When Ella went to speak, it was Violet who patted her hand. ‘Ambleside is your home now and you need to make it yours.’
Violet glanced at Saul and in the intensity of her gaze he saw sadness and pain, but also contentment. He nodded as he read her unspoken message. She cared for Ella just like she was her own daughter and Violet was trusting him with Ella’s heart.
‘If you’re sure?’ Ella’s low question had Violet look at her again.
‘I am, sweetheart. You need space for all those teenagers.’
Violet’s smile and light tone appeared to reassure Ella. She nodded as she settled back in her chair. ‘Next trip to town I’ll pick up some more boxes.’
After they both promised to see Violet soon, he followed Ella out into the warm night.
When she turned to him, he pulled her close and kissed her temple. ‘Are you okay about Violet’s decision?’
‘I’m just a little stunned. But if what we discovered about why Libby left has given Violet closure then that’s more than we could have hoped for.’
Hand in hand, they strolled along the path. Crickets chirped from the manicured lawn kept green by bore water, while overhead the moon was now surrounded by faint pinpricks of starlight.
When they reached their parked cars, Ella looked back at Violet’s door. ‘I can’t believe we were sprung.’
‘Do you mind that Violet knows?’
He didn’t realise how much Ella’s response mattered until she shook her head. ‘What about you?’
He too shook his head. ‘Noel knows as well.’
‘I thought so. When I texted you, I saw him look across to where you checked your phone.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘So … your place or mine?’
‘Yours. There’s no guinea fowls.’
He silenced her soft and husky laughter with a kiss.
CHAPTER
17
This would teach her to try and beat the Saturday lunchtime peak-hour traffic.
Ella sighed as she waited for a stream of cars to pass so she could turn onto the main street from the side road that ran in front of the vet clinic. She’d finished work and for a change was out the door before Penny. At Penny’s surprised look she’d mumbled something about having a busy day. The truth was she couldn’t wait to get home to Saul.
Her fingers tapped on the steering wheel as the cars and utes filed past. Between the farmers’ markets and kids’ sport events, half of the district seemed to be in town. The hay runner trucks had also passed through. A client who’d had a puppy with a grass seed in its ear had mentioned people were lined along the roadside with signs and flags to wish the truck convoy well.
Finally there was a break in the traffic and Ella joined the queue leaving town. Scattered across the bitumen were small pieces of straw that had blown off from the hay bales heading west. Even as she watched they were swept into the air by the wind accompanying the approaching cold front that would deliver everything but rain. She hoped Saul’s neighbour had their new water tank tied down.
The green streetscape soon gave way to bare and parched hills dotted with galvanised iron sheep and cattle feeders. Stock tracks ran like veins through the dust towards near-empty dams. She glanced at a mob of sheep that were almost indistinguishable against their paddock backdrop. Their coats contained so much red dust she didn’t envy the shearers when it came time for shearing. If it didn’t rain Woodlea would soon be on the hay convoy’s itinerary.
She turned onto the road that wouldn’t only take her home but also to Saul. They had a whole one and a half days together and she had nothing organised. Once the thought of having no set plans, let alone unlimited time with Saul, would have knotted her stomach. Now, while they weren’t a couple, it felt right to have him in her space and for her to spend time at his place. As much as she’d maintained she’d been happy on her own, she now realised how alone she’d felt.
She drove through her front gate and ignored the insistent voice that questioned her decision to keep a safe emotional distance between them. She couldn’t change the status quo even if she wanted to, even if what Saul felt for her was half as strong as what she felt for him. Their friends-with-benefits label was the only thing making her feel as though everything was under control.
She parked in the carport. Now it was the weekend, Saul and Duke would be over later and she’d be extra glad of their company. As much as it saddened her, after lunch she’d heed Violet’s request and start packing up her youngest daughter’s room.
Even when the room no longer held Libby’s possessions, the light and cosy bedroom would always be hers. Ella just had to think of a use that would be a fitting tribute. Daniel at the police station had passed on that at the time Libby’s childhood friend Fee apparently hadn’t known anything about Libby planning to leave. Ella didn’t know if it was foolishness, or simply stubbornness, but until she talked to this Fee and there really was no more hope, she’d continue to leave the veranda light on. So far she’d discovered three possible Sydney matches for Libby’s old friend in the online telephone directory.
As Ella left the driver’s seat, a gust of wind blew her hair across her face. Once in the kitchen, she sat her bag on the bench and called Saul. She’d check that he’d had lunch in case he wanted to have some with her. When his phone went to voicemail, she left a brief message. He’d be busy fixing the roof on the cement water tank that had lost half of its tin.
She placed her mobile on the bench only to pick it up again as it rang. Except it wasn’t Saul calling.
‘Hi, Hewitt.’
‘Hi, this will just be quick. Fliss is flat out as a road train has hit a car east of town but she’s worried about Violet. There’s a massive dust storm coming and the hospital at Trangie is already treating people for breathing problems.’
‘I’ll check on her.’ Violet’s asthma could render her vulnerable and while she’d be well supported in Woodlea Lodge her ingrained independence might make her slow to seek help. ‘I haven’t heard anything about a storm, though.’
‘Pictures are just appearing on the net. I’d better get the horses in. I left a message for Saul, but it might be worth you following up.’
‘Will do.’
She ended the call and scrolled through her social media feed. Images posted from friends further west showed a sky-high wall of red dust rolling in billowing waves eastwards. She dialled Saul’s number as she raced to the front veranda. Whatever he was doing his phone mustn’t be close by. She stepped outside and her hair again blew across her face. But while the tops of trees swayed and windows rattled, below the clouds the sky appeared its usual airbrushed blue.
When Saul’s number went through to voicemail again she left another message. It was unusual but not a cause for concern that she couldn’t reach him. When it came to farm safety and working with his bison he wasn’t one to take risks. He’d be on the ladder, with both hands busy, fixing the tank roof.
After making sure Cinnamon and Nutmeg had food and water in their shed for when they sought shelter, she returned to prepare a sandwich. Before the wind became too fierce and made it nerve-racking to drive, she’d text Violet to see if she wanted company. When the wind gusts whistled beneath the roof eaves she abandoned her lunch to reach for the phone. As she sent Violet a text, she massaged her scar. She usually avoided being out in any type of storm.
While she waited for Violet’s reply she messaged Claire who was the on-call weekend vet saying she was free if she needed any help. It wasn’t just humans that could have respiratory difficulties from breathing in the fine dust particles. The extreme heat had already seen an increase of breathing problems in the short-nosed dog breeds. Once the dust storm hit there would be even more of a reason for local pugs and bulldogs to be kept inside.
Her phone chimed like the church bell tower on Cressy’s wedding day as a flood of messages came in. Violet answered to say that she would be fine and to not come in. She’d sit her asthma puffer within reach beside her chair. Clair
e’s message said she’d been busy and hadn’t known about the incoming storm, and Cressy’s told her to stay safe as her side of town would be hit first.
She replied to each and then, coming to her feet, grabbed her bag. If she left it too much longer to hear from Saul she wouldn’t have the confidence to get behind the wheel to check on him. It wasn’t just the tops of the trees now bending in the wind.
As she drove through her front gate there was no doubt about what would soon arrive. Her windscreen framed the western horizon, which was now a mass of billowing red clouds. She shuddered as twigs and leaves slapped against her side windows. The light had dimmed, reducing visibility, and she leaned forward to get a better look before she turned onto the road.
A cluster of leaves bounced off the windscreen and she wrapped her clammy hands tighter around the steering wheel. A dull ache throbbed behind her scar. She wasn’t in England on a narrow lane lined with hedges. She wasn’t in a snowstorm where the only thing she could see were heavy, blinding white flakes. She was fine.
The black metal fence flanking Saul’s entryway loomed in the fading light and the four-wheel drive rattled as she crossed the cattle grid. Saul still hadn’t called, or texted, and the feeling that something could be wrong lifted the hairs on her nape. Grey flashed to her right as Duke appeared and she released a sigh to dispel her tension. Saul had to be over in the sheds. Maybe his phone was flat.
She followed Duke as he raced past the bison handling yards and the stables where Cisco and Amber were inside and protected. In the paddocks to her left bison appeared as dark, solid shapes as they waited for the dust storm to reach them. Unlike cows that tended to drift with the wind, bison turned towards a storm and walked through it.
Beyond the stables stood the concrete water tank, except there was no gator parked at its base or any sign of Saul. By now the wind gusts had the power to rock the four-wheel drive and an orange haze had replaced the waning daylight. Cockatoos screeched as they fought the wind to land on the solid cream bough of a gum tree. A flock of crested pigeons took flight and flew in the direction of the open-bay hayshed. She clenched her teeth against the need to also seek shelter and kept following Duke.
He led her to a small shed tucked away beyond the other farm improvements. With its rusted iron and irregular shape, it would have been an original farm shed. The sight of a gator out the front ushered in a rush of relief. After fixing the tank roof Saul must have gone to work on the shed, which looked as though iron was missing from a side wall. Except as she drove closer she realised that two-thirds of the wall had collapsed. The roar of the wind faded. Her heart beat in her ears. Iron and timber weren’t the only things lying on the ground.
She came to an abrupt stop. Uncaring that the storm tore at her clothes and whipped tears into her eyes, she left her four-wheel drive and ran over to where Saul lay on his back. Duke now sat beside him. The toppled ladder, the phone that lay a distance away and the bloodied handprints on the corrugated iron told their own story. The unstable wall had given way in the wind. Saul must have been conscious enough to drag himself out from under the wreckage.
Her fingers found his pulse as she bent over his mouth to check his breathing. Beside her, Duke’s whine thinned as it was swept away. At the strong pound of Saul’s pulse and the regular undulations of his chest, she assessed him further. A gash on his hand appeared to be the main source of blood. The dark stain at the top of his left arm and the unnatural angle suggested a compound fracture and his unresponsiveness a head injury.
Keeping a hand on his chest to reassure herself that he was alive, she pulled her phone free from her shirt pocket. Between the storm and the road-train accident they could be waiting a while for an ambulance. In the meantime she had a blanket in the car to keep Saul warm and a first-aid kit. She glanced around. If she moved her four-wheel drive it would also block the main force of the storm. Once the dust hit she’d just have to improvise with a tarp to provide them with as much coverage as possible. If Duke would leave Saul, he could shelter in the four-wheel drive.
She went to dial triple zero when Saul’s hand stilled her fingers. Her attention flew to his face and his dark eyes met hers. Talking was impossible. The wind stole her words even as she opened her mouth, so she pressed a kiss to his forehead before pointing to his arm. His hand briefly left hers to gesture towards her four-wheel drive. She shook her head. She wasn’t moving him. She lifted her phone to call an ambulance and this time his hand covered her phone. The strength of his grip reassured her he was fully conscious.
Sand and a fine, stinging grit peppered her face. Saul’s gaze didn’t leave hers. His message was obvious. He wanted her to take him to hospital and not the ambulance. She frowned as she made a gesture of a sling. Now wasn’t time for a battle of wills over how badly he was injured. To her relief his hand dropped away from her phone in a silent agreement he did need his arm stabilised.
She raced to retrieve her first-aid kit. When she returned Saul had manoeuvred himself into a sitting position. White beneath his tan, he didn’t grimace or move as she applied pressure with a clean bandage and then used a sling to immobilise his arm.
He again pointed to her car and this time she nodded. He wasn’t showing any further signs of injury and she needed to get him to help as well as out of the storm. She assisted him to his feet and then into the passenger seat. Moving as fast as she could, she opened the back seat door for Duke to jump inside and went to collect Saul’s smashed phone.
As she slid into her seat, she dialled the hospital. After a quick call to say what had happened and that she was bringing Saul in, she glanced at him. Her mouth dried. His head was tipped back, eyes closed and his good hand lay lax against his thigh. He’d again passed out.
The storm lashed at the glass and steel sheltering them as if determined to gain entry, but she couldn’t take hold of the steering wheel. Her leg burned from where long ago metal had ripped through the flesh. She was again trapped in a car. She again had a man appear lifeless beside her. Things again were beyond her control.
A wet doggy nose brushed her cheek. The touch jarred her out of the past and into the present. She shivered and forced herself to focus. ‘You’re right. We need to get going.’
She started the engine and swallowed down her terror at having to drive when she could barely see and sat straighter in her seat. Unlike on that narrow and icy English country lane, she knew the road well. Unlike last time, the road had two lanes and there wouldn’t be a tractor coming head-on.
With every blurred landmark that passed they were that little bit closer to the hospital. But with every anxious sideways glance at Saul and every touch to his motionless arm, her emotions unravelled until there was nothing inside but a familiar hollow and numb void.
From day one she’d known she needed to stay away from him, and she hadn’t. Saul made her feel more than anyone else ever had. But with love came great highs as well as lows. With hope came intense happiness and also fear. She’d never felt such disarray or vulnerability. She couldn’t take away Saul’s pain, let alone make his eyes open.
She needed certainty. She needed to feel empowered. It was the only way she’d survived the loss of her brother and the disintegration of her family. The only way she’d physically healed and made a new life for herself after leaving England. The only way she knew how to cope.
Throat tight with unshed tears, she glanced at Saul who still hadn’t regained consciousness. Love wasn’t enough. A friends-with-benefits label wouldn’t protect her. The only thing that would was being alone.
Saul knew he was in hospital. There was no mistaking the sterile smell, the muted sounds and the sense of confinement. Tape was strapped to his hand, which meant he had a drip. He must have had surgery again.
His eyelids refused to lift. He just didn’t know what hospital, what town or what lapse in judgement he’d made this time to be thrown from a bull. His head pounded as though it would implode. His left arm felt leaden and there wer
e other aching parts of his body that reminded him he wasn’t getting any younger.
A memory of wide brown eyes and a beautiful but pale face had his eyelids almost open. Snippets of a conversation returned. In a moment of awareness he’d told the solemn female doctor that he wasn’t staying a week in her emergency department. He also thought he’d been in an ambulance.
‘Saul.’
A man’s voice said his name and he forced his eyelids to lift. Denham was with him and would get him out of there. He dreaded the time when they’d both come off second best against a rodeo bull and neither would be in a state to get the other home.
Denham touched his hand and he fought to think clearly through the confusion and disorientation dulling his brain.
‘Welcome back.’
Saul went to nod and then spoke instead. ‘Thanks.’
His voice was a harsh croak. Memories crashed over him. He knew exactly where he was and what had happened. The shed wall had given way when he’d been securing a piece of tin. He’d managed to get the heavy weight off him but couldn’t make it over to where his phone had fallen. What he didn’t know was why he felt an acute sense of uneasiness that far outweighed any reaction he’d had to any other anaesthetic. The image of Ella’s face again appeared. She hadn’t only looked worried; there’d been a bleakness in her gaze he hadn’t seen before.
He went to say her name.
Denham spoke quietly. ‘There’s been a dust storm … Ella’s in Woodlea helping. We’re in Dubbo Hospital because your arm needed a plate.’
‘How long?’
‘You’ll have to stay here tonight but Fliss’s working on getting you back to Woodlea so you can have your IV antibiotics there.’
He frowned.
‘I’m sorry, mate. If I could I’d break you out but Fliss made me promise I wouldn’t. She said you’d also need a couple of days in Woodlea Hospital. Duke’s with Ella and Tanner’s feeding those bison of yours, which all weathered the storm fine. I also spoke to Nathan and he said he’d call tomorrow.’
The Boundary Fence (A Woodlea Novel, #7) Page 26
