by Fiona Lowe
‘I want Mummy.’ The small boy’s wail rent the air.
‘I know you do, Lochie.’ She gave him a quick hug and then opened the car door, carefully brushing away the shards of glass with a towel before looking for any identifying information.
Matt hung onto the radio, waiting for Jack. ‘Have you found anything, Poppy?’
She held up a National Parks brochure. ‘There’s a map of the park and both water holes have been highlighted.’
‘Matt.’ Jack’s voice crackled down the line. ‘Car’s registered to a Lance Wilkinson and we’ve just had a report that a personal location beacon’s been activated in the area. Do you have a map?’
He leaned over and grabbed the laminated and detailed hiking map he always carried when he came out here. ‘Got it.’
‘Find your location. On the west side of the car park there’s a rough side track that heads along the ridge. The GPS in the PLB is coming from there. You can get in by vehicle if you drive to Koonunga picnic ground.’
‘How the hell did they end up there?’ But it was a rhetorical question because to an inexperienced walker all scraggly gum trees and red rocks looked the same and taking the wrong direction was sadly far too easy. ‘We’re on it, Jack.’
He turned to call Poppy, only to find her sitting in the dirt by the other vehicle, cuddling a sobbing Lochie. Her right arm held him close and her left hand stroked his hair while the little boy clutched a well-loved soft toy bear she must have found for him in the car. Her dark hair rested against the boy’s jet locks.
Mother and child. Poppy as a mother. The image stuck him hard in the solar plexus. He had to clear his throat before speaking. ‘We’ve got co-ordinates, hop in.’
Half an hour later, after bouncing along a rocky escarpment no one in their right mind would call a road, and using their GPS, Jack’s guidance and their eyes and ears, Matt stopped the truck for the fourth time and hopped out. Bringing his hands up to cup his mouth, he yelled, ‘Cooee.’
Then he listened. He’d been straining to hear anything for so long that at first he thought the returning ‘cooee’ was his own voice.
‘Did you hear that?’ Poppy’s face filled with hope.
He called again, and this time Lochie and Poppy joined in.
A male voice replied, ‘Cooee. Help us.’
‘We’re on our way.’ Matt grabbed the medical bag and was starting to walk in the direction of the voice when a bearded man, supporting a woman, stumbled into the clearing.
‘Mummy, Daddy!’ Lochie pulled out of Poppy’s grasp and ran to them.
‘Thank God, Lochie.’ The woman sobbed out her child’s name as she was lowered to the ground, gripping her left arm close to her chest.
Lance grabbed his son, hugging him close until Lochie wriggled and said, ‘Daddy, it hurts.’
Poppy ran to the distraught woman, and Lance, on seeing Matt, gripped his shoulder. ‘Thank you. Thank you for finding him, for finding us.’
Matt suggested Lance sit down. ‘Actually, Lochie found us and your PLB is how we found you.’
Lance rubbed his head, relief clear in his eyes. ‘One minute we could see him and the next he was gone. Then I lost our bearings searching for him because all this red rock looks the same.’
‘I’m just glad you’re safe.’
‘Matt, I need the medical bag.’ Poppy was crouched down next to the woman, who was pale and sweaty and had removed her shirt. ‘Joanne fell on an outstretched arm and she’s got a shoulder separation, but you’ve probably seen more of these than me.’
Matt introduced himself to the patient. ‘I’m going to be as gentle as I can but this will probably hurt.’
Joanne flinched. ‘It can’t be worse than it already is, can it?’
Matt didn’t want to promise anything. His fingers explored the top of the humerus and then followed the clavicle. A red tinge flushed the skin, indicating bleeding, and a distinctive bump marred the normally smooth line over the AC joint. ‘I’m going to treat this with a cuff and collar sling and give you some strong painkillers to keep you comfortable on the long trip back to Bundallagong. We’ll X-ray and ultrasound it when we arrive at the hospital and check for any other fractures, displacement, muscle and ligament damage. Does it hurt anywhere else?’
‘Just our pride that we did something so ridiculously stupid.’ Joanne leaned her head against Lance’s shoulder as Lochie nestled between them. ‘I’m never letting this child out of my sight again.’
‘Good idea.’
Matt and Poppy spoke at the same time and he caught her vivid gaze full of intense feeling. For the briefest moment he experienced a moment of pure simpatico unlike anything he’d ever known.
Poppy pulled her theatre cap off her head and dropped it in the bin, wondering what on earth was going on in Bundallagong on this particular Thursday with two middle-of-the-night emergencies. She’d only just finished removing a lacerated spleen from a young man after a car accident when Matt’s registrar, who was on night shift this week, had rushed up a guy with a bleeding gastric ulcer. It had been touch and go, with the patient bleeding so much that the blood bank was now in dire straits.
As she created a reminder on her phone to ring the radio station’s breakfast show at seven to get the word out so Bundallagong residents would make a special effort to give blood today, she saw the time and sighed. 6:00 a.m. It was a really lousy time to finish as there was no point going home to sleep because she’d barely have got settled when she’d have to get up again. Yet she had ninety minutes to fill before she could do pre-surgical rounds. She thought of Matt; gorgeous and rumpled, sleeping spread-eagled across her bed. Even though she knew she wasn’t going home right now, the fact he was there, in her bed, waiting for her, wound around her heart.
Careful. She gave herself a shake and walked quickly to her office.
She turned on her computer and brought up the email program as she did routinely every morning now, since Matt had pointedly said that bed was a work-free zone. She’d tried to argue that point but had deliciously lost, conceding defeat as he’d brought her to the brink of orgasm and then suggested he needed to stop right there to go and check his emails.
She’d even amazed herself by not sending William the surgical report this week. It had taken considerable strength of will and she’d almost capitulated, especially when her secretary had reminded her, but Matt’s suggestion had been worth a try, given that everything else she’d tried hadn’t made much difference in getting any response from her boss.
As thirty emails downloaded, the ping of her ‘countdown’ widget alerted her to the blinking number fourteen at the bottom of her screen. Ten weeks down and two weeks remaining in Bundallagong. Two weeks left with Matt.
The thought screamed through like a missile. You’ll miss him.
‘Ms Stanfield?’
She looked up distractedly, her brain stalled on how fast her time in Bundallagong had flown and how soon it would be over. One of the cleaners stood in the doorway of her office, and with wobbly legs she stood up and greeted him. ‘Morning, Joe.’
He pulled a photo out of his overalls front pocket. ‘My Louisa, she had the baby, and my son-in-law, he email me this.’
She’d been hearing about this long-awaited baby who’d been very slow to put in an appearance for ten days now, and as she stared down at the photo of a black-haired baby with fathomless eyes, her throat tightened. ‘Congratulations, she’s adorable.’
Joe beamed. ‘Maria and I, we fly to Perth today to visit, but don’t you worry. Franco will be looking after your office and I tell him to start your coffee at seven.’
A prickle of embarrassment made her feel uncomfortable. ‘That’s very kind, Joe, but, really, I can make my own coffee.’
The cleaner nodded as he put the photo back in his pocket. ‘Yes, but if we look after you, perhaps you stay here in Bundallagong.’
Two and a half months ago Poppy would have scoffed at such a suggestion, but with every p
atient she’d treated, with every staff member she’d got to know and with every choir meeting, tiny roots had sprouted, connecting her to the community. She’d enjoyed her time here.
And if you don’t get the job, would you stay?
The unexpected thought spun around her heart like the silky strands of a web, tying her to Bundallagong. Tying her to Matt.
A spasm hit, freezing her muscles, making it hard to breathe and hard to stand. Somehow she managed to smile, wish Joe a safe trip to Perth and sink back into her chair. She pushed her hands against her forehead and up into her hair.
No, no, no. You can’t be that stupid.
Panic skittered through her, sending her reeling. Falling for Matt, a man who still loved his dead wife, would be beyond dumb—it would be her worst nightmare. She sucked at relationships at the best of times but there was no way she could compete with Lisa, who’d been perfect alive and was now immortalised as a saint.
Have you learned nothing from your disastrous relationships? Her guiding Amazon rose up to her full height and brandished her sword and shield. Woman up!
Poppy pulled up memories of her father and Steven—betrayal, hurt, rejection—each recollection shoring up her resolve, but every time she thought of Matt she could only picture him laughing with her, teasing her, talking, listening and wrapping his arms around her each night until she fell into a deep sleep.
You love him.
Oh, God, no.
No, not love, please, not love. She dropped her head into her hands as the thought branded her with its full impact. She loved him. Little by little, day by day, she’d fallen in love with him so slowly she hadn’t even realised it.
How had she left herself so unprotected?
She knew better than this. She knew from bitter experience that love wasn’t enough and never had been. Love left a girl open to hurt and heartache, and to being let down in the worst way. Nothing good could ever come from being in love, and exploring this bit of self-realisation was pointless.
No promises, no regrets, no past and no future.
Matt’s words rose up in her mind. She’d made a complete mess of something that should have been fun and short term. Once again, she’d let herself fall in love with a man who wasn’t able to love her. She was too foolish for words.
Biting her lip, she welcomed the jolt of physical pain and rolled back her shoulders, pushing the feelings down deep to languish with the other relationship mistakes in her life and the ashes of her ill-fated marriage.
She tuned into work like she always did, keeping all her emotions at bay, and ploughed through the list of mail, deleting, forwarding and replying as required, while she sipped coffee and listened to the cacophony of sound that came with the dawn. She smiled as the sky filled with pink and grey as the native parrots rose from their sleep—another Bundallagong ritual she’d come to enjoy.
As she hit Send on the last email, her phone beeped its reminder. 7:00 a.m. She silenced it and immediately heard a ping from her computer, heralding a new email.
William.
A chill ran through her as her gut rolled on a wave of acid. She put her phone down and her hand hovered over the mouse for a few seconds before she moved the cursor over his name and clicked.
CHAPTER TEN
MATT woke with a start and stretched out to feel for Poppy but his arm and hand only connected with cool sheets. A vague memory slowly formed and he recalled Poppy’s phone ringing, her quietly murmured conversation, his grunted ‘Do you need me?’
And her lips on his cheek as she’d said, ‘Go back to sleep.’
But now he was awake and the green light of the bedside clock said 5:00 a.m. With a groan, he closed his eyes and as his head hit the pillow he gratefully accepted that at least it wasn’t three. He hated 3:00 a.m., when there was still so much night left and no more ability to sleep. It became a long slog, waiting for the dawn, and so as not to disturb Poppy, he’d get up and go and pace the floors at his house.
His eyes shot open so abruptly that the muscles ached. He hadn’t woken up at 3:00 a.m. all this week. It’s been longer than that. He worked backwards and realised with a start that he couldn’t recall an early wake-up since he’d told Poppy about Annie, and that had been three weeks ago.
With a contented sigh, he rolled over, tugging at the sheet, intending to grab one extra precious hour of sleep, but his brain, already jolted awake, buzzed with ideas for the foundation. He accepted defeat, got up, walked into the pre-dawn chill—the only time Bundallagong was cool—and let himself into his house.
The long hallway echoed as he walked towards the kitchen and the house smelled musty, like it needed a good airing. He filled the kettle and then picked up the folder marked ‘Lisa’s Way’, which he’d left on the table next to his laptop two nights ago. Grabbing a pen, he quickly scrawled down the name of Lisa’s bead supplier that had been eluding him, along with some ideas to run past Sarah for a fundraising night at the neighbourhood centre. That done, he made coffee and set the plunger to rest on the top of the carafe while it brewed, and then opened the fridge for the milk.
A malodorous scent greeted him, the milk having become yoghurt and a lone lettuce now a ball of slime. He hastily dumped both in the bin and searched the pantry all the way to the back for some long-life milk. There was none. How could that be? He knew he was a poor shopper, but UHT milk was a staple that even in his darkest days he’d always had.
You’re virtually living with Poppy.
The thought rocked him. He poured sugar into his coffee, stirring it fast as he grappled with his thoughts. Running back over the events of the last few weeks, the truth stared him in the face. He’d hardly been here. The reality was that he’d only been using his place to shower, change clothes, do laundry, and when Poppy was held up at work he’d come back here to do some foundation work.
Not even then.
He sat down hard in a chair as his legs trembled. Last week he’d spent an evening at her place working on Lisa’s Way while Poppy had been at choir practice because being over there was so much more pleasant than being here.
He heard the dawn thumping of Rupert but instead of being much-needed noise, he suddenly saw in his mind’s eye the damage the reptile was likely inflicting on the roof. He looked around the room as if seeing it with new eyes, and for the first time the house didn’t seem to be mocking him with its silence or its memories. He stood up and slowly walked the length and breadth of the house. Starting by opening the door to Annie’s room, he systematically visited every other room in the house until he stood in the stripped-bare master bedroom. A room he’d avoided with the exception of the night Poppy had arrived.
He girded himself for the expected onslaught of pain, sadness and grief, the way it had been when he’d first arrived home from the Pacific, and the reason he’d moved to the guest room. But the house no longer spoke to him about loss—it didn’t really speak to him at all.
Lisa and Annie were no longer part of the house.
The news should have broken his heart but instead it soothed it and an odd peace settled over him. His love for Lisa now resided in the creation of the foundation and his love for Annie poured into his work whenever he had scared and sick kids in the ED.
He ran his hand through his hair. He was no longer part of the house, either.
It’s time.
He blew out a long breath laden with relief. He’d loved his wife and daughter dearly but now the time had come for him to move on with his life. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he glanced out the window at the house he’d come to think of as Poppy’s place, despite the fact many people had lived in the house over the years. Poppy.
Her lips matched her name and she was a bright spark of colour in what had been a very black time of his life. God, he enjoyed being with her. She made him laugh, she challenged him and at times frustrated the hell out of him, but she was the first person he thought of when he woke up in the morning and the last person he thought of when he closed
his eyes at night.
That’s love.
His chest tightened on his sharp intake of breath and he gripped the architrave. Love. The spasm faded, followed by a wave of warmth and the tendrils of belonging.
It was love.
He loved her.
He started to grin like a fool, his cheeks aching with happiness. She’d stormed into his life all attitude and vibrant energy and turned his grieving world upside down. Somewhere along the way he’d moved into her house and she’d moved into his heart. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without her.
With a plan forming in his mind, he stepped out of the house and gently closed the door behind him.
Poppy stepped out of the theatre change rooms into the main hospital corridor and suddenly found herself being twirled around, pulled into strong arms and kissed so soundly her legs gave way.
Matt’s sparkling brown eyes stared down at her as his fingers caressed her cheek. ‘Hello.’
‘Hel—’ Her mouth stalled as her brain received the image from her eyes. Her hands flew to his hair, her fingers unaccountably aching as they tried unsuccessfully to lose themselves in the now short strands ‘Oh. Your hair, it’s …’ She finally found her voice. ‘You’ve had it cut.’
He grinned. ‘I have. It was time.’
She’d always loved the way his hair reached his jawline, reminding her of a pirate. ‘Why?’
But instead of replying, he just gave her a secret smile and pulled her into the on-call room and locked the door. A small white-cloth-covered table held a platter of freshly made sandwiches along with two bottles of fruit juice and a plate of what looked like peppermint slice. ‘Lunch for two, courtesy of the kitchen.’
She smiled and kissed him, reminding herself of her plan to treasure every last moment with him. ‘Lovely idea. I’m starving.’ She greedily picked up a sandwich and started eating. ‘Hmm, this is so good. Why haven’t we done this before?’
‘I guess we didn’t have a reason to celebrate before.’
Her hand fell from her mouth and she stared at him in surprise. How did he know William had offered her the post of Chief of Surgery at Perth City? She hadn’t told anyone. She’d read the email five times and had waited for the rush of joy that she’d finally got the job of her dreams, the one she’d been working towards for years. But instead of a rush it had been more of a slow trickle, as if she couldn’t really believe she’d finally nailed it. But she had. The job was hers and the endpoint to her time in Bundallagong had arrived, as she’d always known it would. What hadn’t arrived was the excitement she’d expected to experience on leaving the dust-filled town.