‘Move where I move,’ he snapped out and, still stunned by the bruising kiss, she nodded and did what she was told for the first time in a lot of years.
Rory braced like a standing stone behind her, solid and immovable to lean on, as she pulled each thigh sideways against the swirling strength of the water, step by exhausting step, until the water became shallower and she could just stand on her own. The fear of being washed away had been gradually replaced each step closer to the bank by the awareness that Rory was a thundercloud behind her and he hadn’t loosened his iron grip on her shoulder.
He turned her, none too gently, to face him again and she could see his lips compressed together as he struggled for control.
‘Just once!’ He shook her and she could feel the barely leashed fury that struggled to be free. ‘Do what you’re told!’
She looked away from this hard-faced man she barely knew and yes, she’d got it wrong, she should have listened. She tried bravado and glared back at him. ‘I had to do what my instinct told me to.’
Not a good choice. Rory looked more incensed than before. ‘Instinct? Instinct?’ He shook her again. ‘You could have died. Your instinct is to do whatever I say is a bad idea.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, Rory.’ She looked into his face, searching for some glimmer of the Rory who would hug her to him and say it was all right.
Rory stared down at her. ‘You could have died.’ He shook his head and she saw what she had done to him and she couldn’t stop the sting of tears that gathered but didn’t fall.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered and she leaned up and kissed his cold, hard lips that would not respond. She tried again, pushing her mouth against his, moulding the chiselled edges of his mouth with her own and still he remained immovable. She lifted her arms and pulled the back of his head towards hers, ran her hands down his cheeks to their joined mouths, as if drawing all the emotion to their lips, until eventually he shuddered and gathered her fiercely into his arms and kissed her back, not quite as fiercely as he had out in the water but powerfully, and in a way that left her in no doubt that he would like to do more than just kiss her—and not in the way the Rory of ten years ago had kissed her. This man knew what response he wanted and how to draw it from her. Kate felt as if she’d been swept into a raging torrent again, only this time she didn’t want to be rescued. She wanted to drown!
When he finally lifted his mouth away she could barely stand.
He gave her another hug and she closed her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his solid strength and hugged him back to regain strength in her limbs. ‘Let’s not do that again.’
‘The river or the kiss?’ His voice still held many undercurrents but he put her away from him with some semblance of control. ‘Come on. Before the river comes up any higher.’ Rory’s fingers cradled the small of her back in a protective gesture that was almost an apology for the harshness of the kiss and she realised he was panting a little.
The fact that Rory had acted so out of character showed her, as little else could have, just how much he cared. Still. The implications of that were too huge but for the moment she’d just be glad they were both safe.
They pushed through the scrub at the side of the river until they made it back to the truck, where she handed him a towel and took one herself as she turned her back, for her own protection, while he shucked off his boxers. He must have dried off and pulled his jeans on quickly because he was back in the truck when Kate turned around.
‘Let’s get this crossing over with,’ he said, ‘and then you can change.’
As soon as Kate was in the truck Rory let out the clutch and they crawled down into the causeway and chugged with remarkable ease through the water. A bow wave surged in front of the bonnet, Kate lifted her feet above the wash that came through the doors to ankle height, then they both opened their doors to let the water out as the wheels of the truck climbed up the other side.
Rory whistled. ‘Very close. Wouldn’t want to be much deeper than that.’ He pulled over and she slid out and exchanged her wet clothes for a dry shirt and shorts she had in her overnight pack.
When she climbed back in she was glad he didn’t mention their recent session in the river. She didn’t think she could talk about it just yet without shivering. Probably shock. She fought to keep her voice steady. ‘Doesn’t look good for the Pentecost.’
Kate began to realise they would have to camp again tonight if the river was flooded. And what would happen between them after the high emotions of the past half an hour she had no idea and not a little trepidation.
They were talking, fairly naturally now, considering, and neither mentioned their close escape or the events afterwards and she hoped her concern and relief for Rory’s safety hadn’t made him think she was easy prey. Because she wasn’t, or wouldn’t be by the time they stopped this evening, would she?
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT HAD to be ten minutes since they’d last spoken and Kate’s imagination made her squirm. Surely Rory might be reliving her stupidity in his mind again. The more she thought about it, the more she cringed. What had she expected to achieve by jumping in?
The sensible thing would have been to stay on dry land like she’d been told—that sanctimonious voice in her head had to repeat—she could have thrown him a rope or even got help if he’d been too hurt to move and not set herself up for a last trip down the river.
Suddenly she couldn’t stand her own one-sided dialogue of his disapproval or the silence in the truck any longer. ‘I’m sorry, Rory.’
He seemed intent on the road ahead and when he didn’t reply she cringed even more and changed the subject. She went on quietly, ‘How long now until the Pentecost?’
‘Still about two hours. The rain’s coming down again so it depends on the creeks we have to cross.’ There was no hint of censure in Rory’s voice when he answered so he must have been concentrating on the road which, she had to admit, was pretty churned up. Not the only thing churned up, she thought ruefully. She really needed to get a grip.
He went on, ‘After that little adventure I’m not driving across waterways in the dark.’
She’d drink to that. ‘So do you think we’ll have to camp again?’
He looked at her and smiled, and suddenly her world was back the right way. She didn’t want to think about how much she’d come to depend on Rory’s unfailing good humour.
‘Not necessarily,’ he said. ‘If you want to do something radical we could take another ten mile detour to Xanadu and stay the night at the high-end resort up there.’
She’d agree to almost anything if it meant he’d forgiven her—but Xanadu? She’d read about that. ‘It costs the price of a small car to stay there for one night.’
‘True. But we haven’t stayed anywhere together, so if you divide it by ten years it isn’t much to spend for a couple.’ He had a smile in his eyes because he knew she’d bite.
That was taking it too far. ‘We’re not a couple.’
‘So we camp or split it.’
Rory grinned to himself. She hadn’t expected him to offer to split it. Not that he needed her money. He’d made some very shrewd investment decisions before Perth had taken off as a real estate boom town, but it amused him that he had her off balance, which was a big turnaround from the back foot he’d been on since before their adventure.
They needed a little light relief after the recent events. He still shuddered to remember the sight of Kate launching herself into the river to save him. He couldn’t remember when he had ever been more frightened—or more angry.
Imagine if he hadn’t been able to reach her as she’d gone past. The idea brought the nausea to his throat again and he dragged his thoughts away from that scenario. For himself to fall in it had been a bloody nuisance, but the degree of danger Kate had been in made his blood run cold.
It seemed she’d forgiven him for the angry kiss he’d punished her with but it had been that or he’d have paddled her behind
as soon as he hit dry land—something he would never believe he’d want to do to Kate.
And she knew it. He’d actually like some time to think about the expression on her face as she’d looked when they’d both finally got out of the river. Stuff of dreams. And that fierce hug. He could still feel her arms around him and it felt damn good.
She nodded slowly. ‘If you can afford it. Or we could do the tent cabins, which are cheaper.’
He was glad to think of other things. It was sweet of her to be concerned for the cost and he was tempted to tell her she needn’t worry but he kept his mouth shut.
He frowned. Obviously he still had some inferiority issues he needed to work through. He was finding out a lot about himself today.
Kate went on, ‘Hang the expense. I never spend anything and haven’t spoilt myself for years.’ She frowned. ‘What if they’re booked out?’
He patted the phone on the dash. ‘We could find out.’
Kate glanced out at the deepening gloom as the day edged towards another night. ‘Hot showers. Hot food.’ She glanced at him with a smug expression. ‘Separate rooms.’
Separate rooms? Rory thought. Now, that’s a shame. There’d be less chance of her throwing herself into his arms and he couldn’t deny he’d desperately love to sit with Kate in his arms, even if only to soak in the fact that she was fine. It had been a long eventful day with some potential for more than emotional fallout.
Kate smiled at him. ‘Let’s do it. Sounds too good to miss.’
‘Good.’ He looked across and then back at the road. ‘I was thinking if we stayed until after lunch tomorrow we could do a spot of bush walking. Check out the gorges and waterfalls because after the rain they’ll be spectacular. That’d give the Pentecost more time to go down and we’d still be back to Jabiru before dark.’
She chewed her lip and he wanted to put his hand out and stop her. Not those beautiful lips—lips that he wanted to do better things with now that he’d had a recent taste. Finally she stopped biting. ‘Maybe we could have a few hours before we leave tomorrow morning.’
Kate rifled through the glovebox and came up with directions and phone numbers of all the stations and refuelling stops along the road. She found Xanadu. ‘Here’s the number.’
She dialled and, after a few quick sentences, it was done. ‘Should take us about an hour to get there.
He thought she was finding it easier to talk to him. At least she’d stopped twisting her hands. Maybe the emotions of the last few hours had put things in a different perspective for her too. He hoped so.
‘Time to kill while we get there,’ she said. ‘Want to enlarge on the ten years between then and now, on your side for a change, Rory?’
Did he? Not really. What had he done? Not much else except work. His job had been a strange one but had suited him by blocking out his loss of Kate.
‘It’s been absorbing,’ he said. ‘The best parts are the good friends. You need them to face the tragedies, so they’re a saving grace. But even mates can’t stop the human emotion from taking its toll.’ Nothing would.
‘Though lately that camaraderie’s been lost with my move to administration and away from road work. The price of rapid advancement up the ranks, I guess, so I miss that.’
He sighed, and pondered, to nut it out as much for himself as for her. ‘Work was work. There pretty well every day and most nights.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘It sounds like you were on a mission.’
He looked at her. She still didn’t get it. ‘Funny, that.’
‘You must have had some fun.’ She frowned and he wondered if the frown was because he’d had little fun or because of the little he’d had. It amused him that she could be even slightly jealous.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Brief snatches.’
‘Like Sybil?’
He’d been right. He nodded and squashed the urge to laugh. ‘I did wonder if we’d get back to Sybil.’
She gazed out of the window nonchalantly; her turned shoulder said she didn’t care if he answered. He held off until she couldn’t resist. ‘So?’ she said.
Serious now, he stopped teasing her. ‘Like a lot of other professions, there’s mental wear and tear, those moments of despair at the useless loss of life.’ Lost faces that tore at him at night, alone in his bed, until he’d gone out searching for anything to blot out the pictures he couldn’t rid. On top of the loss of the love of his life.
‘For a while, Sybil helped.’ Come upon in a moment of weakness, and so difficult to extricate himself from.
Best not talk about Sybil. ‘But there were delightful patients who popped up in the most unexpected places who made everything we did seem worthwhile.’ He turned to look at her. Deliberately blotting those they’d lost with different images.
‘I like the mix of people I come into contact with as a health worker. Young kids are hard work but satisfying because they’re so frightened and we can help that, then there’s old men with dry-as-a-stick humour who downplay their illnesses so you have to watch them pretty closely. Sweet old ladies are so apologetic for calling when in fact they should have called hours ago. Then a week later they’ll drop into the ambulance station to say thank you with homemade scones and real jam.’
He could see she was absorbed in his stories while he considered it all pretty normal. He smiled and shook his head. ‘I love old ladies.’
She laughed. ‘I think there’s a name for that.’ She raised her eyebrows suggestively.
‘Be nice.’ He pretended to glare at her and she giggled. Something he’d thought he’d never hear his Kate do again.
‘And the occasional birth,’ she prompted.
‘Trust a midwife to ask that.’ He thought of Lucy’s birth. ‘Babies too.’
Kate tilted her head. ‘So what was all this in aid of, Rory? Where did you see yourself going when you finally made it? Did you sock away all your money to fund some elusive dream?’
‘Maybe.’ The thought struck him. Good grief. Had he? Suddenly everything was clear. That was what he’d been planning and he hadn’t even known it. Jabiru Station?
His head was spinning; he needed time to think that all through again. Like about a week. Certainly not now.
He steered the conversation away to safer topics. ‘Enough about me. Tell me about your midwifery. You said you went to uni. Where did you work when you finished?’
She frowned at the switch of topic but answered him. ‘Still Perth.’
He shook his head at the idea of both of them never passing at some hospital or other. ‘I was there, too.’
‘And Sybil.’ Kate looked out of the window again.
They didn’t need complications that didn’t exist. ‘Sybil again?’
She laughed. ‘Just teasing.’
‘I’m happy to share if you’re interested.’ He didn’t want lies between them. ‘Sybil was in my life for a brief while. She’s a hothouse flower, our Sybil. Likes to sway along, bask in the sun, have new petals supplied by men who fancy her. It didn’t last long, but there was a while there where she saved my sanity.’
‘Then I forgive her.’
It was a joking comment, but something in the tone of Kate’s voice had nothing to do with Sybil. It had to do with knowing what feeling really down was about. About using anything and anyone to get out of that hole and see the light again. Surviving.
It was coming home to him just how much Kate had survived. His voice dropped. ‘I guess we’re both survivors.’
‘Hope those people up there are too!’ Kate had looked ahead and seen the rolled vehicle before Rory. He bit back a frustrated sigh and focused on what the scenario could be. Would this trip never end? He braked and stopped as they came upon the wreckage. It didn’t look too bad but you never knew.
In fact, maybe it had been time to shut down the conversation they were in. He opened his door and sprinted through the rain to peer into the front window of the Jeep as it lay on its side.
‘You oka
y in here?’
‘Yeah.’ The young man poked his head out of the window like a jack-in-the-box. ‘I’m waiting for the rain to clear before I try winching it back onto its wheels.’
Rory peered through into the vehicle. ‘Anyone in the back?’
‘Nah. Just me. Embarrassed. Swerved for a bullock and flipped it in the mud.’
Rory nodded. ‘Want a hand?’
‘I’d appreciate it.’ The driver climbed out awkwardly and Kate could see he was younger than her but laconic in his predicament. Rory tilted his head and watched the way the young man held his arm tight against his chest.
‘I’m Rory. This is Kate.’
‘Leslie.’ He held out his good arm and Rory shook it. He nodded at Kate.
Rory pointed at his injury. ‘Hurt your arm, have you, Leslie? Do you mind if I have a look?’
Leslie winced as he lifted it. ‘Banged it on the wheel when we went over.’
Rory ran his fingers lightly over the swelling in the forearm. ‘I’d say you’re lucky you didn’t have it out the window, mate.’
Leslie waggled his fingers without too much effort but couldn’t move his forearm from in front of his chest.
Rory raised his eyebrows at Kate and she nodded and opened the back of the ambulance. When she returned with a triangular bandage Rory carefully lifted Leslie’s arm and between them they supported the arm in a makeshift sling.
‘I’d say you’ve broken one of those bones in your forearm.’
‘Thought so.’ Leslie shrugged and then winced as his shoulder moved. ‘It’s my right arm so I can still change gears. I’ll survive.’
‘Where’re you heading?’
‘I’m a ringer at Xanadu. Camp’s about three miles this side of the resort.’
They could help. ‘When we get your Jeep on its feet we’ll give you a lift, if you like. We’re heading that way. Kate can drive the ambulance and we’ll follow in yours.’
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