by Ford, Holly
With a hemisphere between her and Mitch, she’d have to let go. They could vanish from each other’s lives just as if they’d never existed.
Please do, Lennie typed quickly. She’d never have to hear about him, never have to worry about him, never even have to say his name. That had to be easier, didn’t it? I’d love to be considered.
•
Returning from Pesh’s round of the horse paddock that afternoon, Lennie paused on the clinic’s back step, watching a pair of paradise ducks circle Kimpton Park, their cries tearing up the falling dusk. God, it was a lonely sound. She pulled her jacket tighter. In the almost total silence that followed the ducks’ descent, she could make out the distant buzz of a helicopter working somewhere in the hills.
Suddenly Mitch’s face was filling her mind, the look in his eyes when he’d held her. Desperately, Lennie tried to stop there. Mitch smiling and Chase running free—those were the only two images it was healthy to keep. But it was too late. It was all crashing down around her like broken china, his body, his kiss, every touch, every word. Lennie heard herself make a small sound. There were sharp edges everywhere, no direction to go in that didn’t hurt, that wasn’t glittering with jagged pieces of everything that could have been. Except that it couldn’t—it was never going to have ended any better way than it had. And he’d told her that from the start.
If things had been different, if Mitch had never gone through the things that he had…If things had been different, then Mitch would be different. The guy she’d told him she didn’t want. She might wish that for him, but she couldn’t wish it for herself. How could you fall for somebody this badly and wish they were somebody else? Oh Jesus, she needed to get the hell out of here.
‘Are you okay?’ Krystal stepped out of the recovery room to stand beside her on the step.
Lennie nodded. ‘I’m fine.’ She tried to smile.
Krystal said nothing for a second or two, her hand running along Pesh’s back. ‘Is it true that you’re leaving?’ she said. ‘I overheard Paul talking to Benji this morning.’
‘Yeah.’ Lennie sniffed, still not quite trusting her voice. ‘It’s looking that way.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Krystal said. ‘Really sorry.’
‘Thanks,’ Lennie managed.
‘It’s been like going back to polytech, having you around.’ Krystal paused. ‘Better, actually.’
Lennie looked at her in surprise.
‘In a good way. I mean, I’ve learned some pretty cool stuff.’ Krystal sighed. ‘Not that I’ll probably ever get to use it again with you gone. But still. It’s good to know.’
‘You’re a great nurse,’ Lennie told her. ‘You could work anywhere you want.’
Krystal shrugged. ‘It’s not for everybody, sure. But Kimpton suits me pretty well. I mean, it sucks sometimes—where doesn’t, right? You can’t get away from people, the whole town’s up in your business…’
Lennie nodded wryly.
Krystal’s eyes rose to the hills, the turn of her head following the distant sound of the helicopter. ‘But it means they notice when you need help,’ she said. ‘And if they’re not there already, you always know who to call.’
‘I like Kimpton.’ Lennie tried not to search the sky. Chances were it wasn’t Mitch anyway. ‘I’ve liked being back. It’s not about that.’
‘I guess Paul’s probably right,’ Krystal said. ‘You’re wasted on us.’
‘No,’ she said hurriedly. God, no. She didn’t think that at all. ‘It’s just…’ She trailed off, unable to come up with a reason she was prepared to explain.
‘Well,’ Krystal said, after a while. ‘You gotta do what you gotta do.’
Lennie rubbed Pesh’s ear.
‘But it’s not just Jim who’s going to miss you,’ Krystal went on. ‘A lot of people around here will.’
‘You guys will be fine. The clinic doesn’t need me.’
‘People like Stan Solomon,’ Krystal said. ‘Bella McKenzie.’ She paused again. ‘They’ll be sorry to see you go.’
In the silence that followed, Lennie realised the sky, too, had fallen quiet.
‘I’d better get back inside.’ She shivered under her coat. ‘My next client’s just about due.’
•
‘You really think I should take the deal?’ Back at home that night, Jim turned the glass resting on the arm of his chair, studying the whisky’s swirl.
‘I think it’s best for everybody,’ Lennie said gently. ‘VETSouth’s offer is solid. You have to sell to someone—better the devil you know. They’ll do as good a job as anybody.’ Anybody but Jim himself. ‘They’re not going to run the practice the same way you have, but they’ve been seeing your clients for three weeks and the sky hasn’t fallen in.’
Jim’s forehead furrowed more deeply. ‘Lennie, are you sure you don’t want to—’
‘Grandpa,’ she said, ‘I can’t. I just can’t.’
‘I always hoped…’ He sighed. ‘I thought if I could just get you into the large-animal work, get you learning, you’d see.’
‘I know,’ Lennie told him. ‘I know what you hoped. And I’m sorry. I do see, I see why you love it, but Grandpa, it’s not what I love.’
‘But you’d be so good at it.’ There was an edge of frustration to her grandfather’s voice. ‘You could take the practice into the future. One that isn’t all about gimmicks and pharmaceutical sales.’
‘Jim,’ Lois said firmly, ‘don’t make this harder for Lennie than it already is.’
Lennie studied the well-worn velvet of the sofa. ‘I’m applying for a job in Chicago,’ she said.
‘Chicago?’ Lois’s face flared with alarm. ‘What happened to Sydney? I thought you were going back there.’
‘This other thing’s come up.’ Lennie lowered her eyes again, picking at the fabric. ‘Internal medicine at a teaching hospital. There’s a whole campus. It’s an amazing-looking place.’
There was a long silence.
‘What if you want to come back?’ Jim said. ‘What happens to Pesh?’
‘We just have to stay in the US for six months, then she can get back in.’
‘Six months,’ Jim repeated.
Lennie’s heart sank further. Was she being unfair? But her grandfather would still be there in six months. He’d be there for years, she was sure of it. ‘It’s not like I won’t see you,’ she said. ‘I’ll come back.’
‘Of course you will,’ Lois said. ‘You’ll visit. And so will we.’ She shot Jim a look. ‘Chicago’s not so far. I’ve always wanted to see the Great Lakes. We can go to Niagara Falls.’
Jim snorted into his Scotch.
‘The Lion King’s sounding pretty good about now, isn’t it?’ Lois observed dryly.
He ignored her. ‘How long does it take to fly to Chicago?’
‘About eighteen hours,’ Lennie admitted. ‘A bit more, maybe.’
‘I thought three was bad,’ her grandfather said, more than half to himself. ‘Dak, when you said you were leaving, I thought we’d still have you somewhere close.’
‘Shh.’ Having added another piece of wood to the fire, Lois perched on the arm of Jim’s chair, her hand resting on his shoulder. ‘If Len needs to go to Chicago—’ she gave Lennie a meaningful look ‘—then that’s exactly what she should do.’
Lennie nodded gratefully.
‘It’s something different,’ Lois said. ‘Something exciting.’
‘It’s a bloody long way away,’ Jim put in.
‘Yes.’ Lois gave Lennie another look. ‘That too.’
‘I haven’t got the job yet.’ Lennie sipped her Scotch. ‘I might not.’
Jim made a harrumphing noise. ‘Of course you’ll get it.’
‘Tell us about the place.’ Lois smiled. ‘A teaching hospital, you said? Will you have residents?’
‘Yeah.’ Lennie smiled back. ‘Scary, huh?’
‘A new challenge,’ her grandmother said. ‘You’ll be brilliant at it. Won’t sh
e, Jim?’
He let out a heavy sigh. ‘She will.’
Twenty-four
Settled in her favourite spot on the conservatory sofa, enjoying the Sunday afternoon sun, Lennie scrolled through another page of houses to rent in Chicago. Outside, there was still a little snow dusting the shadows of the garden. It had fallen overnight, the cloud that had brought it retreating sometime before she got up to pull the curtains back on a postcard-perfect morning. On the hills above the house the snow was thicker, and the formerly rock-patched mountains she was trying not to think about to the west had turned an unbroken white.
Pesh, beside her, was well-recovered enough to want to be out in it. It had been a long time and a continent ago since she’d seen snow.
‘You’ll get plenty of it in Illinois,’ Lennie told the sulking dog, continuing to study the screen. ‘You’re not allowed to run around yet. The last thing we need is for you to slip out there.’
As the landline started to ring, Lennie raised her head. Seeing Jim in the kitchen right next to the phone, she returned to her surfing, letting him pick up.
The Chicago veterinary campus was a little outside of town, but still, it wasn’t going to be easy—or cheap—to find somewhere with enough space for Pesh. If she got the job, Lennie reminded herself. Just because the first Skype interview had gone so well didn’t mean it was in the bag. She clicked on a thumbnail. If she got a second interview, she should ask them about accommodation. Maybe they had some kind of deal.
‘Lennie.’ Jim walked in, the phone in his hand and the most sombre look on his face she’d seen for days. ‘You need to take this.’
Sitting up quickly, she put the phone to her ear. ‘Lennie O’Donnell.’
‘It’s Megan from Mountain Rescue here,’ a crisp voice said. ‘Sorry to disturb you on a Sunday. We tried VETSouth, but we just got their centralised line. One of our guys had this number, he thought you might be able to help. We’re being called out to a motor vehicle accident on State Highway 81. There are horses involved. Can you ride along with us?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Scrambling up, Lennie headed for the porch, tucking the phone into her shoulder as she pulled on her workboots.
‘You know where our base is?’ the woman said.
‘Yeah, I do.’ Lennie grabbed her truck keys. ‘I’ll just have to stop by the clinic and pick up some gear. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
Climbing into the back of the waiting helicopter fifteen minutes later, she traded a smile with the paramedic already seated on the opposite side. The atmosphere in there reminded her of walking into an operating theatre—a deep, deliberate kind of hyper-calm. Everyone knew exactly what they had to do and was getting on with doing it. Everyone except her.
The blades had started turning as she drove up, and the only glimpse she’d had of Mitch was a white helmet behind the glass of the cabin. Now he was less than a metre in front of her, his hands flicking switches, a stretcher beside him. As the guy who’d ushered her in closed the side door, Lennie settled into the cramped middle seat and picked up the headset hanging above her.
‘Steve.’ The guy offered her his hand and a harness. ‘I’m team leader today. That’s Francine beside you. Put this on and we’ll get you clipped in. You ever done any winch work before?’ Lennie shook her head, a knot of nerves blocking her throat.
‘Don’t worry.’ He grinned. ‘It’s like falling off a log. Only slower.’
‘It probably won’t come to that.’ Mitch’s voice spoke through her earphones. It was the first time she’d heard it since the night she’d left his bed. Lennie wasn’t sure she wanted to look at all the things it was making her feel. Safe. Dangerously happy. And even more miserable, all at the same time. ‘I’ll try and get you on the ground.’
Steve rolled his eyes. ‘That’s what he always says.’
Mitch would have been expecting Jim, she knew. It was her grandfather’s number he’d given Mountain Rescue, not hers. Her grandfather the horse expert.
‘Everybody on?’ Mitch checked. Whatever he’d expected, he didn’t sound thrown. It was the voice of a man about to take the kids for a Sunday drive.
‘Good to go,’ Steve confirmed.
‘Megan, we’re lifting now.’
Jammed between Steve and Francine, Lennie could see little but the tilt of the horizon. Jargon flew over the top of her head as Mitch and Steve tried to make a plan based on the information they had.
‘The guy called it in himself?’ Mitch said.
‘Yeah, on his mobile,’ Steve told him. ‘His name’s George. Said he’d just come over the top of the pass heading north.’
‘If he’s got reception, it means he’s probably out in the clear.’
‘I’m told,’ Steve said, ‘he also said he was looking at trees.’
‘Steve,’ a voice blared over the radio, ‘this is Megan. We’ve got Air One standing by. Let me know when you’ve got him.’
‘There he is,’ Mitch said, ten minutes later, in his usual even way. ‘Megan, we’ve got the accident in sight, confirm it’s an SUV with a float, we’re one minute out.’
Lennie still couldn’t see a thing below.
‘Doesn’t look like anybody else is here yet,’ Mitch said. ‘Megan, can you confirm if the road is open?’
‘Okay, Mitch,’ Megan’s voice announced, ‘fire and police are still thirty minutes out. You’ll have to treat the road as open.’
‘I can’t risk putting down on the highway,’ Mitch said. ‘Can anybody see a good spot in the gully to get a skid down?’
‘Nope, and I’m not seeing any movement from our guy,’ Francine said. ‘We could be getting short on time.’
‘Steve,’ Mitch said, ‘it looks like you’re on, mate.’
‘Told you so.’ Steve grinned.
Lennie felt a lurch of pure terror as he slid open the side door. Now she could see the ground. All too much of it.
‘Winch coming on board,’ Steve said, leaning out nonchalantly into the void.
Halfway down the steep, bush-clad side of the gully below the highway, the SUV lay on its roof at the end of a trail of destruction. The driver’s door was open, the driver sprawled half in and half out of the cab. Close by, a brown and white dog stood looking up at them uncertainly at the hovering helicopter, the rotor wash raking its fur.
Jackknifed behind the SUV, the horse float was lodged in an outcrop of rocks, its angle anchoring the tow vehicle in place. The float had come to rest on its wheels, but it was painfully obvious from the state of it that it hadn’t always been that way. The miracle Lennie had been hoping for wasn’t happening today. Nausea rising, she tried not to let her imagination get ahead of her. Seeing what was inside the float was going to be bad enough—she didn’t need to preview it as well.
Francine was already manoeuvring herself onto the skid, Steve clipping the stretcher to her harness.
‘We’ll take you down next,’ he told Lennie. ‘Francine’ll help you get on the ground.’
Oh god, oh god…As the winch returned, Lennie tried to gather her courage.
‘We’ve got you.’ Steve guided her out onto the skid. ‘Just hold on here. You can’t fall.’
Somehow, Lennie was clear of the helicopter, the side of the gully swaying towards her. Resisting the temptation to close her eyes, she succeeded in getting her feet down on the steep ground.
Francine unclipped the line. ‘We’re clear,’ she radioed Steve.
Lennie raised an arm against the hurricane blast of the rotors as the winch line disappeared skywards. When she looked down, Francine was already at the driver’s side, shooing what Lennie could now see was an elderly English setter out of the way.
‘You must be George,’ the paramedic yelled to the driver, above the roar overhead. ‘I’m Francine. We’re going to get you out of here in just a few minutes, okay?’
Lennie took a breath of calm air as the helicopter moved away.
‘The horses,’ the guy said. He still had his
phone clutched in his hand. ‘Get the horses out.’
‘It’s alright,’ Francine said firmly. ‘Just hold still for me, George, can you do that, mate? We’ve got a vet right here, she’s going to look after your horses.’
As Lennie scrambled up the slope to the float, the setter followed her anxiously. She couldn’t see so much as a scratch on the dog. Bracing herself for what she was about to see, Lennie put a quick hand to his head. ‘I guess you’re today’s miracle,’ she told him softly.
The float’s front window had popped, dangling from a single corner, but there was no sign of the horses inside. Not a kick, not a sound. Lennie tried the battered side door. After a bit of persuasion, it opened. Jesus. She looked away, sucking in the cold air as she swallowed the urge to vomit.
One of the two horses was already dead. There was only one thing she could do for the other, and climbing in, Lennie did it fast, watching the dark eye relax, the pain go, as the barbiturates hit its system.
‘It’s over now.’ She stroked an ear. ‘All over now.’
The horse let out a long breath.
Outside, Lennie counted five minutes away. When she clambered back into the float, both horses’ corneal reflexes were gone. She stepped out again, tears building despite herself, an ache behind her eyes that had nothing to do with the blast of the helicopter’s return.
Stripping off her gloves, she clambered back down to the overturned SUV. Francine had the driver strapped into the stretcher.
‘Can I help?’ Lennie asked.
‘Yeah,’ Francine snapped, watching the winch line descend. ‘Can you grab that bloody dog and keep it out of the way?’
Seizing the setter’s collar, Lennie squatted beside the stretcher, trying to keep out of the way herself.
‘Are the horses okay?’ The driver’s voice was woozier now, barely audible above the hovering helicopter.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Lennie said.
He closed his eyes, an awful, inhuman keening noise coming from somewhere down in his throat. Francine bent closer.
‘We’re going to take you up to the heli now,’ she yelled.
‘Where’s Ralph?’ The driver tried to look around. ‘Have you got Ralph?’