by Mark Stewart
PARTLY opened her right eye. For a long time, she stared at the flickering fire. She could feel the warmth of the flames on her face. Slowly she opened her left eye. Tilting her head, she looked around the semi-lit room. Shadows danced on the walls. Naomi swept the blanket from off her chin and started to replay the entire day. The office where she met Trent, the plane trip, the storm, the fence and a photo flash of Trent’s muscular body brought a smile to her lips. Lying on the worn-out couch, she felt alone and vulnerable. Slowly the fog in her mind lifted, revealing her hero washed and dressed her wounded hand.
Naomi stood. The blanket cascaded off her naked shoulders. The white bandage wrapped expertly around her arm showed no evidence of blood. Gently massaging her stiff neck using her un-bandaged hand, she started to move her stiff muscles.
Gathering up the blanket, Naomi reached out for the arm of the sofa to support her weight. Even after steadying herself she could feel her body still swaying. It felt the same as when her father took her on their only fishing trip. The feeling of being seasick took hours to subside.
A man entered the room carrying three wooden logs. He seemed oblivious to the fact Naomi’s gaze watched his every move. He walked across the room, dropped two short logs into a metal bucket then threw the third log on the fire. The man stood and nodded at the flames. The moment he turned his back on the floating embers he stared directly at Naomi.
“Who are you?”
“Whoa, little lady, don’t be too startled.”
Naomi wrapped the blanket tighter around her. “Where’s Trent?”
“He’s outside. I’m Henry, Roy Davey’s son,” he answered, reaching out his hand.
“I’m Naomi Fitzgerald,” she indicated, shaking the man’s hand.
“You’re from the big smoke, ain’t ya?”
Naomi nodded. “Where are you from?”
“I came from across the road. We’re neighbors, Trent and me.”
“If we aren’t at the Oasis, where are we?”
“You’re spot on. This ain’t the Oasis, girlie.”
“Naomi,” she barked.
Henry sent her a blank look.
“My name is Naomi.”
“Yeah, right,” blurted the man. “This is the old Peterson place. You sure are a pretty woman. Love the colour of ya skin.”
Trent walked into the room carrying a mug of freshly made hot coffee. Placing it in Naomi’s hand, he glared at Henry.
“You didn’t wake my guest?”
“I stayed quieter than a Fox closing in on the chickens. I’ll be gettin’ some more firewood.”
“Trent, where are my clothes?” whispered Naomi, the moment Henry left the room.
He pointed to a pile of material in the corner. “Do you remember the storm?”
“Yes of course.”
“Do you remember falling asleep and me grabbing you, before you hit the floor?”
“No.”
“Don’t feel embarrassed, I was the perfect gentleman. I suggested you take off your wet clothes. I also mentioned you should wrap the blanket you’re wearing around you.”
“Thank you.”
Trent walked over to the pile of dry clothes, throwing them at Naomi.
“I hope Henry didn’t come on too strong? He’s in the market for a wife.”
“What about you?”
“Sure, if the right lady ever came across my path.”
“Do you want to tell me more about yourself?”
“No.”
“Why not; why are you so secretive? Have you killed someone?”
“Nothing so drastic,” replied Trent.
“You can at least tell me why you insist on having a length of coiled rope hanging from your belt?”
“I’m not sure you need to know,” hinted Trent, squaring himself to Naomi.
“I think I have the right.”
Trent used his hand to casually wave the question away.
Naomi felt as though she’d walked into the middle of a tug of war where her brain was yelling to put the brakes on. Her heart ordered her to get him before he slips away. After all the tugging, she knew nothing of the man. His history, what he liked in a woman, disliked. The vow she made to Kaite rang warning bells inside her head. She wanted to reach inside her mind to throw them to the wind. Thinking of how much hurt Brandt caused her Naomi started trembling inside the blanket. In a heartbeat, she decided her brain will win, for now.
“You don’t strike me to be a typical Jillaroo,” mumbled Trent, throwing another log on the fire.
“I’m sure of the fact Mr. Stanton’s son is not just a pilot,”
“Are you sure?” replied Naomi. She watched the embers from the dry four-inch wide log floated upwards. In a few moments, the tiny sparks had been sucked up the chimney and were gone.
“A typical pilot wouldn’t land in the middle of nowhere just to check a wire fence. Maybe I’ll throw myself at Henry.”
Trent raised his hands. “I have to confess I’d treat you a thousand times more loving than he.”
Naomi wrapped her arms even tighter around the blanket. Her heart pounded inside her chest. The drumming was telling her to jump at the man. She so wanted desperately to follow what her heart ordered. Unless she threw herself at Trent how else could she show him how she felt? If she came on too strong would he still be interested? Her body erupted in goose bumps, comparing Trent’s loving, caring nature to Brandt’s deceitfulness. Though they’d only known each other for several hours, she needn’t condemn him of any wrongdoing. A sudden awareness surged to every part of her body. Maybe they were soul mates if there was such a thing. Naomi started to enter foreign territory and decided to leave it there.
“Tell me how you’d treat a woman compared to Henry?”
“I’d wine, dine and treat her respectfully.”
“What about dancing?”
Trent made a deep-throated chuckle. The noise seemed to startle Naomi, so he quickly changed the subject. “I believe it’ll stop raining soon.”
“I hope so,” mumbled Naomi. “Where did you say, we are?”
“At the Oasis.”
Naomi pushed her back deeper into the old dull red couch.
“I asked you earlier is this the Oasis; you told me no. You lied. Henry also informed me this is the Peterson’s place.”
“Not exactly,” blurted Trent.
She fixed her stare on the man. The light from the fire showed off his broad shoulders and deep chest. His damp jeans started to steam. Feeling angry she unknowingly gave a slight grin.
“I saw you smile.”
“I didn’t,” sighed Naomi, watching Trent’s chest rise.
“I’m the middle son of Mr. Stanton who owns the Oasis and surrounding area. Fifty kilometers north of this place is the actual Oasis. The surrounding area is five hundred square kilometers. The size of the Oasis is forty thousand square acres, or should I say, the Oasis is the shape of a football field.”
“An oval?” shrieked Naomi.
He nodded.
Naomi scrunched her nose. “There’s nothing out here except storms, dust, and Henry. He also mentioned he’s your neighbor.”
“Yes, he’s our closest neighbor. He lives one hour south of this house. The Oasis is the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“What’s the first?” questioned Naomi.
Trent chuckled before leaving the room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN