Olivia cleared her throat and nodded. “Ready to get married?”
Abi did some throat clearing of her own before returning the nod. “Let’s do this.”
Her sister had mastered the art of putting on a brave face during those terrifying years when they’d just been two kids battling to stay together. Abi had gotten even better at hiding her fear when she’d fought for her life. But there was no way in hell Olivia was allowing her sister to kick off her special day with anything less than a 100 percent genuine smile. Olivia snatched up the cane and held it out for her sister.
Abi glared at the cane, then back up at her. “You know what you can do with that, don’t you?”
With each second their standoff weakened until they fought for composure and choked back laughter.
Mission accomplished. Olivia tossed the cane away and tackled her big sister. “I love you, you stubborn pain in the ass.”
Chapter Nineteen
Olivia inhaled the eucalyptus-scented breeze. The heat, the dust, the relentless evening sun, the Wishing Tree standing guard above them like some immortal sentinel, every facet of the magical place Abi and Ryder had chosen to witness their ceremony was as harsh and unique as it was perfect.
Naya set flame to the branches clutched in her hand and breathed life into the bouquet. According to local legend, the Harper matriarch and custodian of this land had used the traditional smoking ritual to cleanse and bring good fortune to many a birth, funeral, wedding, and celebration. This was the first time she’d performed the ceremony for one of her children. The joy exploding from Naya’s face as she bathed the bride and groom in smoke was only outshone by Abi’s and Ryder’s smiles.
Much like the way she felt about the Wishing Tree’s ancient hocus-pocus, Olivia had absolutely no idea whether there was any scientific evidence to back up the indigenous ritual’s claims. But as the smoke enveloped the bridal party, a wave of peace washed through her that had her wondering exactly what other secret herbs and spices Naya had added to her bouquet.
Olivia drew the smoke deep into her lungs and clung to it. Now all she had to do was distract herself from remembering what she and Jarrah had done to each other on the other side of the Wishing Tree and stop returning the best man’s knowing grins. She forced the smoke-laden breath from her lungs and focused on the ceremony.
Naya positioned the smoldering bouquet on the ground to ensure its smoke bathed the bride and groom before wiping the tears from her cheeks and clearing her throat. “Ryder Aragung Harper, do you promise to love, cherish, and prot—”
“I do.”
Abi’s laughter drowned out Naya’s curses before chaos erupted. There were only nine of them standing out there in the desert yet they still would’ve scared the crap out of whatever hid between the rocks. By the time everyone had collected themselves, even Naya was chuckling and shaking her head.
With a backhand that cracked across Ryder’s shoulder, Naya ordered silence and fixed her son with a look that promised shock and awe if he stepped out of line again. “Ryder Aragung Harper, do you promise to love, cherish, respect, and protect Abi, even when she’s being stubborn, unreasonable, and downright bossy?”
Naya cut off Abi’s protest with a single raised eyebrow before regarding the groom, whose smile was almost as bright as the beams of sunlight streaming through the canopy. “I do.”
“No shit.” The words had probably tempted everyone’s lips. However, Maddie was the only one brave enough to utter them aloud.
Naya shot another stink eye at Maddie before turning to Abi. Pausing, she collected herself and opened her mouth only to close it again without saying a word. A tear trickled down Naya’s cheek before she slowly shook her head and reached out a trembling hand to cup Abi’s face.
“Abigail Marie—” Naya swallowed and blinked back more tears. “Abigail Marie Kyirrie Williams.”
A choked hiccup spluttered from Abi’s quivering lips. With her hands trapped in Ryder’s all Abi could do was sniff and shake her head as her tears dribbled down her cheeks and soaked into her shirt.
It’d taken a top-secret round-table discussion to come up with Abi’s indigenous name. But as soon as Kira had announced her bid, everyone had shut up and nodded. Kyirrie, Naya’s people’s word for “star,” pretty much summed Abi up. Bright enough to light the darkness, yet powerful enough to destroy galaxies if you pissed her off. And when you considered the odds of Abi and Ryder finding each other, it was almost as if Abi had been Ryder’s North Star all along, guiding him through war zones, across oceans, and straight into her arms.
Naya wiped the tears from Abi’s face before lowering her hand. “Our Star, do you promise to love, cherish, respect, and protect my son, even when he’s being an overprotective, overbearing, arrogant pain in the arse?”
Abi’s smile outshone her groom’s. “I do.”
The tears Olivia had fought dribbled down her cheeks as she lost herself in her sister’s joy. She tried shutting off the waterworks, but it was impossible, and she resigned herself to watching the exchange of rings through a sheen of tears while sniffing and snorting with the rest of the bridesmaids. Her big sister had finally found her Prince Charming and won her happily ever after.
Chapter Twenty
Jarrah leaned back at the deserted bridal table and surveyed the crowd carrying on beneath the galaxies of stars smiling down from the heavens. The contrast between the wedding ceremony and reception was as stark as the sun-bleached day and moon-drenched night. He chuckled and sipped his beer as Ryder and Abi once again snuck into a private corner of the courtyard to escape the mayhem. After everything they’d overcome to find and hang on to each other, he could only smile and raise his bottle to his kid brother and brand-new sister.
He’d lost count of the number of things he’d learned from Ryder. The ogre had shown what true strength was, demonstrated the mind’s unstoppable power, and proved the resilience of the human spirit no matter the odds. And tonight, as his brother hugged the woman he’d been willing to sacrifice everything for, Ryder had taught him the most important lesson of all.
Jarrah placed his bottle on the table, sucked in a deep, steadying breath, and pushed back his chair. He was a good six beers away from tipsy, which was probably a bad thing, because he had no excuse for what he was about to do. Weaving through the sea of guests, portable tables, and folding chairs choking Wingarra’s courtyard, he made his way toward the makeshift dance floor and the hundred or so revelers dancing the night away.
After stopping to tease the older and more introverted of his tribe who were taking a breather or hiding from the chaos, he grabbed his beaming mother for an impromptu jive between the tables before hugging the life out of her and smacking a kiss on her cheek.
The sly smile she shot him as she pinched his cheeks and shoved him toward the dance floor confirmed he hadn’t fooled her with his covert bullshit, but that was nothing new. Pausing just long enough to scroll through the playlist on Kira’s iPhone speaker dock, he found the song he’d spent the last hour deciding on and strode toward the women kicking up dust and screeching loud enough to wake his ancestors.
Olivia, Kira, Jeddah, and Maddie were teaching the rest of the guests some half-drunk version of a cross between a line dance and a Zumba class. He’d done his damnedest not to think of the supple body hiding beneath Olivia’s jeans and simple red cotton shirt. Despite singing completely off key and looking more uncoordinated than he’d ever seen her, she was still the sexiest thing he’d been lucky enough to see. And her joy only seemed to brighten the more out of step she fell. She simply didn’t care how adorably clumsy she looked.
It’d been hard enough to let her go after the bridal waltz and even tougher to stand by while she danced and laughed her way through the horde of men who’d wanted to try their luck with her. She’d even escorted Ethan and his crutches for a very slow shuffle around the courtyard, which had put a smile on the smug bastard’s face for the remainder of the night.
&nbs
p; Jarrah had done his own fair share of dancing with Baroona’s female population, yet his thoughts had lingered on Olivia. They were nothing more than friends who’d seen each other naked and shared some pretty freaking amazing workouts. But knowingly or unknowingly, she’d destroyed him for all other women and he’d be damned if he wasted anymore of their precious time together stalking her from the sidelines.
With each step, the macho bullshit he’d pumped himself up with evaporated until the weight of his entire social network bore down on him. Heart racing, chest cramping, throat tightening, hands shaking, he crept around the dance floor and lingered in the shadows cast by the courtyard’s eucalypts. His heart stopped completely when the music thundering out of the speakers silenced and The Police’s “Every Breath You Take” drifted into the night.
Olivia froze in the center of the dance floor like he’d reached out and touched her. The urge to charge through the crowd and tackle her almost overwhelmed him, but he knew she’d find him. He had no freaking idea how he knew, he just knew.
She shook free of her trance and slowly waded through the dancers to the edge of the tables and searched the courtyard. Fifty meters of hard-packed dirt and dozens of completely oblivious revelers stood between them, yet her private smile hit him square in the chest and jump-started his heart.
…
Olivia could’ve blamed the adrenaline flooding her system on alcohol or the mayhem swirling around her. There was no reason she should’ve known he’d be waiting for her in the shadows. She loved “Every Breath You Take,” and judging by the number of people surging onto the dance floor, she wasn’t the only one. Any one of the guests could’ve loaded the song. Yet the instant that unforgettable beat had drifted into her ears she’d had no doubt he’d chosen it for her.
She double-checked the Harpers and blew out a breath when she found them blissfully unaware of the electricity tingling through her. Her relief was short-lived when her gaze caught Naya grinning at her, but before she’d regrouped enough to disguise her guilt, Naya returned her attention to the Baroona elders gathered around her.
Sting crooned in her ears as she drifted toward the silhouette she knew as well as her own body. He’d watch out for her, protect her, care for her in that laid-back way of his that was as charming as it was unstoppable. But how many more nights did they have left before the real world, their real careers, and the seven thousand miles separating their real lives wrenched them apart?
Sinking into the shadows, she pulled him into her arms and slow-danced them away from their audience and into the darkness. The arms she’d craved the entire day slid around her and trapped her to his chest. With each slow-motion twirl, she allowed herself to float away as she rested her cheek on his shoulder and nuzzled his neck. Her heartbeat fell into rhythm with his and a sense of peace flowed through her.
He pressed one hand to the small of her back and cradled her neck with the other. She couldn’t decide whether his hands had been created to fit her body or it was the other way around. Whatever or whomever had brought them together had done a pretty amazing job.
She wanted to tell him how safe, how powerful, how beautiful he made her feel. She needed him to know he was more than just a holiday fling, that he was her lover, but more importantly her friend, yet words would only spoil this magical moment.
She eased just far enough away to slide her hands up his chest and capture his face. Gazing into his eyes, she slowly nodded and brushed her thumbs over his curved lips. He returned her nod, as she knew he would, and parted his lips for her. Pulling him down, she pressed her lips to his and molded herself into him.
Sting’s voice quieted, the raucous chatter hushed, the laughter silenced, and the sounds of the celebration carrying on in the light outside their private world faded into the night as he deepened the kiss.
Chapter Twenty-One
Helen Louise Charmichael—sixty-seven years old, widowed, arthritic, overworked, and cranky—was about as frail and innocent as Naya freaking Harper. Olivia eyed Baroona’s mayor and the Grand Hotel’s dark overlord from behind the desk in the derelict medical clinic and added her notes to the outdated folder she’d found in the dusty filing cabinet out in reception. The files, to her surprise, weren’t that prehistoric, yet the clinic’s reception area, toilets, and examination rooms could’ve served as a museum for modern medicine.
Helen’s ancient chair groaned as she leaned back and rested her hands on her regal belly. Baroona’s matriarch suddenly looked a lot healthier than she had half an hour ago when she’d complained about everything from vertigo to dementia. “So what do you think?”
Olivia ignored the true meaning of Helen’s question and shrugged. “I think you’ll outlive us all, Ms. Charmichael.”
“Thank you, that’s a relief.” The gold and diamonds weighing down Helen’s hands glinted in the flickering light thrown out by the office’s insect-encrusted strip lights. Baroona’s benevolent dictator waved her away with an embarrassed chuckle that was as fake as her lumbago. “Please, call me Helen. We’re all family out here.”
Olivia hid her smile behind Helen’s file as she eyed the shifty old battle-ax.
Helen casually swept the room and sighed dramatically. “Do you think our clinic can be saved, Doc?”
Olivia still had no freaking idea what the hell she was doing sitting in Baroona’s long vacant doctor’s chair. Nor could she explain why she’d spent the afternoon seeing patients when she should’ve been enjoying what remained of her vacation. Getting people to do things they’d rather not do was just one of this conniving yet lovable woman’s superpowers. “The place could use a cleanup, a paint job, new equipment, new examination beds, a computer and phone system, a nurse, a receptionist, and a doctor, but other than that you’re good to go.”
Helen allowed Olivia’s words to echo through the empty office while nodding and surveying the outdated decor and turn-of-the-century equipment. Olivia knew damned well what was hiding behind Helen’s overly made-up eyes, and that was exactly what made the old girl so dangerous.
Olivia still wasn’t sure what role her sister and Naya had played in the plot to lure her into town, but she was going to find out. Helen had magically appeared at Wingarra that morning looking as desperate as a woman in complete control of her world and everyone in it could possibly look. The old warhorse had hobbled out of her rusted four-wheel drive and all but dropped to her knees in an attempt to guilt Olivia into heading back to Baroona to check out the derelict medical clinic and provide the lowdown on what it’d take to get the place up and running.
Helen’s eyes widened as she clutched a hand to her ample chest. “So it’s possible the hardworking, loving, and desperate members of this community could once again access regular health care?”
Olivia was used to state-of-the-art emergency rooms and had no idea how expensive the equipment they needed was, yet what Baroona’s mayor lacked in constituents and funding, she more than made up for with determination and cunning. But life had turned Olivia into a warrior, and no matter how romantic the what ifs Helen tried implanting into her brain, there was no way in hell she was uprooting her life. Either with or without a certain lawyer cum stockman.
Helen had scrutinized Olivia the entire time her question hung in the musty office air. Baroona’s mayor was undoubtedly lying in wait for Olivia to stumble over one of the trip wires the old girl had set with all the finesse of Wingarra’s horror movie–size spiders. Olivia nodded but made sure to remove all enthusiasm from the gesture. “I’m amazed a town this size doesn’t already have a full-time clinic.”
Olivia collated the files sitting on the desk into alphabetical order ready for refiling and fought the urge to elaborate on her dismay. Close to a thousand people lived out here without regular access to health care. Dealing with emergencies would’ve been difficult enough despite the flying doctor magicians. But what about the day-to-day things city folk took for granted? Antibiotics, family planning, basic pediatrics…hell, just
having a health professional to talk to. If Olivia had been in Helen’s steel-capped work boots she’d have not only tried sweet talking doctors into staying, she would’ve probably taken them hostage.
Helen held her gaze a few more seconds before pushing back her chair. “I’m so sorry you got stuck here so long, Doc. I have no idea how they knew you were coming in this afternoon.”
Yeah, right. Olivia hadn’t been able to prove it, yet there was no doubt the woman disguised in the bordello-themed fairy godmother disguise sitting in front of her had roped enough of the town in on her guilt trip to put on one hell of a performance. Mrs. Hardy and her bum knee had led the charge past the closed sign hanging in the clinic’s grimy window. Before long the previously deserted reception area had filled with people seeking medical and spiritual healing. Olivia couldn’t help grinning back. Helen was relentless and had a heart big enough to care for an entire town.
With a weak sigh that was as fake as her constant apologies, Helen straightened and smoothed her canary-yellow Four X T-shirt. “We can organize a working bee or two to brighten up the place. And I’m pretty sure we can scrounge up enough money to buy some secondhand equipment. We’ve also got a half dozen people with both admin and bush-nursing experience who’d jump at the chance of part-time work. So all we really need is a full-time doctor.”
And there it was, the punch line to the joke that had lasted the entire afternoon. Olivia had steeled herself for it. With every home-baked cake and pie, with every donation she’d collected for the Royal Flying Doctor Service, with every grateful hug, vigorous handshake, and teary-eyed thank-you, she’d hardened her resolve and tempered the satisfaction of helping decent people with the same cold, hard reality she’d used to survive emergency room shifts. No matter how skilled a healer she was, no matter how much of her life she devoted to helping others, and no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t save everyone. Making long-term decisions with short-term emotions would hurt a hell of a lot more people than just herself. And that didn’t even take into account the logistical minefield lying between L.A. and Baroona, least of which was she wasn’t even considered a freaking doctor down here.
A Choice of Fate Page 19