by Janet Gover
She doesn’t hear the door open, and is startled when the doctor speaks to her.
‘Miss Lawson. I’m Doctor Wilson.’
Lizzie gets to her feet. She opens her mouth to ask about her father, but the words won’t come.
‘Your father was very badly hurt in the crash,’ the doctor continues. ‘He’s just come from surgery. He has some serious internal injuries. We have stopped the bleeding. It’s up to him now.’
‘He’s going to be all right, though. Isn’t he?’
‘I hope so, Miss Lawson. But, I have to be honest. It’s touch and go.’
The words are so terrible, Lizzie lets them wash past her as if by ignoring them she can pretend they were never spoken. ‘Can I see him? I have to see him. Please.’ If she can just hold her dad’s hand, everything will be all right. She knows it will.
‘Of course. Come with me. He’s still unconscious at the moment, but you can sit with him.’
That man on the bed can’t be her father. Lizzie barely recognises him. His face is swollen and livid with bruising. A heavy bandage covers the top of his head. His chest is bandaged too. She sees a dark patch where the blood has seeped through. There are tubes running to both his arms, and another directing oxygen into his nose.
‘His face? You didn’t tell me he’d hurt his head.’
‘The head injury is not severe,’ the doctor tells her as he checks the monitors by her father’s bed. ‘It’s a nasty wound, but not life threatening.’
He doesn’t say it, but Lizzie’s mind finishes the sentence: the head wound isn’t life threatening, but his other injuries are. She steps to the bedside and reaches for his hand. Her fingers stop a hair’s breadth from actually touching him.
‘It’s all right,’ the doctor says. ‘Be careful of the lines, but you can hold his hand. Talk to him too. A familiar voice will comfort him.’
‘He can hear me?’
‘Maybe. It certainly can’t hurt for you to talk to him.’
Lizzie takes her father’s hand. ‘Dad. It’s me. Lizzie. I’m here, Dad.’ The tears are running down her face now, and she makes no effort to wipe them away. ‘Dad, I’m here. I am so sorry. I never meant for this to happen, Dad. Please forgive me.’
She doesn’t see the doctor leave. Her eyes never leave Sam’s face. The words continue to flow, but Lizzie has no idea what she’s saying. She doesn’t dare stop talking. Because if she does, she might lose him.
Lizzie doesn’t know how long she stays there talking to him. Time doesn’t matter. But at last his eyes flicker.
‘Dad. Dad? It’s Lizzie. Can you hear me, Dad?’
On the bed, her father’s head moves a little. Then his eyes flicker again. They open, but it seems to Lizzie a very long time before he’s able to look at her.
‘Lizzie …’ His voice is rough and so weak she can hardly hear him. But it is the best sound she has ever heard.
‘Dad. I’m here.’
Does she feel his fingers move? She holds his hand even more tightly.
‘What—’
‘Shh. Don’t try to talk. There was an accident, Dad. You’re in hospital.’
‘Kayla? Your mother?’
What can she say? She knows her mother is gone, even if the fact of it hasn’t really struck home yet. But she can’t tell her father that. Not now.
‘They’re being looked after, Dad. You mustn’t worry. Just lie still. I’ll call the doctor.’
‘Lizzie … I had to get to you. I didn’t want you to …’ Sam’s eyes widen as one of the bedside monitors shrieks a loud alarm.
‘Dad—Dad!’
Suddenly a nurse appears, then another. Lizzie is physically pulled out of the room as more medical staff enter.
‘Dad!’ She fights to get back into the room, but a nurse restrains her.
‘He’s in good hands. Please wait here. Let us do our jobs.’ The nurse guides Lizzie to the waiting area and pushes her unresisting body into a chair.
Confused and more frightened than ever, Lizzie stares at the door to her father’s room. All the walls and doors in ICU are glass, and while this might help the medical staff monitor their patients, it’s not helping Lizzie. She can see the urgent movements of the team around Sam’s bed. She can see them place the paddles on his chest and step back. She can see the jerk of her father’s body as the current hits him. She can see the nurse shake her head.
‘Lizzie. Lizzie.’
Mitch is there. She turns to him as he sits beside her and reaches for her hands.
‘I’m sorry. It took so long to find you. How is your dad? Have you heard?’
He stops speaking as the doctor approaches. Lizzie stands up, eyes glued to the doctor’s face. She shrugs off Mitch’s hand and squares her shoulders for what she knows is coming.
‘Miss Lawson … I am so very sorry.’
CHAPTER
48
The noise level was astonishing. Almost painful. Kayla winced as Lachie yelled something from the other side of the buffet table. She didn’t catch more than a word or two. She smiled and shrugged. He nodded his head in the direction of the terrace and the two of them fought their way through the crowd. The terrace was only marginally less noisy and crowded than the ballroom, but it was an improvement.
Lachie put his arms around Kayla’s waist and guided her to the far end of the terrace, where the view opened to show the Harbour Bridge, with all its lights shining. He glanced at his watch.
‘I’m done. What about you?’
‘I am so done!’ Kayla checked her phone again. There were no messages. No missed calls. No emergencies she had to deal with. ‘Who gets married on Christmas Eve? Really? A totally stupid idea.’
‘I’ve got an idea that’s not totally stupid.’ Lachie took Kayla by the shoulders and pulled her close. ‘How about you and I take off?’ he whispered in her ear. ‘We can start our Christmas break a bit early. I’ve got a surprise for you.’
‘Oh—I love a surprise.’ Kayla couldn’t help but smile. ‘What is it?’
‘Ah, that would be telling. Are we on?’
‘Yes, we are. Just let me text Pascale.’
‘No. No. The minute you text her, she’ll have some reason for you to stay. Come on. Don’t be so noble. Remember what I said—a surprise.’
Kayla resisted for all of ten seconds while her conscience told her she was technically still on duty. But her work was all done and it was Christmas Eve … almost Christmas Day. It wouldn’t hurt to give in to temptation this once. And Lachie was so tempting with that wicked grin and blue eyes. With all the time she’d spent at Willowbrook, she’s neglected him. Not to mention that right now, she could use a bit of Lachie’s magical TLC. She pulled out her phone one last time and with a flourish, turned it off.
‘That’s my girl.’ Lachie kissed her. ‘Let’s blow this popsicle stand.’
They headed for the lift. Several wedding guests shared the ride to the ground floor with them and then there was the inevitable wait for a taxi. By the time they pulled up outside her building, Kayla was tired. Still, once she and Lachie were alone, she was pretty sure that feeling would go away pretty fast.
‘Wait here. This won’t take long,’ Lachie told the driver as he opened the taxi door.
Kayla frowned. ‘What do you mean? Aren’t you staying here tonight?’
‘No. And neither are you. We’ve just come to grab your things.’
‘What things?’
‘No questions. It’s a surprise, remember.’
Once they reached her apartment, Lachie relented enough to tell her what to pack: a bikini, shorts and sunscreen, sunglasses and a hat. Based on that, Kayla packed an overnight bag with everything a girl would need for a weekend at the beach and a night or two in a fancy hotel with her man.
‘I’m ready.’
‘One last thing.’ Lachie held out his hand. ‘Phone.’
‘What?’
‘No phones. Here’s mine.’ He pulled it out of his pocket and
put it on her coffee table. ‘Now yours.’
‘But—’
‘No buts. You work too hard. We both work too hard. When did you last properly relax and enjoy yourself? Well, for the next two days, we are both unavailable. Not for work. Not for our family and friends either. These two days are just for us.’
It sounded a lot like heaven, but still Kayla hesitated. It was Christmas and there would be people calling her. Liz might even phone, now they were talking again. What if there was a last-minute glitch at the wedding party they’d just left? Or—
‘Come on. It’s Christmas Day in about three minutes. Take a day off. Take two of them. The world won’t come to an end, you know.’
He was right. She was a wedding planner not a brain surgeon. No one was going to die if she wasn’t on call. Kayla firmly placed the phone on her table next to his.
‘Let’s go.’
‘Great!’
Lachie took her hand and they left the apartment. The taxi was waiting as requested. Lachie gave the driver instructions so quietly that Kayla didn’t hear. They continued to hold hands for the short drive to the nearby marina.
‘What are we—’
‘Come on.’ Lachie paid the driver and grabbed Kayla’s bag out of the boot. He took her hand and let her into the marina. Kayla looked around, pleased she had changed out of her work wear into slacks and flat shoes. Quite a few of the moorings were empty. Lights were on in one or two of the boats. Lachie led her to a graceful white cruiser. He leaped on board, then held his hand out to her.
‘Welcome aboard,’ he said.
He went to the pilot’s chair and flicked some switches. Lights came on and Kayla almost gasped as she looked through the sliding glass doors into the boat’s luxurious cabin. She slid the doors open and walked inside. At the far end of the cabin, steps led down to what appeared to be a beautifully equipped kitchen. And beyond that, no doubt, an equally impressive bedroom. It was a toy. A beautiful expensive toy.
‘This is lovely, Lachie.’
‘Isn’t it, though? And it’s fully stocked with Champagne and caviar. Everything we might need. I thought a couple of days cruising around the harbour, or if the weather is good, we could head up to the Hawkesbury. Just the two of us.’
‘What a wonderful idea. But whose boat is it? Did you rent it?’
‘No. I bought it.’ He beamed at her with that cheeky, proud-little-boy grin.
‘You bought it? But I thought you were going to buy an apartment.’
‘I was. But then I saw her.’ Lachie ran a hand lovingly over the polished wood of the bar. ‘And I fell in love. You know me, I can be totally crazy when I’m in love. She’s my Christmas present to myself.’
Lachie disappeared behind the bar to emerge with a bottle of his favourite Champagne and two glasses. As she drank with him, Kayla’s thoughts wandered to her sister. She wondered what Liz would be doing. This adventure with Lachie had put paid to her plan to call Liz to wish her a merry Christmas. It shouldn’t matter too much. She and Liz hadn’t exchanged gifts or even cards for the past few years. But things had changed and they were closer now than they had been. Kayla could have, should have, done something. It was too late now. This one time, she was not going to do the right thing. And she wasn’t going to let herself think too much about the fact that the Champagne she was drinking probably cost more than whatever Christmas dinner Liz might have planned for herself.
Lachie pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and Kayla forgot all about her sister.
‘Right. Let’s get underway.’
Lachie seemed to know what he was doing. He darted around the boat, smiling and singing under his breath, while handling ropes with a knowledgeable air. Then he started the engine and the elegant craft pulled away from its mooring. He wasn’t in a hurry. The engine sound was a low hum as they cruised around the dark headland and out into the harbour.
Kayla relaxed on the soft upholstery, Champagne in her hand as they passed under the brightly lit arch of the Harbour Bridge. In the distance, the graceful curves of the Opera House glowed red and green and gold with a special Christmas light show. Behind the wheel, Lachie looked handsome and happy and when he glanced at her, his eyes glowed with the promise of a wonderful time ahead. Kayla took another sip and gazed up at the inky sky. The stars glistened like diamonds on fine velvet. It was perfect.
Almost.
Kayla knew it was a trick of the ambient light of a city, but she couldn’t help thinking that the stars shone just a little bit more brightly above Willowbrook Station.
CHAPTER
49
Christmas Day was not a day for lingering in bed. Liz leaped up as soon as she opened her eyes. The past tended to come flooding back when she lay in bed. A lot of memories were hard to take, but none more so than Christmas memories. So Liz pretended today was like any other day and got up at her usual time. She didn’t turn on the radio in the kitchen as she normally did. It would be nothing but Christmas carols and Christmas stories and she didn’t want to hear them. But as she was making breakfast, she had a change of heart. This Christmas was a little bit different. She and Kayla were mending bridges. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to call her sister and wish her a merry Christmas. After all, they were family, and family really was important.
Mug of tea in hand, Liz dialled Kayla’s number. She leaned against the kitchen bench and listened to Kayla’s phone ring … and ring. Then she heard her sister’s voice.
‘Sorry, I’m not able to take your call right now. Please leave a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you.’
Liz didn’t leave a message. Feeling strangely disappointed, she didn’t bother washing her dishes but headed straight to the stables. The horses knew nothing about Christmas. They would be her best companions today.
She distributed the morning feeds and then allowed herself to take a little time to lean on the fence of the mare’s paddock. Little Vega was feeling particularly fine this morning. The filly skittered about the yard, tossing her head and kicking up her heels. Although she was the youngest, she was the leader of the gang and her five older siblings followed behind.
Six foals were not enough to support a stud. She needed outside mares to generate stud fees and to bring in agistment fees. Her paddocks held only her horses now, and they looked very empty. The next stud season was eight months away; that’s how long Deimos had to prove himself. How long she had to prove him. Getting herself in debt with Pascale might have restored the homestead, but it hadn’t really improved her financial position. The photo shoot and the wedding had kept the bank from her door, but only just. It had helped pay her feed bill, but there was a lot more to running a horse stud than simply feeding the few horses she had left.
The King of the Ranges competition was two months away. That was going to be her turning point. She and Deimos had to win. The competition was more about the rider than the horse, but if she won, people would notice Deimos. By then hopefully another wedding or two would give her the money to start taking the stallion around some shows. People needed to see him. And he needed to start winning both as a led horse and under saddle.
She returned to Deimos, who had finished his breakfast and was looking out over the top of his stall, eager for his morning ride.
‘Not today, boy. Today you get a day off.’ The horses could have a holiday. But not her. There was too much to do.
She turned Deimos into the round yard to stretch his legs before heading to the machinery shed. She loaded tools and wire and a chainsaw into the back of her old four-wheel-drive ute and set out across the paddock. She found a suitable-looking spot and stopped. If Deimos was going to start winning, she needed to push him a little harder. She lifted the chainsaw from the tray of the ute and approached a dead gum tree that was still standing, its bleached white branches stark against the blue sky. This would be her starting point. She pulled the starter on the saw. The engine roared into the quiet of the day as the chain bit into the timber.
Liz didn’t stop for lunch. By the time the sun was starting to move lower in the sky, she had built three good-sized jumps from timber she had felled. She stood looking at the last one. This was the most difficult. It was on a slope and could be approached either uphill or down. It barely reached her waist, but it was almost as broad as it was high. Deimos wasn’t quite ready for it yet, but he soon would be.
Liz wiped the sweat from her face and took a long drink from her almost empty water bottle. Her muscles ached and she was tired. But it was a good tiredness. It was born of honest hard work, not of sleepless nights or stress. She put her tools in the ute and returned to the homestead and her evening chores.
By the time the horses were bedded down for the night, her feet were dragging. She wanted nothing more than a refreshing shower and a chance to relax. Despite missing lunch, she was too exhausted to think about food. There must be some bread she could toast; that would do. And afterwards, maybe she would fall asleep … and perhaps even sleep the whole night through.
As she approached the house, she saw something by the back door: a parcel wrapped in shiny red paper to remind her of what she had been trying to forget all day. Who on earth would leave a Christmas present on her doorstep?
Her first thought was her sister. Had Kayla driven all the way from Sydney? There was no sign of her car, and she wouldn’t have come all this way just to leave a gift and then go. Liz hadn’t been that far from the homestead. Kayla would have found her if she’d looked.
If not Kayla then who?
She picked the box up and looked for a card. There was none. She took it inside and placed it on the kitchen table. She started to unwrap it, trying hard not to think how long it was since she had last unwrapped a Christmas present. As she opened the bright paper, Liz exposed another layer, this time of bubble wrap. So, whatever it was, this gift was breakable. She picked at the tape holding the bubble wrap in place, biting her lip in frustration because her short nails weren’t able to lift it. She found a pair of scissors in a drawer and carried on with her task.
