Runaway Bride

by Barbara Hannay

  ‘Sleepy?’ he asked her now, sending her a deliberately lazy smile.

  ‘I know I should be exhausted, but I think I’m too keyed up to sleep.’

  ‘Board games can do that to you.’

  She laughed. ‘Board games and a cyclone.’

  Board games, a cyclone and being alone with each other for yet another night when we’ve agreed it isn’t wise.

  Already, he’d made the unwise move of kissing her again today. Now, he was hunting for a safe, non-threatening, non-personal subject for them to talk about.

  It was going to be a long night.

  ‘Would you like another drink?’ Bella asked hospitably. ‘I don’t think we finished that bottle.’

  Damon shook his head. ‘Probably not a good idea. We haven’t seen the worst of this storm yet, and we should keep our wits about us.’

  As if to underline his comment, the rain hammered against the house and from somewhere down the street came the screech of ripping iron.

  Bella flinched at the noise, then sent him a theatrical, raised-eyebrow look of surprise. ‘I thought you foreign-correspondent types were all supposed to be heavy drinkers.’

  ‘You’re thinking of the glory days of the old-style foreign correspondents. Sadly, they’re long gone.’

  ‘What are you implying, Damon? That modern journalists are boring and pure?’

  ‘As the driven snow,’ he said dryly.

  But then, aware that she was as keen as he was to talk about anything but their too-brief relationship, he went on more seriously, ‘The thing is, foreign correspondents are not just gathering news these days. We’re dealing with all the new technology, as well. A lot of overseas bureaus have closed down, so we’re editing our own work on our laptops. Then we have to network with emails, websites, et cetera. I rarely have a cameraman with me. More often than not, I’m using a hand-held webcam. You can’t afford to lose concentration.’

  ‘It does sound rather demanding.’

  ‘It’s certainly not as glamorous as most people imagine. And in many countries there’s a total ban on alcohol. In fact,’ he added with a wry grin, ‘I downed more grog at Kent’s bucks’ party than I have in years.’

  ‘I’m sure you weren’t the only one who got stuck into it that night.’

  Although Bella spoke lightly, an awkward silence fell.

  ‘Perhaps I should check how the others are.’ Bella, already on her feet, disappeared down the hallway to the bedrooms.

  Before long she was back. ‘All good. No one’s asleep, but they’re not too scared. Paddy’s listening to the radio. He said the cyclone’s crossing the coast south of us now between Cairns and Innisfail.’

  She sank onto the sofa again, this time curling her slim legs beneath her, and Damon thought, as he had so many times in the past few days, how lovely she was.

  Lovely, and yet, since this morning’s unsettling conversation, she’d also looked fragile, as if she were holding herself together with string and a paper clip.

  He felt wretched, too. For one night she’d been his Bella, as reckless and wild as she was responsive and loving. For one night they had opened a window on a dream and, like all dreams, it was as fleeting and impossible to hold onto as a soap bubble.

  Damon had been left with an aching desire for Bella that was stronger than it had ever been.

  But, unfortunately, she’d asked the right questions this morning.

  What was the point of becoming more deeply involved? He had no intention of settling down to a desk job in an Australian newsroom. He would find it stifling, to say the least.

  As if she guessed the direction of his thoughts, Bella gave a huff of impatience, and was on her feet again, frowning and tense as she sorted through the pile of bedding Jessie had left for them. No doubt she was unhappy with him for sitting here brooding when the dark and blustering night called for entertaining stories, distracting jokes and witty repartee.

  ‘Do you prefer firm or soft?’ she asked.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  She held up a pillow, prodding it in a businesslike fashion.

  ‘Oh, I’ll take whatever comes.’

  ‘Here, catch.’ She tossed him a plump, firmish pillow. ‘You might like a quilt, as well.’ She set one down on the carpet. ‘You can use it as a mattress, and then wrap yourself up in it if it gets cold in the early hours.’

  ‘I take it you’re going to try to sleep?’

  ‘I’m going to lie down, at any rate.’

  ‘Would you like me to turn out the lamp?’

  ‘Not yet, thanks.’

  She rearranged pillows on the sofa and lay, curled on her side.

  Damon stretched out on his back on the carpet, one arm crooked above his head, his legs crossed at the ankles.

  ‘Comfy enough?’ she asked.

  ‘Exceptionally. How about you?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

  But before they could settle, there was a terrifying thump outside and a shocking, splintering crash.

  ‘That was close,’ Damon said. ‘I’d better check.’

  At the front door again, he braced against the force of the wind. He flashed his torch through the driving, slanting rain and saw, to his horror, that a tree had fallen onto the house across the road. The front corner of the house’s roof had completely caved in.

  Bella was beside him. ‘Is it bad?’

  ‘A tree on a neighbour’s house.’

  ‘Oh, no. I wonder if there’s anybody in there. I’ll go and ask Jessie if she knows them.’

  But Jessie was already in the hallway behind them. She’d pulled a cardigan on over her nightdress and her eyes were wide with fright. ‘Which house is it?’ she asked querulously.

  ‘Opposite and about two doors along.’

  ‘The white weatherboard?’

  ‘That’s it,’ said Damon. ‘Is it occupied?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, dear. They’re a lovely young couple with a darling baby. Cassie and Michael Evans and little Jordan.’

  Damon didn’t hesitate. ‘I’ll go over to check, to make sure they’re all right.’

  Jessie shook her head at him. ‘No. You can’t go out now. Not in that wind.’

  ‘Damon, you promised you wouldn’t take risks,’ Bella reminded him.

  His impulse was to ignore them, and he might have done so if Paddy hadn’t appeared at the moment.

  ‘I just heard on the radio that the eye should be passing over us very soon,’ he said. ‘The winds will die down for a few minutes at least. You could go over there then, Damon.’

  ‘OK. That’s what I’ll do.’

  ‘And I’ll come with you,’ Bella announced.

  He shook his head at her. ‘Bella, don’t be silly.’

  ‘Why is it silly for me to do exactly what you’re doing? If those poor people need help, two pairs of hands will be better than one.’

  Not your hands, he wanted to yell. But he saw the defiant gleam in her eye. She was telling him firmly that, for once, she wasn’t going to be left behind.

  To his surprise, neither Paddy nor Jessie disagreed with her.

  Five minutes later, as predicted, the wind died as if an unseen conductor had waved his baton. The sudden silence was eerie.

  As Bella and Damon stepped outside the house they were surrounded by thick, impenetrable darkness.

  In a torch’s beam they saw a scene of distressing devastation. It was how Bella imagined that Armageddon might look—trees without limbs, lamp-posts leaning drunkenly, trailing wires onto the littered footpath. But they didn’t have time to investigate too closely. At any minute, the winds would return even fiercer than before.

  ‘Stay close to me,’ Damon ordered. ‘We have to keep well away from those fallen power lines. Here, give me your hand.’

  Although Bella was determined to be brave, she was very grateful for his warm, strong handclasp. Together, they made their way as quickly as possible, picking their way carefully between the fallen branches and piles
of debris.

  As they reached the neighbours’ house, they could see the caved-in roof and a sickening hole gaping beneath the trunk of a huge Poinciana tree.

  ‘Hello!’ Damon yelled. ‘Is anyone in there?’

  Almost immediately a torch beam waved in a window. ‘Yes, mate,’ a male voice called back. ‘We’re here.’

  ‘Are you okay? Is anyone hurt?’

  ‘No, we’re all fine, thanks. The tree missed us. We were in the bedroom at the back.’

  ‘That’s good news,’ Damon called. ‘So you don’t need any help?’

  ‘No, thanks. Not now. It’ll be a different story in the morning.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll see you then.’ Damon tugged on Bella’s hand. ‘Come on, the wind’s already picking up. We’d better get back.’

  He’d hardly said this before a roaring wind gust rushed at them so strongly it pushed Bella against Damon. He staggered sideways, losing hold of her hand as he fought to keep his balance.

  Almost immediately, another ferocious wind gust, like a fist slamming into Bella’s back, pushed her to her knees. A tree branch flew past her head, missing her by inches. To her shame she screamed. She couldn’t help it. The force of the wind was incredible. Rain stung her face, and she could scarcely breathe, could barely see.

  She felt Damon’s hands beneath her armpits, hauling her to her feet. He flung both arms around her holding her tightly. Another piece of debris came flying out of the darkness.

  Bella screamed again and Damon swore. He shone the torch across the road, where Jessie’s house, on the far side of a wall of blinding, sheeting, horizontal rain, now looked a hundred, impossible miles away. As they watched a sheet of roofing iron skidded down the street. Bella imagined its sharp edge slicing into her and winced.

  ‘There’s a garden shed over here.’ Damon flashed the torch a few feet to his right. ‘Let’s get in there. Here, link elbows. It’s a stronger hold.’

  Gripping each other tightly, they staggered to the shed. Bella fell against the door, puffing from fright and exertion. The door had a barrel vault, which was a bit rusty and hard to shift, but it wasn’t locked, thank heavens.

  Soon Damon had it free and they hurried inside and slammed the door behind them. At last. Safety.

  ‘Are you okay, Bella?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He shone the light in her face, making her blink. ‘Sorry.’ Quickly, he shone the beam around the shed, revealing glimpses of gardening tools. A spade, a shovel, forks and a rake, dusty fishing nets on the walls, a lawn-mower and a wheelbarrow, stacks of flowerpots, tins of paint and folded tarpaulins. ‘I’m afraid it’s not quite as comfortable as Jessie’s lounge-room floor.’

  ‘It’ll be fine for the moment.’ Bella was happy to be anywhere that was dry and out of that terrible wind. They took off their dripping raincoats and hung them over the lawn-mower’s handle.

  ‘We should ring Paddy,’ Bella said.

  Before they’d left Jessie’s house, they’d given Paddy her mobile phone so they could keep in touch.

  Now Damon dug his phone out of his jeans pocket, and the light from its screen cast an eerie blue glow as he keyed in Bella’s number.

  ‘Damon!’ Paddy shouted almost immediately. ‘Where the hell are you?’

  ‘We’re still over the road. Tell Jessie her neighbours are okay, and we’re sheltering in their garden shed. It’s too hairy out there to try to come back. We’ll wait till this wind stops.’

  ‘Okay. Good idea. Whatever you do, stay safe.’

  That dealt with, Damon hauled the painting tarpaulins into the small space in the middle of the shed to try to make a slightly more comfortable place for them to sit.

  Reaching for Bella’s hand, he shone the torch on the rough nest he’d made. ‘These tarps are a bit smelly but they’re better than sitting on bare concrete. Let me show you to your seat, madam.’

  She laughed. ‘Thank you, kind sir.’

  ‘If you bunch it up you can make a bit of a cushion.’

  ‘Yes, I’m quite comfortable, thanks.’

  In the glow of the torch, he could see the pale gleam of her hair. She was sitting cross-legged and leaning back against a wooden crate. She sent him a brave little smile.

  ‘Okay with you if I turn the torch off now?’

  ‘Yes. Go ahead. Save the battery.’

  They were plunged into darkness, while outside the raging storm continued.

  Bella’s voice reached him, warm and teasing. ‘I knew if I stuck with you, I’d have another adventure.’

  He grimaced in the darkness. ‘Sure. First a police lockup, now the floor of a garden shed in the middle of a gale. Excitement and thrills guaranteed—although possibly not comfort.’

  ‘At least no one’s shooting at us.’

  ‘Stick with me long enough, and you can have bullets, too.’

  Bella didn’t respond and Damon flinched as he realised what he’d said. Stick with me long enough and you can have bullets …

  How thoughtless was that? Making a joke of the very thing that kept the two of them apart.

  He closed his eyes and was immediately assailed by images of Bella—bravely sitting it out in the police lockup, of her working hard today, pitching in to help any way she could, of her walking along the beach at dusk, as alluring as a mermaid. The exquisite pleasure of taking her into his arms—at last—every luscious detail of her skin, her scent, her flattering hunger.

  No wonder this particular girl had such a hold on his heart. Seeing her again should have loosened the old ties, but they’d drawn her closer. He had no idea what he was going to do about that.

  ‘Damon?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Have you ever asked yourself why you’re always so eager to leap into dangerous situations? Have you ever wondered what triggered the urge in the first place, before it became a habit?’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ he said quickly, fighting a sudden flare of panic.

  ‘So you pose all kinds of searching questions to all kinds of people all over the world, but you never ask them about yourself?’

  She was right, of course. He made a point of not asking questions of himself.

  And the reason was easy. He didn’t want to know the answers.

  ‘I’ve always hated to be bored,’ he said. ‘So my job’s perfect. But I suppose a shrink would tell me that I was doing it to prove something to my father.’

  ‘And to your mother perhaps?’ Bella asked.

  His mother?

  Without warning, Damon’s heart toppled from a huge height. Valiantly, he tried to ignore the pain. ‘It doesn’t matter what she thought.’ She’d abandoned him and he preferred to forget about her. He’d worked hard to forget her.

  But in the thick, musty darkness with the storm raging about them, he couldn’t hold back the boyhood memories.

  He saw his mother’s gentle smile, and he felt the wonderful warmth of her hug. He could even smell her perfume, and he remembered being four years old with the chicken pox and feeling the soothing touch of her cool hands as she applied lotion to his skin.

  He remembered her voice at bedtime, animated and lively as she read his favourite stories. He remembered how he’d adored her, how he’d always loved coming home from school. Their house had such a welcoming feel, and the smell of furniture polish and the flowers she arranged in vases, and the gingerbread she’d baked for afternoon tea.

  Oh, God. He could never recall these sweet memories without being swamped by the agony of her desertion. Now he was racked, once again, by his devastating, ten-year-old bewilderment. By his father’s despairing rage.

  The pain of these memories had always been so terrible Damon had trained himself to keep them locked out. They were not on his emotional agenda.

  But now, covering his face with his hands, he was determined that he must not break down again. Not in front of Bella. He couldn’t bear it.

  Beside him, he heard a soft sound, felt a stirring of the air. Then he
heard Bella’s whispered voice. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  She was kneeling beside him. ‘Damon, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thrown your mother into the conversation like that. I hope I haven’t upset you.’

  With a supreme effort of will, he conquered the emotions that were storming inside him as savagely as the wind and rain. ‘Don’t worry. It’s okay. I’m okay.’

  Through the darkness her fingers found his cheek. She ran a gentle caress along his jaw. ‘You don’t have to be the tough guy all the time, you know?’

  ‘Yeah … I know.’ He let out a long breath. Enough with the memories.

  Reaching for her hand, he drew it to his mouth and pressed a kiss against her fingers. ‘But you know there are advantages to playing it tough.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘Sure. The tough guy always gets the girl.’

  He heard a tiny cry. ‘Yes,’ Bella said in a suddenly squeaky voice. ‘He gets her even when she tries to stay away.’

  He reached for her in the darkness. His hand touched her hair, then her cheek and he discovered tears.

  ‘Bella,’ he murmured hoarsely as he tried to blot the damp trail of her tears with the pad of his thumb. ‘I’ve given you a raw deal, haven’t I?’ He swallowed the burning brick in his throat. ‘Brave girl.’

  ‘Not so brave tonight.’

  He might have drawn her to him then. Not to seduce, but to offer her comfort.

  But she said, ‘Damon, listen.’

  He turned his attention to the storm outside.

  ‘It’s not roaring quite so loudly now,’ Bella suggested.

  ‘I think you’re right. I’ll take a look.’ He found the torch and went to the door. ‘It’s not nearly as bad as it was before. We could probably make it back to Jessie’s. Do you want to make a run for it?’

  ‘We might as well.’ She was already beside him, pulling on her raincoat.

  Moments later, they were making their way back through the wind and the rain, holding hands as they dodged fallen debris.

  It was probably the silence that woke Bella. At first she lay in a disoriented haze, slowly assimilating her surroundings. She was lying on the sofa in Jessie’s lounge room and there was a dent in the pillow on the abandoned quilt on the floor where Damon had slept. She could smell freshly brewed coffee, coming, no doubt, from the kitchen.