Critical Condition

by Nicki Edwards

  Poppy printed off her itinerary and checked it over. She would fly into Sydney arriving early Thursday morning, then take a short flight west across the Blue Mountains to Birrangulla. She’d get some sleep that afternoon and attend the funeral on the Friday. After staying in Birrangulla on the Friday and Saturday nights she’d drive north to visit her mother on Sunday morning. She’d stay a week with her mother – or less if it was as unbearable as she anticipated – then head further north to Noosa. She left that part of her trip open. It wasn’t the school holiday season, so finding accommodation wouldn’t be an issue. Three weeks at the beach would be enough time for a proper break before returning to Brisbane and flying back to New York to face Adam.

  She called work and arranged to take time off, effective immediately. She had six weeks of annual leave owing and her boss was more than happy to approve her leave application. Imagining Andi’s “high five” when she found out Poppy was going home made her smile – something she hadn’t done much of since Adam’s and Sean’s phone calls earlier that day.

  Finally, Poppy called Adam and left him a message, explaining her father had passed away and she was going to the funeral. She knew from experience it was unlikely he would call her back, but letting him know that she was going home and when she was returning was the right thing to do.

  Home.

  Home. One syllable, multiple meanings.

  All it had taken was a five minute phone call with a stranger and a handful of sentences to rock Poppy’s entire world in a way she’d never imagined.

  If she wanted a third sign she was supposed to go back to Australia, there was no doubt she’d received it. Just not in the way she’d anticipated.

  *

  Less than twenty-four hours later, Poppy had arranged everything. Moving around the apartment in a daze, she tossed clothes into her largest suitcase. She was filling it with shorts and T-shirts when she remembered it was the opposite season in Australia. How could she have forgotten so easily? She had lived in Queensland for over half her life and was used to the mild temperatures even in winter, but Birrangulla was in central New South Wales which meant it could be cold in June. Then again, she was going to Noosa and the weather would be mild.

  Confusion about what to pack made her upend the contents of her case on her bed. She went back to her closet and chose random items of winter clothing which she stuffed into the case alongside her swimsuit and flip-flops. She packed with little care or thought. She had enough money she could buy whatever she wanted or needed when she got there.

  The final thing she packed was the carefully bundled package of unopened letters and cards from her father.

  As she zipped up the case, she glanced around the apartment. A few of her personal items were dotted around the room, but otherwise it still looked sparse and unlived in even after all these years. Poppy had a sudden strange sensation she would never be back, but she shoved it into the dark corner of her mind. Despite everything that had happened with Adam, New York was home now.

  And regardless of what the future held or where she’d have to live, she’d be back.

  *

  Poppy left her apartment on Tuesday morning as dawn was painting the city landscape a soft golden peach. She dragged her case down to the street and waited for a cab, still trying to dislodge the feeling it felt like she was leaving New York for good.

  The shock of her father’s death and Adam’s silence burned bright, but as the driver headed to the airport, the pain slipped away, and for the first time, anticipation bubbled. Soon she’d be standing with her feet firmly planted on home soil. At that moment Poppy couldn’t think of anything better or anything she wanted more.

  The flight from New York to Los Angeles was uneventful and she slept most of the way. While waiting for her flight from Los Angeles to Sydney, she checked her phone for the millionth time, hoping Adam might have replied to one of her dozen messages. Still nothing. She shoved her phone back into her purse. The least he could have done was shoot her a text of condolence.

  She massaged her temples. She had to stop thinking about him.

  It’s over, it’s over, it’s over, she said, repeating the words in her head.

  Then why isn’t my heart getting the message?

  The flight was called over the loudspeaker and before she boarded she calculated the time difference to Australia and sent a message to her mother letting her know she was on her way. Then she stared at her screen. Who else needed to know where she was going? Her vision blurred and she blinked rapidly. No one. There was no one to tell.

  In the entire five years she’d lived in New York, she’d made acquaintances among her work colleagues, but they weren’t close friends, not even Andi. Somehow Poppy had lost contact with her friends from university days back in Brisbane. How had she allowed that to happen? She used to be the sanguine – the life of the party – the girl who loved being surrounded by others. But because Adam insisted they keep their relationship under wraps – and now she knew the real reason why – she’d never really spoken about him to anyone. Poppy’s few work friends knew she was seeing someone, but they had no idea who.

  The realization she’d lost a part of herself was enough of a reminder that she’d made the right decision. This trip back home was all about recalibrating – about moving on and working out who she was. It was also about reconnecting with her former life and her former self and forgetting Adam Ford even existed.

  As she boarded the plane, she heard the familiar accents of the Qantas flight attendants and burst into tears. She found her seat, sat down, closed her eyes and allowed herself to cry.

  Chapter 12

  When Poppy had left Los Angeles sixteen hours earlier it was a sunny and dry thirty-six degrees. As the plane landed, the pilot announced it was sixteen degrees and wet in Sydney. Poppy shivered involuntarily even though it was toasty warm inside the aircraft.

  An hour later she’d collected her suitcase, navigated customs and border security without too many difficulties and found her way to the domestic terminal then to the smaller regional airline which would carry her to her final destination. After a long delay due to fog in Birrangulla, they were finally able to board. The tiny plane seated around thirty passengers and was only half full. Cursing her height, she stooped low to walk the length of the plane to her seat in the back.

  Forty minutes later the aircraft bumped and bounced through the turbulence over the Blue Mountains before circling over Birrangulla and beginning its descent. Poppy pressed her nose against the glass, leaving an oily smear as she peered out the window.

  Below her was a small town in a valley encircled by mountains. Farmhouses dotted the landscape on the edges of the town, the houses and sheds surrounded by paddocks of various shades of green. Black dots were cows, white dots sheep.

  She suffered a small attack of nerves as the plane’s wheels touched down with a thump and they taxied across the tarmac of the unfamiliar regional airport. It was easy to forget the reason why she’d flown halfway around the globe, but as she landed, reality grabbed at her.

  Her heart was fluttering too fast in her chest and wished she could slow it down. By this time tomorrow she’d have met her father’s second family for the first time. What if she didn’t like them? What if they didn’t like her? What if they didn’t want her at the funeral? She’d considered that and raised her concerns with Sean but he’d assured her Jenni was looking forward to meeting her.

  Since Sean’s phone call Poppy hadn’t spent much time dwelling on the reasons why she’d dropped everything to return to Australia because her head and heart were so full of confusing thoughts about Adam. But during the long flight she’d spent time reflecting on the good years – the years her father had been around – and she knew she probably should cut him some slack, but it was hard to forgive the man who’d walked out and left her to be raised by her mother.

  By the time the plane came to a standstill and the cabin door was disarmed and cross-checked, the but
terflies were virtually gone. At the end of the day, it was irrelevant whether Jenni McDonald and her kids liked her. Poppy was simply going to attend the funeral, play the role of grieving daughter and leave again. Forty-eight hours and she was out of there and she’d never have to deal with any of them again.

  She was the last one to exit and the cold wind hit her as she clung to the metal rail and stepped carefully down the steep steps. She smiled at the pilot and flight attendant and thanked them both before glancing around. Sean O’Connor should be easy enough to pick out. She assumed he’d be in his police uniform. When she saw no one matching the description of a jolly Irishman in her mind, she wasn’t worried. He’d promised he’d be there.

  Everything was silent now that the aircraft’s engines were shut down and the propellers had stopped spinning. A man in an orange high visibility vest and cowboy hat unloaded luggage from the back of the plane onto a small flat trailer. In the distance, black cattle grazed in fertile green paddocks beyond the boundaries of the airstrip. A crow cawed, hidden somewhere in a gum tree, the sound a stark and simple reminder that this was Australia and she was home. She inhaled the peace.

  Mustering as much confidence as possible, she found her suitcase and pulled up the handle. Tossing her carry-on bag over one shoulder she dragged the case behind her to the small building. As she pushed through the glass doors, she caught sight of her reflection and grimaced. Her hair was out of control and she was wearing the same outfit she’d donned in New York over thirty-six hours earlier. How did Nicole Kidman manage to look so glamorous whenever she travelled? Poppy resisted the urge to smell her armpits. Right now she would kill for a hot shower, a hair tie and a coffee. In that order.

  The small waiting room was overheated and empty. Most people had collected their bags and headed directly to the carpark. She walked over to the man flicking off lights and locking doors. His name badge said Len and he was the same man who had unloaded the luggage from the plane moments earlier. The high visibility vest was gone, in its place a Manly Sea Eagles jersey.

  “Excuse me. Is there a later flight coming in?” she asked.

  Maybe Sean had the wrong flight time. Or maybe he was simply running late. She couldn’t call him because her cell phone battery had died hours earlier and her charger was buried somewhere deep in her suitcase.

  “Nope. Sorry. This is the last flight for the day.”

  Her mind raced. “I was expecting someone to collect me and it doesn’t look like he’s shown up yet. Is there anywhere I can hire a car?”

  “Not ’ere. You’d have to go into town to do that.”

  “How far away is that?”

  “Fifteen minute drive.”

  “Oh.” She chewed her lip for a moment wondering if there were other options. “Can I call a cab?”

  Len frowned and his leathered face creased.

  “A taxi,” she said, correcting herself quickly and remembering to revert to an Australian accent as well as Australian lingo. “Would it cost much?”

  “My oath. It’d cost ya a bucketload and you’d have to call and wait for one to come out to pick you up.” He checked his watch. “Can I drop ya somewhere instead? I’m about to knock off.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Poppy was about to accept Len’s kind offer when the door swung open.

  A gorgeous guy galloped into the room followed by a gust of cold air and dried leaves. He weaved around the chairs toward her wearing the expression of a Labrador puppy caught digging up Grandma’s prized roses. He removed his cap, revealing thick, sandy blond hair that reached his collar.

  Then he smiled. A gorgeous smile bracketed by deep dimples.

  “You must be Poppy McDonald. Sorry I’ve kept yer waitin’.”

  Poppy opened her mouth but nothing came out. His make-you-go-weak-at-the-knees smile and Irish accent rooted her to the spot. His deep baritone voice was rich and thick, low and melodic. And very, very sexy. She stuck out her chest and cursed her dancing emotions. Now wasn’t the time to go all gooey-eyed over a cute stranger, no matter how good he sounded. Or looked.

  “Yes, that’s right. I’m Poppy. And you are—?”

  He hesitated. Not for long. It was hardly a pause, but enough that Poppy noticed the way he licked his lips as though his mouth was dry too and noticed the way one eyebrow rose as though something had caught his eye. It wasn’t her breasts, because she watched him like a hawk and his eyes didn’t leave her face. He was probably trying not to laugh at her bird’s nest of a hairstyle. She resisted the urge to smooth back the unruly red curls.

  She’d never even considered the need to make a good first impression but unexpectedly she was dreadfully conscious that this good looking stranger was seeing her at her worst – faded jeans, shapeless sweatshirt, no makeup. She forced herself to stand taller but he still towered over her. She swallowed again. Could she blame her physical response to him on jetlag?

  He held out his hand and his smile broadened even further causing the laughter lines around his eyes to crinkle. Something fluttered low in her stomach. She hoped it was hunger, not hormones.

  “I’m Liam O’Connor. Me dad sent me to pick you up. He got held up at work.” He ran his hand through his hair and tilted his head to the side. “Not held up, as in held up, you know, but caught up, as in busy. At work.”

  Poppy shook his hand, noting his handshake was firm and his hands were smooth.

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks. But I don’t usually accept rides from strange guys.” She felt her cheeks warm and quickly corrected herself. “I mean strangers.”

  Liam laughed. “I might be strange, but I can promise you I’m trustworthy.” Liam nodded in Len’s direction. “Ask Len. He’s known me forever.”

  Poppy looked at Len.

  “Nah, wouldn’t trust him as far as I could kick him,” Len replied with a chuckle. “He’s definitely a strange guy. And watch out for him when he’s hungry.”

  Poppy’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “He’d eat the crutch out of a low flying duck.”

  Poppy shook her head in confusion. “He’d do what?”

  “Ignore him,” Liam said. “He’s as happy as a pig in poop when he gets to bag people out. Like I said. I’m completely trustworthy. You heard it first from Len. Come on then, love, let’s go.” He put his cap back on.

  She stared at him. “Love?” she asked. “Really? Love?” Coming from him, the term of endearment sounded somewhat cute in an Irish kind of way. Still, she pretended to be insulted.

  In response Liam shrugged, grinned at her again and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. When she reached over to take it from him he shook his head before settling his cap low over his eyes and gesturing for her to lead the way outside. Not knowing what else to do, Poppy obeyed.

  This guy was either a major flirt or an even bigger fool. Either way, at least he was friendly and right now, friendly was precisely what she needed.

  “See ya, Len. Give my love to your wife.”

  “No worries, Liam. Say g’day to your old man. And you? Young lady? You watch out for him. He’s trouble. They don’t call him Ladies’-Man-Liam for no reason.”

  Len’s throaty laugh followed them outside.

  *

  Outside, dusk had fallen and a thick fog was slowly settling across the airfield like a blanket. In the distance the lights of the town flickered and smoke tendrils rose from chimneys. Liam watched Poppy pull her scarf tighter around her neck and gaze around. She didn’t look too upset that he’d been late.

  “What a pretty place,” she said, sounding like she genuinely meant it.

  “It’s not bad if you don’t mind small towns,” he agreed.

  “I’ve been living in New York the last five years. Trust me, this place looks like paradise.”

  “Ah, so that explains the accent.”

  She stared at him and the color of her eyes stopped him in his tracks.

  “I don’t have an accent,” she said.

  “Yeah, you do,” he
said, as he fought to regain control of his thoughts.

  “No, I don’t!”

  He was about to reply with a “whatever” but decided that would probably earn him an eye roll.

  There was no point arguing with someone he’d just met, but he hated losing. Plus, Poppy seemed like the kind of woman who didn’t mind some stirring. He was about to say something when she glared at him.

  “You’re the one with the accent,” she said.

  He smirked. Clearly she wasn’t going to let the matter drop. No worries. Two could play at this game.

  She put her hands on her hips. “I’m an Aussie through and through.”

  “Ha! I’m as much an Australian citizen as you. I’ve lived here since I was sixteen.”

  “You haven’t lost your accent though,” she said.

  “True. But I’ll let you in on a secret.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to her ear. “I’ve kept the accent because women tell me they like it. They reckon it’s a real turn on.”

  He winked.

  Poppy spluttered with laughter and the sound of it washed over him, reminding him of wind chimes on a summer’s day. He laughed with her.

  “Come on then, let’s go.”

  He watched the expression on her face change as her eyes skimmed the empty car park.

  “Where’s your car?”

  The only vehicle was his ambulance. He pointed to it. “I’m officially on duty.”

  “On duty?”

  “I’m a paramedic so if we get a call out between here and the motel you’ll have to come with me.”

  “Not likely,” she said, but she stepped off the curb and headed toward the truck with purposeful steps like getting picked up in an ambulance from the airport by a stranger was perfectly conventional. He gave her top marks for her spunk.