Sarah's Baby (16 page)

In a flurry of dust and leaves, he drove out of the scrub, not turning on his headlights until he was well clear of the house.

To hell with Ruth McQueen. He'd tell her they were together—tell her anything—but he'd be damned if he'd tell her he'd caught them making passionate love.

 

T
HE LAST TIME
Sarah had seen Kathy Plummer had been a month ago. Then she had confirmed Kathy's pregnancy, her first. Kathy was now sixteen weeks along and her baby was coming along nicely, although Kathy's blood pressure was up, something that needed to be monitored. Sarah finished a careful physical examination, then began to discuss what she thought was every aspect of the pregnancy and its management. But Kathy didn't seem to be listening, plunging, instead, into what was happening in her life, trivia for the most part. Still, Sarah paid careful attention. She knew that Kathy and her husband, Darren, lived with Darren's parents on Wunnamurra, the men employed as ringers. She knew the Plummer family from her childhood in the town. Darren was now a man. Not terribly pleasant. Sarah recalled he had something of a reputation for being a bully. A state of affairs Harriet would never have tolerated at school. At their one meeting, when he'd brought Kathy in the month before, his manner had verged on sullen, with a dash of insolence thrown in. It had been fairly obvious that he didn't rate Sarah, a woman doctor, very highly. Or women at all, for that matter. Sarah's heart had gone out to Kathy, experiencing her first pregnancy with such an insensitive
lout. He appeared to regard his wife's pregnancy in the same light as he would regard a cow being with calf.

Now Kathy, in the midst of recounting how she had to juggle all the jobs her mother-in-law set for her, suddenly winced and bent over, arms clutched around her body, a deep furrow between her brows.

“Kathy?” Sarah moved swiftly, coming around her desk. “What's up?”

Kathy straightened. “Nothing much, Doctor. Just one of my headaches.”

“Headaches?” Sarah heard the anxious note in her own voice. “You never told me about headaches during your examination, Kathy. It's most important you tell me everything, otherwise I can't know what's going on with you. How often do you get these headaches? Bad on awakening, improving as the day goes on? Impaired vision?”

“None of those. They're nothing to worry about, really,” Kathy assured her. “Mrs. Plummer—I'm supposed to call her Mother, but I already have a mum and when the baby comes, I want my mum around, not Mrs. Plummer. Anyway, Darren's mum says headaches are nothing. I shouldn't complain. I should expect a few of them. I'm pregnant after all. She had five kids. She should know.”

“With all due respect to Mrs. Plummer, Kathy, I'm your doctor. You should have spoken to me about your headaches. How many? What's the duration? Severity? You winced hard just then. I take it the pain's gone away now?”

“Honest, it's nothing.” Kathy tried a laugh, looking embarrassed. “Women are a whole lot tougher out here, and I'm a city girl. Anyway, the headaches come and go, and I suppose they're a bit worse than when I first learned I was pregnant. But really, I don't think there's anything to worry about.”

“Let me be the judge of that, Kathy.” Sarah returned to
her desk. “An occasional headache, maybe, but not what you're describing.”

“I'm under some stress, you know.” Kathy tried to explain. “There's pressure living with the in-laws. All I seem to do is cook and clean and wash clothes. Since I'm pregnant, I don't have to get up at dawn like Mrs. Plummer. She never stops all day. One day soon, we're going to have our own place. It'll be much better then. Darren doesn't get on all that well with his mum.”

“The headaches, Kathy,” Sarah prompted. “Tell me about them, please. They shouldn't be progressively worsening. I don't think they're due to stress or excessively taut muscles, either. Your neck and shoulder muscles seem quite relaxed.”

For the first time Kathy opened up about herself and her symptoms, not what was happening at her in-laws' house. “I haven't had them all that long. I don't get headaches as a rule, but I've never been pregnant before. I had a talk with Darren's mum about them, like I said, and she told me pregnancy is a woman's lot and I had to struggle through it.”

“Did she really?” Sarah's tone was quietly dismayed. Poor little Kathy, the city girl, looked like she was going to have a difficult pregnancy. “Well, I can't ignore this, Kathy. What you're telling me is worrisome. I'd like you to have a CAT scan.”

“What's that?” Kathy sounded frightened.

“It's a form of X ray that's revolutionized the detection and diagnosis of any intracerebral problems.” Sarah spoke in a matter-of-fact voice, avoiding the word hemorrhage. “We can't do the procedure here. I'll have to call in the Flying Doctor to airlift you to a larger hospital. I'd like it done right away.”

Kathy began to shake her head anxiously. “Why right away? What's wrong with me?”

Sarah played down her concerns. To some patients she might've been able to talk about the possibility of blood clots in the brain, burst blood vessels, aneurysms and so forth, but she didn't think it would be particularly helpful with Kathy. “It's routine, Kathy,” she said calmly, not wanting to increase Kathy's anxiety. “It's just that I don't like these severe headaches during your pregnancy. I'd like to check things out to be on the safe side. A CAT scan will tell us what's going on in your brain.”

That brought forth an emotional response. “I don't want it,” Kathy wailed. “What are you worried about, anyway?”

“I'm worried that if I don't act, I could be missing something. There are these headaches, coupled with the rise in your blood pressure. As I said, I can't ignore it, Kathy. These are measures any good doctor would take. You must trust me.”

“Well, I do,” Kathy answered, but she sounded tremulous and doubtful. “You've been so nice to me. Don't get me wrong. I like you. I bet you're a good doctor, but Darren would rather I saw Dr. Hughes now that he's here. Darren won't want me having any CAT scan, either. He'll be dead against it, I know.”

Sarah had already assumed that. “Kathy, Darren knows nothing about medical matters. You have to be guided by me. I am and will remain your doctor. You'll find Dr. Hughes in complete agreement with that. Can you contact Darren?”

“He won't be pleased,” Kathy repeated. “He's coming to pick me up in about an hour. I'm going to do some shopping first.”

Exactly what Sarah didn't want her to do. “I would ad
vise against that, Kathy. I suggest you rest quietly until your husband arrives.” She smiled gently. “As a matter of fact, there's a spare bed now that Mrs. Gray has gone home. You're looking forward to having your baby, aren't you, Kathy?”

“Oh, yes!” Kathy's plain face shone.

“Well, then, I'm sure you won't mind making a few little sacrifices. You're well, the baby's well, but your BP is up. The shopping can wait or your husband can do it for you. Once he gets here, I'll talk to him.”

“Good luck,” Kathy breathed.

When Darren Plummer arrived, he was accompanied by his father, Vernon, a heavyset, balding man who eyed Sarah keenly. Both men were wearing work clothes, riding boots, their
akubras
in hand. Hard, tough men, the father known for having been a troubleshooter for Ruth McQueen. Of the two, Sarah preferred Vernon, who was acting with more civility than his boorish son.

“Doctor was wanting to have a word with you, Darren.” Kathy gave her husband a worried smile.

“About what?” he asked coldly.

There was a decided risk of confrontation, and Sarah couldn't allow that to happen in the reception area. “Perhaps you can all join me in my office,” Sarah suggested, assuming control.

“Why can't we talk here?” was Darren's demand.

“This is the waiting room.” Sarah moved off, forcing them to follow, Darren hissing something at his wife.

When they were all seated, Sarah explained her concerns and what she proposed to do, taking care not to alarm them.

“All because of a few headaches?” Darren fumbled for a cigarette.

“You can't smoke here, Darren,” Sarah warned. “I
wouldn't be advising this course of action if I didn't think it should be done.”

Vernon Plummer asked, “What's it gonna cost?”

“I don't actually know, Mr. Plummer. It is expensive, but Kathy's health could be on the line here. Hers and her baby's. Your grandchild.”

“Makes sense.” Vernon Plummer nodded.

“Well, I don't think so,” Darren muttered. “I want a second opinion. Why don't you call in Dr. Hughes? He's had far more experience than you.”

“Show some respect, Darren,” Vernon Plummer said, glaring at his son.

“We can call in Dr. Hughes by all means,” Sarah answered quickly to calm the situation.

But in fact, when Sarah called Morris Hughes away from a patient, Morris seemed a bit taken aback by her decision.

“We do have to be careful selecting patients for a CAT scan,” he said cautiously. “It's an expensive resource, as we know. You're quite satisfied it's not unnecessary testing? Perhaps we could run blood and urine tests?”

“Better to overreact than be found negligent, Morris. I've listened carefully to my patient. I'm going on instinct, as well. I know you've had a great deal more experience than I have, but I have a nose for trouble. I believe she's at risk. You could conduct your own examination.”

“Sure,” Morris agreed instantly. “I'm sorry if I seem to be questioning your judgment. I'll go see her.”

“If you would. Something tells me Kathy's headaches—it's a miracle I even got to know about them—are a forerunner of something more serious. I don't ever want to be accused of negligent practice. Especially not with a pregnant woman. We can't exclude subdural hemorrhage.”

“Which means surgery. How far along is she?”

“Four months. I should warn you, the husband is totally against this.”

“Oh, dear!” Morris said.

In the end he backed Sarah's decision, but her husband refused to let her go immediately. “I can't figure out what the rush is. You have to give us a few days.”

Anger sparked in Sarah at his stubborn stupidity, but she kept it under control. “If anything's really wrong, Darren, Kathy needs the CAT scan today. I take full responsibility.”

“Why don't you go over her head?” Darren challenged Morris Hughes. “I reckon she's just bein' a female. My mum can fix Kathy's headaches.”

Kathy was brave enough to pipe up. “No, she can't, Darren. If Dr. Sarah thinks I should go, then I'd better.”

“Listen, I have to tell ya, we're broke.” Darren shot back at his wife, who was sitting with her hands draped over her stomach. Darren's arms were folded across his broad chest, his lips pressed into a tight, surly line.

“You leave that to me, son.” Vernon Plummer spoke sharply, pushing his chair back. His eyes moved to Sarah. “Make the arrangements, Doc. If you reckon we can't put this off, we won't.”

 

T
HE
CAT
SCAN
showed that one of Kathy Plummer's arteries had blown up like a balloon. Had the aneurysm burst, profound physical deficits would have appeared immediately. As it was, she was rushed into emergency surgery. When it was over, her surgeon relayed the good news: the outcome would be fine for mother and child. He also passed on his congratulations to Dr. Dempsey for the swift and, as it happened, excellent diagnosis.

B
Y SEVEN-THIRTY
Sarah was ready. This was the evening of the reception for Morris Hughes, to be held at Wunnamurra homestead in the presence of the matriarch, Ruth McQueen. Kyall had insisted on coming for Sarah in the station helicopter, saying the hour-plus drive in her small car was out of the question.

She had many qualms about this evening. Why wouldn't she have? It wasn't as though the family would be thrilled, although the thaw had started with Enid, and Kyall's father had never been the problem. Apart from Ruth, she knew the Claydon clan was coming. She'd always liked all of them, especially Mitch, but these days she was a bit worried about India. Ruth had filled her head with such false hopes. Cruel, really. Nevertheless, the charge of excitement she always felt at being with Kyall was there. And with his plan to announce their engagement, the thrill of anticipation—despite her concerns—increased by the minute.

She had dressed appropriately for the occasion, knowing exactly how Kyall liked her to look. Very feminine. The dress wasn't new, but it was a favorite. Long, asymmetric in design, the chiffon skirt layered, the color the beautiful sapphire blue of Kyall's eyes, with a misty outline print of pink flowers. She wore her hair full and flowing, a pair of very pretty pendant earrings fastened to her ears. She had found them in an antique shop years before and had her
ears pierced specially for them. The vivid blue enamel picked up the blue of her dress.

Fully dressed, deliciously scented, she walked through the house, checking every room. Even with the lights on, they appeared dimly lit. Sometimes, when she was very tired or feeling emotional, she expected to encounter the little Sinclair girl. Whatever had happened to the child? No closure had ever been brought to the case. The girl had simply disappeared off the face of the earth. For that matter, what had happened to Nurse Fairweather? Sarah refused to speculate any further, not wanting to spoil this enchanted evening. Or so she hoped it would be. The night of her engagement to the man she'd always loved. She knew she was coming to the end of the long years of deceit. Kyall had to be told what had happened to her. What had happened to their baby. His grandmother's part in it. The extraordinary business surrounding Molly Fairweather. She prayed Kyall would understand. They could put the tragedy behind them, turn their attention to making a perfect, living child. How wonderful that would be. She was desperately afraid a child would be denied her. Never, as long as she lived, would she forget the child that had been taken from her.

The house secure, or as secure as Sarah could make it, she walked onto the wide veranda, staring out at the night. It was blessedly cooler than the daytime. The sky was ablaze with stars. As always, she sought out the Southern Cross, one of the outstanding constellations of the southern sky. The desert nomads believed it to be the footmark of the great wedge-tailed eagle, Waluwara, because of its shape. Wunnamurra homestead boasted a marvelous collection of Aboriginal paintings, several representing the stars of the Milky Way. On this cloudless night, the Milky Way sent its diamond stream across the center of the sky,
a river with many landmarks to the Aboriginals. She loved all the Dreamtime stories about the creation of the sun, moon and stars. She and Kyall had once known a very old Aboriginal who could identify nearly every star in the heavens, most with stories attached as to their origins. In the rarified air of the outback, the stars shone with great brilliance, so near, so luminous, Sarah almost felt she could touch them.

Despite the white radiance of the stars, the garden was in deep shadow. Even a blind person would sense a strange atmosphere about the house. Not normally prone to paranormal experiences, she couldn't deny that this particular house was having a strange effect on her. It was almost as if she could
feel
the past.

Even as she thought it, standing there waiting for the helicopter to appear, from out of nowhere floods of images saturated her brain. Terrible images she was powerless to prevent. Estelle Sinclair, drowning, long, blond hair floating like seaweed. Sarah could see slippery moss-covered boulders rising like ruins, tall, light-leafed trees overhanging the water. Someone was standing on the moonlit sand. A man in silhouette.

Stunned, Sarah shook her head to clear it, her pulse throbbing in her ears. She couldn't handle this—being drawn into another reality. She had to cast it off. Incredibly nervous, she hurried back inside, murmuring a prayer as she went. Swiftly she pulled the door shut, closing out the night. She couldn't believe now that she'd seen anything. It was her imagination. The Sinclair house had always frightened the town's children, including her. Even the bravest had never dared go there at night.

She wasn't a child any longer. But the house hadn't lost its mystery, either. Up until now, it had never really bothered her. For long moments she stood still, her eyes closed
tightly to block out any further unwelcome visions. But the old haunting question remained. Had Estelle Sinclair drowned or met some even worse fate? The bush was crisscrossed with lagoons and creeks and billabongs. In a flash of perception she believed that if she could have seen that pool more clearly, she'd have been able to identify it. She and Kyall, comrades of childhood, had known this entire area like the backs of their hands.

She was conscious of her laboring heart and lungs. God! The experience, which seemed more and more real, had affected had bodily, making her take deep breaths. Those images had been riveting. Where had they come from? Normally of a calm disposition, reinforced by her training, she felt unnerved and agitated, marveling at the power of the mind but not understanding it.

The loud whir of a helicopter's rotors came as a huge relief. The fears and rumors surrounding this house might just be well-founded, she thought. Why had she taken over the tenancy in the first place? Because of the connection with Molly Fairweather, of course. Absurd to think poor Molly would speak the truth to her, especially since she was now very certain that Ruth McQueen had controlled Nurse Fairweather.

What would she do if she had that vision again? Sarah asked herself with a chill. Reject it or let it come? Was it possible for the mind to cross to another time? The landscape had looked familiar. The trees, the big slippery rocks, the unusual shapes like ruins. She was a child again, playing adventurous games. Maybe she could will herself to identify that place.

“Sarah?”

Kyall's voice called to her. Then he was there, filling the open doorway with his height and vivid presence. “Why
on earth are you standing with your eyes closed?” His voice was half amused, half perturbed.

She gave a shaky laugh and went to him almost blindly, feeling his strong arms come around her. “For the first time ever, the house has made me nervous.”

“Darling, didn't I tell you not to stay here?” he asked, her unease communicated to him.

“I don't think I had a choice. I was meant to stay here.”

“Sarah!” He tipped up her chin so he could meet her eyes.

“Maybe there are things that need to come out into the open.”

“Like what?” His hand moved very gently to her breast. “Your heart is racing.”

“I'm not surprised. My nerves are as taut as strung wire. I was standing on the veranda waiting for you when out of nowhere I saw the little Sinclair girl drowning. I could see all the floating blond hair. I could see the silhouette of a man standing on the sand. The most unnerving part is, I'm sure I know where they were.”

Kyall frowned. “Didn't I warn you about this house, Sarah? It's had a calamitous history. You're a very sensitive woman. God knows, there are mysteries in the world, and certain people are drawn into them. I don't know what you picked up on, but I can see you're disturbed. Maybe memories of what's happened here have seeped into the atmosphere. I'm not happy about any of this.”

She forced herself to relax. “The house doesn't mean me any harm, Kyall, I'm certain of that. Maybe it's letting me see things?” Sarah's eyes clouded with sadness. “How that mother must have grieved for her child.”

“Sarah, don't do this.” For a moment she made him afraid.

“I know. I'm sorry. It's all over. I must have allowed
my imagination to run riot, thinking about the house and its history. I should've kept staring at the stars, instead.”

“They're glorious tonight.” He sought to calm her. “We can watch them from bed. I'm sure as hell coming back with you tonight.”

“Lovely.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

“
You're
lovely,” he said. “Exquisite. I love the dress. I love everything about you. Magical! You always were,” he murmured. “I wonder if you could be a witch. Bewitching, certainly.”

Her face lit up. “Remember when I made you that love potion?”

“Sure do. I swallowed it.”

“Narnji said it would work.”

He laughed and shook his head. “It did. On the other hand, you could have poisoned me.”

She paused to think. “In that case, I would've poisoned myself, as well. I drank some, too. It was only berry juice and something else. Something Narnji wouldn't tell me. But she would never have harmed us.”

Kyall remembered the powerful influence the Aboriginal woman had had on them. “Well, she did practice sorcery. She taught you a lot.”

“Oh, to have those times again! I miss her. I miss everything about our wonderful childhood. Being with you I…”

“I'm still here.” He looked at her, wanting to kiss every inch of her creamy skin. “I have your ring. Want to see it?”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” Sarah cried. “Could there be any other answer to that question?”

“How much time has passed, Sarah,” he lamented. “We should have been engaged—married—years ago. Give me your hand.”

“My heart. My head. My soul.” She went to him, waves of pleasure whipping up inside her as he reached into the breast pocket of the blue dress shirt he wore with a blue-navy-and-silver silk tie, and withdrew the ring. “Receive this ring with all my love.” He spoke very formally, then added quickly, “No, don't cry. You'll ruin your makeup.”

“How can I not cry?” She tried to control herself, but still the tears stabbed. “These long years…”

“Don't cry, darling,” he repeated. “Or I will, too. The bad times are finally over, Sarah. We're together. Do you like your ring? If it's not what you want, I'll get you another. We'll go shopping together.”

“I adore it.” Her dazzled gaze took in the glorious ring.

“You know what the central stone is?”

“Tanzanite, only found at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro. Unique.”

He nodded. “That's why I decided on it. You're unique to me. I could love no other woman on earth.”

“And it's almost the color of your eyes,” she gently teased.

“It is not! That stone's a cross between blue and purple.”

“So are your eyes. It's very beautiful, Kyall. I'll treasure it all my life.”

“Then you'd better treasure these, as well!” He dipped once more into his pocket. “I bought them to match.”

“Oh, Kyall, that's not a bottomless pocket, is it?” She stared at what he had in his hand. “Earrings! How gorgeous!” Like her engagement ring, the central stones were vivid-blue-and-purple-hued tanzanites set with brilliant diamonds.

“Put them on,” Kyall urged. “Your own are very pretty, but these will go beautifully with your dress and later with your ring. The ring can either go back in my pocket, or
you can keep it in your evening purse until the announcement tonight.”

Sarah held up her left hand. “I don't think I can bear to take it off. Perhaps it's best if you keep it for the time being.” Lingeringly she removed the ring and handed it over. “I hope that's not bad luck.”

“Don't say that!” His protest came hard and fast.

“I know. It's impudent to tempt fate.” Sarah turned and moved to the hall mirror to put on her earrings. “There, how do they look?” She made a graceful about-face, throwing out her hands.

“Superb.” In his blue eyes she could see little flames. “Do you trust me, Sarah?” He caught and held her by the wrist, pulling back from his overwhelming desires—desires laced with an odd panic.

“With my life.” It was the simple truth.

“Tell me again that you'll marry me.” He stood above her, thinking,
My woman, my woman. This is my woman. My Sarah.

She lifted a tender hand to his face. “The great Kyall McQueen uncertain?”

“You've made me like that,” he countered, his face taut. “You and no one else.”

She, who had trained herself to be a model of calmness, could have burst into tears. “You're my dream of the future, Kyall,” she said, standing very still beneath his hand. “I feared we could never be together. I've borne the weight of it. Now I know only you can make this happen.”

 

W
UNNAMURRA'S SPLENDID
homestead was a blaze of lights, like a great liner afloat on a vast, rolling, black ocean. Even as they approached the house, they could hear the sound of music, conversation and ripples of laughter. It was ten past eight. By now, most people should have arrived.
One hundred in all, not a large crowd, but all the people of influence in the town and the owners of the outlying stations, like the Claydons.

Within a minute of stepping into the house, they were surrounded by polite, smiling people, the women expressing admiration for Sarah's dress, sharp eyes not missing the beautiful earrings, telling her how wonderful it was to have her back. If only, if only, she'd taken up her appointment at the hospital before her dear mother died. There was some irony in that. None of these women had made the slightest attempt to befriend her mother, who ran the store.

Kyall remained at her side, his head turned as guests called to him. Kisses on the cheek from the women. “Kyall, darling, how lovely to see you!” Hearty handshakes from the men. Companionable slaps on the back, a few jolly words, a lot of flattery, warm hellos, many expressions signifying interest at seeing Sarah so obviously by Kyall's side. He knew all kinds of rumors had been circulating. Now, suddenly, he'd proved them true.