Red Dirt Heart 3 (9 page)

I gasped and pushed his shoulder. Nugget went back to doing happy-bouncy-circles in between us, making me laugh. Travis hid his smile by pulling his pillow over his head, but his shaking shoulders gave him away.

“I’m building him a playpen tomorrow,” he said, muffled by the pillow.

“You mean today,” I said. Then the little bugger scratched me again. “Ow!”

Trav pulled his head out, half-concerned, half-amused—until he saw my ribs. “Jesus.”

I looked down at the red, welted scratches across my ribs and under my arm. “How have you not seen these?”

“Well, the last few times we’ve been naked together, I’ve been face-first in the mattress.”

I snorted out a laugh. “Are you saying our sex is boring?”

“Far from it,” he said with a slow-spreading smile. “So far from it.”

“I’ll have to remember to turn you over tonight.”

Travis chuckled, but then ran his hand over the scratches in my skin. “You know, I hear semen helps heal abrasions.”

I snorted. “Is that right?”

“Yep. Something to do with vitamins and proteins.”

I scooped up Nugget and his woollen beanie pouch and sat both in the hall. “Sorry, little man, but you know, priorities.” I pulled the door shut and Travis laughed as I jumped back into bed. “How much trouble can an unsupervised wombat possibly get into?”

* * * *

The answer to that question is quite a bit, actually. A bored, curious, somewhat disgruntled wombat can get into quite a bit of trouble.

In the time it took to test Travis’s theory about skin remedies, there was poop in the hall, one of Travis’s boots was missing, and the bigger boxes in the lounge room had been knocked over, the contents—my childhood mementos—were strewn across the floor and a rather-pleased-with-himself wombat was rumbling with the teddy bear.

I’d have been pissed off if he wasn’t so damn cute.

Travis helped Nara with breakfast while I cleaned up all the mess and searched for the missing boot. I found it, somewhat chewed, under one of the sofas. I went into the kitchen and held Nugget under one arm and the boot up with the other.

Travis’s eyes went wide. “He ruined it!”

I looked again at the teeth-marked leather and frayed elastic. “He gave it character,” I amended.

Travis snatched the boot from me. “Why the hell didn’t he chew yours?”

“Mine were in our room, where you took them off last night,” I reminded him. “Yours were in the hall at the front door. See, I put my things away, not like you, who just leaves his stuff all over the floor.”

He ignored me completely and huffed. “I’m making some sort of enclosure today where he can’t chew on my stuff. And the little turd”—he leaned down and looked in Nugget’s face—“no matter how cute he is, is stayin’ in it.”

And right after breakfast, Travis went straight out into the shed, and I followed him out. “You’re not really pissed off at him, are you?” I asked.

“No, not really.” Travis smiled and shook his head. “I’m surprised how taken you are with him, though.”

I shrugged. “He’s a cute little fella. I dunno, he’s got character.”

Trav lifted his foot. “He has taste. In three-hundred-dollar boots.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry I made you give Matilda away,” I told him. “I’m not sure how I’d feel about doin’ the same. I shouldn’t have made you do it. I’m sorry.”

Travis put an old crate down. “You didn’t make me,” he said. “Charlie, it was the right thing to do. I know that. She couldn’t have stayed here; she’d hurt someone, and if we’d let her go, if the other kangaroos didn’t kill her, then she’d probably end up getting shot. Taking her to the kangaroo refuge was the safest option for her.”

I knew what he said made sense—it was the same logic I’d told him, after all. “I still feel bad about that.”

Travis eyed a bunch of old boxes in the mezzanine at the end of the shed. “Are those empty?”

“Nope. But you can empty them. It was my father’s stuff. We went through it all after the funeral. There’s nothing in them, really. Maybe combine some boxes, or throw it out, whatever.”

“You can’t just throw it out,” he said.

“It’s nothing, really,” I said. “It’s mostly old clothes. There’s no papers or anything personal. It’s mostly just junk. I didn’t really know what to do with it after he died, so I shoved it up there.”

He frowned and I could tell he was tryin’ to decide on how to say something by the lines in forehead. “Charlie, did your father have a will?”

“Yep. I was there when the solicitor read it out.”

“Never mentioned Samuel?”

I shook my head. “No. Or my mother. He left everything to me. Why?”

Trav sighed. “I just wondered, that’s all.”

“Do you think that’s what Laura came back for?”

The way his eyes shot to mine before he spoke told me yes, that’s what he thought. “Well, it’s just that turning up out of the blue for no reason…” He shrugged.

“They can try all they like,” I said simply. “But it’ll be over my dead body.”

Travis kind of smiled. “It won’t be
your
dead body,” he said, jokingly. “Billy and I have seen
Wolf Creek
, remember?”

I laughed at that. “Thanks. It’s comforting to know you’ll massacre people just for me. It’s kinda sweet.”

Travis laughed this time, but then he sighed. “How do you feel about it now?” he asked. “About Laura and knowing you have a brother?”

“I’m still not sure,” I answered honestly. “It’ll take some time, but I’m okay with it, I think. It’s certainly not Samuel’s fault. Don’t see why I should hold it against him.”

“What about your mother?”

“Jury’s still out on that,” I said. “If anything, I’m mad at how she handled everything.”

“You should be mad,” Trav said. Then he corrected himself. “Okay, maybe not
should
. But if you were really pissed, it’d be a totally understandable.” He rummaged through a crate of plumbing bits and pieces. “Here, hold this.”

I took the length of pipe. “I’d hate to think how I would have handled it if I didn’t have you.”

Trav handed me a pipe coupling. “You would’ve done just fine.”

“I doubt that. With everything else going on right now? I’m pretty sure I’d have flipped my shit. I’d have no employees, no business, and no fucking clue.”

He looked at me and smiled. “Actually, that’s probably true.” He put the crate of pipes back on the shelf and took the one I was holding from me. “You have a lot on your plate right now, Charlie. Don’t be too hard on yourself. I actually think the way you’re talking things through out loud and not just in your head is a pretty good sign that you’re doin’ okay.”

“Yes, but that’s only because of you.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m not planning on going anywhere,” he said with a smile.

“Did you notice Trudy hasn’t been eating much?” I asked. “Yesterday and this morning, she was just pushin’ her food around her plate.” I shrugged. “I thought Nara’s food was pretty good.”

“Nara’s food is just fine. Charlie, Trudy hasn’t been eating much these last few weeks. Haven’t you noticed?”

I shook my head. “I guess I’ve been busy,” I said, a poor excuse for not noticing one of my staff being unwell. “I’ve been watchin’ Ma like a hawk.”

“She’s not well, Charlie,” Travis said. “Ma, I mean.”

“I know,” I agreed. “George was quiet this mornin’ at breakfast.” I handed over the coupling and nodded to his pile of plumbing pipes. “What are you gonna do with that? You gonna build Nugget a bathroom or something? That pipe is too big for water, unless you’re planning on damming some harbour I don’t know about.”

Travis snorted and held up the pipe so I could see his face through it. It was ten inches round and about a metre long. “I’m gonna make the little boot-chewing brat a tunnel.”

Someone cleared their throat behind us. It was George. He didn’t have to say something was wrong, it was written clear on his face.

“George?” I asked. “Is it Ma? What’s wrong?”

He swallowed hard. “She’s not getting any better, Charlie,” he said. “I’ve called the doc. He’s on his way.”

I stood at the doorway, too scared to go in, too scared to walk away. “Come in, Charlie.” Ma’s voice was weak.

“We just heard from the doc,” I said, walking in. “He’ll be here soon.”

“I told George not to call him, but he wouldn’t listen. I just need some rest and I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t look fine. She looked so small in her bed, and her face was pale and dark around the eyes. She didn’t look fine at all.

“Then the doc will tell us that,” I said, trying not to whisper. “He might just say that all the bloody men in your life need to stop stressing you out.”

Ma smiled. “Probably.”

I sat down on the side of the bed. “I’m worried about you.”

“No need to be, love,” she said. “How’s Nara going? Everything okay with you? You had a rough day yesterday.”

“Would you stop worrying about anyone else?” I patted her hand. “We’re all just fine.”

Then because the silence was too hard to bear, I told her all about Nugget chewin’ on Travis’s boot and how Travis was making a jail for Nugget.

“A jail?”

“Well, it’s more like a playpen, with a bed and this tunnel-type thing. You know Trav. Over-engineers everything.”

Ma smiled again. “Doesn’t do things by halves, does he?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Don’t know where I’d be without him, really. Like yesterday, he was so good to me, Ma. Keeps my head on straight like you do,” I told her. “All those lectures about talkin’ and honesty must have sunk in.”

Ma laughed quietly. “They weren’t really lectures. They were more like a friendly heart-to-heart.”

“Well, if that’s what you call an arse-kicking that I needed to hear, then yep, a friendly heart-to-heart works.”

“Just glad I could help,” she said.

“You did. I need remindin’ sometimes, that’s all. That’s why you need to get yourself better,” I told her. “If someone’s gonna kick me in the pants, I’d prefer it be you.”

Ma was quiet then. She looked so damn tired.

George was at the door, and I ain’t ever seen him look so lost. Both our heads turned at the sound of a four-wheel drive. “That sounds like the doc,” I said, standing up. I walked to the door and tapped George’s arm on my way out. “I’ll go meet him.”

By the time the late-model Land Cruiser pulled up at the house, everyone was there waiting. To say the news of Ma bein’ so unwell affected us all was an understatement.

Doctor Hammond was the same doc who’d been treating me since I was born, and he was the same doc who treated Trav when he’d spent a day and a night in the summer desert with a busted knee.

The man collected his black doctor bag from the back seat and walked over. He addressed me first. “Charlie, good to see you again,” he said, shaking my hand. Then he looked at Travis. “Ah, the American Agronomy student. How’s the knee?”

“It’s doing just fine,” Trav answered.

Doctor Hammond acknowledged everyone else with a nod and smiled grimly at me. “Where’s the patient?”

“Come through,” I said, walking up the veranda steps. “I’ll show you the way.”

I led him down the hall to the bedroom at the back of the house. George stood up when he saw the doc, and I pulled the door shut to give the three of them privacy.

I walked back out to find Travis waiting in the lounge room. He was holding Nugget. “The others are waiting outside,” he said quietly. “I think it’s feed time for this guy.” He handed him over. “I’ll just grab a bottle for him.”

I dunno whether Trav was just tryin’ to keep me occupied, but it worked. Every minute waiting for the doctor to get here had just about drove me mad, so I think Travis knew keeping me busy was the key. Instead of pacing and asking ‘how much longer’ every five minutes, I sat on the lounge and fed Nugget.

The wombat was finally done just as George walked out. I put Nugget on the floor and stood up. The man looked like he’d aged ten years.

“He’s just doing an examination,” George said quietly. He sat down on the sofa like his whole body was numb.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“Not much,” he shrugged. “Took her blood pressure, looked in her ears and eyes, that kind of thing. Asked her a bunch of questions… personal-type questions. Woman’s kinda stuff.”

I nodded. “You want a cup of tea?” I asked him. “Can I get you something?”

He looked at me then and gave me the best smile he could manage. “Nah, I’m fine. Thanks anyways.”

If waiting for the doc to get here was bad, then waiting for him to do his thing was pure torture.

And after we’d been waiting for what felt like forever, as soon as the doc walked out with a sullen look on his face, I realised that waiting wasn’t the worst of it.

It wasn’t the worst of it at all.

Me, George and Travis all stood up, and Doctor Hammond gave a loud sigh. “Joseph,” he said, looking at George. “Can I speak to you alone?”

“You can say it in front of these boys,” George said. He cleared his throat. “They’d only hound me ’til I told ’em anyway.”

“There’s no real easy way to put it, so I’ll just come right out and say it,” the doc said, his face still stern. “I’ve done a pelvic exam, and it looks like endometrial cancer.”

Cancer.

Who knew one small word could stop the world from turnin’.

Ma had cancer.

After a long just-starin’, no-breathin’ moment, George swayed. Travis and the doctor helped him sit down.

Doctor Hammond patted his shoulder. “I’ll need to run further tests to confirm it, but I’m confident in my diagnosis.”

I was still just standing there staring. This wasn’t happening. He had to be wrong. This was my Ma he was talking about. “She has cancer? What does that mean? More tests? How can you know what it is if you need to run more tests?”

Doctor Hammond smiled kindly. “Charlie, I’ve seen it before. Mrs Brown’s case is quite advanced. She’s actually rather ill.” He sighed, letting his words sink in. “The loss of appetite and tiredness is a little unusual, I’ll admit. She’s very worried about everyone here, and the stress is probably contributing to that.”

“What do we do?” I asked, trying to keep the panic under the surface. “Just tell me what to do, and we’ll do it.”