The Protea Boys (15 page)

“Grab the bucket and the mop. Silly as it sounds, it’s the easiest way to kill the fire while it’s relatively small.” She rammed the mop into the bucket and slammed the old-fashioned mop down on the grass, extinguishing a small patch of burning grass. “Can you do this? I’ll go up to the house and start with the hose from that side.”

Before Tom had time to answer, Georgie had taken off at a run toward the house, skirting the slivers of fire tattooing the grass. He picked up the mop, then furiously slapped it down and worked his way slowly across the grass. By the time the large bucket was empty and he looked up, water trickled down from the overflowing gutters, and the veranda and house appeared saturated.

Chapter Twenty

Georgie stood surveying the scene with a growing sense of relief. The few spot fires had been extinguished, and the grass around the house and the deck dripped in a very satisfactory fashion. Letting out a long sigh, she pushed the sweat-soaked hair from her face and sluiced her head and shoulders with the blissful and amazingly cool water.

“Got some of that to spare?” Tom asked as he threw the bucket and mop onto the deck. She held the hose vertically, and they stood together under the spray.

“It’s looking good,” she said as she pointed the hose directly at him, unable to resist the temptation. A flutter of excitement coursed through her at the sight of his saturated T-shirt clinging to his sculpted chest, reminding her of their water fight. There was little chance Hillary and Matt would disturb them today.

“What are you thinking about?” Tom’s voice broke across her thoughts. “You look like the cat that’s got the cream.”

Georgie’s breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes, and she silently thanked the heat that camouflaged the blush spreading across her face. She offered what she hoped was a demure smile. “Just pleased we seem to have everything under control. Now all we have to do is keep our eyes open for any embers or sparks and not let anything get out of control.”

She played the hose on the timber wall of the house. “I can’t believe we were lucky enough to get away with it.”

Tom slid his wet hands around her waist and pulled her against his broad chest. Sighing, she relaxed against him while the water trickled down the windowpane, and she pondered the possibility of turning around and wrapping herself around him. Hardly in keeping with their conversation of a few hours ago. The camaraderie and friendship she had been talking about earlier vanished. What she really wanted to do was drag him into the darkened house and rip his clothes off. She sniggered, and his arms tightened.

“Bugger!” His expletive scored the air, and she looked down at the hose, feeling it go limp in her hand as the last trickle of water ran onto the deck.

“The electricity’s gone out.” Georgie threw the hose onto the deck in disgust, furious for allowing herself to stand there daydreaming. “I’ll have to go down to the dam and start Bertha. Then at least we’ll have a continuous water supply if we need it. The electricity will be out for hours now.”

“I’ll go,” said Tom. “You’re in no fit state to be tramping down there, and someone needs to stay up here at the house.”

“I’m fine, and you don’t know which valves to open to pump up here. You stay, and I’ll go.” His heavy hand came down on her shoulder, and he turned her to face him.

“You are going nowhere on your own. We’ll go together, everything is under control up here, and it will only take a few minutes. Besides, look at the trees and the smoke line, the wind is changing direction.”

“But I...”

“No arguments—let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the steps toward the shed. “We’ll have to walk. There’s no way I can get my four-wheel drive down the dam track, and we haven’t got time to clear it.”

By the time they reached the dam, the wind appeared to have dropped, and then a sudden gust swept across the surface of the water, followed by another and an increasing flurry of embers that sizzled as they hit the water.

In a few seconds, the gusts had become a whirlwind, and little balls of orange flame dropped around them. Heat seared through her long-sleeved shirt, and she spun around, taking in the area. The smoke had become really dense, trapped in the hollow of the dam, and a tree above them crackled and exploded into flames.

“I’ll get the diesel cans, and we’ll fill the generator.” Tom’s voice echoed in her ear as another tree on the hillside ignited.

“Forget it!” she screamed and grabbed his hand and waded into the water, dragging him behind her. “It’s too late. The wind has changed direction. It’s going to come straight over the top of us. Get in the water!”

The thick, warm, oily water wrapped itself around them and they waded into the center of the dam until their shoulders were covered. Georgie stood looking up at the tree tops surrounding them while her ragged breathing settled. Once calm, she glanced across at Tom. The grimy streaks of dirt and oil barely covered his deathly pale skin and blue lips.

“We’ve had it,” he rasped, struggling to catch his breath.

“No, we haven’t.” She ducked, another fireball exploded high above them, and the water hissed and sizzled, and orange-red sparks hit the water. “The water will protect us from the radiant heat. It’ll be the smoke that’ll be hell.”

Untying the cotton bandana around her neck, she dropped it into the water and held it out to Tom. “Hold this across your mouth and nose, and if all else fails, duck under the water.”

His eyes were wide with fear, and with a flash of clarity, she acknowledged his terror. She stepped closer and untied the scarf from his neck and dropped a quick kiss onto his cool cheek. “It’ll be all right, I prom—” An almighty roar and a blast of scorching heat drowned her words out. “Under.” She took a deep breath, her lungs shuddering at the smoke-filled air, and ducked under the water, pulling him with her. Once beneath the water, he relaxed against her and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She buried her face in his chest, and they crouched below the water, entwined.

The seconds passed, and Georgie’s chest tightened as she allowed the last remaining air in her lungs to trickle out from between her lips. Regretfully, she pulled away from Tom and stood up, shaking the water from her face. He followed suit, and together they stared as the fire skirted the dam and ran up the hill away from them, chopping and changing direction with each wind gust.

“What about the house?” His voice sounded husky and dried out, and his eyes were red rimmed from the smoke.

“Fine. The house will be fine. It’s skirted us. Those sudden wind gusts pushed it uphill.” Her throat burned, and she craved a drink of cool, clear water. “We can’t start Bertha. One spark and the whole lot will go up again.”

They waded out to the edge of the dam and sat down in the shallow water, staring around at the undergrowth. “We may as well go back up to the house and do what we can up there.” She pushed herself up to stand, but Tom’s hand restrained her.

“I’m sorry, Georgie. I wasn’t much good to you. I panicked. Seems like fire and I don’t mix.”

“There was nothing anyone could do, Tom. I was pleased I wasn’t alone.”

Tom grunted in a dissatisfied way and stood up, water trailing off him and trickling back into the dam. Once she was on her feet, he led the way back to the house. His shoulders were stooped, and he had lost his arrogant strut. Georgie wanted to drag him into her arms and cradle his head against her breast and tell him it would be all right; it had cost him so much to admit to his fear. A bushfire was terrifying at the best of times, but she had the advantage of having lived through them before. Tom was a different matter; not only was it his first brush with a wildfire, but also she suspected it had brought back too many painful memories for him.

Chapter Twenty-One

Amazingly, the house looked no different than it had when they left, and by the time they reached the veranda, Tom could barely put one foot in front of the other. Not only had the bloody bushfire scared the living hell out of him, but the thought of losing Georgie either over the side of a cliff or in a fire played havoc with his emotions. His stomach was tied in knots. His stomach? What the hell was the matter with him? Georgie must be absolutely shattered, and bruised and sore into the bargain.

He offered his hand to her as she climbed the steps. “It might be time for that cup of tea I promised myself about three hours ago,” she said with a forced laugh, rubbing her back with her free hand.

“Are you very sore?”

“A bit now the excitement has worn off. I’ll be all right.” She pushed open the door and flicked the light switch.

“The power’s still out. Thank goodness we’ve got a gas stove.”

“I’ll make your tea. You go and get out of those wet clothes and sit down. Do you want me to open the blinds and curtains or keep them closed?”

“We can open them, but quite honestly I can’t worry about it for a moment. I’ll just change and rest for a minute or two, and then I’ll go outside and check there are no spot fires around the house.”

Well, that Tom could do, and he could make tea. He wasn’t certain he was good for much else, but from the look of Georgie, she was about to collapse right in front of him. He led her down the passageway to her bedroom. “Get changed, and I’ll go and check around the house while the kettle boils.”

“And the roof and under the deck, too, please, Tom.” He closed the bedroom door softly and made his way outside.

The stench of smoke still hung in the air, but the wind had dropped. In the distance, Tom could see the line of the fire front but despite a few patches of scorched grass, the area between the shed and the house looked clear. He made a circuit, checking for any signs of smoldering embers, but Georgie’s preparation appeared to have prevented any outbreaks.

After one last look around the shed and a quick phone call to the bush fire brigade for an update, he returned to the house to find Georgie tucked up on the sofa, apparently asleep, a cup of lukewarm tea clutched in her hand. He lifted it carefully from her fingers and put it on the table, then lowered himself onto the sofa beside her.

She grunted softly, and Tom moved closer and tilted her chin up, surprised to find her awake and staring directly into his eyes. He traced the darkened track left by the sweat and tears on her dirty face. Her skin was so smooth, and the color was beginning to return to her cheeks.

“You are a remarkable woman, Georgie. And don’t let anyone ever tell you anything different. You are brave and strong and...just a little bit too independent.” His quick laugh sounded shaky and phony, but he couldn’t do anything about it. “There’s nothing wrong with asking for some help, you know.”

A soft sigh leaked out from between her lips, and she squirmed in his arms and made a move to pull the quilt from around her. “I’m hot, and I need to find out what is going on with the fire.” Georgie stood up and walked out onto the veranda, rubbing her back. He followed. The line of fire was clearly visible on the hills in the darkness.

“I managed to get hold of the fire brigade while you were resting. The wind has changed direction, and it is blowing back on itself. They’ve got a long night, but it looks as though they should have it under control by morning.”

“Well, there you go.” She let out a long, staggered sigh and dragged her hair back from her face. “Come and sit outside, and we can watch the show from there.”

Tom moved the sofa back onto the veranda and replaced the cushions, plumping them up so Georgie could snuggle into the corner under the quilt. It wasn’t cold, but keeping warm and strong, sweet tea seemed all he could remember about shock and first aid. Amazingly she didn’t seem to have more than a few bruises and scratches and a slight graze on her cheek.

Patting the cushion next to him, he invited her back, and she sat down, leaning into the crook of his arm. As she settled, he tightened his grip on her, wanting to stay in this cocoon of peace they’d created. She pulled an arm free and to his immense pleasure wrapped it around his neck and pulled his face toward her. Her lips met his in the most gentle of kisses, and he reveled in the soft touch. She sighed deeply. His beautiful, brave, and independent protea farmer had fallen asleep again in his arms. Perfect. But he didn’t deserve it.

Such trust, such misplaced trust. Once again his failure had caused someone to have an accident. Luckily, she’d escaped the full horror of his incapacity, unlike his sister. But for him, Jane would still be alive. And to add insult to injury, he had become a feeble, quivering excuse for a man while Georgie had kept her head and saved them both from the fire by her level-headed actions. His eyes drifted shut, and the last thing he remembered was the pressure of her head on his heart and the warmth radiating from it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The darkness had deepened, and the line of flames was barely visible when Tom woke. Georgie was still tucked against his chest with one arm looped loosely around his neck. He carefully unwrapped himself and eased up off the sofa. She needed to be in bed, not squashed up like this; she’d be stiff and sore enough in the morning as it was. He teased the quilt away and tucked one arm under her legs, the other behind her back, and lifted her into his arms. There hardly seemed to be anything of her.

The residue of smoke and dry, dry grass in her hair made his stomach cramp. The thought of her caught halfway down the rocks, unable to move in the path of the fire, was more than he could bear. A copy of his sister’s burned body flashed in front of his eyes. He nestled her closer into the security of his chest and carried her down the hallway to her bedroom. She stirred in his arms and murmured his name.

“I’m going to put you to bed so you can sleep properly.”

“Mmm.”

Tom rolled back the duvet and gently lay Georgie down on the bed, crouching beside her. He reached up and brushed a lock of hair from her face; her lashes rested like fans on her pale cheeks, and he ran a gentle finger over the graze on her cheek. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and her eyes flashed open, dark and inviting.