“Tell me what happened,” she said, neutral and matter-of-fact.
She focused on Mick. He was standing beside the black van, holding the two would-be kidnappers at gunpoint.
“Just get me to North Shore Hospital. My obstetrician is there. At North Shore Private.”
“Sure thing, love, we’ll get you there in a jiffy.”
Amelia nodded, not taking her eyes off Mick. The police had arrived and his weapon was now nowhere to be seen. As if he felt her gaze, he looked and their eyes met.
“Thank you,” she mouthed.
He nodded, then with a glance around he slipped into the crowd, away from the authorities. By the time the ambulance doors crashed shut, Amelia had already lost sight of him.
Loneliness descended on her. She wanted him there, in the ambulance with her. She wanted to feel safe.
The ambulance had her at the hospital within five minutes and she was whisked to the delivery ward where the nurses attached her to an ECG machine. Amelia relaxed as the baby’s heartbeat, thundering away at high speed, came loud and clear through the microphone. Though she fought to hold them back, tears trickled down her face.
“Hey,” said the nurse, patting her hand. “Baby is OK. But we need to do something about your nose.”
Another nurse stuck her head in the door and interrupted. “Mick Avery is here. Your partner?”
Amelia nodded.
Mick appeared behind the nurse, his eyes searching troubled.
“Listen,” Amelia said. “That’s the baby’s heartbeat. She’s OK.”
“Thank God,” he muttered and sank into a chair beside the bed. “Never do that to me again.”
“I’ll try my best,” she said dryly.
“I’ll leave you hooked up to the ECG for another twenty minutes. Your obstetrician will be over to see you after that and then we’ll fix the rest of you up,” said the nurse before she left the room.
For a moment neither of them said anything. Both too shell-shocked from the events of the morning.
“I reckon your nose is broken,” he said.
She raised a hand to touch it.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “It’ll hurt.”
She touched it anyway. It felt double its usual size and when she squinted she could see a lot more of it than usual. She pressed gently, and pain shot through her face, expanding quickly into a headache that had probably been there all along. “Ah,” she gasped. “I hadn’t realized.”
“No, you were too worried about the baby.” Affection flashed in his eyes and warmth blossomed in the centre of her chest.
“You know my father offered to buy me a nose job when I turned eighteen?”
“I think your nose is perfect the way it is.”
She laughed. “What, squashed?”
Mick shook his head. “If they set it now it’ll be fine.”
“I’m not sure they’ll do that. I mean I’m not having any operations or anything unless it is life or death. Way too risky . . .”
“. . . for the baby.” He grinned, so quickly she might have imagined it. “I’m proud of you.”
The tears, still close to the surface, threatened to spill over again. “I’m not proud of myself. I’m so ashamed about what my father did to you.”
“Your father?”
“Well, you didn’t think I accused you of assault, did you?”
The brief silence spoke volumes.
“Did you?” she asked again. But then, why wouldn’t he?
“I have learned not to jump to conclusions,” he said neutrally. “We’ll talk later. I promise.”
Amelia’s obstetrician came into the room just as her mobile phone sprang into life. She checked the number, but knew it was her father, wondering where the hell she was and demanding she get to the meeting. Kidnap attempts and busted noses would not be considered reasonable excuses. She hit the Off button.
Let him sweat.
The obstetrician gave her and the baby a thorough examination.
Mick melted when he saw his child on the grainy screen of the ultrasound for the first time. He reached for Amelia’s hand, his grip warm and reassuring. He didn’t let go until the baby was given the all-clear.
After a short discussion with the obstetrician about her nose and the risks of having surgery to get it fixed, Amelia was discharged. Mick drove her home.
When they arrived Joss and her mother kicked up a huge fuss until Amelia snapped at them. “Both of you, stop,” she snarled. “Mick looked after me. The baby is fine. But I’m in pain and the only painkillers I can take for this broken nose are these very mild ones. Please, go – cook, knit, do whatever it is you do – and leave me the hell alone.”
Amelia’s mother turned a sympathetic smile on Mick. “She’s all yours. I wish you luck.”
“Mum,” growled Amelia.
“So like her father,” was her mother’s parting shot.
“I’m going to bed.” Amelia squeezed Mick’s hand.
“Good idea.”
“Will you . . .”
“I’ll be here. Don’t worry. Nothing is going to hurt you. Not on my watch.”
Mick inspected the fridge. He’d been doing some research via his phone on what pregnant women could and couldn’t eat. He’d never dreamed it’d be so complicated.
There was a tap on the front door, and Joss – whose role in the family he hadn’t really figured out – backed in slowly. She pulled a trolley in after herself, a self-heated device that you’d find in a swish hotel when you ordered room service.
“There’s chicken soup for Amelia when she gets up. I thought something easy to eat would be best after her fall. And I’ve done steak for you, with hollandaise sauce. You do like hollandaise sauce, don’t you?”
“Indeed I do,” agreed Mick. It smelled divine and he realized that the can of soda and packet of chips, which had been the only food he could find at stupid o’clock that morning when he’d taken a short break after another night in the car, were now a very distant memory.
“Sit, eat. I’d like to talk to you.”
Mick did as she suggested. “Melia and I will figure things out,” he said conversationally, but with enough finality to suggest that he would not be discussing his relationship with her any further.
Joss started in. “I’m an army brat, you know? My father died in Vietnam after a long and distinguished career. I know, Mick, more than her parents will ever understand, how badly Amelia needs someone like you in her life.”
The steak cut like butter and melted in his mouth. He let the silence lengthen, but it didn’t seem to bother Joss much, she waited for him to speak.
“Why was she in Timor in the first place?” he asked to change the subject.
Joss’s whole demeanour changed. She relaxed and grinned broadly. “Because she is just the most amazing girl. Her mother is a great one for charity work, and has instilled in Amelia the notion that you must give back something to society. Of course, in her mother’s terms, this is mostly organizing and wafting about at high-profile charity events. In Amelia’s terms, however, it means rolling up your sleeves and getting your hands dirty helping, not just writing cheques.”
“So she was doing volunteer work?”
Jocelyn nodded. “The orphanage at Maubara is a particular interest of hers. You’ll know there was a terrible massacre there in 1999, the year Timor became independent from Indonesia. More than 200 people killed by the militia and, as a result, the town has a very high number of orphans.”
Mick nodded. There had been so many atrocities in that dreadful time. It was only one of many. “I was there, in Timor, in 1999. I know what it was like.”
Joss paused, obviously groping for some word of commiseration, but then gave up. After all, what could she say?
“Well, Amelia took the orphanage under her wing. Money, books, computers, good food. She does everything she can for the children. Two have even passed the International Baccalaureate and now she’s mentoring the
m through Australian universities. Hang around a few days and you’ll meet them, they come for dinner once a week. Lovely kids.”
“I’m not sure how welcome I’ll be,” said Mick.
Joss rolled her eyes. “You didn’t ask me what I meant when I said Amelia needed someone like you, did you?”
Mick lifted a shoulder. “I figured you’d get around to it.”
“I know something of the Special Forces. I know your calibre, Mick. You operate under the radar. You are very good at blending into the background. People like you are called ‘grey men’.”
“Or chicken stranglers,” he interrupted with a grin. He wasn’t happy with the direction of the conversation. He just did his job. What he’d been trained for. A lot of the time the romance and mystique attached to men in the special forces just made him feel deeply uncomfortable.
“Amelia needs a grey man. Someone who is willing to step back, let her do her thing. She’ll be running AustraTimo Oil before you know it, and doing a damn sight better job than her father. She needs someone to love her and support her. Her idiot father is still trying to marry her off as some trophy wife, and have her husband take over her role in the company.”
“And my father couldn’t bear the thought of all his plans ruined because I was having a baby,” said Amelia from the doorway.
Joss jumped visibly. Mick didn’t. He’d heard her walk down the passageway.
“There’s soup,” said Mick, pointing at the covered dish with his fork. He whistled low. “Your bruise is going to be amazing. How are you feeling?”
“Horrible,” she said. “And this bandaging they’ve stuck all over my face is itching.”
“Well, I think you look beautiful. I believe black is the new black, and surely that applies to eyes.”
“How’s the baby?” asked Joss.
“Kicking. A lot.”
“That’s good to hear. I’ll see you in the morning, love. Night, Mick.”
Joss slipped out of the door.
“I know that you didn’t go to the authorities and make claims of assault. I only thought it for a few minutes. Then you turned up at the hospital, and I knew that something else was going on.”
“I was so furious with my father. He went to Cairns to hide from me.”
Mick nodded. “Impressive.”
“Oh, I’m not nearly done with him yet. Trust me. I’ll fix things up for you as well.”
“These things stick, I’m afraid. The fact we are having a child that was conceived under unusual circumstances is going to come out.”
“Do you want to want to quit the Special Forces?”
He hesitated long enough that she knew the answer was no. But then said, “Shit happens, Melia. After all, I’m getting a daughter out of the mishap.”
“Mishap?” She smiled for the first time, then flinched and put her hands up to her bandaged nose.
“Your men, the men you work with, they won’t believe any of this, will they?”
“They’d know I’d never hurt an innocent civilian. It would never occur to them.”
“My father will retract his charges and explain the whole thing was fiction to the necessary people. His slander will not affect you any further,” she said sincerely. Phillip Dubonnier would lose a daughter – and a grandchild – if he refused.
“Here, eat. You’ll feel better.” Mick stood, put his empty plate in the sink and took the chicken soup to her. “My arm was very badly damaged in Timor. There’s been a real improvement but, after the first operation, I accepted that my days of active service were basically over.”
She frowned, “Let’s talk to some surgeons before you quit your career so quickly, no?”
He looked at his arm. “Maybe you’re right. I mean, I don’t really feel like I’m finished yet. There’s so much more I’d like to achieve in the field before I hang up my boots.”
“That’s settled then. How is your arm? Does it hurt?”
He shook his head. “Nah.” But then he hesitated. “Joss was right. I am a grey man. I slip under the radar. I’m trained to go unnoticed. I don’t admit to being in pain, emotional or physical. In my world you need to overcome these things very quickly and then deal with them when the crisis is over.”
“You can be honest with me. I think we will have to be. If we . . . If something . . .”
“Well. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He grinned and she smiled gingerly back.
“We’ve already seen everything,” she said, and then clutched her bandaged nose as she tried to laugh without moving any facial muscles.
Mick threw his head back and laughed. “Yes, but we were both stoned. It doesn’t count.”
“I thought you were too good to be true, until you turned up and were real.”
“I couldn’t forget you. You haunted me. Horrible operations, hours in hospitals watching daytime TV, you were never far from my thoughts.”
“So does it hurt?” she asked again.
He grimaced. “Like you would not believe. And I’ve spent two nights in my brother’s wretched car, and I’m exhausted, and still terrified that something could’ve happened to you.”
“You mean the baby?”
“I mean you. Mother of the baby. And that is more than I have admitted to anyone about anything in years. Now, if you would be so kind as to show me where I can sleep. I’m shattered.”
“Oh, my car is in the garage—”
“Don’t mess with me. I already figured out where your room is. Care for company?”
“I snore,” she said quickly. “C’mon. I’ll show you the guest room.”
It was a balmy day in Maubara.
The orphanage children tried to keep quiet, but couldn’t help giggling and whispering about the three helicopters parked in their playground and all the well-dressed people who looked like movie stars. They quietened though when they saw their beloved Amelia, dressed in a white dress and looking even more like a princess than usual.
The older girls sighed, envious of tall handsome Mick, in his army uniform, waiting for her with Clara. Balanced on Amelia’s hip was her grinning red-haired baby, Maggie. She reached for her daddy, gurgling and chattering as she was handed over.
Clara Eisenberg read out the solemn words of the ceremony. The children understood them all – they’d been getting ready for this day for weeks and weeks.
After the blissfully happy bride kissed the groom, everyone cheered, and the music started. But the bride and groom barely noticed. They only had eyes for each other.
Good Guys
Liz Muir
“I like watching you fight.” Jimmy flashed a grin at Summer as she wiped the blood from her cut lip. “You’re doing quite well today.” He handed her some ice for her eye.
Summer shook her head at her friend. “You do know that you’re a freak, right?”
“And that’s why you love me. Now, get back out there and punch him hard in the ribs. You’ve hurt him real good the last round so he’s protecting them a bit. Just hammer in there and he’ll go down in the next round or so.”
“What next round or so?” Summer pulled her shoulders back. “I’m finishing it now. I’ve got to get home in time to do some research for our new gig.”
Her opponent, Mike Hill, was maybe twenty-five, perhaps a year older and quite keen to make a good show for his friends who were all outside the ring, cheering him on loudly. To be paired with a girl, in his first fight at his new gym, was embarrassing. You could read the anger and annoyance in every line of his body.
Summer waited for the bell before she closed in on her opponent. He was the new guy, from one of the local constabularies, and clearly fancied himself a bit of a brawler, having taken a few lessons here and there, along with a bit of martial arts training at whichever academies would let him in. He had no real technique but he was fit and he easily outweighed her by around thirty pounds if not more. Summer didn’t see the extra weight and superior size as a problem. She was faster than most g
uys in the ring and had a good eye for placing her shots where they mattered.
“Come on, little girl, show me how you pretend to fight.” Mike bared his yellowed teeth at her in a leer. “And afterwards, I might even take you out for a drink first before I really knock the life out of you. And when I’m done, I’ll let my mates have you.”
Summer paused for a second. “I wouldn’t even pee on you if you were on fire, Hill. Now shut up and fight.”
Mike lunged at her, fist flying high and loose over her head as she ducked below it easily. Taking advantage of his wide-open side, she landed a quick jab and spun out of the way, keeping her guard up.
His friends were shrill in their derision and a flush of anger spread across his face. Mike threw a jab with his left hand, which Summer dodged, letting it fly past her head to the left. At the same time she brought her right hand up and slammed it into the side of his jaw and neck. As he stumbled back, Summer rolled her hips, drew her right hand back and swivelled. She drove her left foot into Mike’s face so hard she threw him back several feet.
Stunned, he landed hard, off balance, and rolled to his knees. He looked at her in shock and rage while his friends crowed their disgust in the background. Leaping to his feet he launched himself at her.
Summer dodged out of the way, spinning to come up behind him. Planting both hands in the middle of his back, she shoved him hard, into the ropes. He tangled there for a moment, cursing loudly and promising that he was going to kill her.
For a few moments, Summer believed he meant it. She glanced outside the ring and saw that Jimmy’s uncle, Vince, was watching the fight from his office. He had a smirk on his face as he waved to her. She acknowledged it with a slight nod.
Mike stood again, then came at her more slowly, trying to keep his hands up and use his size and reach, only now getting cautious after the battering his ego had taken. He threw punch after punch. Summer dodged or blocked them, giving ground easily and drawing him into the middle of the ring. He started to sound like a broken Darth Vader mask.
Incredibly, Summer still felt fast and strong. Her breathing was regular, her mind calm. The extra energy that ran through her body as she danced around him came from her anger at being talked down to by this idiot. She hated trash talking. If opponents did not take each other seriously, then there wouldn’t be much of a fight.
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