ll be a meths lab or something like that. It always is. Explosion in remote rented farmhouse. Kids everywhere. What were they thinking?’

  ‘Idea of casualties?’ He had his phone tucked under his chin, pulling his boots on as he talked. He wasn’t in the business of making judgements. He was in the business of cleaning up afterwards.

  ‘Multiple. Two probable deaths, but no proper count at this stage. It’s miles from anywhere. A neighbour rang it in, sounding sensible but overwhelmed. Says most of the kids seem drug affected, even if they’re not injured. The local cop’s on his way, as are the local paramedics and fire brigade but they’ll need backup.’

  ‘I’ll be on the chopper in three minutes,’ Luc said, and disconnected. And turned to find Beth watching him from the bedroom door. Leaning on her crutches.

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘Kids, drugs and fire,’ he said abruptly, grabbing his bag. ‘An appalling combination and all too common. You’ll be all right here while I’m gone?’

  ‘I’ll try and hold it together.’ Even in his rush he could hear the edge of bitterness in her voice. ‘If I didn’t have Toby I’d be with you.’

  ‘Yeah, with a broken leg and—’

  ‘Let’s not go there,’ she snapped. ‘Stay safe, Luc.’ And before he knew what she intended she hopped across to where he stood and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘Go save everyone I can’t. Do it for me.’

  He shouldn’t respond. There was no time for anything except getting to the roof to board the chopper.

  Except some things were imperative.

  Somehow he found himself holding her, gripping her shoulders, looking down into her troubled eyes.

  Soldier going into battle? Farewelling his woman? That was fanciful. This was not his woman. Beth was part of his past, nothing more. But still...

  Still the need was imperative.

  He’d heard the anger in her voice. He couldn’t leave her like this, and he reacted the only way he knew how.

  He bent his head and kissed her, hard and strong, taking what he needed from the feel of her body against him, the fleeting melting of her breasts against his chest, the instant rush of response. Telling her he was sorry. Telling her his concern was because...because he didn’t understand anything any more.

  And then he pulled away because he must, and she pulled away, too.

  No choice.

  ‘Stay safe,’ she said again, but this time it was a shaken whisper.

  ‘For you,’ he said, just as shakily, and then he was gone and Beth was left staring at a closed door.

  Wondering what had just happened to make her feel her life had changed all over again.

  * * *

  Blake was off duty. Luc was in charge and he flew into a disaster.

  What on earth made kids think they could set up a chemical lab a highly qualified scientist would worry about, following dodgy instructions on even more dodgy internet websites, trying to make drugs when they had no knowledge of the composite ingredients—and doing it when they were half-stoned?

  The farmhouse was obviously being used as party central. The chopper landed and they could see a dying bonfire in the paddock beside the house, bottles and cans everywhere as if a party had been in full swing for a few days—and a weatherboard farmhouse that had burned so fast that the ruins were starting to smoulder rather than burn.

  It looked like it was—a disaster, Luc thought grimly, as they took in the scene from the air.

  There was one police car, lights flashing, parked at the gate beside an ambulance—the type used by volunteer, rural paramedics. The local fire engine was on the scene but no one seemed to be trying to put a fire out. The two firemen seemed occupied with injured kids.

  The chopper Luc was in was a big one, holding the lead firies as well as the medic crew. Kev looked down grimly. ‘This’ll be forensic stuff,’ he muttered. ‘Hell, it must have burned hot. We’ll be lucky if we get anything for mums and dads to bury.’

  Luc cast him a sympathetic glance. Kev had seen everything in a career that spanned over forty years but he still wasn’t inured to the sort of catastrophe below.

  Nobody in the team was.

  They didn’t speak as they came in to land. They were shocked at what they were seeing but their silence wasn’t caused by shock.

  This team was a well-oiled machine, honed by years of response to catastrophes like this and worse. Every man and woman would be doing a personal assessment of what lay underneath them, checking the groups of kids clustered around obvious casualties, seeing how some kids were still close to the fire. For heaven’s sake, why hadn’t the firies got them back? Even though the fire had burned down, if it was a suspect meth lab there may well be more stuff in there liable to explode. There must be severely injured kids to hold their attention.

  ‘Sam, you’re on triage,’ Luc snapped as the chopper finally came to rest and the team unclipped and grabbed their gear. ‘Gina?’ he called to the chopper pilot. ‘Radio in with request for backup, a couple of med. evacuation choppers with every paramedic they can find. I’m seeing ten kids on the ground from here. People, we’re dealing with drugs as well as injuries so watch yourself. Even the kids who are uninjured are likely to be volatile. Try and work in pairs, covering your backs. Right, go.’

  * * *

  How could she sleep?

  She lay in bed and turned on the radio. The late-night jocks were all over it. Explosion in a remote farmhouse. Casualty count rising. Four dead. How many did that mean injured?

  She was lying in bed, warm, safe with her little boy bes
ide her. Her leg was aching. She had the drugs to fix it but she didn’t feel like fixing it.

  She wanted to be out and doing. In the middle of the action. Working beside Luc, making a difference as she’d longed to all her life.

  What chance now? Namborra would be closed to her. She’d have months off work with her leg and then the fight would start all over again to get herself accepted.

  While others put themselves in harm’s way, doing the work she longed for?

  The latest news flash—updating the death count to five.

  She felt ill.

  At dawn Toby stirred. At least that gave her something to do. She got him breakfast, played with him for a while and then headed to rehab.

  Harriet was there, stoically lifting her foot, grim-faced, trying desperately to get her leg working.

  It would never be completely normal, Beth thought. Luc had told her just how much damage Harriet had suffered.

  Harriet was looking at a lifetime disability, too.

  Beth settled herself on the mat beside Harriet and waited while the physiotherapist braced her leg.

  Both women concentrated fiercely on their exercises for a while, saying nothing. Then...

  ‘I hate it,’ Harriet said, and she sounded close to tears.

  ‘Because you should be out there, too?’

  ‘Of course I should,’ Harriet said bitterly. ‘But they’re saying I’ll have to accept a degree of weakness. They’ll never let me back on the team. At least your ankle will get better.’

  ‘You think Luc would ever let me near his precious team with my eyesight?’

  ‘Yeah, and he still thinks of you as family. It’s a wonder he hadn’t put you in a cotton wool climate controller and put the setting to safe.’

  ‘You do understand him,’ Beth said cautiously.

  ‘The whole team knows Luc. If there’s danger, there’s Luc. It almost kills him if someone else has to take a risk. He’d care for the whole world.’

  ‘I hope to hell there’s no risk where he is now.’

  ‘Even if there is, you wouldn’t be allowed to share.’ Harriet gave her leg a savage jerk upward, which earned her a sharp rebuke from the physiotherapist.

  ‘Easy, Harriet. And you, too, Beth. Don’t try and walk before you can run. You need to accept your limitations.’

  ‘Of course we do,’ Harriet retorted, and Beth grimaced.

  ‘Of course,’ Beth muttered. ‘And if we forget, all we need to do is ask Luc.’

  * * *

  By early evening Toby was more than ready for sleep. He seemed a bit listless, out of sorts, and so was Beth. No matter how much she hated it, her body needed rest to recover. She’d hardly slept last night, she’d done a decent rehab session and by the time Toby fell asleep Beth was ready to do the same.

  There was still no sign of Luc. She’d heard the first casualties had been flown in but there was still work to be done on the ground.

  She had soup on the stove in case he appeared. There was nothing more she could do, for him, for anyone.

  She headed for the bedroom she shared with Toby, put her head on the pillow and slept.

  And woke as a cat did, at the first sound, as the door opened inward just a little.

  ‘Luc?’

  ‘It’s okay.’ It was barely a whisper. He clearly had no intention of waking Toby—or waking her? ‘Go back to sleep.’

  As if she could. She tossed back the covers, grabbed her glasses and crutches and hobbled out.

  He was leaning heavily against the kitchen counter. He looked...appalling.

  He’d stripped off his protective gear before coming home but there must have been red dust and smoke where he was because it had infiltrated everything. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and the coarse sand was caked on. The lines on his chest where his T-shirt had tugged over his pecs, where he’d sweated, formed a road map of red dirt.

  And the rest... His thick, black hair was matted with dust and soot. He’d have worn gloves but the dust had got through, staining his hands. He stank of smoke and other things that were indescribable. The lines on his face...the matted stubble on his jaw... That was shocking enough but what was worse was his eyes. They were...haggard, mired in fatigue and distress.

  ‘Bad?’ she whispered, even though it was a dumb question. His eyes told of a nightmare.

  ‘Kids.’ He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to go there. ‘Schoolies. Kids who’ve finished their last exam. They hired the house, told their parents they were going camping...yeah, I know they were mostly eighteen but what parent sends them off without checking? So drugs and alcohol, and more drugs and alcohol and who knew what else besides? And then two imbeciles who thought they were ants’ pants in the chemistry world decided they’d make their own gear. They’d bought the stuff on the internet and brought it with them, waiting until everyone was half-stoned to show off their new skill. Half the kids seem to have been in the kitchen when it exploded. Five dead and that’s not the worst. There are kids who’ll carry the physical scars for life and every one of them will carry the mental scars.’

  ‘Oh, Luc...’

  He put his hands up and raked his fingers through his matted hair, then buried his head in his hands. ‘What were their parents thinking?’ His voice was muffled with pain. ‘What the hell...?’

  And she couldn’t bear it. She dropped her crutches. She had no remembrance later of how she supported herself to reach him. All she knew was that she did. She folded her arms around him and tugged him into her, tight, hard, and she held him and held him and held him.

  At first he didn’t yield, seemingly locked in his own personal horror. For a moment she thought he’d pull away. Maybe he’d slam out the door as he’d done sometimes in the past when he’d been distressed and he couldn’t bear to let her see.

  He protected others from pain; he didn’t share it.

  But holding was all she could do. Of course it wasn’t enough. He didn’t need her. This man didn’t need anyone and surely she should know it.

  But still she held, hard, tight, willing his pain to crack. To open the armour just a little and take comfort...

  And then he shuddered, an involuntary spasm that shook his whole body, that shook hers, and he buried his face in her hair and groaned. Or sobbed? It was a guttural sound of total anguish and she thought, Oh, Luc, what have you seen? How are such things bearable? How can you keep caring and caring, rescuing and rescuing and holding the horrors to yourself?

  But the sob seemed to have released something deep within. His hands came around her waist and tugged her against him, harder than she was holding him. Pulling her into him. Seeking the warmth and strength of her body.

  ‘Beth...’ It was a groan from the depths of need. ‘Beth...’

  ‘Hush, love,’ she whispered. and reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, through the dust, sweat and grime. She didn’t mind—how could she mind? Her hands drew his head down, so she could kiss the dust from his eyes. Her fingers held, possessive. This man was in such pain.

  Her man.

  And that’s how it felt. Ten years ago she’d made vows that should have been dissolved by a divorce court but they were suddenly all around her now.

  To love and to honour... In sickness and in health...

  I, Beth, take thee, Luc...

  And she was taking him now, holding him, willing him to yield to her with every ounce of hope and prayer left in her. Her Luc, her own Luc...

  ‘Beth...’ And when he said her name this time it was different. It was like a voice coming from the darkest of places but seeing a glimmer of light. Just a glimmer but that was all she asked.

  ‘Luc,’ she whispered, and tugged his head closer, down, so she could touch his lips. Take him to her. Heal with her body.

  And take what was hers?

 
For there was a part of her that knew it was her right to comfort this man, that taking his pain into her was the way it should be.

  Had her wedding vows been indeed unbreakable? That was how it felt right now, as if the vows held true. That he was part of her and he was suffering, hurting, holding so much pain inside that she couldn’t bear it, and if it was in her to comfort then that’s what she must do.

  Because his pain felt like hers.

  She felt him stiffen again, just slightly as she tugged him down, as her mouth found his, and for a fraction of a second she was terrified he’d pull away. No, she wanted to shout. You have no right to pull away. You have no right to keep your pain to yourself for it’s mine, too. She didn’t say it—she couldn’t because her mouth was claiming his, searching, demanding and every minuscule part of her was a prayer.

  Let me in. Luc, let me share...

  And she felt it, the moment when the tension eased, as if the pressure had built up to the point where containment was impossible. He groaned again but it was different. This was suddenly not a man fighting himself.

  He wanted her. She knew that, she’d always known that, but this was more. For the first time ever, he was drawing into her for comfort.

  For need?

  But now there was no time for introspection. No time for wonder. Because she was being held, kissed, taken with an urgency, a passion that left room for nothing else.

  He was lifting her, and the dreadful blankness in his eyes was changing. His eyes were darkening, with desire, with passion, with need. He held her high, pulling her against his chest. She was wearing...okay, nothing very sexy, in fact the opposite. She’d taken off her dress when she’d fallen into bed and she was now wearing her glasses, a moon boot, a nice, sensible bra and panties, bought from the discount store at Namborra, and an ancient wrap. Not a sexy inch of lace anywhere. But the look Luc was giving her...

  So much for sexy negligees. Total waste, she thought with a stab of satisfaction and for some dumb reason she found herself chuckling.

  ‘What?’ He’d started striding toward his bedroom, his arms full of her, but he stopped at the sound of her chuckle. His dark eyes gleamed down at her, and her heart twisted with love and with desire.