Burnt (15 page)

He was about to head inside when his father's next remark caught him off guard.

‘You sure getting involved with that girl is the right thing to be doing?'

His hand instinctively tightened around the door handle, but he fought to keep his reaction neutral. ‘I'm a little old to be getting the father–son talk
,
don't you think, Dad?'

He saw Angus's frown deepen and smothered an impatient sigh.

‘In your line of work, you shouldn't get the girl's hopes up, that's all.'

‘We're both adults, Dad. She knows what she's doing.' He pushed the door open and crossed to the fridge to grab a cold drink.

‘What happens when you leave?' his father demanded, coming inside behind him.

‘Dad! For Christ's sake.'

‘She's a good girl. I don't want to see her hurt,' the older man persisted, undaunted by Seb's dark expression.

‘It's none of your bloody business. Just drop it, would you?'

‘I'm making it my business. I saw what happened to that girl the last time you left town.'

‘I said drop it!' Seb slammed the door of the fridge and glared at his father.

Angus stood his ground, blocking his son's exit from the kitchen as he stared him down. ‘That girl has kiddies to worry about. How do you think she's going to explain you leaving to them? I saw the way those girls were looking at you the other day – they already think you're the bee's knees. You might not give two hoots about me, son, but you better think about them.'

His father's words stabbed him in the chest and rendered him speechless. Clenching his jaw tightly, Seb forced words past a tight lump in his throat. ‘I didn't mean to –'
What? Give you the impression I hated your guts because I couldn't be bothered to come home and check on you before now?
He knew he had no defence to offer. He'd been a selfish jerk.

‘I couldn't bring myself to come back here, Dad,' he said finally. ‘I know that's no excuse for not coming back before now, but it's the truth. It was never about you.'

‘I don't care about that now. I just don't want you causing any more damage,' Angus growled, turning awkwardly to shuffle back out to the verandah.

Stung by his father's obvious reproach, Seb lashed out. ‘Who the hell are you to criticise me? You've shut yourself away from the rest of the world, content to drink yourself into an early grave.'

His father's eyes narrowed. ‘What the hell are you talking about?'

‘Come on, Dad – look around you. You've let the place go, you've let
yourself
go – you've got the damn shakes and can hardly function any more. It's obvious.' Seb paused. ‘You're a bloody alcoholic.'

‘An
alcoholic
? That's what you think I am?'

‘You can hardly deny it. The facts speak for themselves.'

Seb watched his father's face fall as he lowered himself into a chair and shook his head wearily. ‘You think you got it all worked out, huh, son?'

Seb's jaw clenched at the doubt that began to form at the sight of his father's crestfallen expression, then he reminded himself that alcoholics were notorious for lying and making you doubt what you could plainly see for yourself.

‘Your mother and I hadn't spent a single day apart since she went to hospital to have you,' his father said softly into the silence that had fallen between them. ‘Ever been with someone every single day for thirty-odd years?' he asked, his gaze pinning Seb with an intensity he hadn't seen in his old man since coming home.

‘The day she died, it was like half of me died with her. At first, I got up and went about my business, but every evening when I came back, the house was dark and empty. Eventually, I stopped getting up in the morning – sold off the livestock and pretty much sat here listening to the damn clock in the lounge room tick away the day. If I could have turned to drink without having to go into town all the time to get more, I probably would have, but I couldn't even be bothered to do that. I'm not an alcoholic – I'm just lonely.'

Seb had never heard his father speak like that before. He'd been so wrapped up in his own misery that he'd completely ignored the fact that his father could be wasting away, pining for his wife. He hadn't even bothered to come and check on him. Watching his father's clenched hands on the table now, he saw that it wasn't a gesture of aggravation that he'd always associated with his father's body language, it was to control the insistent shaking. How long had he been living with it?

‘What about the shakes? What's going on there?'

His father dropped his gaze to his gnarled old hands – hands that had spent a lifetime working out in the elements, forging a living for his family. ‘Truth is, I've been too scared to find out. I've been ignoring it up till now, but it's getting worse.'

It seemed strange to hear his proud father sounding so unsure. Seb pulled out a chair and sat down. They were treading new ground here; conversation had never been something they'd shared. Somehow, their exchanges had always turned into a blue, and his mother would have to step in to restore order. She'd been the glue that held the family together. Without her here now, it felt weird.

‘Maybe it's time we went into town and did something about it.'

Angus looked up and caught his son's eye. Seb saw a small glimmer of relief in the depths of his watery gaze and stood abruptly.

‘I'll go make an appointment with the doctor,' he said over his shoulder. Emotion was not something he dealt with too well, and since coming back home, it was all he seemed to be doing.

Seb sat on the tailgate staring out over the rolling hills and watching the wind tumble its way across the paddocks, moving the grass in a wave-like motion. His thoughts weren't on the tranquil beauty of the scene before him, they were on the words that had come from the doctor's mouth earlier this afternoon.

Parkinson's disease. That's what the barrage of testing his dad had undergone over the last few weeks had found. Surprisingly, his old man had taken the news better than he'd expected. He almost seemed relieved.

Personally, Seb had felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. He knew enough about the disease to know there wasn't going to be any good news. There was no cure and only a certain downhill slide to a depressing end. The shaking, depression, memory problems and tiredness were all symptoms Seb would have noticed if he'd bothered to pay closer attention and hadn't jumped to conclusions. Things were going to have to change. Decisions were going to have to be made – tough decisions, and in the near future.

He heard the echo of the dogs barking as they chased lizards down by the creek and envied them their carefree existence. A bowl of food, a pat on the head, and they were happy.

He'd been trying to talk to his dad about his diagnosis for the last two days, but Angus Taylor could be a stubborn old mongrel when he set his mind to it. Already the farm was getting too much for him to handle; Seb had worked non-stop on it and was only just beginning to make a difference. The yard looked better, but there was still a list a mile long of things that needed to be taken care of. Fencing had to be looked at, and the pump that brought the water up from the creek to the tank for the house was showing its age and would soon need replacing. The weeds would be an ongoing problem, and he wouldn't be able to keep on top of it all after he went back to base. As if those concerns weren't enough, at some point in the not-too-distant future his dad would have to go into full-time nursing care. That was the hardest thing of all to digest. He couldn't imagine his dad in a nursing home. The whole thing had come as a cold, hard wake-up call.

Angus, stubborn as ever, was digging his heels in. He wasn't going to any ‘damn nursing home to die' as he'd so bluntly announced to his doctor. Part of Seb shared his reluctance; in the same boat, he'd say the same thing. But as a son, he wanted his father to be well taken care of. What worried him most was that he knew if he pushed the issue, the minute he left the farm, his father would take his future into his own hands. Seb feared that Angus would take himself out rather than leave it to fate and time to eat away what remained of his dignity.

Part of him wanted to turn his back and leave it up to his dad to make his own decision about how to live – or
not
live – the remainder of his life. The other part wondered if he could make himself turn his back when the time came, or whether he'd overrule his father's wishes and force him into care, for his own safety.

The wind sang its gentle hymn through the trees and the sound soothed and comforted the turmoil inside him. There were times when, alone and homesick in some godforsaken part of the world, he'd close his eyes and recall this sound, the way the breeze whispered in the tree tops. It always managed to calm and centre him. As a kid, he'd spent every spare hour of his childhood down here by the creek. There was something magical about it. His jaded adult self scoffed at the thought, but the part of him that remained the simple country boy ignored the taunts. There
was
something special about this place, and it was part of him. Always was, always would be. If only he didn't have to leave to go back into the real world – the violent, harsh world he was part of.

The thought pulled him up sharply.
Didn't have to leave?
He couldn't recall a single second in his entire career when he'd
ever
considered not returning from leave. It was his life – it was
who he was
. He frowned as he tried to pinpoint where that sudden thought had come from.

He wondered if he really did want to get out at last. But he felt empty at the thought, as though a gaping hole were suddenly left inside him at the thought of no longer being part of the SAS. He'd always known there was more to life than the regiment but it wasn't something he thought he'd be contemplating for a long time yet. Other guys sometimes left to spend more time with their families, to try to connect with kids they'd hardly spent more than a few months at a time with, and Seb had silently shook his head in bewilderment. How would they ever find the same satisfaction in life as a civilian after living and working in the SAS?

An image of Bec and the girls floated before his eyes and his heart gave a funny little stumble. Was it something he could do? Could he be responsible for three other lives on a day-to-day basis? What if he got out, only to discover he couldn't handle life on the outside and missed the adrenaline rush he craved? With a reluctant sigh, he whistled the dogs back and headed home. Like it or not, he'd have to start making some messy decisions.

Rebecca had been thinking about Seb and Angus the whole day. They'd travelled to the regional hospital in Coffs Harbour to have Angus's diagnosis confirmed and although she had wanted to go along to the specialist's visit today to lend her support, she couldn't get out of work.

When Seb called immediately after Angus's appointment, she'd heard the sadness in his voice and the bleakness behind his words. As depressing as the last few weeks had been for Seb and his father, Rebecca had watched the two men, so similar in so many ways, finally beginning to develop a deeper relationship. It was never too late to make amends, but she couldn't help feeling that it would almost certainly be a brief reconciliation.

The click of the jug switching off in the deserted tearoom snapped Rebecca out of her exhausted trance. While her personal life had never been better, staff shortages had forced her to do a double shift and she was running on caffeine alone. A quick glance at her watch indicated she only had another two hours before shift change and handover, then she was free to go home and collapse in her nice, soft bed. Thoughts of the clean, sun-dried sheets she'd put on the bed before work the day before and had yet to slide between were almost too painfully delightful to bear.

‘Hey, Rebecca, glad I found you.' Rick Ascott's booming voice cut through the quiet of the tearoom, making Rebecca scatter the spoon of coffee she was putting into her cup across the ancient and stained benchtop. With an irritated sigh, she cleaned up the mess, quickly disposing of the paper towel in the bin beneath the sink and tried again to make her coffee.

‘Well, you found me. If you give me five minutes to scull this coffee, I promise I'll be at your beck and call for the remainder of my shift,' she told him wearily.

‘That's nice to know, but it's not why I was looking for you.'

Rebecca met the middle-aged Emergency Room doctor's smug expression and forced a politely enquiring expression to her face.

‘I had a request earlier today from a woman who is trying to start up a new domestic abuse support network in the area. She wants me to supply her with a registered nurse to assist with the program.'

Rebecca's attention was well and truly snagged, just as she suspected he'd known it would be.

‘Naturally, after your speech of a few weeks ago, I immediately nominated you. For now it'd be on a volunteer basis; however, I'm looking into some kind of funding to get you paid, but I can't guarantee how long it'll take to come through, if at all. So, if you're still keen to change the world, here's her number.'

Rebecca felt a smile begin to bloom as the news sank in. This was exactly what the town needed. The thought of being part of a program that could only bring about positive outcomes for abused women revived and excited her. ‘This is fantastic, Rick. Thank you!'

‘Don't thank me; you just took on a whole bunch of extra work and heartache.'

Beneath his gruff exterior, Rebecca saw the caring professional he really was and hid a knowing smile. He might be world weary and cynical most of the time, but deep down he still cared, and she knew that he'd be working quietly on the sidelines to make the network a success, wherever he could and without fuss or fanfare.