by Janet Gover
She turned her steps in the direction of the pub.
She walked through the pub door to find breakfast in full swing. The pilots she’d met the day before were all there, feasting on bacon and eggs and sausages, along with a few of the race organisers and officials. There were pots of coffee on the tables and the noise was pretty substantial. She grabbed some toast and coffee, and joined Greg Anderson and his colleagues from the Flying Doctor service.
‘Hey, Jess. Where’s the doc?’
‘Still asleep, I guess.’
A strangled laugh came from somewhere in the vicinity of the coffee pot. Another of the group waggled his eyebrows at her in an exaggerated leer.
Determined not to blush, Jess shrugged. ‘Well, guys, how would you like sleeping with your boss?’
The laughter that followed told Jess she had deflected the potential embarrassment, until she glanced up and saw Adam standing in the doorway. His eyes were on her, a slight question on his face.
‘At least I don’t snore,’ he said quickly, responding to the curious looks cast his way.
‘Yes, you do,’ Jess shot back. ‘Like an elephant with a bad head cold.’
Under cover of the roar of laughter that followed, Jess looked closely at Adam. He had appeared asleep when she got out of bed, but what if her nightmare had woken him too? He showed no sign of tension as he collected a huge plate of food and an equally large mug of coffee and joined her table. Talk soon turned to the day ahead and who was to be on duty at the airport and at the racetrack and the town’s medical centre. Jess decided that everything was all right. Today was Thursday. The races were held on Friday and Saturday. Sunday evening, once the town had emptied of visitors, they would head back to the Creek. Surely she could keep her nightmares under control for just three more nights?
Jess had been expecting a busy day. She was surprised to find the reverse was true. There was plenty of activity, but no need for her services. Cars and trucks and buses roared down the road towards the racetrack. There was a steady beat of aircraft landing at the airport. Hotel staff and campsite workers were rushing about as the trickle of incoming racegoers turned into a flood. Tents were springing up at the campsite. The temporary food and drink stands were in full swing. There was music and laughter and, of course, there was dust. Great clouds of it stirred up by thousands of feet.
In all of this activity, all Jess had to do was wait.
Adam and the two other doctors were already on duty, tending to minor scrapes among the workers, and minor escapades among the crowd who seemed to start drinking the moment their feet touched the dusty ground. Jess was on standby. But there’d be nothing for her to do unless some emergency called for an airlift. She waited at the town’s tiny medical clinic, reading and watching the passing parade of arrivals. By mid-afternoon she was restless. When it was Greg’s turn to be on call, Jess set out for a walk, grateful for a chance to stretch her legs.
She hadn’t gone very far when she heard the wolf whistle. She ignored it, but a second following close behind caused her to turn her head.
‘Hello, darling!’
Some young men standing near the makeshift bar were waving to attract her attention. ‘Come on over here and let us buy you a drink.’
Smiling, she shook her head and walked on. It wasn’t the first such offer she had received. Like so many outback events, the population attracted here was mostly male and out for a good time. They meant no harm, but Jess made a mental note not to stray too far on her own late at night, after a long hot and thirsty day … when the beer had been flowing a little too freely for some.
She kept walking, enjoying the sights and sounds around her. This was like nothing she had ever seen before. There was laughter and music and the smell of burgers cooking. A large part of the growing crowd were city folk walking around clutching beer cans and slowly being turned a lobster red by the sun. They wore jeans and running shoes. The girls wore skirts and flat sandals … their feet quickly disappearing beneath a layer of yellow dust. The rest were outback people come in search of a couple of days respite from the loneliness and hard toil that was their daily lot. They wore broad-brimmed Akubra hats already stained with sweat and faded by the sun. Their elastic-sided riding boots showed signs of hard wear. Their skins were brown and toughened by exposure to a harsh climate.
Whatever their origin, the racegoers were all there for the same reason – to have some fun.
Jess stepped aside to let a truck roll past. She smelled, rather than saw, the horses in the back. That was what this event was supposed to be all about. Horse racing, but she had a feeling some of the revellers might not actually get as far as the track. A second horse van followed the first, and as Jess stepped out of the way, she saw the cameras.
A small crowd of media people were walking her way, pausing now and then to snap photos or take videos of the spectacle that was unfolding. Jess’s heart started to pound, and she turned her head. She began to push her way through the crowd which had suddenly turned into some sort of impenetrable wall. She glanced back over her shoulder. The media scrum had turned in the direction of the bar. Good, she thought. Put those cameras away and go get a drink. One of the group turned her way and just for an instant their eyes met. Jessica prayed she would see no recognition there as she tried to lose herself again in the crowd.
By the time she was back at the medical centre, Jess had convinced herself that she had escaped unnoticed. But, just in case, she decided she’d spend a quiet night in her room. There was plenty of time over the next two days to experience the excitement of the races. Right now, she needed a little peace and quiet. The sun was setting and so she was off duty. The airstrip had no lights, so no aircraft would be leaving now. She strolled over to check her plane one last time. There were a lot of aircraft parked by the side of the airstrip now. Jess searched the line for any that looked familiar. There were none, and that left her feeling relieved. She still felt a little exposed. Anyone seeing her around the Beechcraft would guess she was a pilot. It wasn’t a great leap from there to …
No. That wasn’t going to happen! Chiding herself for being paranoid, Jess walked back to the pub. She guessed Greg and the other pilots would be there. She would join them for dinner. Adam would be on call most of the night. At least she might have the room to herself for a while.
Jess stretched to ease her muscles. She felt as if she was wearing a layer of dust.
‘A shower would feel pretty good,’ she said to the sinking sun. ‘Yes. A shower then dinner.’
She slipped the key into the door and pushed it open. The first thing she saw was Adam clad only in a towel. He was standing by the window, his arms raised as he towelled his wet hair. Jess barely noticed the fine lines of his torso, or the muscles in his bare legs. All she saw was the terrible ruin of his back and shoulders. Her breath froze in her throat as the meaning of those scars struck home.
A custody battle … the father sprayed petrol on the family home and set it on fire. The boy was badly burned.
That night at the restaurant in Mount Isa, when she had asked how he had met Sister Luke.
Sister Luke sat with him, day after day. The doctors may have healed his body, but she brought his soul back from the darkness.
Himself! Adam had been talking about himself. He was the boy accidentally burned by his father. The boy who had grown up to be a doctor so Sister Luke would be proud of him.
Adam had his back to her. He had not noticed her. Jessica stepped back and silently closed the door. Tears filled her eyes as she leaned her forehead against the wood. Oh, Adam! To have known so much pain. Her heart ached for him. Her mind flashed back to the day after they met. Unknowingly, she had placed her hand on Adam’s shoulder, only to have him flinch away. Now she understood. Slowly she turned and walked away from the door. He had obviously kept that secret for many years. Jess knew about se
crets and how to keep them. She would keep this one too. For Adam.
With the click of the door, Adam lowered his hands. The closed door was reflected in the glass of the window. He didn’t see it. He could only see the look on Jessica’s face when she saw his back. The horror. The pity. He’d seen that look before. On many other faces. But somehow, it was just that much harder to take on hers. A tiny spark of hope – or was it perhaps a dream – that lay hidden in the deepest recesses of his heart flickered and died. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers along his shoulder, feeling the puckered skin. The scars had faded a little over time, but were still horrible to look at. If ever he and Jess were to … he would want her to look at him with passion and desire. Not pity. Never that.
Chapter Seventeen
From where Adam stood outside the first aid hut, the pounding of hooves was like approaching thunder. The jockeys’ silks were distant flashes of colour against the brilliant blue sky. The horses’ coats shone like polished copper and bronze as they hurled themselves at breakneck speed down the track, while all around people screamed encouragement to their favourites.
Adam wasn’t having fun. Well, not as much as he should have been.
The Birdsville Races were his favourite event of the year. Adam loved the colour and energy of the crowd. He loved the optimism of people who would organise a race meeting in the middle of nowhere and the sense of adventure of the people who came from all over the country – all over the world – to join the fun. As someone who worked alone most of the time, he enjoyed the camaraderie of being part of a medical team. And if the hours were long, the work for the most part wasn’t hard. Minor scrapes and the occasional mishap caused by overindulgence. There was always the potential for a more serious medical emergency, but, so far, things had gone pretty well.
Professionally, that was. He couldn’t say the same thing about his personal life.
Adam wasn’t sure what he had expected would happen between him and Jess during these few days. Not romance. Never that. But he had hoped their friendship would continue to grow. She had become such an important part of his life. The days he spent with her were the best days. Days when he didn’t see her, even if just for a few minutes, seemed somehow wasted.
He just hoped yesterday hadn’t spoiled everything.
Sharing the room had been a genuine oversight on his part. Now he had to live with the consequences of that mistake. He just wished Jess had returned to the room a few minutes later. He wished she had never seen the scars on his back. If she ever tried to talk to him about those scars, he would have to lie and once that lie was between them, nothing was going to be the same. Most of all he wished he had never seen the pity in her eyes. Of all the things he might want from Jessica, pity was not one of them.
Maybe she wouldn’t ask about the scars. When she backed out of the room, she must have assumed he hadn’t seen her. It was not an unreasonable assumption, given he’d been towelling his hair dry. He could hope she would just forget what she saw. It was a vain hope, as was the hope that the horror in her eyes would not change their relationship. It was already happening. Adam had spent the evening in the medical centre, dealing with a few minor injuries among the revellers. When he’d returned to the pub, Jess was in bed, the bedding pulled up high over her shoulders. Her regular breathing told him she was asleep. He’d lain awake for a while listening to her breathing and wondering if she was really asleep, or just pretending. Was the sight of his scars so hideous that she just couldn’t bring herself to look at him again? He knew just how ugly his body was, but he believed Jess was a better person than that. Given time, he hoped their relationship would resume its former footing. But any hope he had of something more between them was now irretrievably lost.
‘Hey, Doc, picked a winner yet?’ a passing local asked.
‘Not yet,’ he replied, pulling himself out of his reverie.
‘Today is my day,’ the man continued, his voice just a little blurred by beer. ‘The bookies weep when they see me coming!’ The man vanished into the crowd, his step as unsteady as his voice.
Adam smiled. That man had the right idea. He was out to enjoy himself, and that was what Adam should do. He wasn’t about to spoil the big event by useless dreams.
The next race was the biggest race of the day. Leaving one of his colleagues at the first aid station, Adam set out for the parade ring, his emergency medical kit in the rucksack slung over his shoulder. The horses made a spectacular sight as they danced past the crowds towards the starting line. Adam wasn’t a betting man. Money wasn’t important to him, but he did like to try to pick the winner. He ran his eyes over the thoroughbreds as they trotted towards the starting position. Long and lean, full of energy and fire. They were a beautiful sight. Adam’s eyes fixed on a dark blood bay mare. She wasn’t the tallest horse on the track, but there was something about the way she held her head. She was a fighter. That was something he could relate to. The jockey’s silks were bright red and yellow. The colour of a desert dawn. He liked that too.
For a couple of minutes, the horses milled around at the starting line. Then they were set. A silence descended on the crowd as they waited for the moment …
‘They’re off!’ The commentator’s voice over the loudspeakers was drowned out by the roar of the crowd when the horses leaped forward as if shot from a starting gun. Caught up in the excitement of the moment, Adam leaned forward over the rail. All around him people were yelling their encouragement.
The blood bay mare was in the leading bunch of horses. Slowly she started to pull forward, a rangy grey at her side.
‘Come on, girl!’ Adam whispered. ‘Come on!’
It happened too fast to truly comprehend.
The grey horse seemed to stumble. It staggered sideways and collided with the bay mare. She fell to her knees and somersaulted over the top of her rider. The next two horses rose like a wave to jump the fallen horse and rider, but the ones behind had no chance. They appeared to run right over the top of the red and yellow figure. The jockey was dragged forward several yards. The last few horses were steered around the fallen figure and the pack raced on leaving two horses and two riders sprawled in the dust.
Adam was over the railing and running before the announcer had time to call for medical aid.
He passed the bay mare, now on her feet and limping slowly away, obviously hurt. The grey horse was still down, its rider kneeling next to it. Adam reached him first.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘I’m okay,’ the jockey replied, stroking his injured mount’s neck. He slipped off his helmet and Adam could see the tears in his eyes. ‘But we need a vet.’
There was nothing he could do here. Adam turned his back on the dying horse and started to run towards a small crowd gathered a few metres away.
‘Let me through!’ he shouted. The crowd parted and Adam dropped to his knees next to the fallen rider.
Someone had removed the rider’s helmet, or it had been lost in the fall. With a start Adam realised the jockey was a woman. She was conscious, but her face was white with pain.
‘I think she’s broken her arm, Doc,’ someone said next to him.
It wasn’t a difficult diagnosis. The arm lay twisted across the girl’s body. Blood was oozing from a long gash in her forearm, but Adam was relieved there was no bone protruding from the wound. The break would heal.
‘Get the ambulance here,’ Adam said to the people milling around. ‘And someone alert the airport. We’ll need to get her to Mount Isa.’
‘On it, Doc.’
‘Now, can you tell me your name?’ Adam asked the jockey.
He ignored the responses from the people standing around, some of whom obviously knew her. He needed to hear the girl speak. He needed to know she was aware of herself and what was going on around her.
‘Carrie Bryant,’ the v
oice was just a whisper.
‘Okay. Carrie. I’m Adam. I’m going to look after you.’
Carrie tried to nod, but winced in pain.
‘No moving,’ Adam said. ‘You took a really bad fall. Your arm is broken.’
‘Tasha …?’
Adam looked up at the people around him.
‘The horse,’ someone said.
He didn’t know how badly the horse had been injured, and he wasn’t about to give Carrie any bad news. ‘She’s being taken care of.’ He knew that, at least, would be no lie. ‘Now you have to let me take care of you.’
Carrie opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Her breathing was becoming laboured. This wasn’t a good sign. Adam reached into his bag for a stethoscope. He listened to the girl’s chest for a few seconds, during which time, her breathing became noticeably harder.
The broken arm was the least of her problems.
‘Carrie, listen to me,’ Adam said, taking the girl’s good hand in his. ‘You’ve got what we call a pneumothorax. That means you probably took a couple of hard hits from some of those iron horseshoes. Your lung is damaged. Air is escaping into your chest. Now, that’s not as bad as it sounds,’ he went on, when he saw the fear flash in her eyes, ‘but I have to get some of the air out of your chest before we can move you. Okay?’
The fear-filled amber eyes held his.
‘All right. So, I’m going to drain some of the air from your chest. I’m going to use a syringe. It’s sort of like drawing blood, but we’ll take the air out instead.’
The girl opened her mouth to speak. Adam leaned close so he could hear her. ‘… hate needles …’
