by Clare Revell
“Morphine?” she asked, her eyes widening. “How much did you give me?”
“Whatever was in the vial, I didn’t really take note. I figured they’d have given me the syringes containing the right dosage and so on.” He frowned. Her reaction seemed a little over the top. “Was that wrong?”
Her smile looked forced, even to him. “Just don’t do it again. I’m allergic to morphine.”
“Crikey, you’re telling me I could have killed ya?”
“Yes, but you didn’t.” She tilted her head. “You know, for a man who claims to have very few emotions, you sure look a little worried.”
Jed snorted.
“Seriously, your emotions are showing.”
“Lady,” he muttered. “I really don’t care one way or the other.”
“Uh huh.”
He pushed a hand through his hair. “I just don’t want to have to explain to your boss, or mine, for that matter, that I managed to kill a poor defenseless sheila.”
“Oy!” She thumped his arm. “Less of the defenseless.”
“Anyway, now you’re awake, do you need to get out before we go on? I want to go at least another hour before we eat.”
“I’m fine.”
“OK.” He shoved hard on the accelerator and the Ute lurched off over the road.
Lucy turned to face the window, letting the air blow over her face. “Don’t you have any other music?”
“Nope.”
“Why heavy metal?”
He reached out, turning it down a little, so he could hear her without her having to shout. “Why not?”
“Take this one. ‘Knocking on Heaven’s Door.’ It’s about dying.”
“And?” he demanded, glancing at her before returning his gaze to the road. And he used the term road loosely. “‘Sweet Child of Mine’ isn’t. That’s about a woman and hiding in her hair until the storm passes.”
“So you’d hide behind a woman then?”
Jed scowled. “Why do you take every blasted thing I say and twist it?”
“Why do you have to swear every other word?” she demanded.
“Strewth! The point of heavy metal is you take a story or poem that means something, hence the heavy bit, and put it to rock music. I wouldn’t expect someone like you to get it.”
She twisted around to glare at him. “Someone like me?”
“Yeah, someone like you. A do-gooder, holy roller…”
The truck hit a rut and she cried out, grasping her knee. “Just look where you’re going. And I happen to like and appreciate music. Just not this kind.”
“Well, I forgot to pack one hundred greatest hymns or Cliff Richard, I’m afraid.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Then I shall suffer in silence.”
Jed swore and flipped off the music. “Better?” he demanded. At the same time he wished she didn’t look so darn cute when she rolled her eyes and tossed her head. It wasn’t making life any easier for him. He wanted to hate her, needed to hate her, but his whole blasted body was conspiring against him here. Never mind where his mind was taking him at the most inopportune moments.
She smiled. “Much better, thank you.”
He shook his head and glared at the road again. Why’d she have to do that? His heart longed for her to do it again.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Any other Simon and Garfunkel tracks you like?”
She frowned. “Simon and—Oh, right. ‘The Sound of Silence.’” She closed her eyes, pressing her fists into them. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go for it.”
“Your earring.”
His finger traced the stud in his left ear. “What about it?”
“Isn’t that…” Her voice faltered. “Doesn’t that mean you’re—?”
Jed slammed on the brakes. That crossed the line. How dare she question his manhood like that? Anger spilled from him. “Left is right and right is wrong!” he snapped. “I’m as straight as the next bloke. Just because I’m not married and have tattoos and an earring does not mean I’m gay. Why’d you have your ears pierced?”
He took great satisfaction as she blushed and shifted in the seat. “Well?” he demanded.
“My friend had hers done for her birthday when she was sixteen, and I wanted mine done.”
“So if your friend stuck her head in a gas oven, you’d do the same?”
“No.” Indignation filled her eyes and voice. “It’s just—”
“Strewth! I’m gonna put you talking utter bulldust down to the fact you’re crook and high on pain meds.” Jed turned off the engine and yanked up the handbrake.
“What are you doing?”
“Gonna bung the billy on for a cuppa.”
“You’re going to what?”
He sighed, and opened the door. “Boil some water and make a cup of tea, its dinner time. Crikey. Anyone would think you didn’t speak a word of English.”
“I speak English, French, and Swahili just fine, thank you. The jargon you come out with is an entirely different kettle of fish.”
He grinned. “Give me a week, and I’ll have you talking Strine like an Aussie.”
“Thought I was a Pommy.”
He cocked his finger at her. “Want some tea, then? You’re a Pom, must drink gallons of the stuff each day.”
She nodded. “Tea would be good. Want a hand?”
“No, I can manage. You sit there and rest for a few.” He left the truck and surveyed at the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
There was no way he was going to outrun this storm. No matter how much he wanted to.
6
Jed set the water to boil on the small camping stove. This would take longer than he’d hoped.
Five hours on the road and they’d gone a grand total of eighty-five miles. If he’d been able to use the main road he’d have been two-thirds of the way there by now, if not further. Instead, they were just under half way.
He glanced over his shoulder and sighed.
She was still sitting where he’d left her, but then again, she had nowhere else to go. Not unaided anyway.
Pushing to his feet, he strode to the Ute, and tugged open the door. “Let’s get you out.”
“I can manage.” Wounded pride oozed from her, tearing from her voice and eyes.
“Righto.” He backed off and spread his arms wide. “Then manage away.”
Lucy swiveled on the seat, trying to get her leg out. She gasped, her pretty face contorting in agony she couldn’t hide.
Jed raised an eyebrow, but kept silent.
“OK,” she whispered. “Maybe I can’t.”
He gently swung her legs around. “Pass me the crutches.” Taking them from her, he held them steady. “OK, take hold of them, and then when you’re ready I’ll help you down.”
Lucy gripped the crutches and nodded slowly. “OK.”
Jed put his hands around her waist, smoothly easing her forwards. “You right?”
She nodded, not putting any weight on her left leg. “Thanks. I, uh…I need a few minutes. Alone…”
He nodded. He had no idea how she was going to manage, and he certainly wasn’t going to embarrass either of them by helping her. “I’ll stay over here, but keep within shouting distance. Don’t go too far.”
“OK.”
“Look, if you get really stuck, shout. I’ll come help with my eyes shut.”
The walls visibly went up, and the portcullis in her eyes dropped. “I can manage.”
He kept his gaze on her small figure as she slowly made her way into the brush.
She was very subdued. It made a change from the feisty and downright annoying she’d been earlier.
“I’m sure you can,” he muttered under his breath.
Jed turned back to the Ute and pulled out the one chair he possessed. He set it next to the fire and returned to the Ute to find the bread. He busied himself making a cut lunch. By rights, he should cook something, but he didn’t want
to waste what little daylight was left by doing that. He glanced up.
She should be back by now.
“Doc, how you doing?” he yelled.
There was no answer.
His soldier’s instinct kicked into full alert. “Doc! Lucy!” He pulled the gun from the small of his back and flicked off the safety. Holding it in front of him, two handed, ready to fire, he followed the path she’d taken. “Lucy…give me a shout if you’re all right.” He parted the bush.
The darn woman stood stock still, leaning against a tree, staring at the path. Her eyes were wide and she had no color at all.
“Hey, Doc, you done?”
She looked up, sheer abstract terror etched in her gaze. A trembling finger pointed to the ground in front of her.
He frowned as he followed her finger.
A snake poised, ready to strike, coiled inches from her bare ankle.
Without a pause, he pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, and the snake fell. Jed kicked it away and then flicked the safety on the gun, shoving it back into his pants. He softly put a hand on each of her arms. “You OK? It didn’t get you?”
She shook her head, trembling from head to toe.
“Goodo.” He wouldn’t make light of things, but normality might just snap her out of whatever place she’d gone to. “Then we need to go eat. Can you walk or shall I carry you?”
“Walk,” she whispered.
He kept a hand on her waist, telling himself it was to keep her balanced, nothing more. Now all he had to do was believe it. “I even found you a chair.” He led her to it.
She sat down, sighing in relief.
“Made you a cheese sanger…” He held out a plate to her.
She looked at him, not taking it.
“Of course. You want to clean your hands first.” He laid the plate on her lap and handed her a wipe for her hands. “Here you go. Billy’s boiled. I’ll make the tea.” Turning back to the stove, he shoved tea into the pot. What was wrong with the woman? He glanced over his shoulder at her. She sat, eyes closed, lips moving. Probably saying grace.
Another custom drilled into him, that he’d dropped as soon as he possibly could.
He made the tea like he drank it. Very hot, very strong, and very sweet. She needed the sugar whether she wanted it or not. Pushing upright, he took the cup over and held it out. “Here. And more travel pills. Don’t want you throwing up again.”
Lucy reached out a trembling hand. “Thank you.”
He sat on the ground next to her. “No worries.”
She looked down at the cup.
“It’s got sugar in it. For shock.”
“Like sugar.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Don’t like snakes, huh?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Tell you what. I’ll check next time. Make sure there are no snakes anywhere.”
“OK.”
He glanced up at her, surprised she’d agreed. He didn’t think anything could get to her, but maybe…maybe she was just as human as he was. Not that she was fallible, because Christians never were.
“Goodo.” He smiled as cheerfully as he could. “Eat up. I want to do at least another twenty miles before dark.”
Lucy glanced at the darkening sky. “You reckon?”
Jed followed her gaze.
Darkness had crept up on him, coming early. The clouds were building fast. Thunder rumbled again in the distance.
“Ten, maybe. And find somewhere sheltered to sleep.”
“A village. With a hotel. And plumbing.”
He laughed. Her humor was returning. “Not here in the back of Bourke. We’ll have to make do with a river or stream or a well at best. And probably sleep in the Ute. I would have brought a tent if I’d known we’d be camping.”
“I hate camping.” She pulled the crusts off the bread, eating them slowly.
“Yet you chose to live in the middle of a jungle, miles from civilization.”
“Not in a tent,” she said defensively. “And it’s where God wants me.”
Jed choked on his food. “God told you this?” he scoffed. “In a dream or something, I assume. Seems to me you could do the same job in London, Sydney or New York. At least there, you won’t be stuck with a busted knee over two hundred miles from a hospital.”
“Maybe.” She held the sandwich out to him. “Not hungry. You have it.”
He shook his head. “If you don’t eat, you can’t have any more pain meds.”
She shot him a withering look. “And where did you get your degree in medicine?”
“It’s common sense, so just saying.” He finished his food and leaned back against the chair leg, watching the flickering firelight in silence.
Why was she so different than any other woman? Even though she was injured, he’d normally have made a move by now. And succeeded. Even the prickly ones gave in to his charms in the end. But he didn’t even want to go there. What was it she’d said? Not even if he were the last man on the face of the planet.
Well, that worked both ways.
He’d get her to the hospital. Drop her off and leave her.
Then he’d hightail it out of there and request they put another truckie on that —
He shook his head. He couldn’t even swear properly inside his own head around the woman. That would never do. He pushed up and brushed his hands on his pants. “Should get on. Will be properly dark soon.”
“Is this really the only road?” she asked, as he tossed the things they’d used back in the Ute.
“We can’t use the main road because of the fighting.” He crossed over to her and swung her into his arms.
“Seriously? They’re that close?”
He lifted her back into the Ute. “Yes, seriously. I told Tim he needs to evac the mission, but he refused.” He stared at her for a long moment. “God won’t protect you against an army with killing on their minds. So don’t bother telling me He will.” He turned and busied himself with putting out the fire and making sure all evidence of their stop had gone. Bad enough he was leaving tire tracks.
Something wet fell on his head. Followed by a succession of drops. The rains were here.
It’d take a miracle for them to get to a hospital now.
And for folks like him, miracles didn’t happen.
~*~
Lucy sat quietly in the truck as Jed drove.
He hadn’t put the music back on, choosing instead to sit in silence, his attention fixed on the track which had already turned to a river of mud.
The rain poured against the fabric roof, bouncing off the windows, the noise deafening.
She kept her window open as much as she could without letting the water in.
Rather than bouncing, the truck slid on the road, into and out of ruts.
Jed’s driving was laced with more colorful metaphors than normal.
She gave up asking him to stop swearing. She had to admit again, albeit grudgingly, that he scrubbed up pretty well. At some point, he’d tied his hair back, exposing a strong jaw line, pricked with five o’clock shadow around his short beard. She’d never been a huge fan of beards, preferring the clean lines and fuzz free look. But her fingers itched to touch him, touch his beard. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if kissing someone with a beard felt as scratchy as it looked. Her gaze moved down over his neck, chest, arms…
What had she done to deserve this? He wasn’t the type of man she should fall for. She shouldn’t even fall in love at all. Especially with him.
He was everything she detested in a man—he swore, smoked, had tattoos, an earring, and rotten taste in music. He’d scared her, but being this close to him, she realized something.
He was the one who was scared.
Running scared at that.
Was he scared of her?
Scared of what she stood for?
Scared of God? Is this why God had thrown them together like this? So she could help Jed not be scared? What was she meant to—?
The truck swerved violently, swinging across the track.
Lucy screamed and grabbed tight hold of the dashboard.
Jed swore as he frantically tried to gain control of the sliding truck.
The truck continued its circle, finally coming off the road and half into a ditch. The engine stalled.
The abrupt stop threw Lucy forward into the seatbelt. Pain jarred her chest, piercing her knee with an agony so intense, tears sprang to her eyes.
The silence was broken only by the last scrape of the wiper blades, and the thud, thud, thud of the rain.
“You all right?” Jed asked.
Her heart pounded, threatening to break loose, and she had to struggle to get the words past the lump in her throat. “Think so.” She looked at him. “What happened?”
“Slid off the freaking road.” Jed’s tone was short. “You sure you’re OK? Didn’t hurt yourself?”
“I’m fine. What about you?”
“Fine.” He turned the key several times before the engine caught. He tried to move the truck, but nothing happened. He thumped the steering wheel. “Come on.” He tried again and swore as once more the truck didn’t move. “Stay here.”
Jed clambered out into the pouring rain and vanished from sight.
Lucy sent up a series of prayers. She didn’t want to be stuck in a rut for the rest of her life. She’d come to Africa, not just to serve God, but because she wanted adventure. Well, she’d had enough adventure now. She just wanted her knee fixed and to go back to the mission base where it was safe.
She jumped at a tap on the window. Cranking it open she looked at the drenched figure standing there.
“Ute got bogged,” he shouted. “Gonna have to dig it out.”
“OK.” She sat back in the seat, wishing she could get out and help. If it weren’t for her, neither of them would be in this position right now. She could hear Jed swearing as he dug. How could such filth flow so easily from someone as good looking as him?
And where did that come from?
Some days she struggled to remember she was as vile a sinner as he was, the only difference being she’d been saved by grace and he hadn’t.
Yet.
After a further ten minutes, the driver’s door opened. Jed climbed in. He was soaked to the skin, his white shirt sticking to him, leaving nothing to her imagination. And he was filthy. He turned the key. Five times. “OK, you stupid, flaming sack of —”
