Her Galahad (14 page)

A rustling sound came from just outside the car. Pulling the gun from beneath her pillow she scrambled up from the middle seat of the van, tense, silent, waiting.

Jirrah's half-alert mumble from the back seat startled her. "What is it?"

"I don't know," she whispered, holding the gun aimed at the bush beside the driver's seat with hands that shook. "There was a rustling in the scrub there."

"We're in the bush, Tess." He yawned. "It's probably some animal checking us out for food."

"And it might not be. If you want to take chances with your life, fine. I'm going to protect myself until I've found Emily!"

"Mulgu, you've been on the run too long," he said quietly, totally awake now. "Beller can't possibly know where we are."

"That's what you said about your house. Now it's in ashes." And still she watched the dark shadow of the bush, holding the gun in a death grip.

"You can't keep doing this," he said softly. "Using a gun as a security blanket's as likely to get you killed as him."

"You want to judge my life, walk a mile in my moccasins," she shot back, her voice barely audible. "Hasn't losing your car, your house and your life taught you anything yet? Cameron
is
crazy when it comes to me, and his social standing. If he finds us together he'll kill both of us!"

Another sound came. A queer metallic scratching.

"He's trying to break the lock!"

"It's not Beller, Tess."

"You want to stake your life on it?" She unlocked the safety on the gun. "I'm going to shoot."

"Don't be stupid," he hissed. "Stay here. Don't use the gun yet. I'll see what's going on."

"Take the gun," she muttered through stiff lips. "Keep it. If it's him and he takes me out, you'll need it." Lifting the tailgate with as much care as he could, he crawled toward the little scrubby mass beside the van.

Tessa watched and waited as Jirrah moved toward the scrub, her hands on the gun and her gaze glued to him. If Cameron was here…

Stop it! Get a grip on yourself. You've got to master this paralyzing fear!

But—if it
was
Cameron outside … and if he knocked Jirrah out—

A hand touched hers. She scrambled against the wall of the van, by some miracle holding the gun hard and straight. "Get away from me. Don't touch me!"

"Tess, it's me. It's all right now. It was just a wombat checking out our tires. We're almost right over its burrow."

"Jirrah…" She sagged against the wall. "Oh, God, Jirrah, I kept thinking if he hurt you, and got to me—"

His face, dark and mysterious in the moonlight, softened with something more tender, more abiding than pity alone. "Oh, what that sick bastard's done to my gentle wild swan." He reached for her, and she flew into his arms. "Never again," he whispered, burying his face in her hair. "Not while I'm here to stop him."

Her body snuggled against him, quivering. "You were right. I can't live like this, waiting for him to get me." She spoke scratchily, as if Cameron were there to hear her. "We have to stop him, lock him up where he can't hurt anyone any more!"

"We will, mulgu. We will."

"I need you," she whispered. "I don't want to, but I do."

"I know. It's okay. Shh." He caressed her cheek. "Trust me, Tess. I'm here for you. I won't hurt you."

She looked up at him then; and Jirrah's heart jerked at the searing emptiness, the hollow, hunted look just thinking of Beller brought out in her. "I know you'll go. I'm not enough for any man now. Just stay until we find Emily—a day, a week. Just until he's gone, and—" She quivered.

He nodded against her hair, fighting the hate for her sake. He had to be strong for her, to accept the words she couldn't bear to say. "I'll be here, Tess. You won't face them alone."

"Hold me," she whispered. "Just hold me."

He drew her more securely into his arms, knowing this was a major breakthrough in her trust. "I'm here, Tess. I'm here." He rocked her shivering form, murmuring soft nonsense until her softened breathing told him she slept. He laid her down on the flattened seat, covering her well, and made the same vow to himself, with the same fervor of two nights before.

If he got his hands around Beller's neck he'd squeeze the life out of him for what he's done to Tess … and as for her father and brother, he'd—

Tess stirred in her sleep. "No … don't. Please…"

He glanced at her, startled. Then he quietly shut the tailgate, locking them in. He crawled onto the makeshift double bed with her. He lay next to her, just watching her sleep. God, he could do that forever. His pagan goddess; his black-haired wild swan. Still so beautiful. And so sad.

Yet just touching her made him feel so strong, so sure: the man he'd once been—with her. Only Tess had ever brought this protective tenderness out in him; only Tess made him ache with a fierce need to hold her, touch her, slay dragons for her. Hold her close against his heart for the rest of his life.

"All right, mulgu," he whispered. "I won't. For you." He smiled at her dreaming face—incandescent porcelain in the light of the rising moon. "And maybe for me, too."

He closed his eyes. Tess snuggled against him in her sleep, and with her whispered words, and in her unconscious touch, Jirrah felt his own healing begin.

* * *

Tessa clutched her bag in both fists. She couldn't move, staring at the building before her. The butterflies in her stomach swelled to the size of eagles. This was it. She was about to find out if her only child had lived or died.

Burragawang
Hospital
, where she'd given birth, was a pile of dark bricks and old wooden windows built on a tiny hill, ugly even in its garden setting, bathed in soft morning light.

A touch on her shoulder made her stiffen. "Are you clear on what you need to say?"

She nodded, knowing he was watching her for signs of stress. "I've got my driver's license for ID. I ask for the midwife or doctor who delivered her. If there's no staff working here from that time, we ask for the hospital administrator, and explain the circumstances. They'll have records still, I hope."

"There'll he something. Either a person who remembers what happened, or records." He squeezed her shoulder. "Trust me. We'll get through this. We'll find Emily."

She pressed her lips together, bard. "Don't make promises you can't keep. I've heard enough broken vows to last a lifetime."

"Tess, stop doing this to yourself," he said quietly.

"No, you stop." She turned on him like a flash. "Stop trying to save me. I'm a grown woman. I don't need your pity!"

"Good, because it's not what I feel."

She stepped back, gritting her teeth to stop the tears from welling in her eyes. "I know you want to be kind to me—"

"Stop it!" he hissed. "Stop misinterpreting everything I say. Don't tell me what I'm thinking. Damn it, Emily is my child, too! Do you think because I couldn't be with you when you were pregnant and gave birth that she means nothing to me? This is my kid we're talking about. My only daughter! So cut psycho-bloody-analyzing me and remember I might need a bit of support, as well."

She recoiled. Even though his voice remained quiet, totally in control, the memories overwhelmed her and she—

He must have seen her face change, for he softened. "I didn't mean to frighten you." He didn't move; he kept his voice low. "But I'm not just here for moral support. It's not only you who's been affected by this. I never got to see my daughter, to touch or hold her. I'm a father who hasn't been allowed to act like one. We're both her parents. You and me."

After a long moment, she whispered, "Okay." She turned back toward the building. "I'd better get in there."

"We'd better go in."

"Right." She turned her head, giving him a rueful half smile.

Something—a tiny frisson of indefinable emotion—crossed his face as be looked at her. His hand lifted; a tender finger traced the path of her lips with exquisite care, warm and erotic on her skin. "Tess," he whispered, "when you smile at me like that, the last thing on my mind is pity."

Her smile disappeared. Everything in her tensed.

He picked up her fisted hand, scraping his mouth along her scraped knuckles. "I'm not him, mulgu." His voice was low, husky with reassurance. "And don't think I'm here out of pity, or that I don't want you. Not a minute's passed in the last twelve hours that I don't remember what happened in the car yesterday, and think of us making love again." He smiled wryly. "I didn't get much sleep last night. I think I watched you sleep for hours."

Jirrah, telling her he still wanted her. Was it all her life's wishes coming true, or her worst nightmare rearing its ugly head?

She turned and fled inside the swinging glass doors.

He caught up with her inside the reception area, where she was asking a woman whether any doctors or midwives from the time of Emily's birth still worked at the hospital.

"Why?" the receptionist asked, a slight frown on her face. Tessa made herself smile back. "I haven't been back here since my daughter's birth. But we were passing through and thought we'd catch up with them if they're still here, and say thanks. Jean Whitlow in particular looked after me."

The woman's face lit. "Jean's still here—she's been a local for thirty years. My daughter's a midwife on the ward with her. She'll be pleased to see you. Did you bring your daughter?"

Oh, dear God: the one inquiry she should have expected, but couldn't handle.

"We couldn't this trip. Next time we'll bring her, won't we, Tess?" Jirrah put his arm casually around her shoulders.

Tessa forced herself to nod and smile but moved out from under his hand the moment the receptionist looked away.

Finally, the sound of footsteps approaching alerted them to another presence. "Hello, I'm Jean Whitlow. I hear I helped bring…" But the plump, creased face of the midwife whitened as Tessa stood up. "Oh, my God." The woman's eyes flicked to Jirrah, and widened in quick horror. "M-Mrs. Beller, isn't it?"

"Yes." She held out a hand. "I'm sorry if we asked for you under what must seem like false pretences, but I assure you I'm not here to make trouble for you or this hospital."

Mrs. Whitlow didn't take the proffered hand. "I didn't do it. I didn't know I was doing anything wrong. I just wanted to help!"

"I know, Jean. May I still call you Jean?" The woman nodded, looking as if she dared not say no. "I swear to you we're only here for the truth—whatever that is. There'll be no complaints or lawsuits against the hospital or its staff."

The woman's faded brown eyes lowered. "That day haunts me. I've felt so guilty since it happened. I knew
something
was wrong, but they talked us into it—me and Dr. Mahali both."

Tessa's eyes met Jirrah's for a fleeting moment, hardly daring to believe it could possibly be this easy for them. "My family can be very persuasive when they think they're right."

The midwife's face suddenly crumpled. "I can't do this. I'm sorry. I have to go." She got to her feet.

"No! Please." Without thinking, Tessa grabbed the older woman's arm. "This is my only child. We know you're not to blame in whatever happened. Please," she begged. "If you're a mother, you understand how I feel. I have to find my daughter. Please!"

Jean hesitated, looking deep into Tessa's eyes, flicking frightened glances at Jirrah. "I didn't do this. I didn't do anything. I just followed orders. You understand that?"