Nobody But Him

by Victoria Purman

  There was a barely-there shaking of his head.

  ‘No? Tell me what I can do.’

  He moved wearily and checked his watch. Julia could see it was five a.m.

  ‘I need a shower. And sleep.’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’ Julia kissed him gently on the cheek, wondering if his heart was breaking or healing. ‘Let’s go home.’

  ‘Not Middle Point. My place in the city’s closer. I need to come back here as soon as I can.’

  ‘Of course. Let’s go.’ Ry didn’t have to ask and Julia didn’t have to say she would go with him.

  She wasn’t leaving his side.

  The first weak rays of the winter sun were coming up over the shadowed and purple Adelaide Hills when Ry slid the key into the lock of his front door. He urged Julia into the bathroom to have the first shower, telling her he wanted to check in with Fiona to see how plans were progressing to get Dan’s parents to Adelaide. She wearily agreed, stripping off her clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor. She needed to feel the heat of the water running over her shoulders, washing away the despair and the agony of the night.

  It was only when she was in the shower, with the sound of the water drowning out any other noise, did she let go. Free herself to mourn for Ry and what he might lose. The grief raged inside her, gripping her stomach, tightening her throat, the sobs shook her shoulders and buckled her knees. She let herself sink to the tiled floor, her arms tight around her, the hot water sluicing through her hair, over her face and taking her tears with it down the drain. She needed to camouflage her grief with the noise and the echo because in a few minutes she would go back out to Ry and be a rock for him.

  It was something she knew she could do. Wearily, she realised it seemed to be the part she was born to play, the organiser, the strong

  one, the shoulder to lean on in a crisis. When her father died, she’d been the tower of strength for her mother, who was inconsolable with grief for months. There was no one else to shoulder the burden so a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl took charge. And when her mother died, she was already well practised in dealing with crises and perfunctorily performed all the tasks she’d needed to, organising the funeral and the wake, not letting anyone see her fall apart. Julia Jones did not fall apart. Even when she’d stood in the funeral parlour and Middle Point locals were crying around her at the loss of her mother. Even when she’d locked the door to her mother’s house a year ago, knowing her mother would never be there again. Even when got back to Melbourne and felt stranded and alone. She would not fall apart now. Someone she cared about needed her to be strong.

  Fifteen minutes later, she sat on the taupe-coloured sofa in Ry’s living room, dressed in one of his T-shirts and some checked pyjama bottoms he’d left out for her. He was in the shower now and Julia listened closely, wondering if he was using it as a panic room for his anguish as well. There had been tears, but he hadn’t broken down. Maybe he wasn’t the kind of man who did. Julia knew you couldn’t predict how grief would hit and when, and she knew better than most that a lack of tears didn’t mean there was no hurt. She’d got used to being alone in her grief. After all he’d been through, maybe he had too.

  There was a person she needed to speak to more than anything. Julia fished her phone out of her handbag and dialled a familiar number. Lizzie picked up and didn’t even wait for a hello before speaking.

  ‘Hey Jools! Can you talk? Are you with Ry? What happened last night? I saw you two leaving the pub looking like a couple of horny teenagers racing to the nearest panel van.’

  Julia swallowed the lump in her throat. Oh God. So much had happened since last night that it felt like three lifetimes ago. Where to start?

  ‘Lizzie …’

  ‘This had better be a good make-up sex story. It would be nice to know that someone around here is having sex.’

  Julia took a deep breath. ‘Lizzie, listen. I’ve got some bad news.’

  ‘Oh no,’ and Julia could hear disappointment in every word. ‘Is it really over with you and Ry?’ Julia gripped the hem of Ry’s T-shirt and twisted it around her fingers.

  ‘No, Lizzie, I’m not at Middle Point. I’m in Adelaide, at Ry’s place. We’ve spent all night at the hospital.’

  ‘What are you talking about? Are you all right?’

  ‘It’s Dan.’ Julia took a gulp to steady herself. ‘He was in a pretty bad car accident last night on the way back to Adelaide.’

  Julia heard the gasp of shock down the line. ‘Oh no. Is he … ?’

  ‘He’s alive. Really banged up, but alive.’

  There was silence for a beat then Lizzie’s voice, barely a whisper. ‘I … I can’t believe it. He was here. In the bar. Last night. I poured him a Coke. He wasn’t drinking, Jools, I know he wasn’t. What happened? Oh my God. This can’t be real.’

  ‘I saw him lying unconscious in hospital and I still can’t believe it.’ Julia tried to blink away the image of Dan, broken, still, almost lifeless. Of Ry’s pain at seeing his friend like that.

  ‘Oh hell, how’s Ry?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Lizzie … he’s devastated.’ Julia felt her bottom lip quiver.

  ‘Okay, don’t move. Where’s Ry’s place? I’m gonna jump in my car and come to you.’ That reaction was so Lizzie it made her heart ache. She’d missed her best friend so much.

  ‘No, Lizzie, please. I’m wondering if you can stay and look after the pub? We’re just not sure how long Dan will be in hospital. Ry will want to be there, to see him when he comes to.’

  ‘Of God, of course.’ Julia heard a sob and a gulp of breath. ‘Tell Ry not to worry about a thing. I’ll be managing the place from Monday, anyway. It’s only a couple of days early.’

  They both hung on in silence, a bond much stronger than the phone line keeping them connected.

  ‘You okay, Jools?’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘Promise me you’ll ring me when you have news. Tell Ry it’s all under control here. And give Dan a big kiss from me, will you?’

  ‘I’ll call you. I love you, Lizzie.’

  ‘I love you too, Jools.’

  Ry stood in the living room with his phone to his ear, his hair ruffled and still damp from the shower, a pair of boxers pulled on haphazardly. Julia studied him as he paced the room, distracted, staring out the windows to the Adelaide Hills in the east as he listened to his messages. Every now and then he jabbed the screen, clearly deleting the messages he didn’t need to keep. Then he spun around, his face dark with anger, and sought out her face.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, a shot of anxiety snaking up her spine.

  ‘It’s a fucking journalist from the local paper down at Middle Point.’

  ‘What do they want? Is it about Windswept?’

  ‘That would make sense, wouldn’t it? But no. They want a comment from me about Dan’s accident. How the hell did they find out and why the fuck is it any of their business? What a bunch of lowlife, pond-sucking …’

  Julia calmly got up and walked towards him. She reached for the phone and wrangled it from his grip.

  ‘Did you get a name? Is it the same journalist who wrote the story about Windswept.’

  ‘Yes, I think so. Debbie something.’

  ‘Debbie Doherty? I remember her by-line on that front page story.’

  Ry raked his hands through his hair and paced. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to her. This is not a goddamn news story. This is private.’

  Julia listened to the message again and then pressed the keypad to return the call.

  ‘What the hell are you doing, Julia? I’m not talking to her.’ She twisted away from him so he couldn’t snatch his phone back.

  ‘Not, but I am. It’ll be all right, Ry, really. I know what I’m doing.’ Julia saw fury flash in his sapphire-blue eyes as he stalked away, crossing his arms over his bare chest. She knew it wasn’t directed at her. No doubt he’d had his share of bad publicity when Blackburn and Son Developments had been on the verge of collapse, a
nd was now understandably suspicious of talking to the media at a time like this. She couldn’t blame him. She’d worked with some of the best and, unfortunately, some of the worst examples of the profession in her years in Melbourne.

  The call connected and Julia heard a girlish voice down the line.

  ‘Hello? Hi Debbie. My name’s Julia, I’m calling from Ryan Blackburn’s office.’ Julia looked over to Ry, who stood by the window, his head half turned in her direction.

  ‘Thank you for that. That’s very kind. Of course he understands how very concerned the people of Middle Point are about Mr McSwaine. As you know, he can’t comment on the circumstances of the accident as the police are investigating.’

  Julia listened for a moment. ‘He’s getting the best possible treatment in hospital. Mr Blackburn would like to sincerely thank everyone in Middle Point, especially the regulars at the Middle Point Pub, who’ve been so kind in passing on their thoughts and prayers.’

  Julia watched Ry slowly turn, drop his arms, his head cocked to one side. The anger had gone and in its place she could see something that looked like relief.

  ‘Plans for Windswept are still on course and Blackburn and Son Developments hopes to start advertising locally in the next few weeks for workers to begin construction on the site. Thank you, Debbie, anytime. Are there? Oh, that’s lovely, isn’t it?’ Ry walked to her, his feet padding softly on the carpet.

  ‘Yes, I’ll make sure he lets you know when the jobs are advertised. You’re right … local people will be very interested in applying. I’ll tell him. Yes, you can quote me as a spokesperson for Mr Blackburn. It was lovely to speak to you too, Debbie.’

  Julia pressed the keypad to end the call and walked to Ry, the phone in her outstretched hand. He took it and tossed it onto the sofa.

  ‘How did you do that?’ he asked, almost with disbelief.

  ‘It’s what I do everyday in my world, Ry. She’s just someone doing her job. Debbie said the paper has been getting lots of calls from locals, wondering how Dan is doing. They know he’s been working with you on Windswept and they all heard about the accident. They’re genuinely concerned about him.’

  ‘Thanks.’ There were shadows on his face, his blue eyes washed out and bloodshot. ‘I mean it.’ Julia moved closer, threaded her arms around his waist, wanting his strong arms around her, needing him close. With her cheek pressed against the smooth and warm skin of his chest, she could feel the rhythm of his heart surge through her.

  ‘Debbie said there are flowers at the place where the accident happened. People down there know better than anyone how dangerous country roads can be.’

  He pulled her tighter to him, one hand in her hair, holding her to his heart. ‘So do you.’

  They stood motionless in the middle of his apartment for a long while. Then he took her hand and they walked to the bedroom, side by side. He didn’t need to put into words what he was asking. She could see it in his face, his defeated, slumped shoulders, the rise and fall of his chest, the stubble on his jaw, the sorrow in his eyes. They slid in next to each other under the soft cotton sheets and curled up as close as they could, arms and legs entwined, Julia’s leg draped over his knees, one hand splayed across his chest so she could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. His arm was tight around her shoulders, and his head turned into her soft curls.

  ‘You’re amazing, Julia Jones, you know that?’

  ‘You’re pretty amazing yourself, Ryan Blackburn.’

  ‘I need to … I just … thank you.’ His voice was low and rough. ‘For everything.’

  She kissed his chest softly and when she turned to him, he pressed his lips to hers so tenderly and lovingly that she wanted to hold on to the soft feel of him forever. She let out a chest-deep breath and felt tiredness wash over her in a wave.

  They lay in silence, the noises of the city coming to life seeping up from the streets twelve floors below. Julia squeezed her eyes closed. If only time could stop at this very moment, freeze-frame it and leave them exactly where they were, holding each other as tightly as two people possibly could, inhaling each other’s breath, not knowing where one body ended and the other began. If time stopped in a freeze-frame, there couldn’t be bad news about Dan. She wouldn’t be going back to Melbourne.

  And she could remain forever in the arms of the man she loved.

  Yes, she loved him. Admitting it to herself was easier than she’d realised it would be. She didn’t want to fight it anymore. Hadn’t the events of the past year — and especially of the previous twelve hours — proven that life was delicate and short? She loved him. With her heart and mind and soul. And it didn’t scare her, not in the slightest. It gave her hope.

  ‘You know …’ Ry started quietly, kissing her forehead softly and holding his soft lips on her skin. ‘The guy lying in that intensive care bed didn’t even look like Dan.’

  ‘I don’t really know him but I’d bet that someone as stubborn as him won’t let his life slip away so easily. He’ll get through this.’

  ‘He’s stubborn, all right.’

  Julia moved her hand from his chest to the curve of his neck, nestling it in the heat there. ‘Just hold on to what the nurse said.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘He’s young and strong.’

  ‘Julia …’ He hesitated, his lips moving against her ear. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without you last night.’

  ‘Ry …’

  ‘I don’t know what I’ve done without you my whole life.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Don’t go.’

  She felt them before she heard them. His shoulders began to tremble and his fingers dug into her skin, and he turned into her, quietly sobbing. She gently caressed his cheek, his small scar, catching his tears with her fingers, and then kissing the rest away with soft lips. She held him and cried with him until they were spent, their limbs and breath and hearts entwined.

  CHAPTER

  25

  The next four days were a blur of trips back and forth to the hospital. Ry, Barbra and Dan’s parents Bob and Joan took turns sitting with Dan in the Intensive Care Unit as he lay unconscious, the ventilator breathing for him and the monitors recording every breath and every heartbeat.

  Julia shifted into high gear. She organised them all, coordinated shifts, drove the half hour to and from the hospital and Ry’s city apartment, ensured the fridge was stocked from the city markets nearby, washed clothes and bed linen, and relayed messages from Lizzie to Ry about the pub when they were really urgent. She’d become fast friends with Ry’s executive assistant Fiona, keeping her in touch with Dan’s condition so Fiona could tell everyone at BSD. Julia was touched that Fiona had organised flowers be sent to Ry’s apartment for Bob and Joan. Julia decided Fiona was a woman after her own heart.

  Meanwhile, Julia handled everything else like the crisis management professional she was. But this time, it all felt real. She wasn’t working to save a company’s arse when one of its managers had done something dopey or ripped people off. It wasn’t about helping important people avoid public scrutiny over mistakes they or their over-indulged children had made on drunken nights out.

  This was personal. She was genuinely helping a family negotiate a real crisis in their lives. Share prices weren’t at stake, nor public reputations or a businessman’s status. And Julia realised, with a tug at her heart, that it was easily the most rewarding thing she’d ever done.

  In the few hours a day they weren’t at his bedside, Dan’s parents were staying in the second bedroom in the apartment. In a few short days, Julia had come to feel a great affection for them. Bob was a barrel-chested retired farmer and shearer, the skin on his face and arms the colour of burnt toffee, with the softest, smoothest hands Julia had ever held. Joan was a delicate woman, no more than five feet tall, with slim hips and the practical manner of a farmer’s wife.

  The modern white dining table in Ry’s apartment had come to be a place of comfort and warmth for all of them, of late night
hot chocolates and whisky, tears and embraces, as they’d conferred on the latest news from the hospital. Little snippets of previously meaningless information became suddenly all-important as they struggled to find hope in Dan’s condition. His BP was steadier today. Yes, someone else would add, and the doctors looked happy after they examined him this afternoon. I thought I saw his eyes flicker when the nurse was checking the line from his chest. Small glimmers of hope in a seemingly hopeless situation, but they had all convinced themselves that these small and positive signs would coalesce into a bigger, more promising picture.

  Julia found herself alone in Ry’s apartment while Ry and the McSwaines remained with Dan in hospital. She’d just finished stacking the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher when her phone vibrated on the bench. She’d made a habit of keeping it nearby in case Ry called with news. She had felt a desperate desire to be within reach of him at all times.

  When she saw the number on the display, a feeling of dread settled. Her Melbourne life was about to come crashing into her Middle Point one and she wasn’t sure she wanted it to. Julia picked up her phone and tried desperately to summon some enthusiasm.

  ‘Ivy. How are you?’ Ivy Halliday was her boss at the consultancy firm in Melbourne, the woman who’d employed her for more than a decade. She’d been more than a boss. She’d been a mentor, both professionally and personally.

  ‘Julia. It’s so good to hear your voice. How are things in sleepy old Adelaide?’

  Julia flinched. Although she’d freely described the city like that a few times herself in the past, perhaps more than a few, it sat awkwardly with her now. Why was she suddenly so defensive about the place?

  ‘I’m fine, Ivy, and what about you? How are things at the company? Is everyone well?’ Julia tried to slip back into her corporate conversation mode, but given what had happened, found the small talk excruciating.

  ‘We’re flat-chat here as usual, Julia. That’s why I’m calling. I need you to come in a little earlier than usual on your first Monday back at work. I’ve just set up a breakfast meeting with a potential new client. One of Melbourne’s biggest law firms. I can’t wait to hear what they need help with.’