Flight to Coorah Creek (18 page)

Jack opened his eyes and smiled at her, a long slow smile.

‘Hello,' he whispered.

‘Hello yourself,' she whispered right back.

Jack raised one hand and laid it gently on Harry's hair. ‘I did put him to bed when you told me to. Honestly. But he wouldn't go to sleep. I thought if I read to him for a while that might do the job.'

‘Well, it worked. On both of you, it seems.'

‘I guess so.'

‘I'll just put down my things and I can put him to bed.'

‘Let me.' With effortless strength and great gentleness, Jack rose to his feet, cradling the sleeping boy in his arms. He padded softly into the kids' room. Bethany was curled tightly around her dolly, sound asleep and as beautiful a sight as any mother had ever seen. Ellen waited until Jack had laid Harry in his bed, then she carefully pulled the covers up. She brushed her son's hair back from his face, and gently kissed his soft forehead. Jack watched from the doorway.

She took a step back and for a few moments they both just stood there, watching the children sleep. It was almost, Ellen thought, as if they were a family. As if she and Jack were like any other couple, putting their children to bed. She was very aware of Jack standing so close to her. She could hear him breathing. She could almost feel his warmth. If he was to just reach out his hand, he could touch her skin. If he lowered his head, his lips would touch the skin of her throat. If they were really a family, he would take her in his arms and they …

‘They are great kids,' Jack said. ‘Harry is so good to his sister. They didn't even fight over the comics. He was perfectly happy to share with her.'

‘He's always been good with her. He even tried to protect her …' Ellen's words stuck in her throat.

‘Protect her from what?' Jack's voice was still a gentle whisper.

How she wanted to tell him. It would be so easy. To let go of the terrible secrets she'd held inside for so long. If she told him now, she wouldn't see his face. Wouldn't see the disgust on it. Or the pity. But it would be there when she finally looked him in the eyes.

‘From … the scary dog who lived in our street,' Ellen lied, as her dream came crashing down around her. She turned, forcing Jack to step back out of the doorway and led the way to the kitchen. Her mind was racing almost as fast as her heart. What had she been thinking? She and Jack would never be a family. She was older than him in more than years. He deserved someone better than her. If he knew the truth, he would never feel about her the way she wanted him to. And with a lie between them, she was lucky to have him as a friend.

‘Thanks for looking after them,' she said. ‘I would offer you coffee or something, but it was a really long night, and I'm tired. I think I need to go to bed.'

‘Of course.' Jack's brow creased in a little frown. ‘I understand. I'll drop by tomorrow afternoon and see if you need me again.'

She wanted to say no. She wanted to tell him to stay away. But she couldn't. Her babysitter was spending the whole weekend in Birdsville. She needed Jack. But just to help with the kids. She wasn't going to let herself fall into the trap of believing in anything more. ‘Thanks Jack. Goodnight,' she said, as she opened the front door. She closed it quickly behind him. She didn't want him to see her tears.

Adam loved flying with Jess. He'd flown many times before with a variety of other pilots. Good pilots, all of them. He'd seen the splendour of the outback in all its moods. He'd watched the vast red plains roll away beneath him, and marvelled at the beauty of it. But it was all fresh and new now he was seeing it with Jess at his side. Everything was better with Jess at his side. There were times when he almost forgot … everything.

He loved to watch her hands. Her long slim fingers gripped the controls firmly, but with a gentleness that was almost a caress. Yet her movements were so precise … a minor adjustment here or there as the plane flew. Her touch was sure. They could have been the hands of a surgeon, but at the same time they were uniquely Jessica's hands. She wore no rings. Had no shadow of a line to indicate she had ever worn a ring – on either hand. Some small part of Adam was absurdly pleased about that. He had never seen her with painted nails. And he really didn't want to. No long fake nails or brilliant red nail polish could make Jess's strong, yet gentle, hands any more beautiful than they were.

She was never still when she flew. Her eyes were constantly moving across the incomprehensible – at least to him – array of dials and glowing displays in front of her. When she wasn't checking her instruments, she was looking out at the sky, reading the weather patterns or watching the endless earth passing beneath them. Occasionally she would look across at him. Her eyes had a special sort of a shine when she was flying. He could sense that she was happy. He liked to think part of her happiness was because he was there to share it with her – just the two of them soaring across that vast brilliant blue arc.

Sometimes when she reached for a map, or to check something, her hand would brush against his shirt sleeve. Or if she twisted to look down at something passing beneath them, her shoulder might brush his in the tight confines of the cabin. Just the faintest touch. Accidental and meaningless, but Adam felt it as acutely as he felt the sun on his face or the cool caress of icy water. He didn't flinch away from her, as he did most others, even though her every touch brought him the pain of longing for something that could never be. Part of him wished that just once she might reach out to touch him because she wanted to. But that would never happen now. She'd seen the scars on his body. What woman would ever want to touch him?

But they talked. How they talked. They talked about books and movies and music. They talked politics and religion. They talked about places they had been or dreamed of going. They talked about people. Ellen and Jack. Sister Luke and Adam's patients. They talked about anyone and anything except themselves. They never talked about the past … or the future. They were content to live in the now.

And this now was their return to Birdsville after leaving the injured jockey in safe hands at the Mount Isa hospital.

‘So what do you think so far?' Adam asked, as Jess began their descent into Birdsville.

‘I've never seen anything quite like this,' she said, with a nod to the activity below them. ‘It's really something.'

‘It is,' he agreed, ‘but I was thinking in more general terms. Are you happy here?'

The question surprised him as much as it obviously surprised her.

‘Yes.' She spoke without the slightest hesitation.

‘I'm glad. I'd hate to lose you.' He spoke the words without thinking, realising as he did that they were true. He wanted her to stay. Maybe even needed her to stay. And it wasn't just about flying the air ambulance.

‘I was worried a bit at first,' Jess continued in a teasing tone. ‘You see there was this madman of a doctor who almost decapitated himself running under a spinning propeller.'

Jess turned to look at him. Her eyes were shining – at him.

‘But despite his failings,' she said with the hint of a grin, ‘especially in the area of accommodation, he turned out all right.'

Adam felt a queer tightness in his chest. For once in his life, he didn't have a ready answer, but luckily Jess didn't seem to expect one. She reached for her radio and with a call to any other pilots in the area; she turned for her final run. Adam was spared conversation as Jess brought the plane to a standstill in front of the hangar with her customary ease.

‘I guess I had better check in at the clinic,' he said reluctantly, unwilling to give up the easy companionship just yet.

‘I'll get refuelled, just in case.'

‘And I want to call Sister Luke at the Creek and make sure everything is all right there,' Adam said. He hesitated, unused to sharing his thoughts. But this was Jess. ‘I am a bit worried about her. She seems … tired, I guess.'

‘I know,' Jess agreed. ‘She didn't look well after that trip back east. I thought she was just tired from the journey, but she still isn't back to her old self.'

‘I'll try to talk her into a check-up when we get back,' Adam said. ‘But it won't be easy. She can be stubborn at times.'

‘Look who's talking,' Jess teased.

Adam set out to walk to the town's medical centre, wishing he'd had the courage to stay. The courage to give voice to the tiny seed of hope that was beginning to take root in his heart.

This flight should have put his relationship with Jess firmly back where it had been. The need to help the injured woman had initially overcome any awkwardness he felt about Jess seeing his scars. Jess had said nothing, but it was as if something between them had changed. Not in their professional life, but on a personal level. Could it be that there was a chance for something between them? He knew that Jess was carrying her own burdens. Sometimes, when she thought she was alone, shadows crossed her face. Shadows put there by whatever secret she hugged so close to her. But Coorah Creek had a special sort of magic. It had worked on him when he flew into town five years ago, and now it seemed to be working on Jess, too. Those shadows came less often. If that magic could make her forget her emotional scars, maybe it could make her blind to his physical scars as well …

Of course, beyond those scars was the lie he told the world. The lie he had lived with all his life and would carry to his grave. He'd never told Sister Luke the truth – yet she had remained his mentor and his best friend. Could he tell Jess the lie and still have a relationship with her, too? Or was she the one person he could tell the truth? Was he even capable of speaking the words, after so many years?

‘Hey, Doc!'

Adam was so lost in his thoughts; he hadn't seen the man approach until he spoke. Adam shifted his focus from a hoped-for future to the present, and a man who seemed vaguely familiar.

‘Yes?'

‘I was just wondering about the accident and the mercy flight …' As the man stopped in front of him, Adam saw the camera dangling around his neck and realised where he had seen him before.

‘You're a reporter,' he said. ‘I saw you taking photographs.'

‘That's right. John Hewitt. I'm a local stringer for the east coast papers.' The man held out his hand.

Adam took it reluctantly. ‘John, you need to be a bit more careful about getting in the way when a medical team is working,' he said in a measured tone.

‘Yeah. Sorry about that. I wanted to be sure I got the story. It went national, you know.'

Adam heard the pride in Hewitt's voice. He tried to tell himself that the reporter was just doing his job when he photographed the injured girl yesterday. But that didn't work. Carrie Bryant was his patient and his desire to protect and heal her hadn't stopped when he settled her in the Mount Isa hospital yesterday.

‘So, I was wondering,' the reporter said, ‘about doing a story on the air ambulance. I was surprised to see your pilot was a woman. What was her name again?'

‘Jessica,' Adam said.

‘Yes, that's right, Jessica Pearson.'

‘Yes. By the way, the injured jockey is going to be fine, in case you were wondering.' Adam was liking this man less and less by the minute. He particularly didn't like the sudden light that had come to the man's eyes when he spoke about Jess.

‘What? Oh, yes. Great. Good news. Now, about this story. I was hoping I could interview Jess …'

Adam's uncertainty was rapidly turning into active dislike.

‘I don't know. I think if you want to do a story, you should really go to the Royal Flying Doctor Service. They do such good work. We work for a private company and are just on loan for the races. So we probably would prefer not to do any interviews.'

Adam knew he shouldn't be speaking for Jess, but his every instinct told him she wouldn't want to be involved with the reporter. The desire to protect her was very strong.

‘Well, yes of course.' Hewitt beamed at him in an ingratiating fashion. ‘But it's the angle of a woman pilot that I think my readers would really like. Where can I find her?'

Adam felt his hackles rise. ‘I really can't say. I have to go now.' He stalked off, very aware of Hewitt's eyes on his back as he did. The next time he saw Jess, he would warn her. Just in case the man was persistent.

After refuelling and locking her plane, Jess set off to walk back into the centre of the town. She hadn't walked very far, when a man approached her. It was as if he had been lying in wait for her. She recognised him instantly.

‘Jessica. Can I talk to you for a minute?'

Jess's steps faltered and she almost stumbled. He knew her name! Then she caught herself. Any one of more than a dozen people could have told him the name of the air ambulance pilot. It meant nothing, but she still wanted to get away from the reporter.

‘Sorry, I have to get back and report in,' she said walking on. It was a lie, but she didn't feel so much as a blink of guilt. This was the reporter who had been pushing his way forward to photograph the injured jockey yesterday. Her dislike for the media had hit new heights when he did that.

‘I only want a minute of your time. I just want to get my facts right before I send my story in.' He moved as if to block her path.

‘I can't tell you anything about the patient or the flight, sorry.' She brushed past him.

‘It isn't the mercy flight I want to talk about, Jess. It's the drug running.'

Jess stopped in her tracks. It wasn't just her name – he knew about her past! The memories and the fear rushed back at her like a slap in the face. She had become so involved in her new life, in her job and in Adam's fight to save a life; she had forgotten to protect herself. And now …

‘I think you are mistaking me for someone else.' Even as she spoke the words, Jess had no hope that the reporter would simply go away.

‘I don't think so. You're Jessica Pearson. You were the pilot flying heroin into the country on a private jet. You avoided prosecution by testifying against your lover. Now you're flying an air ambulance. That's quite a story.'

‘No. It's not.' Jess fought to keep her voice steady against the panic rising inside her. ‘It's all history. No one is interested in it anymore.'

The reporter was smiling at her. It was the kind of smile she would expect to see on the face of a snake, just before it devoured a petrified mouse. ‘What did the good doctor say when you told him his new pilot was a drug dealer?'

Adam! Jess's heart contracted. Oh, no … he hadn't … ‘You talked to Adam?'

‘Only briefly, I was hoping …' the reporter's voice trailed off. His eyes narrowed. ‘He doesn't know.' He said slowly.

Jess struggled to take the next breath as fear settled icy cold around her heart.

‘You haven't told him.' There was something very like joy in the reporter's voice. ‘You lied to the air ambulance. Considering your history, I guess that's not surprising.'

He was goading her, trying to make her lose control and say or do something that would add to his story. Jess was quivering with anger, and fear, and the effort to say nothing. She simply shook her head and forced her way past the man.

‘I'm not going to give up. There's a story here and I'm going to get it.'

Jess tried to block her ears to the triumph in his voice as he shouted at her retreating back.

Please, no. This can't be happening. It can't. Please.

The refrain echoed through Jess's head as she walked. She didn't see the people or the buildings around her. She didn't hear the distant roar from the racetrack, or the music from the campground stage or the excited voices all around her. All she could hear was a woman's voice.
You killed my son.

Adam was going to find out what she had done.

After the guilty verdict, the prosecutor has turned to where she was sitting in the public gallery. She could barely hear his voice over the uproar in the court.

Thank you. Without your evidence, he might have gone free.

She had done the right thing. But she was still the one at the controls of the plane that had brought the drugs into the country. Her plane. Her responsibility
.
That was how she saw it. Adam would see it that way too and that would be the end of something that had become very precious to her. He would never understand or forgive what she had done.

The second he found out she would lose him forever.

Even in the blackest times … as the armed men stormed her plane, during police interrogation and even when walking into that prison cell, she had never been as scared as she was at the thought of Adam's reaction when he learned the truth.

‘Hey, Doc, where's that gorgeous pilot of yours?'

‘As far away from you as she can possibly get,' Adam tossed back with a smile he didn't feel. Around him the men at the bar erupted into gruff laughter. Unabashed, the barman handed Adam a beer, waving away his attempts to pay.

As Adam carried his first, and only, beer of the evening out onto the wide veranda that fronted the pub, he couldn't help but echo the barman's thoughts. Where was Jess? He hadn't seen her since they parted company at the airport. Had that reporter found her? And if so, what had happened? With every fibre of his being, he knew that the reporter was bad news. He didn't know why … or what the man was going to do. He just knew he was a threat. A threat to Jess.