The Flyer (13 page)

“And?” Helen’s body tensed with tangible expectation.

“I think I’d like to give it a go. There’s nothing for me here.”

Helen’s head canted to one side. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean that you should leave your family at a time like this. Isn’t the gathering a special time? Like a holiday?”

Nanara shrugged, then looked over her shoulder at a group of men who were sharpening spears nearby. When she turned back, her expression was even more crestfallen, if that were possible. “Not really. Just a bunch of oldies going on about the past and how terrible everything is. I won’t miss much.”

Paul looked past Nanara and caught Djuru watching them. His friend nodded, then returned to his work.

“I’d be honored to have you as my nurse.” Helen looked up at Paul. Damn, she was bloody gorgeous. Even with the dirt smudges on her cheeks and her nose reddened from too much sun. “Paul, is there room for Nanara in the plane?”

“Absolutely.”

“I can’t come now. I have my Whaler, and I’ll need to stop by Castle-Winters and quit. I’ll catch up with you in Port Hedland in a couple of weeks.”

“All right, then. I’ll watch for you. Oh, this is going to be fun! It’ll be nice to have someone to talk with. You’ll stay with me, of course.”

“Oh, I don’t think I could do that. I can find a place in one of the camps.”

“Camps?”

“The blackfellas have a camp outside of Port Hedland. I’ll be fine there.”

“I won’t hear of it,” Helen gasped. “You’ll stay with me. I have an extra bedroom that’s going to sheer waste at the moment. Besides, you’ll need to be available for emergencies. One never knows when some fool will wrestle a crocodile in the middle of the night.”

“You’re feeling right cheeky, aren’t you, Doc?” Paul laughed. “Come on. It’s time to go.”

The children followed them to the edge of the last camp, cheering and waving for their new friend. She’d made quite an impression on them, and the elders. Of course, she’d made quite an impression on him, as well. It seemed as though the only person who didn’t have complete confidence in Helen, was Helen.

They walked in silence, the magic of their original trek through the outback mysteriously vanished. By the time they reached the landing strip, the sun pointed to the horizon.

He placed her bag into the fuselage and held out her jacket. “It’s only twenty minutes to Port Hedland. Not nearly enough time to visit the stations, but what do you say to a bit of sightseeing before we head back?”

She took the jacket in hands that trembled so slightly he couldn’t be sure he’d seen it. “Sightseeing?”

“We could take the long way ‘round and see those falls I told you about, if you like.”

“I suppose.” She shrugged into the jacket, put on her cap, and climbed into the plane.

As the plane lifted from the dusty landing strip, the sky was clear and beautiful. He couldn’t wait for her to see the sunset from the air, and if he timed it just right, she might be able to before they reached home.

Nearly half an hour later, he dipped low over the falls. He banked the wings to the starboard, swooping low enough to almost hear the rush of the water over the blasting engines. Helen sat straighter in her seat, peering over the edge. Her full lips parted in an amazing smile, and her face lit up like a child.

Below them, the falls stood tall and proud, as they had for thousands of years, spilling water hundreds of feet to the tropical basin below. The trees on either side were thick and lush, filled with life. As far as he was concerned, the falls were the source of life. He came here when he needed to remember who he was, when he needed a reminder of what life could be. Helen needed that reminder, it seemed, and there was no better place on earth to get it.

He banked the plane level again and pointed the nose upward. The engine sputtered, then coughed. When he pushed the stick forward, it sputtered again.

Helen spun in her seat. “What’s wrong?” He could barely hear the faint cry over the engine, but the alarm was written in the wide circles of her eyes and the delicate rise to her charcoaled brows.

“No worries!” he yelled. Then he pointed over the side of the craft. “We’ll have to land!”

He hated the terror invading her midnight eyes, but it was for her own good. Really.

Paul landed the plane on a small strip he’d cut out last year. He killed the engine and started to climb out of the seat.

Helen’s voice, shrill and high, stopped him. “What’s wrong? Is the plane all right?”

“I’m not sure, love. I’ll have to take a look, won’t I?”

Helen followed him to the ground. “I’m not panicking. But that wasn’t normal, was it? I mean, the way the engine was cutting out?”

“It could be the fuel line,” he answered, hauling his tools from beneath the plane and moving to the engine compartment behind the props. “Or something wrong with the filters.”

“Is that serious?” She followed him like a puppy looking for a treat.

He hid a smile behind his hand, pretending to scratch the beginnings of a beard. “Could be. I’ll have to take a look.”

“Well, look then, for heaven’s sake. Who’s stopping you?”

“Right,” he answered. Tossing open the hood, he made a show of inspecting the heated components. He adjusted the timing for the sake of doing something, then replaced his tools and leaned on the outside of the fuselage. “I think she only needs to cool for an hour or so, then she’ll be fine. She’s not as young as she once was, you know.”

Helen frowned. “She made the flight into the bush just fine.”

“That wasn’t quite as long a flight. The falls were worth it, though, weren’t they?”

“Worth nearly crashing into?” Helen folded her arms.

“Ah, come on, love. We were never in any danger. You have my word on that.” Paul opened the fuselage, shoved her medical bag out of the way, and retrieved the picnic basket he’d stowed in the back before he’d picked Helen up at her flat. “Besides, it’s a lovely day, and lovely days need picnics.”

“I beg your pardon?” Helen’s voice was clipped and sharp.

Paul smiled. “You have to eat, right? We’re stuck here for at least an hour, right?” He started walking across the landing strip in the direction of a path that led to the pool.

“Stop right there, Mr. Campbell. Is there something wrong with this plane or not?”

“Aye. She’s not moving for at least an hour. I’m hungry.”

“You can’t leave me here!”

Paul stopped at the head of the path and looked back at her. She stood as straight as an arrow, her arms crossed across her breasts, as determined as a general. “Of course, I can.” He winked and headed into the forest.

What if he didn’t come back? Men weren’t the most reliable when it came to keeping time. What if he hurt himself and couldn’t come back? Then she’d be waiting for nothing, night would fall, and she’d be…

Alone. In the wilderness, with not so much as a pocketknife. Of course, she had her scalpel. But what use would that be, really? If something wild attacked her, she could remove its tonsils? She chewed on her bottom lip, leaned against the plane, and planted her feet.

Alone in the wilderness was better than being alone with him. With his wild blue eyes and that intoxicating curl that always seemed to land in the center of his forehead, like the little girl in the nursery rhyme … no, she couldn’t allow herself to succumb to the temptations he presented.

She’d made that mistake once, and she wouldn’t make it a second time. She had her future to think about. The prospects of marriage were fairly obscure, so she would have to fend for herself. To do that, she had to remain focused on her career. She would be an amazing doctor. She would gain the trust of the community. She would be alone.

Something moved in the trees not far from where she stood. Visions of wild animals flashed in the back of her mind. They had dragons in Australia. Enormous lizards that ate humans for breakfast. Or dinner. She swallowed.

The something hissed, or growled, or prepared to attack. Heart racing to the point she thought it might actually explode, Helen pushed off the plane and raced for the trail Paul had taken. In the opposite direction of whatever it was that wanted to taste her.

The trail was dark, but there was enough light filtering through the canopy that she could pick her way over the moist forest floor. In her haste, she tripped over a root, wincing as she caught herself on the trunk of a slender tree. She never would have imagined that one land could have so many personalities. Two hours ago, she’d been covered in dry, red dust. Now her boots sank into the damp earth as though it were a sponge. The scent of musk surrounded her. The forest was warm, hot, with the tropical climate forming a chemical reaction born of sunlight, moisture, and the decomposition of the fallen leaves and bracken. Every so often, a large flower would appear in a crevice of foliage, the bright red petals winking at her in the shadows.

She pushed a branch out of her way and slid into a clearing beside a great pool of clear water. At the far side of the pool, the falls poured their treasure into a display of crashing white water. The roar would have been deafening if it weren’t so far away.

The canyon walls climbed endlessly into the blue sky, the rocks a mixture of red, green, and golden brown. A breath caught in the back of her throat. She’d never seen anything so completely beautiful in her life. She had no idea anything so spiritual existed. It was almost cathartic, wiping away her apprehension and forcing a smile to her lips.

Scanning the bucolic scenery, she looked for Paul.

She found the picnic basket resting on the edge of a red-and-white tablecloth, which he had spread in the center of the clearing. Two plates, two glasses, an array of meat and cheese, citrus fruits in green, red, melon, and orange … and a bottle of wine dotted the checkered surface. She narrowed her eyes, searching the bank of the pond, the trees, but there was no sign of Paul.

A splash sounded nearby, and she swung westward, looking for the source.

Paul rose from the depths, his head and shoulders bare. Droplets of water clung to his chest, turning the sun-kissed, golden flesh into a shimmering statue of perfection, marred only by his recent scar. He shook the water free of his hair, then ran both hands over his head, smoothing the dark strands away from his face. She couldn’t help herself. Her eyes betrayed every vow she’d ever made, devouring the sinewy curve of his muscled shoulders, arms, and torso until she could practically taste them.

The sun played over the toned rises of muscle he’d earned from living an active and hard life, forming shadows in the valleys that shifted when he walked though the waist-deep water. The increasingly shallow water.

What was he wearing? A quick survey of the shoreline revealed a pile of Paul’s clothes—all of his clothes.

Heat suffused Helen’s cheeks, and she turned her back to the pool. “What are you doing?”

“Swimming. Or, I was until I noticed you’d decided to have a bite.”

“You can’t come out of the water … like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know very well like what, Paul. This is highly improper.” She sounded like her mother. She’d gone skinny-dipping before. Back home. In the river behind her best friend, Maria Martinez’s house, but it had only been girls. Her mother had found out later that afternoon and taken a switch to her backside for it.

“I haven’t got anything you haven’t seen before, Dr. Stanwood. There’s hardly anything to be in a huff about, is there?”

She attempted to steady her rising pulse, but failed when she realized his voice came not from the water, but the shore. “Please, get dressed.”

He laughed. The rich tenor of his voice mocked her. Teased her. If only he knew how badly she wanted to turn around, to take measure of his many qualities. But she wasn’t like that. Despite what so many thought of her, she’d never been that kind of girl. Maria had been. Now, she was married with two children, pretending to be a respectable, God-fearing woman. But four years ago, she’d been as unruly as Helen. More unruly.

Still, she was stronger than the many temptations of the flesh. She would not be weak again.

“All right, love. I’m dressed now. You can turn around.”

Slowly, taking stock of the effect he’d had on her, and the very reasons why she hadn’t wanted to follow him into his cozy little lair to begin with, she pivoted. A sigh of relief, or was it disappointment, whooshed out of her lungs.

He crossed the clearing, and she realized she hadn’t moved from the spot where she’d entered. When he reached her side, he took her gently by the arm and led her to the picnic blanket. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“Nice,” she sighed. “Nice doesn’t come close.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“It’s like paradise.” She tore her eyes away from the incredible view and focused them on Paul. His hair, wet and mussed as though he’d tried to towel it dry, caught bits of light through the trees.

Paradise could be a dangerous thing. She couldn’t stay here. Not for long.

“Are you hungry? You must be. You worked your arse off today, didn’t you?”

“Hungry?”

He pointed down. “Dinner.”

The picnic looked even more like an invitation to disaster than it had before. He drew her down to the blanket, lying half on his side and propped on his good arm, then offered her a piece of passion fruit. Somewhere, deep in her memory, a fear grew. She shouldn’t be here. She couldn’t be trusted, and neither could Paul. He was a man. He probably thought what he was doing was harmless.