Marion Lennox - Bushfire Bride

‘Neither do I.’ She was close to tears. Here she was, lying again. She wanted Hugo so much that she was tearing apart and she could feel herself disintegrating. ‘I-it’s almost dark,’ she stammered. ‘You have to check Kim. I…I’m tired. I need my bed. Please, Hugo, can we go?’

She rose and hauled her beach towel around herself like a shield. It was stupid. Nothing could protect her from what she was feeling. Nothing.

‘Can we go?’ she whispered again. ‘Please, Hugo. I don’t need this. I can’t… I can’t.’

And there was nothing for them to do but to leave.

There was nothing for Hugo to do but to look at her with hungry eyes and a hopeless heart.

Kim was fine when he arrived back at the hospital, but Hugo took his time with the injured teenager. He hardly knew why. Kim was deeply asleep. Her exhausted parents had finally decided to cease their vigil and leave their daughter in the nurses’ care. Hugo could have simply glanced at the observation chart and left, but instead he carefully checked the wound, unwinding the bandages and surveying his handiwork with care. David, the ginger-haired nurse who was in charge tonight, watched with thoughtful appreciation.

‘You know she’s fine. I checked the leg myself a couple of hours ago. No temp, the leg’s as pink as the other one, she’s having pain but it seems to be settling-even her parents are relaxing now. Why not you, Dr McInnes?’

‘I’m relaxing,’ Hugo snapped, and David grinned.

‘Yeah, and I’m a monkey’s uncle. You’re tense as all get-out. You’re not expecting any dramas here, are you?’

Hugo looked down at Kim’s face. The fifteen-year-old was sleeping soundly, exhausted from the effects of trauma and relaxing deeply into the drugs he was using for pain-killing. She looked…fine. No, he wasn’t expecting any trauma here. Thanks to Rachel.

What was Rachel’s story?

Why did he need to know?

‘She’ll be OK,’ he managed, but David was still watching him.

‘You’re avoiding going home?’ David asked softly, and Hugo winced. Was he so transparent?

‘No.’

But David didn’t believe him. He was a fine nurse and part of that was that he read people well. ‘There’s nothing here for you to do,’ he told Hugo, his eyes still thoughtful. ‘The last of the fire crews rang in half an hour ago. Because there’s no wind up on the ridge, there’s been no dramas at all-not even a bad case of smoke in the eyes. You can go home to bed, Dr McInnes.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And you ought to.’ David was watching him with an intensity that Hugo found unnerving. ‘The forecast for tomorrow is horrible. If they don’t hold the firebreaks…’

‘The town will be safe. The river…’

‘The river will hold it this side. But the other side…’

‘You know the plan is for everyone to get over here and stay.’ Hugo shifted uneasily, thinking it through. Forcing his mind away from Rachel and onto the urgency of what lay ahead. ‘People’s homes are insured. They’ve had warning to leave. They’ll come.’

‘People do damned stupid things. Get yourself to bed, Hugo.’ David’s voice was suddenly rough with concern. ‘You know you’re going to be needed.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

Silence. Then… ‘At least you have Dr Harper.’ David’s eyes were still probing. ‘Rachel,’ he amended, and watched Hugo’s face twist. David looked even more thoughtful. Hmm, the expression on his face said. Was that the way the wind blew, then?

It wasn’t up to Hugo to enlighten him. ‘Yeah, at least I have Rachel,’ he snapped, and shoved his hands deep into his pockets and glared.

‘So go to bed and thank your stars you have her while you do,’ David told him.

‘Right.’ He was right. Of course he was right. Go to bed and be thankful…

To bed. To sleep? That was a joke!

And Rachel?

She lay awake and thought about Craig.

But she didn’t ring Dottie.

RACHEL was awake before he was. As Hugo appeared in the kitchen for breakfast just after six, Rachel burst through the screen door, a dog attached to a leash in either hand.

She stopped short when she saw him. Discomfited. The dogs bounded across the kitchen to greet him and he bent to hug them. Giving himself time to collect himself.

The dogs were great. Afghan and mongrel were becoming fast friends.

Michael would have kittens. Aristocracy mixing with the hoi-polloi. Ouch.

Michael. There he was, thinking about Michael again. Why the hell couldn’t he keep himself from thinking about Michael?

Rachel was wearing short shorts, and a crop top and sandals. She was all bare legs and glowing face and shiny hair.

How could he not think of Michael?

He had to get himself together.

‘Hi,’ he tried, and waited.

‘Hi.’

‘You’ve been to the beach.’ That much was obvious. The dogs were damp and sand-coated, and Penelope the Afghan had such a look of bliss on her dopey face he almost felt sorry for her that she had to return to the city. To Michael.

There he was again.

Rachel had to return to the city to Michael. The thought was enough to make the beginnings of his smile fade completely.

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Rachel told him, and the tension escalated by about a mile. She hadn’t been able to sleep. Neither had he. Because…

What was he thinking of? Heck, he had better…more serious things to think about than why Rachel hadn’t been able to sleep.

Like a bushfire.

‘It’s bad,’ Rachel told him, moving on before he could. ‘The wind came up before the sun did. The dogs and I could see the flames rising higher on the ridge while we waited for the sunrise.’

How long had she been on the beach? It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. Move on…

‘Crisis today,’ he said, and turned his back to put on the kettle. He was wearing his boxer shorts and nothing else. That was what he always wore while he ate breakfast and why his lack of clothes bothered him now he didn’t know.

‘What precautions are we taking?’ she asked, waiting for him to finish at the sink so she could pour bowls of water for the dogs. Then she turned her attention to toast, as though she was completely unaware of him.

How could she be unaware of him? he thought savagely. He was climbing walls here! In her shorts and her tiny crop top that left nothing to the imagination, he was so aware of her that everything else was blotted out completely.

Like the little matter of a town threatened by bushfire.

‘We’re setting a safety zone up on the beach,’ he managed. ‘Maybe you saw…’

‘There were people on the beach, setting up equipment, as I was leaving. The safety zone’s changing from the hall?’

‘Yeah. This side of the river can act almost as a safety zone by itself-it’s been really well cleared. But if the fire turns firestorm…’

‘Firestorm?’

‘That’s what frightens us,’ he told her. ‘We can cope with a fire that comes at us fast but a firestorm is something else. If it’s burning so fast it starts sucking oxygen before it, then it creates its own energy. It becomes a vortex, consuming all. We’ll move medical supplies down to the beach and essentials to protect a crowd. If the fire looks like escalating then everyone goes there. We’ll evacuate the hospital-everyone-and we hope like hell.’

‘Won’t they send back-up from the mainland?’ Rachel asked in a small voice, and he frowned. She sounded scared. He hadn’t meant to scare her-but maybe he was a bit scared himself.

‘I’ve been lying in bed, listening to the radio reports,’ he told her. ‘With this north wind after days of such heat, half the state’s threatened. Every fire service is looking after its own, and the state troops are needed for the cities where most lives are at risk. So we’re on our own.’