by Anne Ashby
****
Leath felt an enormous sense of homecoming as she crested the hill and the beach—their beach—lay below her. So wide-awake and jubilant she wondered about starting some preparatory work before sleeping.
Musing over the idea, she turned into the driveway. If she got the undercoat painting done straight away...
Her foot slammed on the brake as her heart leapt into her throat and pounded so fast she felt she was choking. A red farm truck—a much cleaner red farm truck, she noticed, but still instantly recognisable—was parked close to one of her sheds.
Even from this distance, she could see the chain she’d got blisters attaching to the door and its padlock dangling against the broken clasp.
The split second she considered there might be a reasonable explanation for Kirk Buchanan’s presence here was pushed aside when she spied what was on the back of his truck. Their old wheelbarrow was identifiable by the yellow tape wrapped around each handle.
He’d broken into the shed and was stealing their stuff.
Before she gave herself a chance to think about any possible consequences, Leath leant on her horn and drove straight for the farm truck, somehow managing to swing away at the last minute and avoid hitting it. She was out of her car in seconds and fearlessly confronting the culprit who’d appeared from the darkened shed at the sound of her horn.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She planted her fists on her hips. “How dare you break into our property?” She grabbed her mobile from her pocket. “I’m calling the police.”
“Don’t be silly—”
His chiding tone infuriated her further. Angry heat burned her cheeks.
“Hold on, there’s no need to call the police...I can explain—”
“You’ve got it right there, pal. You can explain to the police.”
“Look, hang up the phone.” Kirk took a step toward her. Momentarily startled by his bulk, she took a hasty step backward but never dropped her glare from his face. If he tried anything...well, she’d played soccer for a number of years, she had a pretty strong right boot, and she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.
“This is not what it looks like.”
But Leath wasn’t listening to him. She was explaining the situation into her phone.
Seeing him try to punch in the side of his truck didn’t frighten her. She’d seen such behaviour before and in her experience, it showed angry frustration rather than aggression.
It gave her some satisfaction to watch him fuming as he carried everything from his vehicle back into the shed. The chain clanged against the wooden frame as he threw the door shut with an almighty bang. He whirled and sent her a derisive look before getting into the truck and roaring away in a spray of stones and dust.
“He’s gone,” she whispered into the phone.
“It’ll be some time before a unit can make contact with you,” the police call centre explained. “Are you afraid he might return?”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“Perhaps you could go to a neighbour.”
Leath couldn’t help the dry, slightly hysterical laugh escaping. “He is the neighbour,” she answered. “I just want to stop him coming here as if he owns the place. Can’t I get a trespass notice or something?”
****
Leath examined the shelves in the shed afterwards, having no idea what, if anything, might be missing. Hopefully Robby knew what was kept in this tool shed.
Leaving her car where it was, Leath stalked back to the house, turned on the power, and filled the kettle for a coffee to calm her nerves. Pacing around the kitchen and lounge as she waited for the water to boil, she decided she’d had enough of Kirk Buchanan.
She didn’t want to make trouble for Fiona, but her husband’s antics were away over the line of acceptability. Leath took another circuit of the rooms. How dare he waltz down here and break in through a padlock and chain.
She still couldn’t believe it. If she hadn’t seen it with her own two eyes, she’d have never believed Kirk Buchanan was a low-down thief. An arrogant sod, a chauvinist, a hypocrite—she was sure all these titles suited him, but she’d never have pegged him as someone who’d actually steal another person’s possessions.
Stomping around, Leath found it impossible to settle. She swore under her breath. He’d ruined the day. Applying herself to anything even remotely creative in this frame of mind was impossible.
Neither a quick run along the beach nor a visit from the local cop improved her mood. The beach was too short to run out her frustration, and she was sure the policeman left doubting Leath’s sanity. Of course he promised to investigate, even while making it clear he thought she was wasting his time.
Small towns. Did she want to become involved with rural town New Zealand? The cop’s bias toward the landed gentry hadn’t been encouraging.
A decent night’s sleep and sheer determination lightened Leath’s mood, and by seven next morning she was hard at work slapping on undercoat paint. Thank goodness this visit was longer than her normal days off. With yesterday a wasted day...she shook her head, annoyed at herself for allowing Kirk Buchanan to get under her skin so much. He made her so mad she could spit.
As her breathing increased in speed, she dropped the paint roller and stomped over to drag aside the old sheet covering the new kitchen unit. Unearthing the radio, she switched stations from blaring music to a talkback show. Perhaps listening to this would distract her from thinking about Kirk Buchanan.
****
It was taking Leath time to narrow down designs. She had a whole sketchpad full of drawings, but had only settled on five themes so far.
There would be a Roman/Grecian unit, one depicting the roaring twenties, another the rock and roll era. The tropical island she was starting today. In this unit, closest to the beach, her design would hopefully appear an extension of the sea and sand visible out the windows.
Half way through sketching her design onto the walls, the sound of a vehicle caused Leath to stiffen and her mouth dried. But it was Fiona who leaned out her car window with a bright smile.
“I didn’t know you were here, you gotta ring and tell me next time.” She rattled off an easy to remember sequence of numbers. “I saw the lights last night. Come and have dinner with us tonight, okay?”
Leath licked her dry lips, her mind racing. She couldn’t accept, but how to make a graceful refusal? “Thanks so much. You’re very kind.”
She hedged while her brain searched for an excuse, any excuse. “But could I take a rain check?” She hoped she looked genuinely disappointed. “I’m right in the middle of something, and now daylight saving is here...” She let the words hang in the air.
“Of course, that’s actually better for me.” Fiona confided with a grin. “I had no idea what I was offering you tonight. We’ll do it next time you’re up. You ring me as soon as you get here, okay?”
“Okay.”
Happy with the arrangement, Fiona waved a cheery hand and took off with a squeal and a scatter of dust.
Leath uncrossed the fingers she’d kept stuck behind her back. Not telling Fiona she was here for two weeks wasn’t a lie, more an omission. But it was one she’d had to make. She wouldn’t be dining with Fiona and Kirk Buchanan any time soon.
Fiona can’t know what happened yesterday afternoon, or she wouldn’t have been so friendly. Had that policeman even followed up on Leath’s complaint against Fiona’s husband?
****
Kirk fumbled with his alarm clock only to realise the shrill ringing wasn’t his wake up call, nor his mobile, but the house telephone. Leaping out of bed he ran to the kitchen, his stomach churning. Any call in the middle of the night meant trouble.
“Kirk? Get Leath Robson and bring her up here,” his brother barked before the line went dead.
What? Still half asleep, Kirk shook his head, wondering if he’d misheard. Was hearing her name the aftermath of a dream? Leath Robson popped into his subconscious far too frequently.
Hearing a creak of floorboards, Kirk glanced over to see a worried Mary tightening the sash on her dressing gown as he hit the speed dial and waited for Cade.
But it was Danny who answered. His nephew’s voice wobbled. “Mum’s real sick, Unc.” Cade was yelling in the background. “She wants the lady from Penny’s house,” Danny said.
So he hadn’t misheard. “Tell Dad I’m on my way.”
“Something’s wrong with Fiona,” he told his mother as he dashed down the passageway, still pulling on his jeans. “Cade wants me to get Leath Robson for some reason.”
Mary stood at his door, gnawing her lip. “I should go over―”
“No, Mum, you need to stay with Dad.” He squeezed her shoulder as he slipped bare feet into gumboots at the door and took the keys she held out. “I’ll ring you when I know what’s happened.”
Gunning the truck Kirk tore out of the garage and down the driveway at breakneck speed. Hardly believing he was being forced to return to her place again, Kirk swore. But Cade had sounded frantic enough for Kirk to do anything his brother asked. Including fronting a hellion on her own turf.
Screaming up to her house, Kirk was out of the truck almost before it had stopped and thumping on her door. Remembering she was here alone, and likely to be scared silly by the intrusion at this time of night, he called out as his fist continued to bang on the door.
“Leath, Leath. It’s Kirk Buchanan. I need help. Wake up, for God’s sake.”
Feeling just a little of the tension ease from his body as a light switched on inside he stopped knocking and called again. “It’s Kirk Buchanan, Leath, I need—”
The door burst open to reveal a scantily clad tornado ready to rip his feet from under him. “You!” She glared at him. “What the hell do you—?”
“I don’t want anything, lady,” he growled back. His gaze couldn’t resist dropping to what was almost certainly a naked body beneath her skimpy nightgown. “Fiona’s sick. She wants you.”
He hadn’t realized the two women even knew each other, but the speed Leath spun around and disappeared into one of the rooms suggested they’d established a rapport at some time.
“What’s the matter with her?” her mumbled voice called.
Kirk stepped through the front door. “Are you a doctor or something?” he called. There had to be a reason Fiona asked for her.
His voice died as she rushed into sight still doing up her trousers. Kirk felt his blood speed up as his gaze focused on her movements. He shifted as his jeans tightened.
The teddy bear caricature on the front of her nightgown still adorned her chest. Kirk swallowed, she’d simply tucked it into her trousers. As she hurried toward him, he watched her breasts bounce and knew she hadn’t wasted time with a bra. Turning, he hurried outside, praying darkness would hide the evidence of his physical reaction.
“What are her symptoms?”
Kirk concentrated on his driving, trying to calm the unwelcome mood of his body, and didn’t answer until she repeated the question.
“Ahh, I don’t know.”
“You...” Not finishing whatever she was about to say, Kirk scowled at her astonishment as she stared at him open-mouthed.
“Their driveway’s a bit pitted,” he warned moments later. “Hang on.”
Danny opened the door as they approached. Kirk’s heart lurched as he watched the boy’s valiant effort to control the frightened tears shimmering in his eyes. Seeing the two younger children curled up on the sofa, their eyes huge against white faces, Kirk knew reassuring them must be his second task.
“This way.” With an urgent hand on her arm he first led Leath into the master bedroom.
****
Leath slipped into the room and came to an abrupt halt, blinking. A strange man sat on the bed applying a cloth to Fiona’s very flushed face. A sharp look over her shoulder saw Kirk disappearing down the hallway. Frowning Leath approached the bed, and the man became aware of her presence. He leapt up.
“Leath?” he scrubbed a hand across his strained face. “Thank you for coming. I’ve called the doctor, but he’s already out on a case up north. He’s trying to get here as soon...but I’m getting so worried.” Again he scrubbed his face. “She’s virtually delirious.”
Pushing aside her confusion, Leath’s fingers felt for Fiona’s pulse. “Can you tell me what’s happened?” Dipping the cloth he’d been using in the tepid water, she continued bathing Fiona’s face.
“She complained last night of feeling crook. We thought maybe she’d caught the flu going around.” Leath’s eyebrows shot up as he sank onto the bed and took a limp hand in his. Who the hell was this guy? “I woke up about three hours ago. The bed was drenched, Fiona was burning up.”
His fingers caressed Fiona’s arm. His eyes were dull as he looked up at Leath. “I’ve been trying to get her fever down, but she brought up the pain killer I gave her. Her temperature keeps going up.” He gave a wobbly, lopsided smile. “I remembered her saying you were a nurse, so I rang Kirk and told him to go and get you.”
Rang Kirk? So Kirk doesn’t live here...meaning Kirk and Fiona aren’t married. Leath shook her head as she came to grips with the astonishing fact this was Fiona’s husband.
“Daddy?” a wobbly little voice whispered from the doorway. “I’m scared. What’s wrong with Mummy?”
The man gestured to a little girl Leath recognised from that day in town. She climbed onto his knee and burrowed into him. “I think Mummy’s got a flu bug, baby.” Leath applauded the way he lightened his voice for the child. “Didn’t you tell me your friend Melanie was sick?”
Leath noticed the little one nod as she wiped Fiona’s face again.
Some internal radar told her the moment Kirk entered the room. “Come on, sweetheart.” His touch seemed very gentle as he bent and picked up the child. “We’re going to make everyone a very early breakfast this morning. You can help me.”
“But I want to stay with Daddy.”
“Daddy’s busy helping make Mum feel better, Livvy.” Leath noticed the worried look he shared with the man on the bed.
“Show Uncle Kirk how I like my bacon please, Olivia.” How the man managed the solemn wink he sent his daughter, Leath wasn’t sure. It was obvious he was desperately worried about his wife.
“I’d just run a bath. I made sure it was tepid. Shall I carry her in?”
“We don’t do that anymore.” Leath hoped her voice sounded calm. “They’ve decided cooling the body suddenly just closes the pores and restricts the fever.” Leath hid her escalating concern as she checked the thermometer she’d slipped under Fiona’s arm.
“What can we do, then?”
“Getting her temperature down is imperative.” Just how imperative she’d keep to herself for now. “You say the doctor is out? I assume he’s the only doctor? What other facilities are there in town? Do you have an emergency clinic? Nurses?”
Leath looked up from wiping Fiona’s face. This man wasn’t slow. He’d guessed the seriousness of his wife’s condition. And it scared him silly. But Leath could do nothing to appease his panic.
Fiona moaned, and Leath lent down to her.
“Hi.” She smiled, griping the sick woman’s hand. It took Fiona a moment to recognise her but there was a weak squeeze on her fingers. “Hey, how you feeling?”
“Box of fluffy ducks.” Fiona’s mumbled reply stuck a weak laugh in Leath’s throat. Fiona tried to look around but moving her head obviously hurt. “Cade?”
“I’m here, babe.”
Leath noticed Fiona wince as her husband shimmed across the bed to her side.
“Fiona, I want you to concentrate and tell me where you have pain. Can you do that?”
She watched Fiona closely.
“Head’s exploding. The light’s hurting my eyes.” Leath waited patiently as Fiona mentally examined her own body. “My leg. Oh, my leg,” she gasped. Her hold on Leath’s fingers tightened. Drawing back the damp sheet covering Fiona, Leath bit down hard on he
r bottom lip to still any escaping sound. Fiona’s lower left leg was red and badly swollen. Now ruling out the dread of meningitis, Leath knew they’d discovered the cause of Fiona’s high fever.
“What were you doing today, Fiona?” Leath examined the enflamed limb. “Were you in the garden? Did you feel anything bite you?” The skin was burning hot, ugly red welts tracked centimetres out from a centre point, which Leath suspected could be a whitetail spider bite.
Fiona’s mumbles were unintelligible, but it didn’t matter. Leath knew what she had to do.
“Fiona needs urgent hospital treatment.” She eased pillows under the swollen leg.
Fiona’s husband jumped off the bed. “I’ll ring for the ambulance.”
Leath’s hand grasped his arm before he made contact with the phone sitting alongside the bed. “She needs a helicopter, not an ambulance.”
Her resolute voice had been gentle, but it still dashed what little colour remained in the man’s face. Slumped on the end of the bed, he looked at Leath with huge, horrified eyes.
“Kirk?” his voice croaked, but it had been loud enough to summon his brother. “We need a helicopter...”
Kirk’s worried look swivelled from his brother to Leath to Fiona in a split second before he grabbed the phone and was soon barking at an emergency operator. Handing the phone to Leath when requested for details of the emergency, his eyes showed his concern at Leath’s use of the word septicaemia.
“We’ll have to get her into town?” Cade questioned as Kirk dropped the phone. His nod drew an offhand explanation from Cade. “The rescue helicopter landed in the supermarket car park last year. There’s plenty of street lighting for the pilot.”
“They’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
Leath gently squeezed the small puncture wound on Fiona’s leg and a small amount of thick green puss oozed out. “Get me some warm water with half a teaspoon of salt in it,” she asked.
Cade snapped to attention. “And then bring the car around, Kirk. The keys are hanging by the door.”
Kirk disappeared.
“What will she need?” The question seemed superfluous as Cade dragged open drawers and threw things into a small bag.
