Riverboat Point (8 page)

Ethan flicked a look in her direction then forward to the water. “I'm not sure you can count on that.”

“Have you heard from him?”

She studied Ethan's profile. He wouldn't look at her. What was he hiding?

“Jaxon didn't tell me how long he'd be gone. I just got the feeling it would be a while.”

“Damn,” Savannah said.

“I'll help where I can but you're on a steep learning curve.”

“Just what I need.” Savannah had a sudden surge of self-pity.

“It depends on whether you're up to it.”

Nothing in her life had been easy. Why would she expect this to be any different? She straightened. “I need this to work,” she said. “I'm a quick learner.”

“Good,” he said. The houseboat nudged up onto the bank. “You're about to learn how to tie up a boat.” He moved past her to the door. “Grab the rope on that side.”

She followed him and watched as he cast his rope towards a large gum tree at the water's edge. She bent to pick up her rope. How hard could it be? The heavy weight of the rope was deceptive and her rope fell well short of the mooring pole on the riverbank that was her target.

“Doesn't matter,” Ethan said as he slid the gangplank into place. “Just pick it up and walk it to the pole.”

She watched how he tied his rope around the tree trunk then attempted to replicate the wrapping and knotting with her rope. Ethan helped her with the final knot. He tugged at the rope to test its strength.

“You'll soon get the hang of it,” he said and left her to climb back on board.

He stopped the engines. Through the window she saw him pull his phone from his pocket, glance at the screen and put it to his ear. It was a short call. He came back out on deck stuffing the phone in his jeans pocket with one hand and jiggling the keys with the other.

“What time are you expecting the customers?” he asked.

“Three o'clock.”

“I'll be back by then,” he said. “In the meantime you should go over every room and make sure it's clean and ready, especially the sundeck.”

He held the keys out to her as he passed and strode away.

Savannah sucked in a breath as she took them from him. She'd asked for his help with driving the boat but she didn't expect him to be giving her orders about everything. Jaxon's notes had indicated everything was ready. She turned to say the same to Ethan but he was already at the top of the path. She swapped the keys from one hand to the other, looked back at the boat then decided to leave it.

She followed Ethan's footprints up the slope. By the time she'd reached her back door she heard his motorbike rumble into life. She had a momentary pang of regret. She hadn't thanked him for his help. All the same she couldn't help the plea that left her lips.

“You'd better be true to your word, Ethan Daly, or I'm going to be in deep –”

The roar of the bike drowned out her words. Once more she felt vulnerable as the isolation settled like a cloak around her.

Ethan rolled his bike to a stop at the back gate of his parents' house. Both dogs had yapped at his tyres, now they circled the bike sniffing Jasper's scent. Ethan removed his helmet. He gave one of the dogs a nudge with his boot as it lifted its leg.

“You're a sight for sore eyes, little bro.”

Blake hobbled along the path towards him. There was a small backpack slung over the shoulder of his good arm and a helmet dangling from his hand. The skin under his right eye was dark blue, a vivid contrast to his pale face. He didn't look strong enough to lift a cup of tea let alone look after himself.

Ethan shook his head. “Are you sure you should be going home?”

“I can't stand Barb fussing over me any longer.”

Blake put the helmet on his head and slid the backpack from his shoulder. Ethan strapped it to the luggage rack then looked his brother up and down.

“I should have gone and picked up the ute but I'm short on time.”

He couldn't see how Blake was going to get on the bike let alone hang on.

“So am I.”

“Why don't I get Mal's ute? I can drop it back tomorrow.”

“I want to get going. Mal and Barb will be back from town soon.”

“A chance to say goodbye.”

“I haven't told them I'm going.”

Ethan paused doing up his helmet.

“I've left them a note,” Blake said.

“We could pass them coming home.”

“We can take the back way?”

“You're kidding?” Ethan shook his head again. “The ride will test you as it is without taking the back way.”

“I'm feeling much better.”

“Maybe from lying around all day. I think you should –”

“Stop fussing,” Blake snapped. “You're as bad as Barb.”

Ethan could see the determination on his brother's face.

“The back way it is,” he said. “Get on.”

“You get on,” Blake said. “I'll be right.”

Ethan stopped the head shake he was going to give and threw his leg over the bike. If Blake wanted to be pig-headed about it there was nothing to be done. He felt the bike shift under the extra weight as Blake climbed on behind him. A hand hooked into the top of his jeans and the corresponding knee wedged against his thigh. Looking down he could see Blake's right leg stuck out at an angle. This was going to be awkward. If only he hadn't promised Savannah he'd be back by three. Better still, Blake should have stayed another day with their parents.

“I'm ready.” Blake's voice was brusque.

Ethan kicked the bike into life and eased it forward, turning in a long slow arc towards the track that would lead them across country, over hills and through the rough creek crossing to Blake's house.

The track was good in places and rough as guts in others. The creek crossing had been eroded by cutaways. Ethan tried to follow previous tracks made by the farm ute but it was tough going. Each time he had to stop to open and close a gate he took his time over it, giving his brother the chance to rest. At the last gate Blake got off the bike. They'd left the grazing country behind. This was his land – fertile cropping country. Hard to believe the difference a few kilometres could make. Blake took off his helmet and wobbled out into an almost waist-high paddock of canola. The long green stems reached skyward covered in buds promising flowers very soon. He bent over the stalks then slowly made his way back to where Ethan was waiting beside the bike.

A grin split Blake's face. With his black eye, pale skin and stubbly chin he looked ghoulish.

“All the crops are looking good but this canola is going to be a goldmine for us.”

Ethan looked over the paddock of waving green plants. The strong sweet smell of opium poppies swamped him and he was back in the narrow fertile valley in Uruzgan. The survival of those crops was literally life and death for the poor farmers who tended them. While he understood his brother's delight, a low yield wouldn't bring about his death.

“Looks promising,” he said.

“Don't get too excited, little bro.”

Ethan gave a small shake of his head. “It's early days and farming's –”

“Not your thing.” Blake cut him off. “I know.”

He turned back towards the crop. Ethan followed his gaze. He'd been going to say unpredictable.

“It's got to be a bumper,” Blake murmured.

Ethan remained silent. They always paid him for any work he did for them but other than that he knew little of the farm finances.

“I need this one to pay off,” Blake said. “I nearly lost it with the divorce.”

That was old news, Ethan thought. Blake's ex, Lucy, had been a bitch through and through. Blake didn't discover that until after he married her. Luckily their parents had made sure the two properties were in separate names, otherwise she could have wiped out the lot.

“You came to an arrangement. I thought she wasn't going to take the kids' inheritance?”

“Not until she'd bled it dry. Lucy's been playing that card ever since.” Blake looked back at Ethan. “Now she's found some other schmuck to marry her. I can cut her loose as long as I pay for the kids. I've got no problem with that but her final payment will be a big one. It will be worth it to be rid of her but by the time we've done the paperwork and paid the lawyers …” His words trailed away.

Once more he cast his eyes over the canola crop. Ethan looked up. It was a warm day for September. He was hot standing still in his riding gear. He wasn't sure if they needed heat or rain at this stage. Whatever it was he hoped it worked out for his brother.

“We'd better keep going,” he said.

They both climbed back on the bike and Ethan drove along the track. Finally they passed the assorted sheds and he rolled to a stop at the house gate. Blake disentangled himself from the bike and leaned on the fence as he took off his helmet. Ethan unhooked the backpack.

“Want to come in for some lunch?” Blake asked. His face was grey now.

“Sure.” Ethan wasn't hungry but any excuse to help get his obstinate brother settled was worth following up.

They went slowly up the path. Pookie appeared and began to weave between Blake's legs.

“Hello, buddy. Have you missed me?”

He bent to pat the cat and lurched forward.

Ethan grabbed his good arm.

“Whoa,” he said. “How about we get you inside?”

Blake allowed him to take his weight.

“Boots,” Blake said.

Ethan lowered his brother onto the chair near the door and helped him get his boots off then removed his own. The chair was a new addition, as was removing boots. After Lucy left Blake had never bothered.

Once more Ethan took Blake's arm and they squeezed through the back door and into the kitchen. Ethan pulled out a chair from the table and watched as Blake lowered himself onto it. The bike journey had taken its toll.

“There should be some baked beans in the cupboard,” Blake rasped.

Ethan went to the pantry cupboard. He tugged open the door.

Blake let out a low whistle. At the same time Ethan caught a glimpse of something toppling towards him. He threw himself sideways, covered his head and crouched against the wall. There was a thud as something fell on the floor beside him. Ethan's heart pounded in his chest. The memory of his first vehicle recovery mission in Afghanistan engulfed him. It was as if he was there. He smelt the stench of burnt flesh.

“Hey, bro. It's only a tin of fruit. It didn't hit you, did it?”

Blake's voice came to him as though along a tunnel.

Ethan sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. He willed his hands to drop to his sides. As he reached for the tin he could see the tremor in his hand.

“Ethan?” Blake's voice was loud this time, urgent.

“I'm okay,” Ethan said.

He straightened up, put the tin of fruit back in the cupboard and took out a tin of baked beans. Damn it, where had that reaction come from? It was a long time since he'd had one of those flashbacks. During his last deployment he'd had to recover several vehicles outside the wire. Even though there were Grunts providing security, it was not always enough to deflect an object. Sometimes it was just a rock thrown by kids, but it could also be some kind of homemade explosive.

He got busy heating the beans and making toast with bread he dug out of the freezer. Gradually his heart rate returned to normal and his hands regained their strength. Blake didn't say anything more to him, instead he made a fuss of Pookie who was happily purring in his lap.

Once the food was on the table, Ethan sat down. He cut Blake's toast into manageable bites for a one-handed man and watched as he began to eat. Ethan had no appetite for the bright orange beans in their sloppy sauce.

“Aren't you going to eat?” Blake said through a mouthful.

Ethan put a piece of soggy toast in his mouth and chewed it round and round. He had been hungry half an hour ago. This past week hadn't been a good one. He'd had trouble sleeping and bad dreams when he did. This episode was the first waking one he'd had in a while.

“You still having those flashbacks?” Blake's question pierced the silence between them.

Blake was a good mate but he hadn't been there. The thing was too hard to explain. Ethan would rather forget that part of his life and start a new one. His time in the army was over. He'd spent some time before his discharge with the psych. Ethan knew the drill and he knew he'd do okay. He was lucky, there were no physical scars. It was different inside his head though, where a smell or a noise could bring it all flooding back. Blake had spent enough time with him since his return from his last tour to know he still carried those memories.

“Not often.”

“What does the quack say?”

“Haven't seen him in a while.”

Blake opened his mouth to speak then shook his head. “Guess neither of us take kindly to interference.”

His mobile rang. He took it from his shirt pocket and looked at the screen.

“Speaking of which, it's Barb. My escape must have been discovered.”

“You'd better answer or she'll be over here.”

Blake swiped the screen and put it to his ear.

Ethan cleared away the plates. He tipped his half-eaten portion into the bin and rinsed the dishes while Blake placated their mother.

“Ethan's here. I promise I'll take it easy.” His tone was soothing. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

“I could come back tonight after I've done this houseboat job,” Ethan said as Blake put the phone down.

“It's a two-hour round trip.”

“What will you eat?”

“There are more tins in the cupboard and leftovers in the freezer. Besides, I only have to last till tomorrow afternoon.” He paused. “Jenny's taken some leave. She's coming to stay for a while.”

“I can see she's already been here.” In spite of the can that overbalanced, Ethan had noticed the inside of Blake's pantry cupboard was orderly and the benchtops had been cleared of clutter.