Flight to Coorah Creek (23 page)

He felt Sister Luke's fingers tighten around his. There was a flash of yellow sand beneath them and then the plane met the earth with a jarring thud. He heard Sister Luke cry out in pain. Then his whole world became a nightmare of noise and pain, the sound of tearing metal and the smell of hot fuel.

‘That was a really good meal,' Jack said, as he picked up the first dripping dish and began to wipe it.

‘Well, thank you. I'm glad you liked it.' Ellen smiled sideways at him. There were times she still found it hard to believe that this man seemed happy standing in her kitchen, wiping dishes. Or sitting on her big second-hand couch, with one of her kids pestering him for a story or yet another look at his cartoon tattoo. Yet he did. He acted as if every moment he spent with her and her kids was a privilege to be treasured. As if she was something to be treasured.

Ellen ducked her head back to her dishes. Oh – but she was terrible at this. She had set out to … not seduce Jack. That was too big a step for her to take. But to at least make him see her differently. Realise that maybe she could be more than a friend. But he didn't seem to be getting the message and she wasn't sure how to go about making it clearer.

Maybe it was because she was a couple of years older than him. Maybe it was because she was a mother. Maybe the way her husband had used – abused – her had left some mark that Jack could see. That made her unworthy of a man like him.

She cast another sideways glance at Jack – and saw in his face the same thing that she had seen in her own face in the mirror an hour ago. As she had combed her hair, and debated whether it was going too far to put on a touch of make-up, she had seen nervousness. And uncertainty. And longing in her eyes. Now she saw it in his. She bent over her task again, draining the sink and picking up the glasses to put them away. She was very aware of Jack standing next to her. So big and strong. But not threatening. Never that. He was always gentle. Even with the drunks at The Mineside. He never bullied them. Not even when one of them tried to pick a fight. He just took them safely home. He cared about people and took care of them if they needed it. She loved that about him.

She loved …

The last glass slipped from her fingers and shattered in the sink.

‘Ellen – did you cut yourself?' Jack reached out to take her hands.

‘No … I'm fine …' she stammered as he carefully examined her hands, turning them over to be certain she hadn't cut herself on the glass. Then slowly, ever so slowly he raised her hand, and pressed his lips into the soft palm.

Ellen almost cried out with the joy of it.

‘Jack …' she whispered.

He looked at her and Ellen's whole world contracted to just the two of them and the hands that now cradled hers with so much care. With so much …

Jack slowly released her hand. ‘I think maybe you should let me clean up the glass.'

‘I can …'

‘It's all right,' he interrupted her. ‘Let me. My hands have seen much tougher work than that.'

Those hands of his. Those tough, strong, gentle hands that had held her children on so many occasions. That had breathed life back into a tired old home. That helped so many people. Ellen wanted to reach out and touch those hands, but he had already turned away to deal with the broken glass. Ellen felt almost bereft.

‘Thank you,' she said, her voice not quite as steady as it should have been. She needed another minute or two to compose herself. ‘I should go over to the hospital and check on Andrea and Lachlan. They'll probably be asleep, but …'

‘Of course you should. I'll stay with the kids.'

‘Thanks. I won't be long. And when I get back, we can have coffee.'

‘That would be nice.'

Ellen almost fled the room. Her heart was pounding as she walked over to the hospital. She raised her hand to look at the place where Jack's lips had touched her. Her skin still tingled with the kiss. How long was it since a man's touch had brought her anything but pain? She raised her hand to press the palm against her cheek, as if by doing so she would feel his lips there. She felt like a schoolgirl again. A giddy, excited schoolgirl in the throes of first love.

Jack had given that back to her.

Her feet were barely touching the floor as she entered the hospital. She walked quietly to the room where her charges were spending the night. It was the room that held the big double bed Adam had purloined from the house where she now lived. The door to the room was open, and she could see Andrea and Lachlan. They were both sound asleep. Andrea's head was cradled on Lachlan's shoulder, her injured arm carefully settled on a soft pillow. They looked so young and peaceful. How nice it would be, she thought, to sleep like that. Safe in the arms of someone who loved you. Maybe … Just maybe …

Not tonight of course. It was far too soon for that. And besides, Jess and Adam would be back shortly. But perhaps one day … in the not too distant future …

She turned off the light in the room, but left the hallway light on in case they woke in the middle of the night. Then she turned back towards her own home. Where Jack was waiting for her. She almost wanted to run. For one of the few times in her life, she wished her kids were not around. She'd get them off to bed nice and early. The sound of the telephone ringing cut clearly through the late evening air. The sudden hope flared that it was Jess calling to say she wasn't coming home tonight after all.

Jack reached for the phone, expecting to hear Jess or Adam at the other end of the line. They were due back about now. Jess would be tired after two long flights, and would be looking forward to getting home. Jack wasn't certain if that was a good or a bad thing. Those few moments in the kitchen with Ellen … Maybe tonight, after the kids were in bed, he could begin to tell her how he felt. But the taste of her skin on his lips … the sparkle in her eyes. It was going to be difficult to keep himself under control. To keep it light. The last thing Ellen needed now was to feel the depth of his desire for her. He didn't want to scare her away.

But maybe, he smiled to himself, he could ask Jess to stay away just a little bit longer.

‘Hello!'

‘Jack. It's Sergeant Delaney here.'

Sergeant. Not Max – that meant official business. ‘Yes, Sergeant.'

‘I was actually looking for Ellen … or anyone for that matter. I was wondering if you have heard anything from Jess or Adam.'

A cold hard lump began to form in Jack's gut. He glanced out of the window. The summer sun was very low in the sky now. Jess and Adam and Sister Luke should have been back a while ago.

‘No. I haven't. And neither has Ellen. What's wrong?'

‘I had a call from Air Traffic Control. Another pilot heard a mayday. They think it might be them.'

Jack froze. ‘When?'

‘About half an hour ago. ATC has been calling them, but there's no answer. Jess filed a flight plan before they left Clifton Downs. They're overdue.'

‘Did the mayday say where they were?'

‘They didn't get an exact location – the signal wasn't good.'

‘I'll head for the strip and try to raise them on our radio.'

‘Good. I'll call Clifton Downs. I'll see if they can raise them. An officer from Birdsville was already on the way there because of the shooting. If Clifton can get their plane in the air, they can start a search.'

‘I'll stay in touch.' Jack put the receiver down. He turned to see Ellen standing in the open door – her face frozen.

‘What is it?' she asked. The fear in her voice matched his own.

‘That was Max Delaney. ATC has picked up a mayday. They think it might be Jess and Adam.'

‘Oh, no.' Ellen's hand flew to her mouth. ‘Do you think they're …?'

‘No. I don't,' he said with a determination he didn't feel. ‘I'm going to the strip now. If I hear anything, I'll call you.'

‘Go.'

‘Mum? Jack? What's wrong?' Harry stood in the doorway, looking at them with wide, sleepy eyes.

‘Nothing at all,' Jack said forcing a smile. ‘I just have to go to the airstrip for a while. You'll probably be in bed by the time I am done, so why don't I leave that comic with you, and we can read it together tomorrow night.'

‘All right,' Harry said.

‘Good man.' Jack ruffled the boy's hair, looking across at Ellen. He sent her a silent nod of support before turning to leave.

He forced himself to walk to his car. He didn't want to alarm Ellen or Harry, but his mind was racing. He pulled away from the house slowly, but as soon as he was out of sight, he pushed the accelerator to the floor, hoping against hope that it was all some terrible mistake. That he would find the Beechcraft in the hangar. Then he would laugh about the fuss with Jess and Adam and Sister Luke.

He raced down the dirt road to the strip and the car slid to a stop outside the hangar.

It was empty.

Jack got out of the car and raced towards the radio. He flicked the on switch.

‘Goongalla Base calling Goongalla Air ambulance. This is base calling the Goongalla Air ambulance. Jess, are you there?'

Nothing but static. He switched the set to the emergency frequency and tried again. Still nothing. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he rang the police station.

‘All right,' said the Sergeant. ‘You stay there and keep trying. I'll alert ATC. They'll put up a search plane, but there isn't a lot of light left. Clifton can't help. Their plane flew back east last week for some maintenance work.'

‘The search planes might pick up the emergency transponder,' Jack offered hopefully.

‘Maybe we'll be lucky. If not, there'll be a bigger search at first light. We know what time they left Clifton Downs – and we know roughly the track they were on.'

Knowing roughly the track they were on wasn't really good enough, Jack thought as he hung up the phone. The outback was a big place. A kilometre or two off the line, and no one would see them. If the transponder wasn't working. But it was. He knew it was. It was his plane. His responsibility.

He tried the radio again, not really expecting any response. There was none.

A few moments later, he heard a car pull up outside and Ellen walked into the hangar.

‘Any news?' she asked.

‘No. What are you doing here? Where are the kids?'

‘I dropped them over to the pub. Trish will take care of them. I told her what was happening. In case anyone calls there.'

Jack nodded, accepting the wisdom of it. The pub was very much the centre of their small community. If someone was looking to contact almost anyone, they would call there.

‘I figured you'd be staying here all night,' Ellen said. ‘So I brought you some coffee and stuff.'

‘Thanks. Just put it anywhere.'

She carried in a thermos and a bag of supplies for the night. Then she pulled up the only other chair in the place, and sat down next to him. For a long time neither of them spoke.

‘If there was some mechanical problem with the plane …' Jack at last found a voice for his worst fears.

‘No. Jack. Don't do that. No one could do a better job of taking care of that plane than you do. It's perfectly safe. It must be something else.'

He wanted to believe her. If only he could.

‘Ellen, you should go home. I'll call you if I hear anything. There's nothing you can do here.'

‘Yes there is,' Ellen said, her beautiful blue eyes firmly fixed on his face. Then she reached out and laid her hand over his.

He could smell the leaking fuel. It made his skin crawl. As did the creaking of hot and damaged metal. It was no use telling himself that he was safely out of the plane. That they all were. He knew only too well that all it would take was a single spark …

‘Adam?'

He jumped as if burned.

Jessica took a step back. ‘Are you all right, Adam?'

‘Yes. I'm fine,' he said quickly.

He and Jess were standing on the side of a low ridge, looking down at the aircraft they had evacuated just a few moments ago. Sister Luke was sitting on a rock, her breath coming in shallow gasps after their dash from the plane. It was nothing short of a miracle that all three of them had staggered away from the wreck without any serious injuries. They were a bit battered and bruised and Jessica's face had several small cuts caused by the shattered cockpit windscreen, but they were going to be fine. The Beechcraft, however, was a different matter. The underside of the aircraft was a mess of twisted metal. One wing had been torn almost off. There were gouges and dents all along the body of the plane and most terrifying of all, at least in Adam's eyes, was the steady leak of aviation gas from a torn fuel tank on one wing.

‘Do you think they heard the mayday?' Sister Luke's voice was so soft he barely heard it.

‘I don't know,' Jess answered. ‘Someone should have. And I did file a flight plan. If we don't report in within an hour or so, they'll send out search and rescue.'

‘But it will be dark by then.' There was a very definite tremor in Sister Luke's voice.

Adam moved to her side and dropped down on to the rock beside her. ‘Let's not underestimate Jack,' he said forcing a confidence he didn't feel into his voice. ‘He's got our backs. He always does.'

Sister Luke looked at him and tried hard to smile. Adam studied her with some concern. He didn't like the pallor of her face. Or the way her hands trembled as she clutched the wooden cross around her neck. He'd never seen her look like this. She looked old and tired – and ill. Now he thought about it, she hadn't been her usual self for a couple of weeks. Not since that trip back east …

He was an idiot!

He got to his feet and caught Jessica's eye. The two of them moved slightly away from Sister Luke.

‘I'm worried about her,' Adam said quietly. ‘Realistically, when can we expect help?'

‘Realistically – not till tomorrow,' Jessica said. ‘Even if the radio is working, which I doubt, it doesn't have enough range. I want to save the battery power anyway. It's all we have. And it'll be dark soon. I'll set the transponder off in the morning – when it's most likely to do some good.'

Adam nodded, his mind racing. He wasn't at all pleased by the idea of spending the night here. Not for himself or Jess. A bit of discomfort wouldn't hurt them. Sister Luke was a different matter. He was afraid for her. But it appeared they had no choice.

‘We'd better get some supplies from the plane,' he said.

‘Yes. I'll get them. You stay well clear,' Jessica said.

‘No,' Adam said in an urgent whisper. ‘I am concerned about Sister Luke. I need some medical supplies. I'll go.'

‘Adam. The leaking fuel. Planes don't explode that easily. But that leaking fuel could start a fire. Just one spark—'

‘Do you think I don't know that?' His voice rose, anger growing out of the deep dread that gripped the very core of his being. Before Jess could say any more, he strode off down the slope in the direction of the crippled aircraft.

He thought she might follow, but she didn't. After a few strides he slowed down. His breath was coming in sharp jagged gasps, and he forced himself to calm down. The closer he got to the Beechcraft, the stronger the smell of fuel became. It curled inside his nostrils, into the back of his throat and into his gut.

He stopped just a few steps from the plane. The door was lying at an angle where they had forced it open to get out. He glanced back over his shoulder. Jess had moved to join Sister Luke, and they were both watching him. Even from this distance, he could see that Sister Luke's hands were clutching her cross. Jess had her hand resting on the elderly woman's shoulder, offering what comfort she could. Adam was conscious of two things … that stepping inside the crippled plane was the last thing on earth he wanted to do. And those two women were the only people on earth for whom he would do it.

When he entered the damaged fuselage, he was surprised by how minor the damage seemed. A few of the windows were broken, and one of the lockers had sprung open, the contents spilling out into the aisle. The most obvious sign of the speed and shocking impact of the crash was the smell of leaking fuel. In his mind, he could hear it dripping into an ever-growing explosive pool beneath him. He pushed that to the back of his mind and looked at the open locker. Blankets. They would need those. It could get very cold overnight. He bundled up the blankets and carried them to the door. He stepped out into the open air and walked a few metres from the plane. He hesitated just long enough to deposit his load, then taking a deep breath of relatively clean air, he turned back again.

Medical supplies were his next priority. He retrieved his bag and opened it. From the overhead cabinets he took a selection of medication. He had no idea what was ailing Sister Luke – so he took anything that might conceivably be useful. The bag was almost overflowing when he carried it outside and deposited it beside the blankets.

The Beechcraft carried an emergency pack in a locker at the very rear of the cabin. It was stocked with food and water. Torches and … matches. Adam's hand was shaking as he reached out to open the locker. The click of the latch made him jump. He felt as if the space around him was contracting. The smell of the petrol was overwhelming. The light changed. Flames! He could smell the smoke now! Feel the heat blistering his skin. The smell … that sickening smell that was his own flesh burning. He raised his eyes. There, through the window, his father's face … The awful sound of his own screams …

His hand clutched the strap of the emergency pack and he turned and dragged himself down the length of the plane. He stumbled through the hatchway into the soft evening light, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Slowly the image faded.

It was the fumes, he told himself. Oxygen deprivation due to the fumes. Nothing more. He waved at Jess and Sister Luke, as he took several deep breaths. His head cleared and he looked at the gear gathered around him. Almost done. One or two more trips into the plane and he would have everything that they could use.

He took another breath, willed his hand to stop shaking, and turned back into the interior of the plane.

‘I am going to go and help him,' Jess said. ‘I can't just stand here. My plane. My responsibility. I feel so useless just standing here.'

‘You can't help him. He has to do this,' Sister Luke said. She hesitated and Jess knew what she couldn't say.

‘It's because of the past, isn't it? The fire.' She knew as she said it that it was true.

‘You know about that?' Sister Luke's eyes became sharp. ‘He's never told anyone before.'

‘He still hasn't. I saw the scars.'

‘Ah.' Sister Luke sounded deflated. ‘I had hoped …'

So had Jess, but she wasn't going to admit it to anyone. ‘Tell me about it,' she said, taking a seat on the rock next to Sister Luke.

Sister Luke shook her head slowly. ‘He was an only child. The father was a dreadful man. God forgive me for saying that, but he truly was evil. Adam's mother had a restraining order out against him. But that didn't work. He kept coming to the house. One day, when he thought there was no one there, he set a fire. I suppose he wanted to destroy everything that Adam and his mother had. He couldn't have known that Adam had come home early from school. His mother was still at work. The fire brigade found him at the back of the house, hiding. He was so badly burned … for a long time the doctors thought he would die.'

‘You were his nurse.'

‘Yes. He was such a brave boy. He fought so hard to survive. It was a terrible thing to see a child suffer so. First there were the burns to heal. Then the plastic surgery. Skin grafts. It was a miracle his face wasn't scarred – but the rest of him …'

‘Is that why he doesn't like to be touched?'

‘You noticed that?' Sister Luke shook her head. ‘That's partly because of all the pain. For many, many months, whenever someone touched him, all he felt was pain.'

Jess could feel tears pricking at her eyes. Her heart just ached. ‘What happened to the father?'

‘Jail. I found out years later that he had been released, but as far as I know, Adam never saw him again.'

‘And his mother?'

‘She tried. But she wasn't equipped to deal with such a broken boy. I imagine she blamed herself, in part. I could see it in her face. After a while, she found it hard to even look at him. They drifted apart. He's been alone a very long time.'

‘Except for you.'

‘Except for me. And now you.'

Jess shook her head. ‘No. Not me. I … I'm leaving when we get back.'

‘I knew something was wrong. Tell me.'

She did. In just a few sentences she laid her guilt at Sister Luke's feet then sat, staring at the hands clasped in her lap. Waiting for Sister Luke to condemn her for what she had done.

‘Jess, look at me.'

Jess forced herself to turn her head. Sister Luke's soft grey eyes held nothing but empathy.

‘Jessica, you are not to blame for that boy's death. There were others who could have helped him. Should have helped him. You did nothing wrong. In many ways, you are a victim too.'

‘But I flew the drugs into the country.'

‘No. You flew a plane. The responsibility belongs with the person who put the drugs on that plane. Not with you.'

‘I was blinded by Brian. His looks. His charisma. The money and the lifestyle. I thought he loved me. How could I have been so stupid?'

‘You were simply being human,' Sister Luke said.

‘Adam will never forgive me.' Jess's voice broke as she watched him carry another load out of the plane. ‘He values human life so highly. He fights to save every one of his patients. How could he ever feel anything for someone like me – someone with blood on their hands?'

Sister Luke's small, wrinkled hand covered Jess's clasped fists. ‘Forgive yourself, Jess. Adam will too.'

‘I don't know if I can.'

‘You must. Guilt is such a destructive thing. Love can never flourish if there's guilt like that. And the guilt you carry is not yours.'

‘We are both such a mess.' Jess dashed the suggestion of a tear from her eyes. ‘Each of us carrying a different burden. What a pair we are.'

Sister Luke's voice was firm. ‘You've no reason for self-pity, Jess. And whatever you do, don't pity him. That's the one thing he doesn't need.'

‘I pity the boy he was,' Jess said, her voice catching in her throat. ‘The man he is now I admire and respect. And …'

‘Love him, Jess. That's what he needs from you.'

And what she needed from him. The unspoken words hung in the air.

‘I'd better go help him with that load,' Jess said, rising to her feet. ‘We'll set up camp just over the ridge. Away from the plane in case … well … just in case.'

By the time she reached Adam, she had composed her face, but her emotions were still raw. One look at his face told her he was equally vulnerable at that moment. She gathered an armload of blankets.

‘I think we should set up just over the ridge. Away from the plane.'

He offered no comment, but simply followed her. It took them three trips to carry everything to a small hollow about a hundred metres away. A few scraggy trees offered a little shelter.

Jess dropped to her knees and started scooping out earth to make a fireplace. Adam, meanwhile, was sorting through their emergency kit. He set out torches and water.

‘We've got enough supplies for a couple of days,' he said.

‘It shouldn't take that long for them to find us.'

‘But just in case, we're going to have to be a bit careful with the water.'

Jess nodded. ‘Where's Sister Luke? I thought she would be right behind us.'

‘I'll go get her.' Adam climbed back to the top of the ridge. Jess watched him go, her mind in turmoil. As he topped the rise and looked down, his body suddenly froze.

‘Sister Luke?'

She heard the shock and anguish in his voice as he flung himself down the ridge and out of sight. Jess leaped to her feet, but before she could take a single step, Adam appeared again silhouetted on the skyline. He carried Sister Luke's limp form in his arms.