by Donald Robyn
Clutching it, she ran, heartbeats thudding in her ears as Niko wrenched open the driver’s door and leaned inside.
‘Oh, dear God, please...’ Elana breathed a silent prayer that jerked to a sudden stop when she realised he was half inside the car, presumably undoing the driver’s seatbelt.
Over his shoulder he commanded harshly, ‘Get back. Quickly—I can smell petrol.’
So could she now, the acrid stench cutting through the minty perfume from the kanuka trees. At least the force of the collision had stopped the engine.
‘Go,’ Niko Radcliffe ordered, dragging the driver free of the car in one ferociously powerful movement.
‘I’ll help you—’
He broke in, ‘Have you got a cell phone?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Then get back to your car and use it to call for help.’
Torn between summoning the emergency services and helping him, Elana wavered.
‘Move! And stay there!’
The peremptory command raised her hackles, but sent her running back. Snatching up her cell phone, she tapped out the emergency number, eyes fixed on Niko and his limp burden as he strode past his own vehicle towards her.
‘Ambulance, fire engine and police,’ she told the emergency operator, and answered the subsequent questions as clearly and concisely as she could, finishing by saying, ‘The smell of petrol seems to be getting much stronger. I have to go now.’
She dropped the phone onto the driver’s seat and ran towards Niko and his burden.
He had to be immensely strong, because, although the hard angles of his face were slick with sweat, he’d carried the driver of the wrecked car past their vehicles to what she fervently hoped was a safe distance.
Breathing heavily, he laid the unconscious man on the narrow, stony verge before straightening. ‘How long will it take them to get here?’
‘About fifteen minutes,’ Elana told him unevenly, adding, ‘I hope that not too many of the volunteers were drinking champagne at the ball.’ She dropped to her knees beside the still—dangerously still—driver. ‘Jordan,’ she said urgently, groping for his wrist. ‘Jordan, can you hear me? It’s Elana Grange. Open your eyes if you can.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Jordan Cooper.’ Tears clogged her eyes. ‘He’s only a kid—about eighteen.’
‘Any pulse?’
Steady, she told herself when her probing fingers found nothing. Concentrate. ‘No.’
Inwardly shaking, she explored a little further, and to her intense relief recognised the faint flutter of heartbeats against her fingers. ‘Yes. He’s alive.’ Barely...
She laid a gentle hand on the driver’s chest, some of her panic fading when she felt it rise and fall beneath her palm. ‘He’s breathing.’
‘Keep checking. Tell me at once if his pulse stops or he stops breathing.’
Vowing to take the next first-aid course available, she infused her tone with a confidence she didn’t feel. ‘Jordan, hang on in there. You’re going to be all right. Help is coming and will be here soon. Keep breathing.’
Did he hear her? Probably not, but that faint flutter steadied a little and his breathing became slightly less harsh.
* * *
Niko surveyed her, crouched on the stones, her long fingers clasping the unconscious man’s wrist.
As though sheer willpower could keep him alive, she urged again, ‘Keep breathing, Jordan, keep breathing. It won’t be long now before the ambulance gets here.’
Never had time dragged so slowly. Niko hoped to heaven he hadn’t made Jordan’s injuries—whatever they were—worse by hauling him from the car. The boy had worn a seatbelt so he’d almost certainly have escaped severe injury, although to knock him out the car must have hit the bank heavily.
And the stench of spilt petrol hung in the cool air, a constant threat.
At last the silence, broken only by the regular mournful morepork call of a nearby owl and Elana’s commands to Jordan to keep breathing, was interrupted by the sound of engines labouring up the hill.
Her head jerked up. Voice trembling with relief, she said, ‘Jordan, the ambulance is almost here. I can see its lights flashing through the bush. Keep breathing. You’re going to be all right.’
She fell silent as the ambulance arrived, followed closely by a fire engine and a police car.
Gladly handing over to those who knew what they were doing, Niko gave silent thanks for volunteers, and decided to double the donation he gave to each organisation.
Reaching down, he pulled Elana gently to her feet. Although she valiantly straightened her shoulders, she couldn’t hide the shivers that wracked her slender body.
He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it across her shoulders. ‘All right?’
‘Yes.’
The quaver in her voice and the shiver that accompanied it told him she was in mild shock. Understandable, especially as she knew the kid.
He looped an arm around her shoulder. When she flinched he demanded, ‘What’s the matter? Did your seatbelt hurt you?’
‘No.’ She held herself stiffly while he urged her onto the side of the road out of the way of the vehicles. ‘I’m all right.’
And presumably to prove it, she moved away from him, putting distance between them. For some reason that exasperated him. Eyes narrowed, he kept a close watch on her while the ambulance personnel got to work and what at first seemed chaos soon resolved itself into a well-oiled routine that swiftly transferred the still-unconscious youth to the ambulance.
‘Elana?’ A young policeman stopped in front of them, frowning. ‘You all right?’
‘Don’t worry, Phil, I’m fine,’ she said, and summoned a shaky smile.
‘Rotten thing to happen to you—’ He stopped, looking profoundly uncomfortable, then asked hastily, ‘You sure you’re OK?’
Niko glanced down at her. What was going on? Had she been involved in an accident recently?
‘I’m fine,’ she repeated, her voice a little firmer, and added, ‘Truly, Phil, I’m all right.’
The young cop kept his gaze on her face. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’
‘Neither of us saw it,’ Niko informed him. ‘It looks as though he took the corner too fast, over-corrected, then hit the bank at speed. I think we got here almost immediately after that.’
Questions had to be asked and answered, Niko knew, but surely not now. The woman beside him was no longer shaking, but she was still in shock. No wonder, if she had been involved in an accident.
Apparently the constable agreed, because he said, ‘Thanks for being so quick off the mark—the fire chaps say that it must have been touch and go that the engine didn’t explode. They’ll deal with it until it’s no longer a danger and the guys can tow it away.’ He looked at the silent woman. ‘Elana, I’m sorry—it must be bringing back really bad memories. Right now, you need something hot to drink and someone to look after you. I’d take you home myself—’
‘Phil, don’t be silly,’ she said weakly. Phil’s wife was very pregnant. The last thing she’d need would be him arriving home with someone to look after.
His suspicions confirmed, Niko looked down at her white face. Without thinking, he took her arm and said firmly, ‘She can stay at Mana. The homestead’s not completely repaired yet, but it’s liveable.’
He expected some resistance, and it was in a muted voice she said, ‘No, that’s not necessary. I’m fine.’ But it took an obvious effort for her to stiffen her shoulders as she added, ‘I just hope Jordan will be too.’
‘The ambos think he’s been lucky,’ the constable reassured her. ‘Not too much damage beyond a bad graze and possible cracked ribs. I hope so too, for his parents’ sake. They’ll be at the hospital to meet him.’ He transferred his gaze to Niko. ‘I don’t think Elana should be driving. If you can drop her off at home I’ll make sure her car gets back to her place.’
‘Phil, it’s not necessary.’ Elana’s tight voice made it obvio
us she didn’t like being discussed as though she weren’t there.
Niko intervened, ‘You’re mildly shocked. I’ll take you home.’
She pulled away from him. ‘I’m all right.’ But her voice wavered on the final word.
‘Be sensible.’ He added crisply, ‘Let the professionals take over.’
Her chin lifted. ‘You’re a professional?’
‘No, but this man is. Come on, give him your keys.’
The cop was hiding a smile, one that almost escaped him when Elana stared indignantly at Niko for a few seconds, then shrugged. ‘The keys are still in my car,’ she said bleakly. ‘OK, Phil, I won’t drive if you think I shouldn’t. I’ll just collect my bag.’
Niko found himself admiring both her spirit and her common sense. He said, ‘I could do with something hot and soothing right now. I’m pretty good at making coffee, but I’m thinking a tot of whisky should go into it.’
The lights of the remaining vehicles revealed both her disbelieving expression and a swift, narrowed glance. ‘I hate whisky.’
Amused by her intransigence, Niko watched her head for her vehicle, and found himself wondering what had given her that sturdy spirit.
Once she was out of earshot the cop turned to him. ‘Rotten thing to happen to her,’ he said, frowning.
‘To anyone,’ Niko returned. Especially to the kid behind the wheel...
The young policeman went on, ‘But tougher on Elana than most.’ He hesitated, watching her as she opened her car door and bent inside it. ‘She lost her parents—well, her stepfather—a couple of years or so ago in an accident. He was killed instantly, and her mother was so badly hurt she never walked again.’
Niko said harshly, ‘Damn.’
‘Yes. Elana was with them—they were hit head-on by an out-of-control truck.’ He paused and shook his head. ‘She was lucky—not too much in the way of injuries, but she had to leave a good job in Auckland to come home and look after Mrs Simmons—her mother. She died after a stroke about six months ago.’ He paused. ‘Hell of a shame for Elana to come across young Jordan like that.’
Niko looked towards her car. Elana was still groping around in the front seat, presumably searching the bag she’d carried—a little satin thing that didn’t look big enough to hold the keys to any house. Frowning, he watched her straighten up and step back, bag in hand.
He turned to the constable and extended his hand. ‘I’m Niko Radcliffe from Mana Station.’
‘Yeah, I recognised you from the photos in the local newspaper.’
They shook hands and turned to watch Elana walk back, clutching her bag, her face drawn and taut.
Niko opened the passenger door of his car. When she hesitated he said, ‘Get in.’
Lips parting, she gave him a dark look, but clearly thought better of whatever she’d been going to say and obeyed, after thanking Phil Whoever-He-Was.
‘I’ll go and have a word with the fire brigade,’ Niko told her, and closed the car door on her.
Turning away so she couldn’t hear, he said quietly to the cop, ‘I’ll also ring my housekeeper; she’ll stay the night and will keep an eye on her.’
The constable nodded. ‘Great. She shouldn’t be on her own. I’ll get in touch with you when I know young Jordan’s condition.’ He paused, and gave a brief smile. ‘But watch out for fireworks. Elana’s pretty independent.’
However, when Niko returned to his car after being reassured that the leaking petrol was no longer a danger, Elana Grange looked far from independent. Eyes closed, she was leaning back in the seat, and even in the semi-darkness he could see that the colour hadn’t returned to her face, and that her hands were clenched on her bag as though reliving the impact of a crash. A pang of compassion shook him.
* * *
At the sound of the opening door Elana forced up her weighted eyelids and took a deep breath. ‘Thanks,’ she said, adding, ‘I didn’t realise just how—how affected I’d be by this.’
‘Accidents are always difficult to deal with, and for you now, I imagine much more so.’
So Phil had told him. She blinked back shaken tears. ‘I thought—hoped—I’d got over it. The shock, I mean.’
Only to fall to pieces... Sometimes she wondered if she’d ever recover from the tragedy of her parents’ deaths.
‘Give it time,’ Niko said as he set the car in motion. ‘It’s a truism, but time does heal most things—eventually.’ He paused before adding, ‘And if it doesn’t entirely heal, it usually provides the ability to cope.’
Surprised, she looked up. His angular sculpted profile and the tone of his voice made her wonder if he’d discovered this for himself. Immediately she chided herself for her self-absorption. She wasn’t the only person in the world to be forced to live with unexpected tragedy. Other people had even worse events in their lives, and managed to overcome their impact.
In a small voice she said, ‘I just miss them so much.’
To her astonishment he dropped one hand from the wheel and closed it over hers. Although strong, his grip was warm and strangely comforting.
‘That’s the worst part,’ he told her, releasing her cold fingers. ‘But eventually you’ll learn to live without them. And to be happy again.’
His pragmatic sympathy warmed some part of her that had been frozen so long she’d come to take it for granted. Had he too suffered a loss? Possibly. However, she wasn’t comfortable discussing her grief with a man she didn’t know, even though the events of the evening somehow seemed to form a link between them.
Opening her eyes, she gazed ahead as the headlights revealed paddocks and fences and the sweep of a bay.
‘Hey!’ she exclaimed. ‘Stop!’
‘Why?’ He kept on driving towards Mana homestead.
‘You’ve gone past my gate. Sorry—I should have told you where I—’
‘I know where you live.’
After digesting that she fought back bewilderment to demand, ‘Then why did you drive past?’
‘Because I agree with your policeman friend. You shouldn’t be on your own tonight.’
Silenced by a mixture of shock and outrage, she opened her mouth to speak, only to have her throat close and the words refuse to emerge.
The man beside her went on, ‘I called my housekeeper and she’s preparing a bed for you.’ And without pausing he added on an ironic note, ‘I’m sure there will be a lock on the door. If not, you’ll still be quite safe.’
Stung, she blurted, ‘I didn’t—I wasn’t...’
Housekeeper? Did he travel with a domestic ménage? Although various tradesmen and decorators had been working on the sadly neglected and almost derelict Mana homestead for some months, local gossip hadn’t mentioned a resident housekeeper.
Perhaps Niko Radcliffe guessed her thoughts, because he said calmly, ‘I assume you know that the house is still being restored, although fortunately it’s almost finished.’
Elana drew in a sharp breath. ‘It’s been the talk of the district since you bought the station.’ Along with the huge amount of money he was spending on the house as well as the land itself. ‘But I’m perfectly all right—a bit shaken, that’s all. I don’t need to be cosseted.’
‘Your policeman friend didn’t seem to think so.’
His amused tone rubbed her raw. ‘Phil’s a nice man but he’s always had an over-developed protective instinct. There’s no need for you to wake up your housekeeper and put her to this trouble.’
‘She’s another with an over-developed protective instinct,’ he said laconically, turning the wheel to swing between low stone walls. For years they’d proudly guarded the entrance to Mana homestead, but now more than a few of the volcanic boulders had tumbled to the ground.
No doubt they’d soon be put back in place.
Above the clatter of the cattle stop, Elana said grittily, ‘I—thank you.’ In his forceful, domineering way, Niko Radcliffe possibly thought he was being neighbourly.
‘It’s nothing.’
His tone told her that, indeed, he meant just that. Because, of course, his housekeeper would be the one who did any actual caring—not that it would be necessary.
She opened her mouth to say something astringent, then closed it as he went on, ‘It’s been an unnerving experience for you—and understandably so.’
‘Which doesn’t mean I’m not capable of looking after myself.’
‘Is it always so difficult for you to accept help?’
Elana couldn’t come up with any sensible response. Much as she resisted the idea, her shock at the accident and fear for Jordan weren’t the only reasons for her silence. From the moment she’d seen Niko he’d had a potent effect on her.
And she certainly wasn’t going to let him know that.
He broke the silence. ‘If Mrs Nixon had been with us, I’m sure you’d have let her sweep you off home with her.’
‘I—’ Elana paused, then said reluctantly, ‘Well—yes. But I’ve known the Nixons almost all my life, and she’d worry.’
Still amused, he said, ‘I can’t say I’d worry, but I’d certainly be concerned if I’d dropped you off by yourself. And if you’re concerned now about local gossip, you don’t have to be. My housekeeper will be enough of a chaperone.’
His response made her seem like some virgin from Victorian melodrama. Elana stifled a sharp retort. ‘I’m not at all worried about my—well, about my safety. Or my reputation. I just want to go home.’
‘No,’ he said coolly.
Fulminating, she looked across at a profile hewn of stone, all arrogant angles above a chin that proclaimed complete determination.
Sheer frustration made her demand recklessly, ‘Why are you doing this? You realise that it’s kidnapping?’
His mouth curved. ‘Tell me, would anyone in Waipuna accept that—and I’m including your policeman friend?’
He’d called her bluff. Of course they wouldn’t, and neither would she accuse him of it. Curtly she retorted, ‘I’d have preferred that we talk the matter over before you drove past my gate.’
‘Why? We’d have just had exactly the same conversation, only sooner. And I’m assuming that you’re sensible enough to accept that you’re not only tired, but still traumatised by the tragedy of your parents’ accident.’
