by Ford, Holly
On the Glenmore straight, Lennie kept her speed low. There it was up ahead, even sadder in darkness. The painted-out oil company logo, the deserted forecourt. The hideous pub. In the accommodation block, a light was on. She could see the rectangle of the patio door where Mitch had paused in the act of walking out on her the night they’d met. The night he’d left her sitting alone on the bed.
Lennie’s own voice that night echoed in her mind. She’d been so sure she’d read the situation. There’s somebody else.
Something like that. The expression on Mitch’s face as he’d said it made sense to her now.
She was ashamed of how she’d thought of him that night, ashamed of how she’d been thinking about him since. Ashamed of being jealous. Of thinking Mitch was in love with Tess, and wishing that he wasn’t. Wishing it was her instead. Of being maybe, maybe, just a tiny bit glad that he couldn’t be with the woman he wanted, because it meant that there was a still a chance…Lennie glanced at her side mirror, watching the lights of the pub recede. If she had a magic wand to wave, she’d give him Emily. She wished that she did, that she could.
Or maybe she’d go one better. Maybe she’d just take the whole thing away, so he didn’t have to go through any of it. Put Mitch back in the Broken Creek valley twenty-five years ago, catching cockabullies, playing cricket and war games with Nate. Dreaming, maybe, of being a pilot one day. Lennie wondered if he’d make the same choices.
Back at her grandfather’s house, she found Jim tidying away his dinner dishes in the kitchen.
‘Hello, pretty girl.’ Lennie bent, making a fuss of Pesh, who’d been left at home out of respect for Lois’s tenancy agreement. ‘Yes, I missed you too.’
Jim hung up his tea towel. ‘How was the drive?’
‘Yeah, it was fine.’ Lennie waited for him to ask after the woman he’d spent two thirds of his life with.
‘Have you eaten?’ he said. ‘I saved you some goulash. It’s in the fridge.’
Her grandfather had always been an adventurous, if infrequent, cook. Since Lois had gone, he seemed to be on a mission to work his way through her spice rack.
‘Thanks,’ Lennie told him, ‘but I’m all good.’ Her grandmother had stuffed her so full of food, she was surprised she could still zip up her jeans. She eyed the clock on the oven. It was close to ten o’clock. ‘I might just head off to bed.’
Jim nodded. ‘Busy week coming up.’
‘Oh,’ Lennie realised she should probably mention, ‘I’m out on Wednesday night. I’m having dinner with Benji.’
‘You’re okay to go to that?’ Her grandfather flicked the jug on. ‘Good. I don’t have to, then.’
Lennie stared at him. What the hell?
Jim glanced up. ‘There’s a thing on at the jockey club that night.’
As her mind struggled to catch up with the conversation, Lennie pulled out her phone and looked at the work email account she hadn’t bothered to check since she’d left the clinic for her grandmother’s house on Friday. Oh, bloody hell—there it was. An invitation from VETSouth to join Benji, his boss, and one of the other partners for dinner at The Hard Yard on Wednesday. Lennie squeezed her eyes shut. What exactly had she said in those texts to Benji?
‘That’ll work out well,’ her grandfather was saying, stirring his coffee. ‘You can keep an eye on them for me.’
‘Right,’ Lennie said, scanning the Benji conversation on her phone. No, it was okay, she was in the clear. She could totally have been talking about business. ‘Sure.’ God, what an idiot she’d very nearly made of herself. She frowned at the screen, glad she hadn’t accepted Benji’s offer of a ride.
‘Well,’ Jim said, heading for the living room, ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Goodnight.’ Shouldering her bag, Lennie made her way upstairs, Pesh stitched to her heels. In the bedroom, she dropped her bag on the bed.
The floral duvet cover—pure Lois—was new, but apart from that the room she’d grown up in was virtually unchanged. Pulling the curtains, she gazed around for a second at the familiar walls. The place made her feel as if she should be doing her homework. So many dreams dreamed, so many plans hatched in this bed. Benji Cooper had starred in more than his fair share. And here she was, back again. Still getting Benji’s signals all wrong.
Down at the other end of the house, the television came on. Jim certainly didn’t seem to have much use for sleep these days. Was he avoiding facing an empty bed, was that it? The room he’d shared with Lois for so many years? Lennie ran a hand over her face. He couldn’t go on like this. Could he?
Cautiously, knowing she was walking on eggshells, she headed back down the stairs. ‘Grandpa?’ Lennie took a deep breath. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ Jim’s eyes didn’t leave the Discovery Channel.
With an inward sigh, Lennie settled on the sofa beside his chair. ‘You know, Grandma was asking about you,’ she ventured.
Jim said nothing. For a second, they both watched the heaving decks of Deadliest Catch.
‘I think she misses you,’ Lennie said. ‘I think she wants to come home. She just needs to hear that you—’
‘Leave it alone, Len.’ His voice softened halfway through the snap. ‘I know you’re trying to help,’ he said gruffly, ‘but I don’t need relationship counselling.’
Really? With an effort, Lennie held her tongue.
‘What I do need,’ he said, ‘is for you to take a long, hard look at those bosses of Benji’s for me on Wednesday night. Hear what they’ve got to say. If you can come back and tell me, hand on your heart, that they’re the best option for Kimpton—’ He broke off, his profile stony, his gaze still locked on the TV screen. ‘Well, I suppose I’m going to have to try to believe you.’
‘Grandpa—’
Jim raised the remote. ‘Goodnight, Dak.’
Lennie got to her feet, swelling music and the crash of the Bering Sea covering her retreat as she made her way back upstairs. Well, she’d tried.
With a heavy sigh, Pesh stretched out on the carpet beside the bed.
In her bag, Lennie’s phone started to ring. Pulling it out, she settled down on the duvet. ‘Del! Hey, where’ve you been?’
‘Hey.’ Del’s crisp, no-nonsense voice was like a returning blast of sanity. ‘Sorry, I only just picked up your message. I’ve been off in the bush on this team-building thing all week. Bastards took away our phones. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ Lennie told her quickly. ‘Sorry if I sounded weird. I’d had kind of a strange day when I rang you.’
‘So what was it you needed to ask me about?’
‘Del—’ Lennie drew breath for the plunge. ‘Do you know much about PTSD?’
‘Human or equine?’
‘Human.’
‘A bit, I guess. I do some work with peer support. We’re calling it PTSI these days, by the way. It’s an injury, not a disorder. Like a broken leg.’
Lennie traced the shape of a peony on the fabric beside her. ‘So you’re saying it heals?’
‘Depending on how badly mashed up you are and what you do with it, yeah. If you just hop around on it and hope for the best, it can turn out pretty ugly.’ Del’s tone softened. ‘Is there something you want to talk about, Len?’
‘No, no,’ Lennie reassured her. ‘It’s not me, it’s…Well, you know I told you about that guy I met over here. Mitch.’
‘The lumberjack from the pub?’ Lennie could practically see Del’s eyebrows rise. ‘You found him?’
‘We kind of found each other. Turns out he’s a helicopter pilot, actually.’
‘Right,’ Del said. ‘I can see how you could get those two things confused. Okay, Len, you want to catch me up here?’
Lennie ran over the story.
‘Your guy’s been through the mill,’ Del said, when she’d taken it in. ‘Does he have good people around him? Friends?’
Lennie pictured the Broken Creek yards, the smile Mitch had given Tess, the unguarded way
he was with Nate, the so-easy vibe between them. They were a unit. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s part of a pretty tight crew.’
‘So his relationships seem strong?’
‘Very strong,’ Lennie said.
‘That night you met in the pub,’ Del said. ‘Fight night. Was he drinking?’
‘I was watching him most of the night,’ Lennie confessed. ‘I only saw him drink about half a beer.’
‘Any other substances you think he might be taking? I mean, you carry some pretty strong kit. Has he ever asked you for anything?’
‘No,’ Lennie defended him sharply. God, you could take a policewoman out of uniform…‘Look, I’m pretty sure Mitch doesn’t have a problem with substance abuse. He flies for Mountain Rescue over here, so he’s got to stay pretty clean, right?’
‘He’s a search and rescue pilot?’ A slight note of exasperation crept into Del’s voice. ‘You could have led with that, Len. There’s no way SAR would let him anywhere near one of their helis if they didn’t back his resilience a hundred per cent.’
‘In civilian, Del,’ Lennie begged her. ‘Please.’
‘Your guy must have all his ducks in a row,’ Del said. ‘Whatever happened to him, he’s worked his way through to the other side. Stand back and give him a round of applause. That isn’t easy.’
‘So what, you’re saying he’s fine?’ Lennie chewed her lip. Mitch hadn’t looked fine when he’d walked away from her in that creek bed.
‘Len,’ Del said gently, ‘you’re the doctor. Tell me what happens after a broken leg heals.’
‘There are changes in the bone,’ Lennie said, thinking it out. ‘It remodels itself, but it’s not quite the same as it used to be. You probably won’t be conscious of anything 99.9 per cent of the time, but every now and then…’
‘You’ll get a twinge,’ Del finished for her. ‘And from what you’ve told me, it sounds like Pesh has been a bout of bad weather for your guy.’
Lennie looked down at Pesh beside her bed. ‘Mitch isn’t my guy,’ she remembered to say. ‘I care about him, that’s all. I’d like to help if I can.’
‘Knowing you, you already are.’ Lennie could hear the smile in Del’s voice. ‘You’re a listener. You don’t push. You’ve got great instincts. Go with them.’ Del paused. ‘You know, maybe what you’re looking at is simpler than you think. Guilt, regret, grief for somebody you love…They’re big emotions, Len. Feeling them doesn’t mean you have PTSI. It means you’re human.’
Lennie chewed her lip. Two nights ago, her father had said a very similar thing. Perhaps you do not need special letters for what your friend is feeling, tesoro. Perhaps he is just sad. He has lost his girl. He has lost the life he thought he would have.
Leaving Del to hop a police bus back to Sydney, Lennie stared again at her sheltering walls. Not everybody got a chance to come home.
Sleep suddenly a world away, she reached for her laptop, returning to the pages that had been swallowing up so much of her recent spare time. When she looked at her watch again, it was nearly midnight. Stretching her shoulders, Lennie glanced down at Pesh, who was snoring softly beside the bed. One more. Then she really did have to stop. She clicked through to the next page.
Ugh, it was taking forever to load. Even the server had had enough for the night. As the page assembled itself at last, Lennie began to scroll down. Oh, Jesus. The name on the screen knocked the breath from her lungs. It couldn’t be. Could it? She clicked on the thumbnail. If it wasn’t…Well, the coincidence seemed even more unlikely.
Having read through the details twice, she closed the laptop at last, glancing longingly at her phone. It was way too late to call now. Nothing she could do for another eight hours. She looked around the room again, trying to calm herself down. It could wait. It really could.
Lennie succeeded in holding out until she got to the clinic the next morning before she hit call. Mitch’s phone went straight to voicemail. Damn.
‘Mitch, it’s Lennie.’ Did she need to add a last name? Lennie tried to keep it together. ‘Can you call me? Or…or if you’re passing, drop in.’ She took a breath. ‘There’s something I think you should see.’
Eleven
By Wednesday, Lennie had given up checking her phone screen for a message from Mitch the same way she was trying to give up going over and over their conversation in the creek bed looking for clues as to why he wasn’t calling her back. Was he sorry he’d told her about Emily? Had she handled it badly? Said too little? Too much? Either way, she had to face the fact that whatever she might have to say to Mitch now, he didn’t want to hear it.
Upstairs running through her wardrobe options for Benji’s dinner at The Hard Yard, Lennie glanced out at the sky beyond the bedroom window. It had been another still, sunny, late autumn day, and an enormous yellow half-moon was lighting up the dusk as it set over the mountains. The perfect evening, she thought, for the off-the-shoulder sweater she’d got so little wear out of in Sydney last winter.
Pulling it on, she checked the effect in the mirror. Yep, well, that sent all the same signals as her Year Twelve hemline. For acting out her little Benji fantasy with a night of old-school flirting, it was ideal—or at least, it would have been, if this was the date she’d briefly thought he’d asked her out on. For dinner with Paul and the VETSouth partners, not so much. Lennie considered it again. Maybe if she pulled one shoulder up? Or wore a camisole underneath?
The sound of the doorbell made her jump. She hadn’t realised Jim was being picked up for his do at the club. Rearranging her sweater some more, Lennie waited for him to get the door. She’d just decided that she really did have to wear something else when the doorbell rang again. With a sigh, she hurried downstairs.
Pesh, white tail wagging, was already at the door. Throwing it open, Lennie froze.
Mitch stood looking at her.
‘Hey,’ he said calmly. ‘Is this a good time?’
‘Hey,’ Lennie managed, a second too late. ‘Sure…’
Mitch leaned down to pat Pesh, the manoeuvre taking him achingly close to the bare skin of Lennie’s shoulder. She reminded herself to breathe. Now that he was here, in the warm, hard flesh, that gleam of humour in his brown eyes, he didn’t seem like such an object of sympathy.
‘Did you get my text?’ he said.
Lennie shook her head. ‘When?’
‘An hour or so ago. I was in and out of cell phone signal.’
‘Oh,’ she said stupidly. ‘No. It hasn’t come through.’
‘Sorry.’ His gaze moved over her sweater before coming to rest on her face. ‘Your message said to drop in if I was passing, so…’
‘Yes,’ Lennie said. ‘I mean, come in.’ She stepped out of the way.
‘I only picked it up today,’ Mitch said. ‘Your message, I mean. I’ve been heli-mustering at a couple of places up around Treble Peak for the last few days. I’m just heading home now.’ ‘Lucky you.’ Lennie smiled, getting herself together at last as she led the way through to the kitchen. ‘I’d love to get up into that sort of country.’
‘Yeah?’ As she looked back at him, Mitch paused, the gleam in his eyes growing. ‘What are you doing Saturday?’
Lennie felt her mouth open. ‘I…’ She needed to say something. What should it be? Oh god, this wasn’t what she’d invited him here for. Not now. ‘Actually, I have to work,’ she remembered at last. ‘I’m on at the clinic.’
‘Right.’ He looked away. ‘Sure.’
‘Dak?’ Jim strode into the kitchen. ‘I’m off.’ He stopped. ‘Hello, Mitch.’
‘Hey, Jim.’ Mitch looked a little guilty.
‘See you later,’ Lennie said, surreptitiously checking the clock. ‘Have fun.’
‘You too,’ her grandfather said, in a slightly odd tone. ‘Say hi to…’
No, no, no!
‘Say hi to The Hard Yard for me,’ Jim finished. ‘Call me if you need a lift home. I’ll be driving past.’
‘Bye Grandpa.’
‘See you, Dak.’ He disappeared into the hall. Lennie heard the door shut.
‘Dak?’ Mitch raised his eyebrows.
Lennie laughed. ‘Daktari,’ she explained. ‘It’s Swahili for doctor.’
Mitch’s eyebrows rose further.
‘There was this ancient TV show we used to watch about a vet in Africa. I wanted to grow up to be him. Grandpa and I would go out afterwards and pretend the bush was Kenya.’
Mitch looked amused. ‘Wasn’t that show on in the fifties or something?’
‘The sixties,’ she corrected. ‘After Grandpa had to sit through Power Rangers once, he bought the DVD.’ Lennie made her way to the fridge. ‘You want a drink?’
‘You’re going out tonight,’ he said, more seriously.
‘Yeah,’ Lennie said quickly. ‘Just a work thing.’ She pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘I’ve got a bit of time before I need to leave.’
‘I don’t want to ruin your evening.’
‘You’re not.’ Across the bench, their eyes met. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
‘You said you had something to show me,’ Mitch said.
Lennie looked away. She needed to stop thinking about herself. She’d brought him here for a reason, and gazing into those deep brown eyes wasn’t it. For the first time it occurred to her what an odd message it was to have left on his phone. What could she possibly have that he needed to see? And yet, here he was. Sitting there at the bench with no idea what was coming. She was starting to feel like she’d led him into an ambush.
He was so different tonight to the last time she’d seen him. So much happier, so much more relaxed. Part of her wanted—badly—to stay in the moment, come up with some veterinary breakthrough to show him, let what was happening between them now run. She and Mitch together, getting to know each other, enjoying a glass of wine. No ghosts in the room. But tonight wasn’t about what she wanted.
She’d had no right, Lennie realised suddenly, to do what she’d done. Maybe she should have minded her own business. But now it was done, she couldn’t go back.
‘Mitch…’ She reached for her laptop, bringing up the now-familiar tab. ‘After we talked the other day on the station, I…Well, I did some digging and I found this.’ Turning the screen to face him, she slid the laptop across the bench.