Dear Banjo

by Sasha Wasley

  ‘We’ve gotta stop meeting this way, love!’ he said as she kissed his cheek. ‘Spending my bloody life in hospitals lately, it seems.’

  They drank tea together and Willow questioned them gently about Tom’s condition. Tom’s only semi-conscious moments had involved blank staring. Her heart sank and the words brain damage surfaced in her mind once again.

  Within half an hour, the surgeon came out to tell them the leg procedure was complete. She said all the usual things surgeons seemed to say about things going smoothly and the patient doing well. ‘He’s in recovery at the moment and seems to be coming around at last.’

  Cathy clutched her husband’s arm. ‘Really?’

  The surgeon smiled. ‘He’s trying to talk. Said something about the helicopter.’

  Cathy and Bob laughed with delight, and Willow wanted to seize the woman in a grateful bear hug.

  ‘You’ll find him quite dopey and confused at first, coming off the sedatives.’

  ‘No different to usual, then,’ Bob joked and the surgeon rewarded him with a chuckle.

  ‘The nursing staff will let you know when you can see him.’

  The staff wheeled Tom out of the elevator a few minutes later, this time in a pale blue hospital gown, with a bandaged leg. His head was resting to one side, eyes closed. For a moment her body went weak and Willow sank abruptly into a waiting-room chair.

  ‘We won’t be a moment,’ one of the nurses said brightly, ‘then you can come in.’

  When they’d settled him into bed and set up all the machines, the three of them were permitted into the room. Tom’s was the only bed in there and his face was peaceful in the daylight coming through the window. Willow’s spirits leaped to find he looked pretty much like the usual Tom. There was no ventilator tube any more, just an oxygen mask; he was a regular surgery patient, not a dying man. Even his bruises had faded to pale-yellow and the scratches on his face had begun to heal. She drank in the sight of him. As she gazed, her hope rising higher every moment, he blinked his eyes slowly open and noticed his mother.

  ‘Mum.’ Tom’s voice was rough, as though scratched from the ventilator tube.

  Cathy shot Bob a joyful glance. ‘Hello, love. How’re you feeling?’

  ‘All right.’ He managed to get his eyes open again and saw his father. ‘Dad. ’Fraid I crashed the heli.’

  Bob laughed his bellowing laugh – from nervousness, Willow realised. Cathy shushed him.

  ‘That’s all right, mate,’ said Bob, more subdued now. ‘Heli’s covered by insurance. I’m just glad you’re okay.’

  ‘I think it’s stuffed.’ Tom’s words came as a mumble through his mask.

  ‘Yeah, it’s stuffed,’ Bob agreed.

  ‘How’s your leg?’ Cathy asked.

  ‘ ’Kay.’

  ‘The doc says it’ll be good as new, most likely,’ Bob assured him.

  Tom closed his eyes for almost a minute before he opened them slowly once more.

  ‘Might have a snooze.’

  ‘Good idea, love,’ Cathy told him, adjusting his pillow. She glanced up at Willow. ‘It’s the sedatives,’ she said. ‘They knock you around.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Willow.

  When he heard Willow’s voice, Tom’s eyes opened again and he turned his head to look her way. A smile lit up his face and for the first time since Beth’s phone call to say the helicopter was missing, Willow’s heart fell back into a pace that resembled normal. The smile stayed, even when his eyes drifted closed again.

  ‘Banjo,’ he murmured.

  ‘Hi, Tom,’ she whispered, not trusting her voice.

  ‘Some of your bullocks’re down the southwest edge of Padder . . . Patersons. Better get your . . .’ He drifted off for a moment before opening his eyes again. ‘Muster team . . .’

  Willow laughed weakly. Eyelids drooping shut, he stretched out towards her and she took his hand, tears filling her eyes. She held in a sob with an effort and Tom gripped onto her hand, much tighter than she would have thought possible given his apparent state of weakness. Cathy and Bob exchanged a look on the other side of the bed.

  ‘Why don’t you have a sleep, love?’ Cathy suggested, touching his hair again, and he didn’t reply.

  ‘He’s out, I think,’ Bob said.

  Cathy pulled up a couple of chairs and arranged one for Willow so she could sit without relinquishing Tom’s hand. Now Willow’s tears had started, she couldn’t switch them off. She was grateful to Cathy for discreetly placing a handful of tissues beside her and pretending not to notice she was weeping all over Tom’s hospital sheets.

  Willow sat with him all afternoon and evening, staring at that peaceful face she loved with every bit of her soul. What gave her the most hope of all was that whenever she released his hand, in case he was uncomfortable, he renewed his grip on hers – even though he seemed to be fast asleep. He didn’t wake or speak again that night, but the staff assured them this was not surprising considering the drugs he’d been given. When visiting hours ended, Willow fished in her bag with her spare hand and found a pen and paper. She scrawled a message, balancing the notepad on the edge of Tom’s mattress.

  Dear Tom,

  Had to go get those bullocks from the southwest corner of Patersons! Get well. I’ll come back and see you tomorrow.

  W.

  Then she extracted her hand from his, gently resisting his unconscious attempts to hold on. She folded the notepaper in between his palm and his fingers.

  In her hotel room, she made a phone call to alter her return flight booking. The stations would just have to operate another day without her because she damn well needed more time with Tom.

  In the morning, Willow dressed and went straight back to the hospital. Cathy Forrest, standing in line at the counter of the hospital café, saw her and waved. Willow crossed to join her.

  ‘How is he this morning?’

  ‘He’s good!’ Cathy looked bright and much younger today. ‘He’s awake, and seems quite lucid.’

  ‘That’s great! Is his leg hurting him?’

  Cathy’s face clouded slightly. ‘He’s not saying much about it but I can see he’s in pain. But he’s on the mend; that’s the important thing.’ She ran her gaze over Willow. ‘Would you like a coffee, love? I’m getting one for me and Bob.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She dug in her pocket for change but Cathy waved a dismissive hand.

  ‘Why don’t you go ahead and see Tom? I’ll bring the coffees up shortly.’

  ‘Thanks, Cathy.’

  She found Tom alone, propped upright in bed, no oxygen mask. Another wave of relief hit Willow. He was gazing down at a tablet device resting on his bandaged leg, but looked up and gave her a smile as she came into the room.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said when it became obvious she wouldn’t be the one to break the silence. His voice was still husky.

  ‘Good morning.’ She cleared her throat. ‘That was your best night’s sleep ever, I think.’

  He made a face. ‘I know. A week! I couldn’t believe it when Dad told me.’

  ‘Longest week of my life,’ she said. ‘And your parents’, I imagine. Is it sore?’ she asked, looking at his leg.

  ‘Honestly? It’s killing me. Worst pain I’ve ever felt. Don’t tell Mum and Dad, though.’

  ‘What did the doctor do to it?’

  ‘She put a couple of pins in. They’re going to put it in a cast after a day or so. They’re just waiting for the swelling to go down.’

  ‘I guess that means no quad races for a while.’

  ‘At least a few days,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Glad you didn’t break your funny bone.’ She nodded at his tablet. ‘Is that your lifeline to the outside world?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He showed her his phone, which was on the table. ‘Dead as a doornail. And yet,’ he said, inspecting it, ‘not a scratch on the damn thing.’

  ‘You probably need a twelve-year old to take the battery out and put it back in again.’

&n
bsp; He chuckled. ‘Probably.’ She sat in a chair. ‘They’ll get you a cuppa if you ask,’ he told her, tipping his head towards the nurses’ station.

  ‘Your mum’s getting me a coffee.’ She fidgeted with her shirt and then blushed when he glanced down at the button she was messing with. He was watching her, she realised. Had he picked up something was different? Her nerves rose again.

  ‘I woke up with a note in my hand,’ he said. ‘What did it mean?’

  ‘You told me yesterday you’d seen some of our bullocks at the edge of the property. You were pretty out of it, though.’

  ‘Oh.’ He considered. ‘Yeah, I think that’s true. I did see them down there. I didn’t say anything else, did I – anything stupid or crazy?’

  ‘Nope. For someone tripping out on hard drugs, you were both sensible and helpful.’

  That made him laugh – and then wince. ‘Ow. Hey, thanks for coming all this way to see me. Dad said —’ He paused. ‘Dad said you were a bit upset.’

  She made a wry face. ‘I was kind of glad you were unconscious.’

  His expression softened. ‘I scared you. Sorry.’

  ‘It was good for me,’ she said, her throat tightening. ‘I need a shake up every now and then. Keeps the blood pumping,’ she added, giving herself a thump on the chest with her fist.

  ‘Dad keeps saying the whole thing was a bit of a heart-starter.’

  Perfect description, she thought.

  ‘How long are you staying?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll go home tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re not rushing off right away.’

  ‘And I’ll help out with Quintilla while you’re getting better, yeah? I’m happy to do anything that’ll help.’

  ‘Dad says it’s all under control,’ Tom said. He obviously didn’t know she’d been looking after the station for the Forrests. ‘But if we need you, I’ll ask. Thanks.’

  Bob’s voice boomed from behind her. ‘Here’s our Rip Van-bloody-Winkle, awake at last!’

  ‘Keep your voice down, Bob,’ Cathy admonished, pushing past him with a cardboard tray of coffee cups.

  Tom brightened at the sight of the coffees. ‘Is one of those for me?’

  ‘Not a chance,’ said Cathy. ‘They might let you eat something soon, though.’ She glanced at her husband. ‘Speak to the nurse, will you, Bob? Tell her Tom’s hungry.’

  The nurse bustled in a minute later to check Tom’s vitals and bandages, enquire about his pain levels and ask somewhat personal questions, so Willow made a move to leave. Tom looked crestfallen when she said goodbye.

  ‘I’m only going for a walk. Back soon,’ she reassured him.

  She turned up at Tom’s hospital room doorway half an hour later and found him alone again, eyes closed. She stopped short and watched him. He was the same, yet different. He was Tom, her Tom, and he seemed okay – he knew her, could joke and talk as he always had. Willow was no expert but he didn’t seem to have any brain damage, unless it was the sort that affected the body or memory, or something like that. Whatever. She didn’t care any more. He knew her and he was still Tom, and that was all that mattered.

  And yet something was different. Looking at him, breathing peacefully, Willow realised what it was. He was not just Tom, but also a man she wanted to, hopefully – what? Date? Kiss?

  Love.

  He blinked and turned his head, grimacing with pain. Then he noticed her and his face lit up. She came into the room, trying to forget that he was somehow, suddenly, this different being – a man she might be with. It gave her a whole new awareness of his big, strong body, his welcoming smile, his affectionate gaze. His proximity.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. Getting a bit fed up with lying in one position. Thanks for coming back.’

  ‘It was a little crowded in here before. How are you feeling now?’

  He smiled. ‘Surprisingly good, considering I crashed a helicopter.’

  ‘Have they let you eat yet?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘No! I’m starving. Apparently I get to have jelly later if I’m a good boy.’

  ‘Where’d your mum and dad go?’

  ‘There’s a big machinery auction Dad wanted to check out.’

  Willow chuckled. ‘Typical.’ She dug in her bag. ‘I have something for you. I ran into Briggsy before I flew out from Mount Clair and he gave me some stuff to pass on.’

  Tom was delighted, sorting through his messages and reading them out loud to Willow, unaware she’d already read some of them. He even read out Phoebe’s note but paused over it, rereading it again to himself without meeting Willow’s eyes. She didn’t want him to see how that made her feel so she got up and went to his window for a few moments, as though fascinated by the view. But then he went on to the next card, laughing at Hendo’s handwriting.

  ‘What’s the plan for your leg?’ she asked when the cards had been placed aside.

  They discussed his recovery and rehab plan, and Tom told her the story of another station’s helicopter crash a few years back. They chatted until Tom looked weary and Willow ran out of things to say. But she didn’t want to leave. It was difficult to take her eyes off him and she yearned for the courage to take his hand again.

  ‘How long can you stay today?’ he asked when she glanced at the time on her phone.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t have to be anywhere. I’m in a hotel nearby tonight. You let me know when you want a rest and I’ll clear out.’

  ‘I’ve slept for nearly a week. I suspect it’s better for me to be awake – and it’s good to have your company.’

  His words brought a warm glow. ‘I’ve certainly missed your company lately,’ she managed, dropping her gaze. ‘Even before the crash.’ He didn’t reply and she couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Maybe . . .’

  Ugh, this was so hard.

  ‘Maybe you could forget about the space thing for now.’ She checked his face.

  Tom’s brow creased.

  Willow took a breath. ‘You taking space. Can that go on the backburner? I mean, you need to get better and I want to be able to be around to help. If you’re trying to take space from me, I can’t be hanging around – but I need to be around you right now.’

  His frown deepened. ‘You mean, I’ll need you around?’

  ‘No. I need to be around you. To help,’ she added hastily. Tom wasn’t buying it. He waited, and she took another slow breath in and out. ‘It was scary, what happened to you.’

  He nodded but it was plain he didn’t understand. And why would he? She was making absolutely no sense and it was totally the wrong time and place to bring this up.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she finished with an attempt at a laugh that sounded more like someone was strangling her. ‘I’m just trying to say I’m here to help, so please don’t hesitate to ask.’

  Argh! She still couldn’t bring herself to come straight out and say it. She cursed herself silently. Tom’s eyes had gone from puzzled to cautious.

  ‘Banjo, you’re kind of confusing me again.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.’

  Before he could answer, the nurse came into the room. ‘I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over now. Mr Forrest needs to have some lunch.’

  ‘Can she stay?’ he asked quickly.

  The nurse shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. We can’t make exceptions or everyone will want their girlfriends to stay during rest time.’

  Heat rose to her cheeks and Tom gave her an amused glance that turned into a curious stare. She grabbed her bag.

  ‘What time can I come back?’ she asked the nurse.

  ‘Three.’

  ‘Okay. See you at three, Tom.’

  Willow returned in the afternoon to find Cathy and Bob both seated in Tom’s room, discussing cattle drafting. Tom was so hungry after his lunch of broth and jelly that talking about cattle was the only thing that could keep his mind off food. Beth phoned while she was there and Willow put her on speaker so she could talk
to Tom as well.

  ‘Tom Forrest, you big jerk. You scared the hell out of us all. How’s the brain?’

  ‘No worse than usual,’ he said with a laugh.

  ‘I can’t believe you escaped a helicopter crash with some bruises and a broken leg. You’ve got to be the luckiest bastard I know.’

  ‘No, if I was the luckiest, I would have had an ejector seat and parachute – or fallen into a swimming pool full of champagne.’

  ‘Ha-ha. What a week you gave us. Where’s Willow? Is she still there?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s here.’ Tom smiled at her.

  ‘Did she tell you what she did? Over six hours she was out riding with the land-search crew until you got found, and then as soon as she got back to the homestead she insisted on driving into Mount Clair to see you.’

  Tom stared at Willow and she went hot and cold under his gaze.

  ‘Beth,’ she murmured.

  ‘You went on the land search?’ he repeated.

  ‘I had to do something.’ She jumped up and busied herself with straightening blankets and pouring Tom a glass of water but it was no good; Beth had opened the can of worms.

  ‘She stayed all night that first night when you were in Mount Clair ICU, too,’ Cathy chimed in.

  ‘Yep, sat next to the bed holding your hand like Florence-bloody-Nightingale,’ said Bob. ‘Then when they flew you out, she went home and did the payroll for Quintilla. The staff tell me she’s been round there for a few hours every day, making sure things are ticking along, and managing the ordering and cattle inventory for us. Even got the Westons to fly over and check the water, I hear. To finish the job you were s’posed to be doing.’ He nudged Tom.

  ‘I’m not sure how we can ever repay you, Willow,’ Cathy added, catching her eye.

  Willow glowed when she heard that, still flustered but filled with relief that Cathy seemed to have completely forgiven her. ‘It was no biggie.’

  ‘And then she flew across to Darwin the moment she heard you were waking up,’ Beth continued, on speaker. ‘I’ve been trying to get her to slow down all week. She’ll end up sick if she keeps on this way.’

  Willow could stand no more. ‘Tom’s the patient here, not me.’ She glanced at him and then didn’t know where to put her eyes any more. He was watching her with an expression of wonder and deep gratitude.