Violets in February (9 page)

“You're kidding.”

“No, I'm not. There're blankets in the back. I'll make you a bed there. If we stay in here, we're protected from the weather, from being seen and we stand a chance of getting away in a hurry if we need to.” Jed jumped from the truck. “Stay there.”

“Like I have a choice,” she whispered.

Lucy rubbed her knee, wishing she hadn't been so stubborn over the pain meds. Her knee was agony, the pain off the scale she normally adhered to. If this was one of her patients…

Tim was right, she realized in hindsight. She would have acted differently had this been someone brought into her clinic. Her pride would no doubt be the death of her one of these days. Yet, her stubborn streak was sometimes the only thing outside of her faith that kept her going.

Jed yanked open her door. “Let's get you settled, and I'll put the billy on.”

“I could do with finding a bathroom first,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “One with a seat, running water and no livestock.”

He gave a short laugh. “In that case, sit tight a few, and I'll see what I can do.”

Twenty minutes later, she had to admit his best was pretty good. He'd improvised and not only was it snake free, it was private, dry and she'd been able to sit. Now she half lay on the truck bed, her leg propped up on his rucksack.

Jed sat by a small camp fire he'd built towards the back of the hut. His shirt hung over the flames in an attempt to dry it properly. A blanket lay across his shoulders. The flickering light illuminated the tattoos on his upper torso. She counted four, five including the one she knew of on his back, but there could be more.

He looked at her. “You should sleep.”

“So should you.”

He grunted.

Lucy's gaze fell on the pot of violets. “Who are the flowers for?”

“You. I never got to deliver them.”

She reached out and picked them up. “For me? Is there a card?”

“No, there wasn't.”

She held his gaze. “So I won't know who to thank.”

A strange expression crossed his face. “Why thank them?”

“Because I was brought up to believe that saying thank you is the done thing when someone gives you a present; especially something as unexpected and beautiful as these flowers.”

He shrugged. “Well, I'm sure whoever sent them knows you'll love them without a written thank you letter.”

She nodded slowly. Setting the plant back in the crate, she slid down a little, trying to get comfortable. Pain shot through her, and she gasped, biting her lip to prevent a full blown cry escaping.

Jed stood and crossed over to her. “I can give you another shot.”

“No,” she whispered. “I'll manage.”

He shook his head. “Have you got kangaroos loose in the top paddock, or something?”

“Huh?” She did pretty well with his slang, but that was beyond her.

He made the crazy sign with his finger.

“No,” she muttered.

He shoved the med box at her. “Then take the blasted meds and get some shut eye. You choose the one you want.”

“OK.” She pulled out the prepared shot and gave it to him. Then she tugged her phone from her pocket and opened the Bible app.

“You won't get a signal out here,” he told her as he gave her the shot.

“Don't need one to read.” She rubbed her arm.

He tidied up. “What ya reading?”

“Mark's gospel.” She paused at the look of distaste that crossed his face. “What do you have against Christians? It's obvious you don't like us much.”

“With good reason.” He made sure the fire was secure, then got into the front of the truck.

“Why's that?”

“Doesn't matter.”

She twisted to see him settled against the door, his wide-brimmed hat over his eyes and legs stretched over the two front seats. She'd wondered if he ever wore it, as she hadn't seen him do so while driving. “You're not sleeping back here?” she asked. “There's room.”

He shook his head. “Here's fine.”

“OK.” She turned her attention back to her phone. The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God…

~*~

Jed jerked awake, his heart pounding, senses on full alert. What had woken him? Something hit his arm. “Hey.” He swatted whatever it was away.

“Stop snoring, and I'll stop throwing things at you.” Lucy sounded tired and irate.

He sat upright, rubbing the back of his neck. He must have slept awkwardly, as it hurt. “I was not.”

“Were, too.”

He settled down again, putting his hat over his face, before closing his eyes. Something hit his arm again. “Will you stop that?” he muttered.

“You'll be far more comfortable over here. Or do you always sleep sitting up?”

“No.” He yawned, shutting his eyes again. “I'm zonked. So, if you don't mind…”

“And you'll get more sleep back here. Please, Jed…”

“Fine.” Jed tossed his hat into the back of the Ute and clambered over the seats after it. He stretched out next to her.

She gave him a slight smile and turned her attention back to her phone.

“Have you slept at all?”

“I don't sleep much,” she said quietly. “Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Just don't.”

He turned on his side, propping his head on his hand. He studied her, not liking what he saw. The sheila was exhausted. The bags under her eyes looked huge in the light of her phone. “When was the last time you slept all night?”

“I don't know. Two weeks or so, I guess.”

“Since that kid died?” he said, working out the maths in his head. Math was the one thing he was good at.

“And the soldiers came.”

He frowned. “What soldiers?”

“Long story,” she whispered.

“So tell me the short story.”

“One of them got hurt,” she said quietly. “He'd been shot up pretty badly, and they held us at gunpoint until I fixed him. It was touch and go.”

He ran a gentle hand over her arm. “No wonder you fell if you haven't slept in two weeks. How about I keep you safe tonight?”

She looked at his hand, then up at his face. “What do you mean? And don't even suggest giving me a sedative, either.”

“I'm used to sleeping with an eye open. Anyone gets within ten feet of this place, I'll know it.”

“Promise?”

He pushed his fingers through her hair. It was as soft and silky as he imagined. “I promise.”

For an instant, she leaned into his touch, then pulled away. “Thank you.”

“No worries.”

Lucy turned off her phone and tucked it away. She sucked in a deep breath, then closed her eyes.

Jed pulled the blanket over her and lay watching her. Gradually her face relaxed and her breathing became deep and regular. He moved the hair from her face. “What is it that draws you to God and away from me?” he asked. “Why give your life to a God who doesn't give a toss about the small people? And the not so small. People like me. He's never been there for me. Ever. Despite my pleading years ago. Just abandoned me and let me get hurt over and over by people who did it in His name.”

His eyes closed and he fought to open them. Realizing it was a battle he would lose, he put a hand on his knife and dozed.

~*~

After a light breakfast, they set off again in the pouring rain.

Jed wanted to make the ford before the rains made it impassable. He'd made sure Lucy was dosed on both travel and pain meds, not wanting a repeat of the previous day. It had been a pleasant surprise when she hadn't put up the expected fight. Perhaps the fact that he'd drawn enough water from the well to refill the water bottles and for them both to have a decent wash before they headed off, had swung things in his favor.

“What are you thinking?” Her voice sounded like raindrops, not the kind that thudded relentlessly against the Ute now, as they had done for hours, but the kind of pure, refreshing light rain that comes after a drought.

“I was just wondering if the river's going to be too high. At the rate this rain is coming down, we'll be lucky to get across the ford at all.”

“Then you best put your foot down.”

He winked. “And slide off the road again?”

“Maybe not.” She paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. A look like that was never a good thing in his book. It always meant trouble.

“Out with it.”

“Did you mean what you said last night?”

“About protecting you? Sure I did.”

“After that.” She rubbed her knee. “You were talking about God and Him abandoning you.”

Jed's face burned. His stomach clenched and bile rose in his throat. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Not at first.”

His fingers clamped hard on the wheel. He could feel the wheels of the Ute sliding as they failed to grip the muddy surface under them. He needed to get the tires replaced as soon as he could. Along with the brakes, starter…maybe just replace the whole darn Ute and be done with it.

“So? Did you mean it?”

“I don't have time for God, and He sure don't have time for me,” he muttered, his face burning hotter.

“He loves you.”

Jed scowled and swore. “No, He does not.”

“Jed, please, I've asked you repeatedly now. Not…”

“Not to swear…” he chorused. “You sound like one of them galahs.” He paused. “If God loved me, then—” He broke off and shook his head. “You don't wanna hear any of this.”

“Sure I do.” She twisted in the seat, propping her leg on the pack by her feet.

“Pfft. You're a good person, probably never done a single thing wrong in your life.”

“I wouldn't go that far.” Color touched her cheek. “We're all sinners, just commit different sins, that's all.”

He glanced at her, intrigued now. “You want my life story, you tell me yours.”

“OK.” She leaned back against the door. “Quid pro quo. I can do that.”

“Goodo.” He looked back at the road, not that he could see it through the pouring rain and surface water.

Lucy cleared her throat. “I was born in a small village in Berkshire. My dad…well, my stepfather, is a pastor. My real dad died when I was almost two. He and Mum were a week shy of going to Kenya as missionaries. He'd gone rock climbing with the church youth group and was killed in a rock fall. I don't remember him. Mum remarried when I was twelve.”

“What's your stepdad like?”

“He's OK; does his best. He loves Mum, that's what counts I guess. They have four kids. I left home when I was eighteen and haven't been back since. Med school, training and then out here. For Dad—he couldn't, so I'm doing it in his place. He was a doctor, too. I even trained at the same school he did.”

Jed glanced at her, not wanting to take his eyes off the road for long. “You look like that photo you have of him.”

“You think?”

“Sure. You have his eyes.” He smiled. “But, seriously, you haven't been home recently?”

“Don't get me wrong, I keep in touch. I write and call when I can. I just don't visit.”

“How long?”

“Just over eleven years. Mum sends me flowers for my birthday and Christmas. I miss her.”

“So why not go back to see her, you drongo.”

“I don't…” Her voice faltered. “I don't fit in anymore.”

“That is utter bulldust! Did your stepdad adopt you?”

She shook her head. “He offered, but I didn't want it.”

“Why the heck not?” he asked, astounded. He didn't believe what he was hearing. “Did he beat you?”

“No.”

“Hit on you?”

“No!” She sounded offended. “I told you, he's a pastor.”

Jed shook his head in disbelief. Being a pastor wouldn't stop a bloke hitting on someone as pretty as she was. “Stupid woman,” he added a few choice words under his breath.

“I didn't hear that,” she said.

“I said, stupid woman,” he snapped, raising his voice. “You have your mum, a good bloke who wanted to adopt you, and you refuse. Then you leave home and don't go back. There are plenty of kids out there who would give their right arm for what you've turned your back on.” He sucked in a deep breath, trying to reign in his temper. He glanced at the road ahead and slammed on the brakes. The Ute skidded to a stop. “Need to check the ford.”

Jumping out of the car, he let the heavy rain soak his clothes and hair as he trudged to the edge of the river. His eyes burned, tears threatening his barely held togetherness. He wasn't going to cry.

Not here.

Not now.

Not ever.

He was stronger than that. He had to be.

People like him didn't need a home anyway.

He gazed out over the swollen river and raised his eyes heavenward. “I know You don't give a stuff about me,” he yelled. “But can't You even give her a break? She needs a hospital. Now—not in a year's time.”

He stomped back to the Ute, mud and water splashing his pant legs to his knees. He flung open the door and clambered in. Reaching over, he grabbed the radio. “Pete, it's Jed. Come in.”

“How's it going?”

“It's not bloody going. The ford's gone. Any chance you can get the chopper out here?”

“Afraid not, mate. The maintenance people grounded it.”

Jed hit the steering wheel and swore. Frustration filled him to bursting point. “Then call the flying doc and get her airlifted out.”

“Is she that sick?” Concern crackled over the radio.

Lucy grabbed the mic. “No, she is not.”

Jed snatched it back. “Pete, she needs a hospital, and it's going to take me at least three days, if not four, because the nearest crossing is two days east of here. Unless we cut across the bush to the main road.”