Flight to Coorah Creek (13 page)

‘Should we say goodbye?' he asked, indicating the other room, from where Jack's voice could be heard.

‘I think Ellen and Jack are doing just fine without us,' Sister Luke said. ‘In fact, right now I think leaving them alone is probably the best thing we can do – for all of them.'

‘Do I detect a hint of matchmaking?' Adam said, as he held the front door open for Sister Luke to precede him down the stairs.

‘And what if you do?' Sister Luke challenged him.

‘Nothing. Nothing.' Adam held up his hands as if to ward off evil.

‘Ellen and Jack and those kids. They need each other.'

‘I wouldn't have thought Jack needed anyone.' Adam followed Sister Luke down the stairs.

‘Which goes to show how little you know about such matters.' Sister Luke fixed him with a steely glare. Then she smiled softly. ‘But one of these days, Adam, you will learn.'

His car was parked in the driveway, and Sister Luke got in before he could respond. Adam shook his head. Sister Luke was right about so many things. She was probably right about Ellen and Jack. But in his own case …

Inside the house Ellen heard the car door slam and looked around. ‘I guess everyone's gone home,' she said.

Jack was sitting on the big couch, Bethany tucked under one arm, sound asleep. Harry was sitting on Jack's lap, struggling to keep his eyes open as Jack read yet another one of the
Duck Tales
from the huge pile of comics he'd brought with him.

‘I should go as well,' Jack said. ‘And I think these two are ready for bed.'

‘Well past ready,' Ellen said, with a fond smile. ‘You have been so patient with them today. Thank you for that.'

Jack gently ruffled Harry's blond hair. ‘My pleasure.'

‘Now, Harry, you give Jack back his comics,' Ellen said.

Her son's face fell, as he slowly closed the comic.

‘No. You keep them,' Jack told the boy.

Ellen frowned. Jack's comics had each been sealed in individual plastic wrappers. There were a considerable number of them, and she suspected some were quite old. She didn't know much about comics, but she had a feeling a collection like that had to be quite rare … and valuable. ‘Jack, you can't just give away your collection,' she said.

‘I'll tell you what,' Jack said, looking down into Harry's face. ‘How about you keep the comics here, and then we can read them together. That's if it's all right with your mum?'

Two sets of eyes fastened onto her face. Ellen wasn't sure which one swayed her. ‘That will be fine,' she said.

While Harry carefully carried the box of comics through the door to the small bedroom, Jack gathered Ellen's sleeping daughter in his arms. He carried her through to join her brother. Ellen folded back the bedcovers, and Jack gently placed Bethany into her bed. His big hands gently pulled the bedclothes back over her as she curled into her sleeping position without even opening her eyes.

‘Can Jack tuck me in too?' Harry asked.

Jack raised an eyebrow and Ellen nodded.

She stood in the doorway watching as her son settled himself down for the night. He slid up Jack's shirt sleeve for one more look at the tattoo. ‘Goodnight Uncle Scrooge,' he said.

‘Goodnight, Harry.'

Ellen almost giggled at Jack's really bad Scottish duck voice.

Jack stood up and joined her at the doorway. This close, in the half-darkness, Ellen was struck again at how big he was. She barely reached his shoulder. Those hands that had brushed her sleeping daughter's cheek could break up a fight in a pub, or move furniture or snap timber. But they could be gentle hands too. Ellen wondered what those hands would feel like … gentle on her skin.

Jack looked down into her face and Ellen wished she were different. Wished she was the sort of woman who could invite a man to stay. Wished she were the kind of woman who could make a man want to stay. But she wasn't. She'd lost that many years ago. A man like Jack would want … would deserve … someone better than her. Stronger than her. Maybe she could have been that woman once, but too many years and a bad choice of husband had changed her. Jack would never want someone who was … soiled. As she was. She dropped her eyes and turned back into the brightly lit living room.

‘I guess I should go,' Jack said. ‘Thank you for dinner.'

‘You're very welcome,' Ellen replied, moving to open the front door. She stood aside as Jack stepped out onto the front veranda. He turned back and hesitated.

Ellen did not step through the door. ‘Thank you for everything,' she said, from the safety of the living room.

‘Goodnight.'

Ellen closed the door and leaned back against it. Her heart was pounding, but still she heard the long moments he waited, before he turned away.

‘Are you busy next Friday?'

Adam turned as Jess spoke, looking startled by her question. ‘Not especially. Well, not yet, but you know what it's like.'

‘Yes, I do,' Jess replied with a smile. She swung her gaze away from her instrument panel to Adam who, as usual when they were flying, was sitting in the co-pilot's seat. ‘It's either all go or else it's full stop.'

‘Are you getting bored with us already? Missing the bright city lights?'

No and no, Jess thought. She certainly was not missing the bright city lights. And she wasn't bored. At least not at times like this. Flying with Adam was one of her greatest pleasures. If there was no patient to care for, he seemed most at ease when they were in the air. Less of a loner. Less reticent. His habit of sitting next to her was so very different from his earthbound tendency to avoid personal contact. Jess was honest enough to admit that she enjoyed the intimacy of their time alone at ten thousand feet.

But they didn't fly every day. When they were on the ground, Adam retreated back into his professional shell. She spent a lot of time alone at the hangar, waiting for a call to action. And there were only so many times a pilot could wash and polish her plane.

‘I was talking to Sister Luke yesterday,' Jess said. ‘She suggested I do a talk for the kids at the school. About being a pilot. Like a careers talk.'

‘Sister Luke is always coming up with ideas like that,' Adam said with a grin. ‘If you let her, she'll have you helping with all kinds of projects.'

‘I don't mind,' Jess said. ‘It gives me something to do when it's quiet. And I want to feel as if I'm part of the town.'

‘You're part of the town already,' Adam said. ‘You'd be surprised how many of my patients ask about you – especially the single men,' he added in a teasing tone.

Almost as if he was flirting with her. Well, two could play that game.

‘Sister Luke suggested we could do it together … the talk at the school,' Jess said.

‘Oh, did she?' Adam raised an eyebrow.

‘Yes. If I didn't know better I would think she was trying to …'

‘Attention, all stations Birdsville …' The harsh voice from the radio prevented Jess from taking the thought further. While she answered the radio call, she cast a quick glance at Adam. He was grinning to himself. That grin didn't appear often enough. It made him look a little younger and very handsome. Her heart skipped every time she saw it.

The radio crackled again and Jessica dragged her thoughts back to her job. It was not a good idea to get distracted when approaching a new airfield on one of the busiest days in the year.

Jess loved to see a new place for the first time from the air – an eagle's eye view of the towns and roads and rivers forming a patchwork so far below her. She liked to guess what crops grew in the farmlands, or what stock grazed the open paddocks. She would try to picture the people who lived and worked in the tiny matchbox buildings below her and wonder in what way their lives were different to hers. The day she had seen Coorah Creek from the air, her first thought was that she had fled as far away from her past as it was possible to get. That she had reached the very back of beyond. Looking down at Birdsville, she knew she had been wrong. The Creek was a thriving metropolis compared to Birdsville.

The biggest thing about the town was the airport – if such a description was valid for a couple of corrugated iron sheds and a long thin line of tarmac. There was a shorter dirt landing strip crossing at right angles to the tarmac. Either one was longer than the town's main street. If indeed it could be said to have a main street. Three roads – from the north, south and east – met at the centre of four town blocks, each with a handful of buildings. To the south, there were maybe twenty homes clustered near a large reservoir, filled with water that was deep green in colour. To the west, a thin line vanished among the sand dunes. That, she guessed, must be the famous Birdsville Track leading into the Simpson Desert; the vast arid heart of the country. That road had claimed more than a few foolhardy souls who had set out unprepared for what they would face. Around the tiny town there was nothing. Vast open plains baked so dry by the sun that she could not imagine any life there. Restless sand dunes that could obliterate a road in a few hours. A few steps from any front door, there was only desert.

It was probably the loneliest place Jess had ever seen.

Or it should have been. It would have been, except for the hive of activity below her as the town prepared for the race meeting, just two days away.

There were already several small planes parked in a neat line down one side of the airstrip. Vehicles scurried up and down the roads like ants. To the south-east of the town, there was even more activity. The sun glinted off the shiny new metal of a roof that hadn't even been up long enough to accumulate a layer of dust. A faint oval outline in the yellow dust indicated this was the Birdsville Race Track. Her radio crackled as, not that far to the east, another light aircraft announced that it shared her destination.

‘How many people did you say normally live here?' Jess asked Adam, who was also peering out of the window from the co-pilot's seat beside her, a wide almost boyish grin on his face. He was clearly looking forward to the next few days of madness.

‘Maybe one hundred and fifty in a good year. A fair few tourists pass through heading into the desert too.'

‘And for the next few days?'

‘Usually about six thousand.'

‘Where are they going to put them all?' Jess looked out of the window again. ‘There aren't enough houses here for six hundred.'

‘There's a caravan park. And a campsite. Most people bring tents. Some sleep in their cars or camper vans. Some sleep with their planes – in them or more likely under them.'

‘Well, just as long as no one tries to sleep in or under this one!'

For the next few minutes, Jess was busy bringing the plane in for her usually gentle touchdown. She rolled the Beechcraft to a stop next to another air ambulance bearing the badge of the Royal Flying Doctor Service. Adam lowered the aircraft stairs and tossed their bags to a man who was waiting to greet them. He was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and mirror sunglasses. Jess didn't need the wings on his collar to identify him as a fellow pilot. Everything about him said ex-military.

‘Good to see you again, Doc.' The pilot briefly shook Adam's hand, but his eyes swung immediately to Jess. ‘I guess you're the new pilot.'

‘I guess I am. Jess Pearson.'

‘Greg Anderson. Welcome to the team.'

She couldn't see his eyes through her own reflection in his sunglasses, but Jess could feel Greg's close scrutiny as they shook hands.

‘Right, I'll let Greg show you the ropes here,' Adam said, as he slung his rucksack onto his shoulder. ‘I'm going to check in at the hospital. I'll see you later at the pub.' With a quick smile he set out across the dusty earth towards a small cluster of low buildings that was the town. Jess watched him go. He walked quickly with such energy and bounce to his stride. He had the air of a child encountering a fun fair. Did nothing ever give him pause, she wondered.

‘So, Jess, let's get your plane squared away and I'll show you around,' Greg offered. ‘A lot of people fly in for the races, but we get priority at all times. The apron is all ours … the civilians have to park out of the way along the side of the dirt strip.'

As he spoke another aircraft appeared, turning for its final approach. Jess and Greg watched it touchdown in a neat and controlled landing. The pilot waved at them as he taxied past, close enough for his face to be visible through the window glass. Jessica's heart skipped a beat. He looked familiar. The world of private pilots was a small one. It wasn't unreasonable to think that someone she knew – or more importantly someone who knew her – might be on their way here. Might be here already.

Jess felt the familiar urge to run, then she almost laughed. Where would she go? She couldn't run any further than this. She was as far from that courtroom as it was possible to get and not just in terms of distance. She looked around at the dust and the desert and the tin sheds. If she wasn't safe here, she wasn't safe anywhere.

‘The medical team all have rooms at the pub,' Greg said, as they waited for the newcomers to join them. ‘The private pilots have to camp, but they usually hang out with us. We're all on duty, so we can't drink much – if at all. But you'd be surprised how much of a party a hundred odd pilots can have with a couple of cans of coke and a few packets of Twisties.'

‘I'm not much for parties,' Jess said quietly. All it would take was one of those pilots to recognise her. Someone based in Sydney. Someone who read the papers. Someone who'd heard her name mentioned … No, she would keep her distance.

‘You'll like this one. We're a pretty tight knit bunch, the outback pilots,' Greg said. ‘We look after our own.'

There was something in the tone of his voice … Jess turned to look at him. He'd removed his sunglasses, and one look at his face told her. ‘You know who I am,' she said quietly.

‘I know you're a good pilot. I know you drive an air ambulance. That's all I need to know. All anyone needs to know,' he said in a gentle tone.

Jess closed her eyes and took a firm grip on her composure. She wasn't ready for this.

‘You know, we're just the pilots here,' Greg continued. ‘Everybody ignores us. The press are too busy with the visiting celebrities and the drunks doing foolish things to pay much attention to the likes of you and me.'

He was telling her she was going to be safe. She wanted to believe him. She really did … but it wasn't easy.

‘I didn't do it,' she said. ‘I didn't know the drugs were on my plane.'

‘Jess, you don't have to explain yourself to me, or to anyone out here for that matter,' Greg said. ‘In the outback, you're judged by what you do – not what people say about you. You work with the doc. You help people. Out here that means a lot. And it's all anyone needs to know.'

How she wanted to believe those words.

Jess heaved a small sigh of relief as the new arrival approached. She didn't know him. Maybe, just maybe this was going to work out all right.

That thought stayed with her for a while. She met some other pilots, learned the layout of the town. Greg took her for a drive to see the stretch of flat land that once each year became a racetrack. Teams were hard at work setting up temporary stalls for the horses, and a bar, and railings around the course. Like most people, Jess had seen other horse races on television. The smooth green grass. The bright jockeys' silks and fashionable ladies wearing big hats. She equated horse racing with the clink of champagne glasses amid carefully tended rose beds. This dusty group of people building something out of almost nothing was totally beyond her wildest imaginings. As the tour ended at the pub, Jess was beginning to enjoy the experience.

Greg introduced her to a harried publican who tossed her a room key as he dashed past clutching glasses of beer. Promising to join the pilots later, Jess took the key and headed for the long low line of motel-style rooms behind the pub. She found the right door and opened it. She slowly looked around the room. Saw the rucksack that had been tossed casually onto one of the two double beds.

Oh, no, she thought as she recognised it. Surely not?

‘Can I give you a lift, Doc?'

‘No thanks. I'm good.' Adam waved the driver on. He was enjoying a chance to stretch his legs. He loved the feel of the activity all around him. The energy of dozens of people who were building a wonder out of a bare patch of sand. And these races were a wonder. Thousands of people gathered where normally there was nothing but dust. Horses running where normally lizards lay soaking up the sun. A community built on the edge of nowhere.

He loved the energy and excitement of the place and he was looking forward to showing it all to Jess. He wanted to watch her face, waiting for that smile. The one that seemed to light up the whole world. It was rare, but it was worth the wait.

Adam raised a hand in greeting to another vehicle, waving the driver on as he passed. Out here people seldom walked anywhere. The heat and the burning sun made sure of that. But today was relatively mild and the afternoon was drawing to a close. The sun was low on the horizon, adding a lovely golden glow to the bare earth. Adam liked to walk. He liked to feel that gentle warmth on his skin.

He'd been to check the medical facilities at the racetrack. Well, medical facility was too grand a description for a newly constructed shed. But it had power, water and air-conditioning. The shelves were stocked with a good selection of medical supplies. Enough to deal with the drunken foolishness and the small accidents that always brought people to his door. Anyone with real injuries would go to the Birdsville clinic. It was smaller even than his little hospital in Coorah Creek, but for these few days it was supplemented by enough supplies and people to deal with all but the most severe emergencies. And for those … well, that was what the air ambulances were for. Jess could get them to a major hospital in just a couple of hours.

Jess.

Less than a kilometre ahead of him was the cluster of buildings that made up the town. Jess would be there somewhere. No doubt the other air ambulance pilots had shown her around the airstrip and the town. They would have given her some idea of what the next few days would be like. From a professional point of view. Now both of them had done what their jobs required, Adam wanted to show Jess what he loved about this place and this event. To the left of the track he was walking along, Adam could see the campsite taking shape. Although the bulk of the visitors would arrive tomorrow, there were already dozens of tents set up. Barbecues were already burning and when the wind wafted in the right direction, he could smell the steak cooking. The makeshift bars were also in place. There'd be a few drinks taken tonight – but not too many. Most of the people already here were the workers and would take it easy. The real party would start tomorrow when the punters arrived. He'd be tied to his work then. But tonight he wasn't needed. Tonight the desert waited … and so did Jess.