The Flyer (40 page)

Maggie had utterly refused to give her child away. Helen knew what that felt like. Despite their age difference, Maggie and Helen were like two peas in a pod. So very much alike.

“She’s not, Dr. Stanwood. But there is someone else here to see you.”

“A new patient?”

“Um,” her assistant hedged. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

Helen craned her neck to see over the counter.

Her heart leapt into the back of her throat with the force of a wounded rhino. “What are you doing here?”

Paul spun a tight circle from where he’d been standing by the window, staring at the San Francisco skyline toward the bay. “Helen,” he replied, his voice raw, whisky-rough.

“Is it really you?”

He nodded, holding his slouch in both hands while that damnable curl landed in the middle of his forehead. “It’s me, love. I … I, uh … came to find you.”

“I gathered that. But I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand? I need you. I’m a wreck, you see. I can’t breathe, and I … well, you’re the best doc I know. I need a good doc right now. Someone who can help me with this problem.”

She could barely think, her heart raced, and her chest burned. Clearing her suddenly tight throat, she asked, “And what problem is that?”

“A broken heart,” he whispered. “No matter what I do, I can’t seem to heal it. I’ve tried sleeping all of the time, but that didn’t work. I’ve consumed more grog in the last six months than Tim, Bully, and Robert combined. All I got from that was a headache. I have a new plane, and I’ve gone back to work, but that hasn’t helped, either. The stars aren’t as bright as they used to be. The falls are just another bit of water.”

“Paul, I—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted, holding up one hand. “I know you’ve made a life for yourself here, and I’m so proud of you for that. I knew you’d be fine without me. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not fine without you. So, if the only way you’ll take me back and we can be together is for me to stay here, I’ll do it. We can live anywhere you want. Australia, London, New York. San Francisco. It doesn’t matter to me. All I want is you, if you’ll have me.”

“You need to listen to me, Paul!” she nearly shouted.

“Not until you say you’ll marry me, Doc. I’m not leaving until you do.”

“You want to marry me?”

“More than I want to breathe.”

Helen’s belly jumped in a tiny dance. She closed her eyes and bit back the tears that burned her lids. She opened them again, looked down, and asked, “How did that sound, hon? What do you think?”

“I’m not an expert on this kind of thing,” Maggie whispered, “but that sounded pretty darn good to me.”

Helen moved around the counter as delicately as she could. She stopped in front of Paul while his jaw fell open and his eyes shone with brilliant excitement. “You’re … you’re …” he stammered.

“Uh huh.” Helen smiled. “In case you’re wondering … the answer is yes. That is, if the offer is still open.”

“I love you, Doc,” he finally managed. “You’re not getting rid of me this easily.”

He took her in his arms in a gentle hold that sent shivers racing up her spine, blossoming into a wonderful fire that spread everywhere at once. His kiss was powerful, enchanting. Made from all of the pieces of her broken heart. When she’d become so breathless she thought she might faint, he pulled away with a wide smile and the shimmer of a tear on his cheek.

Paul fell to his knees and placed one hand on either side of her massive belly. As soon as he touched her, their child leapt as though he somehow knew his father had finally come home.

The Pilbara
—
Western Australia 1895

Blue crouched on the tall column of rock. A fly buzzed near his eye in an annoying reminder that all creatures have their place. He refrained from swatting the insect away and allowed it to finish its inspection before it chose to pester some other creature.

The sun, low in the sky after a long, hard journey from morning, cut a path over rolling grasslands. As far as he could see, the earth was fertile and provided life for those who took it. Wide fields, cut here and there with fences, turned from bright green to a dusky bronze in the twilight. The scattered gum trees, starkly silhouetted in the sunset, stood like black sentries over the land—guarding, watching.

A scraping sound from behind him drew his attention and he turned.

In the distance, beyond the last of the grassy fields, the desert burned red and auburn in the failing light. Sand shifted in the late summer wind and turned the eastern horizon into a blurry mass of black and gray. It was a full day’s walk to the desert from Tower Rock, but a man on a horse could make that distance in only a couple of hours.

A tiny hand appeared over the edge of the precipice. Dale Winters climbed the side of the rock, his chubby legs covered in coarse, beige leggings to protect his white skin from the elements. A shirt the color of sunset protected his arms and shoulders. A cap of the same color covered his blond locks.

The whitefellas burned as red as the earth in the summer heat. It was good that the young boy’s parents took such care so he did not suffer.

Satisfied Dale would not fall, Blue turned his attention back to the sun. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable questions that would come from the boy.

When the questions failed to materialize immediately, Blue cracked an eyelid. He spied on Dale as the boy tucked his legs beneath his bottom and squatted on the rock a foot or so away. The scent of soap and beef wafted on the evening breeze.

Dale squinted into the bright orange and yellow rays. He looked much like his mother, with bright blue eyes and wavy hair the same golden shade as new wheat. The boy may have inherited the color of his mother’s eyes, but the curiosity that sparked in them, as well as the often determined set of his strong jaw, came from his father. Finally settled, he asked, “What are you looking at, Blue?”

“Nothing. At least, nothing out there.”

“Why do you sit here like this every night?”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. I watch you from my window.” As if to prove the possibility, the child twisted and pointed toward the large house that sat a short distance from the rocky tower. “You sit here for the longest time. Every night, you do.”

“I’m in the Dreaming.”

Dale’s eyes formed full moons in his unlined, pudgy face. “When you’re awake? How do you dream if you’re not sleeping?”

“It’s not that kind of dreaming. The Dreaming is the place that holds all the answers. Out there. At the beginning of time.”

“Like what?”

“Many things. Like why the eagle flies higher than the magpie.”

Dale heaved a sigh.

Blue cracked the same eyelid and hid a smile. “You must learn patience, mate. Not all answers are yours to have. They are given when you are ready to listen and understand.”

“What are you dreaming about now?”

A heavy weight settled on Blue’s shoulders. He carried more than his share. The boy’s question needed more than a simple answer. Should he tell Dale the whole truth, now? He was so young. He couldn’t possibly understand. But, then again, why would Blue see the dream before the boy was ready?

Not often did the spirits visit him without purpose. But they were ever cryptic in their messages.

He released a long breath and looked at Dale. Dale stared up at him with trust and love in the deep blue of his eyes. His bottom lip, still bruised and full from the fall he’d taken off his horse the day before, was tucked between his teeth.

Blue shifted his eyes to the pastures along what the whitefellas called the Coongan River. Mangrove trees dotted the shoreline and squat palms grew in majestic groups on the outside edges. Short, stubby trees dotted the open pastures where hundreds of sheep grazed in cloud-like bunches. A family of kangaroos raced over the field where Charles, one of the owners of Castle Winters, often camped rather than stay in the house.

“Look at the ‘roos, Blue. Do you see them?” Dale jumped to his knees. “Look at them go!”

The huge, bouncing creatures turned as a unit and headed toward a grove of trees. A clump of sheep screamed and scattered from the intrusion. Short, black legs carried the sheep in one direction, while the kangaroos’ powerful hind legs made short work of their travels.

Overhead, a bird of prey called on the dry wind. It was an eagle. A good sign. But deadly.

The kangaroos disappeared into a sparse forest of gnarled gum trees on the edge of the river. From there, they leapt over the shore and splashed through the low waters. Dale watched them, as he watched everything, with eyes older and wiser than they should be. His path would be difficult. Hardship would follow him on his journey to peace. How much of that could the four-year-old boy grasp? How much should wait until he grew into a strong, capable man? How much knowledge was too much?

When it grew obvious that the kangaroos had disappeared for the evening, Dale settled back into his crouch. Small fingers laced together until his tiny knuckles turned white. “Can I go to the dreaming place?”

“No, child. You cannot.”

He seemed to think for a moment; his head tilted to one side as if he solved some immense riddle. “It’s because I’m a whitefella, huh? Dad says that blackfellas can see the past and the future better’n anyone. Are you seeing the future, now? Or the past?”

A chuckle tickled the back of Blue’s throat. Everything was simple to the boy.

Past? Or future?

Blue sobered. He saw neither, really. He saw only death.

And life.

“Go find your mother. Ask her when Joel will arrive.”

“Who’s that?” Dale’s face broke into a wide grin. “Is he a friend to play with? Paul lives too far away. I get bored.”

“Yes. You can play with Joel. Go ask your mother.”

Dale leapt to his feet and scurried over the tower’s eastern edge. Once he cleared the edge, Blue returned his gaze to the setting sun. The boy would not find death from the tall, slippery, silt-covered rocks. He would not find it for a very long time, in a different place.

ISBN#1932815457
ISBN#9781932815450
Jewel Imprint: Sapphire
Historical Romance: Australia Post WW1
US $6.99/CDN $9.99
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