by Annie O'Neil
CHAPTER NINE
“WELCOME TO BROKEN HILL!”
Maggie used her best tour guide voice, hoping the anxiety building in her chest wasn’t bleeding through.
The morning had been magical. Of course. How could it not have been when she’d woken up to sweet kisses being dropped onto her lips by Raphael as he held her close to him?
Leaving the motel room had proved tough, so they’d opted for a late check-out and made the most of it.
Eventually—reluctantly—Maggie had answered her brothers’ building number of texts and said they’d be there by teatime.
The closer they got to home, the harder the Cinderella syndrome struck.
Cinderella the morning after the ball.
The further away from the roadhouse they drove, the less she believed it had really happened.
No glass slippers anywhere. Just a girl and a guy in a car on the way to her childhood madhouse.
Raphael had gone very quiet over the last few hours of their journey. Rather than ask him what he was thinking, she had let the all too familiar fingers of doubt begin niggling away at her confidence.
Did he regret telling her he loved her?
Was making love to her and meeting her family in a twenty-four-hour period too much, too soon?
Perhaps the whole thing had simply been a release after the accident.
He’d never attended a huge pile-up like that. And it had to have unleashed some pretty dark memories.
He’d told her he loved her. That wasn’t something that just slipped out.
“It’s not as big as I expected,” Raphael said as the town came into view.
His tone was hard to read—not a hint of anything other than general surprise in his voice. No disdain. No, Have mercy upon me—I just had sex with a girl from the Woop Woop.
Not yet, anyway.
“Well, you’re probably going to see a lot of things you didn’t expect over the next couple of days.”
She offered him an apologetic smile, then returned her gaze to the road, chiding herself as she did.
Just because she’d entered the town’s limits it didn’t mean she was submitting herself to a life of servitude. All she’d have to do was unearth the kitchen counters from who knew how many weeks of washing up, scrub the floors, air the place...
Raphael would understand if she had to do fifteen loads of laundry before they headed back to Sydney, right?
To buy a bit more time she took “the scenic route”, pointing out an enormous red bench someone had built eons earlier near one of the old mine sites.
“What is it for?” Raphael asked.
It was a reasonable question, considering there wasn’t really anything else near it. It was just a giant bench in the middle of the desert.
“No idea,” she admitted. “Aussies like big things. If you had enough time on your hands you could visit them all. The country is full of them. A ginormous banana, a guitar, a sundial...”
She forced herself to stop, surprised at how long she could have prattled on. As if her country’s super-sized objects were part of her. Which, of course, they weren’t. But the culture was—the landscape, the air. They were all part of who she was. Who she would become.
Would Raphael stay and become a part of that too?
He peered out of the window and made one of those French noises that meant, Peculiar, but I like it.
It made her smile. But it made her a little sad, too. This was probably the first and last time he’d ever be here.
“We used to come out here all the time. To see the bench.”
Why she’d loved it so much was beyond her. But she had begged her parents and her brothers to help her clamber up onto it countless times. They’d done so gladly, climbing up themselves after they’d hoisted her up, and then they’d all sat and watched the world go by—excepting the time a dust storm had blown in and they’d high-tailed it home so her mother’s asthma didn’t kick up.
Little had they known her coughing was actually lung cancer.
Raphael refocused his gaze on her, his smile shifting into a concerned frown. “Are you happy to be home?”
Maggie shot Raphael a quick smile she knew looked more nervous than chirpy.
Excited?
Not really.
Nervous?
Completely.
“Sure...” she said finally.
It wasn’t much of an answer, but it would have to do. Although hightailing it back to Sydney had a certain appeal. There was so much she still hadn’t told Raphael—so many reasons he might begin to regret last night.
She bit down on her lower lip and trapped it tight.
Why was coming home so painful?
It didn’t take a surgeon—or indeed a paramedic—to figure that one out.
Coming home reminded her of all the dreams she hadn’t realized. And having Raphael next to her was a double reminder. He’d gone and done it—he’d fulfilled those teenage dreams of becoming a surgeon.
She glanced at her road trip companion, unsurprised to see him looking bemused as they passed the mismatched series of houses that made up Broken Hill’s eclectic aesthetic.
Wood. Cinderblock. Corrugated metal sheets rusted the same color as the iron-red earth they sat upon—and, of course, the centerpieces of the ever-shrinking town’s main street: two traditionally built brick and stone hotels. Glorious yesteryear structures that sang of a golden era when precious metals had all but sprung from the earth.
Now the town was doing its best to reinvent itself as a tourist destination, but with water in short supply and not much to do if you weren’t into collecting Outback art or looking at solar panels...
The place was about as far a cry from Paris as you could get, short of a village made of igloos.
Sitting at a traffic light, Maggie stared at the grand old structures. When she was little she’d thought they were the most beautiful buildings she’d ever seen. When she’d returned from Paris...well, a lot of things had changed after she’d returned from Paris.
Maggie’s knuckles emptied of blood, her grip tightening on the steering wheel as she drove on a few more minutes and eventually pulled the car into the familiar covered carport.
It had been haphazardly tacked onto the family property years ago, when her brothers had flirted with the idea of becoming construction workers before finally settling upon becoming auto mechanics and setting up their own garage. The fact the carport roof was listing indicated they’d chosen wisely.
There were few signs of life in front of the wooden house, but that wasn’t unusual. With their house situated only a couple of streets away from the main street, her brothers often shifted from their auto repair business to the hotel a couple of doors down for a few drinks—and, she imagined, since she was no longer there to cook for them, some dinner.
She stared at the entryway to the house, surprised to see that the trim had been repainted from a mysterious orange to a rich blue that matched the sky. In fact the whole house had been repainted.
The façade of the four-bedroom bungalow had been peeling under the desert-strength heat of the Australian sun for as long as she could remember.
So what?
A paint job didn’t mean anything. It was just the same thing as if she’d taken herself out for a manicure. Superficial changes—nothing more. Hardly proof her family had changed after all these years. She stared down at her unpainted nails.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, sure.” Maggie smiled at Raphael, almost surprised to see him there. He looked so out of context here. “Just...adjusting.”
She made a fuss over tidying up a couple of serviettes left over from their trip and finishing off her water as Raphael unclipped Monster’s harness and put him on a lead.
She squinted against the afternoon sun as t
he pair of them walked toward the house, with Monster bimbling around, sniffing this and that, as Raphael soaked in the atmosphere.
Would he stay in Australia? Make Monster a permanent part of his life? Make her a permanent part of his life?
She pulled her fingers through her hair and teased it into a loose plait. This wasn’t the time to be asking herself questions like that.
“Maggie?” Raphael gave her a questioning look. “C’est ta maison, n’est-ce pas?”
“Oui, oui.” Maggie confirmed on automatic pilot, then checked herself.
This wasn’t Paris. Or Sydney. This was the Woop Woop and the only way to fit in was to go back to being the girl who hadn’t known the difference between the Louvre and the loo.
“Prepare yourself,” she said to Raphael.
“For what?”
The meaty revving of a quad bike drowned out anything she was about to say, followed by some very familiar whoops and hollers. She rolled her eyes. Sounded like another Louis Brothers experiment.
“You’ll see.”
* * *
Very little could have prepared Raphael for the scene unfolding in front of them as they walked through the carport and around to the back of Maggie’s childhood home. Instead of the postage-stamp-sized garden he had been expecting there was a huge open sprawl of land that at one point might have been destined for another row of houses.
Two men were on the back of an all-terrain vehicle, pulling something attached to two enormous elastic bands which were, in turn, attached to two unused telephone poles. Just off to the left another man was holding up a video camera, feet propped on an Esky, a broad smile on his face.
Only when the men on the ATV released the “object” did Raphael realize it was another man. As he flew through the air and bounced back and forth against the rubbery pull of the super-sized slingshot the group collectively dissolved into fits of hysterical laughter and self-congratulation.
So this was Maggie’s family.
“I told you Aussies like big toys,” Maggie said dryly, her eyes rolling as if this was an everyday sight in the Louis backyard. She put a hand to the side of her mouth and called above the roar of laughter, “Get Dad down from there, you lot! Are you trying to get yourselves a Darwin Award? No prizes for proving you are idiots by vaulting father into the strastophere!”
“Daggie!” As one, the two men on the ATV turned around, leapt off the vehicle, ran to Maggie and picked her up and squished her into a big brother sandwich.
Une baguette de Maggie, Raphael thought, a smile hitting his face as Maggie laughed and protested in equal turns. Her protests gathered strength when the other two men joined them and followed suit with a second, more rigorous hug and a proper knuckleduster.
This boisterous homecoming was a far cry from anything he could have expected. A hit of emotion gripped his heart and squeezed. It wasn’t envy he was feeling... Longing. That was what it was. Longing to be part of a family. The sensation hit him hard.
She was part of a family. He didn’t have anyone to offer her. Two years ago he would’ve had the Couttards...
“Let me down, you oafs!” Maggie finally shouted.
“Where’s your girlfriend, Dags?”
“I didn’t bring a girlfriend.” She looked across at Raphael. “I brought...um... I brought Raphael.”
The men—all tall, strongly built alpha males—turned to him with narrowed eyes and flexing hands. Maggie looked like a china doll next to the four of them. A china doll with a killer left hook.
“But...” One of the men shot her a bewildered look. “He’s a bloke.”
“Yeah, glad you figured that one out on your lonesome.” Maggie’s expression was decidedly...mixed. Annoyed. Embarrassed. Hopeful. Anxious.
“But...” One of the other brothers took a step forward. “You didn’t say anything about bringing a bloke.”
“I didn’t say anything about bringing a girlfriend either. What does it matter?”
Hmm... Not a straightforward case of “meet my new lover”, then.
“Well, it doesn’t, Dags.” The final brother stepped even closer and said, “Except...”
“Except what?” Maggie snapped back. “Except you’ve forgotten your manners and how to say, G’day, nice to meet you, Raphael. Can I offer you a cold drink after your long journey?”
“We’ve got plans tonight.”
“So? We include him in them. What’s the big deal?” Maggie glanced across at Raphael and gave him a See? I told you they were a pain look.
“Who are you, anyway?” asked the younger brother, lifting his chin as he gave Raphael a sidelong glare then moved his eyes to his sister. “We thought you were bringing one of your girlie friends from the big city to show her how real Australians get on.”
Raphael was certain he saw the man’s biceps twitch in anticipation.
“Raphael is...” She drew out the word, obviously struggling to find the best way to describe him.
There were a number of options she could choose from.
Colleague?
Friend with benefits?
Love of her life who couldn’t make any promises?
“Raphael. Dr. Raphael Bouchon. He’s testing the waters over here in Oz for a bit. We’re on an ambo together. He was sort of my host-brother-type-of-thing when I lived in France.” She shot him another apologetic smile.
Or that.
Her description stung. But what else was she meant to say?
He hadn’t even told her whether he was staying in Australia.
He didn’t know himself.
The part of him that knew he loved Maggie wanted to.
The other part—the part that couldn’t keep at bay the memories of the day Jean-Luc had told him to leave his family’s home, that all he did was take—that part still wasn’t at peace with his past.
“Well, then, welcome, Frenchie.” One of her brothers kept his gaze solidly on Raphael as he spoke. “So, Dags...what sort of sleeping arrangements are you after for your friend?”
All eyes turned to Raphael.
Though the sun had long passed over the yardarm, it still burnt down on them with a fierceness completely unlike the summer heat in Sydney. Or perhaps it was the family’s heated glares that had Raphael pulling himself up to his full height.
With their Wild West demeanor, he would not have been the tiniest bit surprised to see each of the Louis men shift aside their jackets—if they’d been wearing them—to reveal sheriff’s badges and holstered pistols in preparation for running him out of town if he so much as suggested he would very much approve of sharing a bed with Maggie.
It looked as if he was back to being a teenager. Looked as if he was back to being judged.
“For heaven’s sake, Ed.” Maggie punched one brother in the arm. “Could you not call me that anymore?”
The tension lessened as Ed relaxed his pistols-at-dawn pose and looked at the rest of his family and Raphael in disbelief. “What’s this I hear? My kid sister doesn’t like being the Dagster anymore? What’s wrong with being our little Digga-dagga-doo?”
He cooed and gave her a little tickle under the chin, all the while calling her Dags. Whatever that was.
“I know this might sound completely mental to you lot...” Maggie crossed her arms defensively over her chest, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips “...but now that I’m a big girl, I think I might actually like to be called by my real name in front of our guest.” She ground out the last part of her sentence and flicked her eyes in Raphael’s direction.
“Oh, I doooo beg your pahhhdon.” Ed put on a faux, hoity-toity English accent and bowed. “Did you bring royalty from the big city, Princess Margaret?”
Ed received another punch from his sister without so much as a blink.
Through gritted teeth Maggie turned and grimaced.
“Raphael, I have the very obvious displeasure of introducing you to my feral family. Boys, this is Raphael. He was my best friend when I was in Paris and is a proper badass on the ambo. Not to mention a surgeon who is completely capable of removing all of your internal organs. Come along, then. Line up.”
She clapped her hands together and in a well-practiced maneuver they lined up alongside her.
“This is my father, Joseph.”
“Any friend of Maggie’s is welcome here, mate.” Her father reached forward to give Raphael a bone-crushing handshake before giving him a quick wink. “And Daddo or Joe’ll do just fine.”
“This is Edward,” Maggie continued, pretending not to listen to the correction.
“Eddie, Ed or Big Fella work for me.”
Raphael braced himself for another über-macho handshake, only to receive an abbreviated military salute instead, followed by a display of dark-stained hands the size of pie pans.
“Sorry, mate. My mitts are covered in grease. Wouldn’t want to get your city slicker clothes all mucky straight off the bat, would we?”
Maggie gave an exasperated sigh and quickly introduced her other two brothers—Nate and Billy—both of whom seemed to be quite happy to be called Nate and Billy and to shake hands with Raphael in a straightforward, if slightly suspicious fashion.
“You made good time from—where was it you stayed last night?” asked Billy.
Maggie flushed bright red and muttered something about the roadhouse and the accident scene.
Billy nodded, clocking his sister’s pinkening cheeks, then cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms over his gym-toned chest. He looked as if he was deciding whether or not to give Raphael a black eye.
Raphael pressed his heels into the ground. He’d take a shiner for Maggie. It was the least he could do, considering he had no answers to give her about a future together.
“Be honest with me, mate,” Billy began, “did Daggie tell you we were a bunch of half-witted losers or did we get better billing?”