Leap of Faith (3 page)

Jessica heard the words, ‘Just over here,' and then the ashen, worried face of Steve appeared.

‘Steve,' she whimpered.

‘Oh, God, you poor thing,' he said, coming up alongside her and putting his hand to her face. Tears welled again. ‘How are you? Are you okay? What happened?' He was babbling; a clear sign he was way out of his depth.

‘I'm okay,' Jessica reassured him. ‘Anna, this is my husband, Steve,' she said to the nurse who had finished removing her clothes – Jessica thought she'd never been so embarrassed in her life, if she could remember it happening – and had draped a hospital gown over her. Jessica hoped when they moved her for X-rays someone would remember to do up the back of her gown if she didn't. Anna was now covering her with a blanket, being careful to leave her injured leg free. Jessica couldn't bring herself to look down at her leg; the cool breeze on it compared to the gentle warmth over the rest of her told her it was uncovered.

‘Hi there,' Anna said, accepting the hand Steve offered. ‘We won't know the extent of her injuries until she's had X-rays, and possibly a CT scan, and seen a doctor.'

‘CT? Shit – that sounds serious!'

‘It's too soon to know anything much yet,' Anna said, ‘but Jessica being so coherent is a great sign.'

‘Where's Prince? Who rang you?'

‘Prince is with Tash and Donald Roach. It was Tash who called me. Can I get you anything?' he asked, looking around helplessly.

‘She's nil by mouth until we can make absolutely sure she doesn't need surgery,' the nurse warned without looking up.
Surgery? Jesus.
Jessica felt sick to the stomach at the thought. There probably wasn't anything left to vomit up, but that hadn't stopped the pure bile from burning its way up her throat and out her mouth the first time.

‘I think the boots probably saved you from a lot more serious injury,' Anna continued.

‘Steve, how bad does it look?'

‘It's fine. Seriously. There's no blood or anything. Not even any swelling.'

Jessica loved that Steve was there holding her hand, providing assurances, but at the same time she suddenly wanted to be left alone to go to sleep. And she wished the nurse was one of those surly, silent types, not Little Miss Chirpy. God, there was so much going on around her; beds being wheeled in and out, people bustling about. It was like Rundle bloody Mall. A slightly overweight man pushing a yellow bucket with the handle of a mop appeared, mopped her sick up, didn't acknowledge her apology to him, and disappeared, all in the space of less than thirty seconds. Did he just wander around looking for sick his whole shift? How did he know he was needed right there, right then?

It was all quite exhausting.

A young doctor appeared in a white coat with a stethoscope draped around his neck. Jessica almost giggled at how clichéd he looked.
Great, they sent the intern
, she thought, taking in his young, boyish looks.

‘Hi, I'm Doctor Grant,' he said, picking up the chart Anna had just put down. While Doctor Grant was reading, mumbling to himself and nodding, Jessica was trying to work out if Grant was his first or last name. Oh, what did it matter? She relaxed back into the mattress, too tired to care. She could hear Nurse Anna and Doctor Grant talking around her, but it was as if she was underwater; she couldn't make out precisely what they were saying.

And then he was right beside her, touching her leg, poking and prodding her stomach, and asking questions. She answered them all as best she could.

‘I don't think there's too much damage done, but we'll know for sure after your X-rays. I'll see you a bit later,' Doctor Grant said, with a friendly hand on her shoulder. He was smiling warmly down at her. He nodded and offered a smile to Steve, and was then gone.

Jessica was desperate to go home. She was in an overnight stay area, not a proper hospital ward, in the closest bed to the corridor, separated from the other patients by curtains. It was really just like the initial casualty area, perhaps not quite so busy. She'd barely slept a wink thanks to the glaring light in the hall outside the room and the pokes and prods and assessments they'd given her at regular intervals, not to mention the trotting in and out to do the same for everyone else in the room – if there was a door, it was never closed. The Panadeine Forte she'd been given had helped her snatch some sleep, but each time, she'd woken with a start, fighting for air and feeling like she was back in the filthy water trying not to drown.

She'd suffered many a sleepless night thanks to competition nerves, but never had she experienced nightmares like last night's. A few times she really had thought she was drowning. She shuddered, recalling how terrified she'd been. Hopefully when she got home to her own bed they would go away. Yes, she was just unsettled, she told herself forcefully.

God, she wished Steve would hurry up. She'd urged him to go home yesterday, get a decent night's sleep and bring her some clean clothes in the morning. Until he arrived, she was stuck here in this scratchy hospital gown with the knotted ties poking into her lean back and bum. At least someone had tied them for her along the way. She couldn't remember when.

She looked down at her injured lower leg, which was now a lovely shade of purple. The nurse who'd put the cast on had sworn her to secrecy – the lighter fibreglass casts in the wonderful array of colours Jessica had had to choose from were only meant to be for kids. Apparently the public health system preferred adults to lug around the old-fashioned plaster that would only stay bright white for a matter of minutes rather than bear the extra cost of brightening up an injured person's life. Jessica hoped the nurse, whose name she'd forgotten, wouldn't get in any trouble. She wasn't sure how leaving with her leg looking like a beacon in forbidden purple could possibly go by unnoticed. The colour was so loud it was practically shouting.

Her injuries had turned out to be minor – just her right ankle fractured in two places – but she'd had to stay overnight to let the swelling go down before a cast could be applied. Apparently her needing to wee and being able to – God, how bloody awkward, embarrassing and downright awful were bed pans for women? – was a very good indication all was well, according to the new nurse tending her. Anna had long since finished her shift, said goodbye, and wished Jessica and Steve luck before going home.

Doctor Grant had been back to check on Jessica after the X-rays and had pointed out, while shaking his head slowly with wonder, that she had got off very lightly. And didn't Jessica know it? There were plenty of stories about riders being killed when their mounts had fallen on them – either from the force of being crushed under a horse or having the hooves of a creature struggling to its feet do irreparable damage to internal organs or the brain.

But Jessica couldn't shake the feeling of embarrassment of having fallen right in the middle of the water jump, the jump that always attracted the most spectators. And, God, there had been hundreds of people sitting there – not to mention the TV cameras. Probably best she'd had to be carted off in an ambulance; if she'd had to walk out she might have died of humiliation! She was relieved she hadn't seen any news coverage of the event – the media loved showing the thrills and spills. Bad news is good news.

A jolt of fear went through her. What if Prince was distressed about being in a foreign stable? What if he hadn't had his regular nightly feed? He'd be out of sorts. She told herself to get a grip, she was getting hysterical. It was she who was out of sorts if her routine got out of whack – Prince was much more easy-going. He was probably savouring the attention Tash and Donald Roach were no doubt lavishing on him, and enjoying the company of all of their horses.

By all accounts, Prince really was fine. That was the main thing. But all that work down the drain. It would take a lot to get back to where they'd been after a few months being laid up. Maybe she could get someone to keep Prince on track while she was in plaster? It would cost a fortune, though, and that was money they really couldn't spare. She wouldn't be able to instruct either, she suddenly realised, so there wouldn't be any cash coming in. Prince would definitely have to be turned out, along with Beau, the youngster she was bringing up. God, and just when he had been coming along so well too. Beau was sure to be pining. She racked her brain for a time in the last four years since having them both when they'd spent a night apart. She tried to calm herself down; she just had to get home and sort it out.

Jessica shifted her weight. Damn, she was aching all over. It was as if Prince had actually been tap-dancing on her in his studded shoes. She lay back and stared up at the ceiling.
Where the bloody hell is Steve?
Her leg ached something wicked, but she wanted to avoid painkillers as much as she could – the last thing she needed was diarrhoea when she couldn't bolt to a bathroom. While much of the day before was a blur, she could clearly remember Nurse Anna warning her of the most common side-effect of the painkilling tablets she was being given.

She turned her head at a rustling sound and was surprised to see Doctor Grant enter. Was he still on the same shift or a new one? He seemed a little more tired and uptight than the day before as he inspected the nurse's purple handiwork. He pronounced it a job well done and handed Jessica a packet of Panadeine Forte, saying, apologetically, that if she needed more pain relief, she'd have to see her GP. Then he said he'd made an appointment for six weeks' time for her to come back to have her plaster off, and to contact them if she had any problems in the meantime.

‘Right,' she said, nodding and trying desperately to take all the information in and keep the details straight in her mind.

He handed her an envelope, wished her all the best with her recovery, and left with a wave of his hand.

‘Thanks, for everything,' Jessica called, but he was gone, the door closing with a click behind him. Now they finally close the damn door!

*

It seemed to Jessica that she had been waiting for hours after Doctor Grant left, tapping the covers on the bed with her fingers and fiddling with the woven design on the pale pink cotton cellular blanket covering her, before the door to the hall opened with a whoosh, and in strode Steve.

He took his dress Akubra off and pushed a hand through the top of his hair to lift it up a bit. To Jessica's well-trained eye, it meant he was harried. Something had gone wrong. Or perhaps it was just that his morning schedule had been disturbed and now his mood out of kilter. Steve would've had to get up extra early to do his morning run around the stock – or perhaps he was waiting to do it when they got home. Either way, the change would have him a little antsy. She'd be agitated too, if the situation was reversed and her schedule was so dramatically changed. It was one of the things they had in common and one of the reasons they worked so well together: they both enjoyed being structured and well organised. People would say they were obsessive, but for them it worked.

He came over to the bed and pecked her on the cheek. ‘How are you this morning? Sleep okay?'

‘Looking forward to getting home. And no, I did not sleep well. Did you know they wake you up every four hours to check you're not asleep?'

‘Well, once we get you home you can sleep all day if you need to,' he said, kindly.

Jessica was tired, but she didn't know how she'd cope with sitting around all day, and for weeks on end – it just wasn't in her nature. She was always moving. Sometimes she didn't know where the day had gone or what she'd achieved, but she was always on the go, bustling about.

‘Now, I brought track pants because I figured jeans wouldn't be wide enough,' Steve said. He was pulling clothes out of an overnight bag and was putting each piece on the bed.

Jessica struggled to get her right leg with its thick cast through the leg of the track pants Steve held up for her to step into. She leant against him and hopped a few times. It was going to be a long six weeks. She slumped back onto the bed, exhausted. What was wrong with her? She was a well-muscled, fit person, and already she was puffing.

Finally, she was dressed and they were ready to go. Steve put his hat back on, slung her bag over his shoulder, and held the crutches up for her.

‘Hey, steady on, I don't want any more accidents,' he said when on her first step she nearly went head over turkey. ‘Take it slow, and short steps. You don't want them sliding out from under you.'

It was harder than it looked and Jessica struggled to go slow; she was desperate to get home and make sure Beau had been fed. She didn't want to ask Steve in case he'd forgotten the horse – he'd feel terrible. And she didn't want to nag him.

‘Why the hurry?' Steve asked, as he settled her into the front of the four-wheel-drive ute. He put her crutches behind her seat and handed her his hat to either hold or put at her feet before going around to the driver's side.

‘You've got six weeks of sitting around ahead of you yet,' he said when they were both settled. ‘You're going to have to get used to having things done for you without complaints or you're going to send us both mad.' He grinned at her.

He knows me so well
, Jessica thought, offering him a wry smile and roll of her eyes.

‘Laurel and Hardy were all clingy last night and this morning. It's as if they know something's up,' Steve said as he started the throaty diesel engine.

Jessica smiled, thinking of their brown kelpies. The dogs were talented and each worth at least two men. She loved that Steve was happy to treat them as part of the family, rather than much lower down the pecking order, as many farmers did. He was a blokey bloke who didn't suffer fools, but his handsomely rugged, weathered exterior hid well his kind heart and soft nature. Though he was no pushover. He was an astute businessman who was decisive and could be as stubborn as an ox when he chose to be. While his doggedness at times drove Jessica nuts, she admired his strength of character.