Flight to Coorah Creek (16 page)

Himself! Adam had been talking about himself. He was the boy accidentally burned by his father. The boy who had grown up to be a doctor so Sister Luke would be proud of him.

Adam had his back to her. He had not noticed her. Jessica stepped back and silently closed the door. Tears filled her eyes as she leaned her forehead against the wood. Oh, Adam! To have known so much pain. Her heart ached for him. Her mind flashed back to the day after they met. Unknowingly, she had placed her hand on Adam's shoulder, only to have him flinch away. Now she understood. Slowly she turned and walked away from the door. He had obviously kept that secret for many years. Jess knew about secrets and how to keep them. She would keep this one too. For Adam.

With the click of the door, Adam lowered his hands. The closed door was reflected in the glass of the window. He didn't see it. He could only see the look on Jessica's face when she saw his back. The horror. The pity. He'd seen that look before. On many other faces. But somehow, it was just that much harder to take on hers. A tiny spark of hope – or was it perhaps a dream – that lay hidden in the deepest recesses of his heart flickered and died. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers along his shoulder, feeling the puckered skin. The scars had faded a little over time, but were still horrible to look at. If ever he and Jess were to … he would want her to look at him with passion and desire. Not pity. Never that.

From where Adam stood outside the first aid hut, the pounding of hooves was like approaching thunder. The jockeys' silks were distant flashes of colour against the brilliant blue sky. The horses' coats shone like polished copper and bronze as they hurled themselves at breakneck speed down the track, while all around people screamed encouragement to their favourites.

Adam wasn't having fun. Well, not as much as he should have been.

The Birdsville Races were his favourite event of the year. Adam loved the colour and energy of the crowd. He loved the optimism of people who would organise a race meeting in the middle of nowhere and the sense of adventure of the people who came from all over the country – all over the world – to join the fun. As someone who worked alone most of the time, he enjoyed the camaraderie of being part of a medical team. And if the hours were long, the work for the most part wasn't hard. Minor scrapes and the occasional mishap caused by overindulgence. There was always the potential for a more serious medical emergency, but, so far, things had gone pretty well.

Professionally, that was. He couldn't say the same thing about his personal life.

Adam wasn't sure what he had expected would happen between him and Jess during these few days. Not romance. Never that. But he had hoped their friendship would continue to grow. She had become such an important part of his life. The days he spent with her were the best days. Days when he didn't see her, even if just for a few minutes, seemed somehow wasted.

He just hoped yesterday hadn't spoiled everything.

Sharing the room had been a genuine oversight on his part. Now he had to live with the consequences of that mistake. He just wished Jess had returned to the room a few minutes later. He wished she had never seen the scars on his back. If she ever tried to talk to him about those scars, he would have to lie and once that lie was between them, nothing was going to be the same. Most of all he wished he had never seen the pity in her eyes. Of all the things he might want from Jessica, pity was not one of them.

Maybe she wouldn't ask about the scars. When she backed out of the room, she must have assumed he hadn't seen her. It was not an unreasonable assumption, given he'd been towelling his hair dry. He could hope she would just forget what she saw. It was a vain hope, as was the hope that the horror in her eyes would not change their relationship. It was already happening. Adam had spent the evening in the medical centre, dealing with a few minor injuries among the revellers. When he'd returned to the pub, Jess was in bed, the bedding pulled up high over her shoulders. Her regular breathing told him she was asleep. He'd lain awake for a while listening to her breathing and wondering if she was really asleep, or just pretending. Was the sight of his scars so hideous that she just couldn't bring herself to look at him again? He knew just how ugly his body was, but he believed Jess was a better person than that. Given time, he hoped their relationship would resume its former footing. But any hope he had of something more between them was now irretrievably lost.

‘Hey, Doc, picked a winner yet?' a passing local asked.

‘Not yet,' he replied, pulling himself out of his reverie.

‘Today is my day,' the man continued, his voice just a little blurred by beer. ‘The bookies weep when they see me coming!' The man vanished into the crowd, his step as unsteady as his voice.

Adam smiled. That man had the right idea. He was out to enjoy himself, and that was what Adam should do. He wasn't about to spoil the big event by useless dreams.

The next race was the biggest race of the day. Leaving one of his colleagues at the first aid station, Adam set out for the parade ring, his emergency medical kit in the rucksack slung over his shoulder. The horses made a spectacular sight as they danced past the crowds towards the starting line. Adam wasn't a betting man. Money wasn't important to him, but he did like to try to pick the winner. He ran his eyes over the thoroughbreds as they trotted towards the starting position. Long and lean, full of energy and fire. They were a beautiful sight. Adam's eyes fixed on a dark blood bay mare. She wasn't the tallest horse on the track, but there was something about the way she held her head. She was a fighter. That was something he could relate to. The jockey's silks were bright red and yellow. The colour of a desert dawn. He liked that too.

For a couple of minutes, the horses milled around at the starting line. Then they were set. A silence descended on the crowd as they waited for the moment …

‘They're off!' The commentator's voice over the loudspeakers was drowned out by the roar of the crowd when the horses leaped forward as if shot from a starting gun. Caught up in the excitement of the moment, Adam leaned forward over the rail. All around him people were yelling their encouragement.

The blood bay mare was in the leading bunch of horses. Slowly she started to pull forward, a rangy grey at her side.

‘Come on, girl!' Adam whispered. ‘Come on!'

It happened too fast to truly comprehend.

The grey horse seemed to stumble. It staggered sideways and collided with the bay mare. She fell to her knees and somersaulted over the top of her rider. The next two horses rose like a wave to jump the fallen horse and rider, but the ones behind had no chance. They appeared to run right over the top of the red and yellow figure. The jockey was dragged forward several yards. The last few horses were steered around the fallen figure and the pack raced on leaving two horses and two riders sprawled in the dust.

Adam was over the railing and running before the announcer had time to call for medical aid.

He passed the bay mare, now on her feet and limping slowly away, obviously hurt. The grey horse was still down, its rider kneeling next to it. Adam reached him first.

‘Are you all right?' he asked.

‘I'm okay,' the jockey replied, stroking his injured mount's neck. He slipped off his helmet and Adam could see the tears in his eyes. ‘But we need a vet.'

There was nothing he could do here. Adam turned his back on the dying horse and started to run towards a small crowd gathered a few metres away.

‘Let me through!' he shouted. The crowd parted and Adam dropped to his knees next to the fallen rider.

Someone had removed the rider's helmet, or it had been lost in the fall. With a start Adam realised the jockey was a woman. She was conscious, but her face was white with pain.

‘I think she's broken her arm, Doc,' someone said next to him.

It wasn't a difficult diagnosis. The arm lay twisted across the girl's body. Blood was oozing from a long gash in her forearm, but Adam was relieved there was no bone protruding from the wound. The break would heal.

‘Get the ambulance here,' Adam said to the people milling around. ‘And someone alert the airport. We'll need to get her to Mount Isa.'

‘On it, Doc.'

‘Now, can you tell me your name?' Adam asked the jockey.

He ignored the responses from the people standing around, some of whom obviously knew her. He needed to hear the girl speak. He needed to know she was aware of herself and what was going on around her.

‘Carrie Bryant,' the voice was just a whisper.

‘Okay. Carrie. I'm Adam. I'm going to look after you.'

Carrie tried to nod, but winced in pain.

‘No moving,' Adam said. ‘You took a really bad fall. Your arm is broken.'

‘Tasha …?'

Adam looked up at the people around him.

‘The horse,' someone said.

He didn't know how badly the horse had been injured, and he wasn't about to give Carrie any bad news. ‘She's being taken care of.' He knew that, at least, would be no lie. ‘Now you have to let me take care of you.'

Carrie opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Her breathing was becoming laboured. This wasn't a good sign. Adam reached into his bag for a stethoscope. He listened to the girl's chest for a few seconds, during which time, her breathing became noticeably harder.

The broken arm was the least of her problems.

‘Carrie, listen to me,' Adam said, taking the girl's good hand in his. ‘You've got what we call a pneumothorax. That means you probably took a couple of hard hits from some of those iron horseshoes. Your lung is damaged. Air is escaping into your chest. Now, that's not as bad as it sounds,' he went on, when he saw the fear flash in her eyes, ‘but I have to get some of the air out of your chest before we can move you. Okay?'

The fear-filled amber eyes held his.

‘All right. So, I'm going to drain some of the air from your chest. I'm going to use a syringe. It's sort of like drawing blood, but we'll take the air out instead.'

The girl opened her mouth to speak. Adam leaned close so he could hear her. ‘… hate needles …'

Adam's heart went out to her. Such bravery in the face of that terrible pain and fear.

‘To tell you the truth, I'm not that fond of them myself.' Adam laid a hand gently on her forehead. ‘But I have to do this. All right?'

Someone had placed his bag right to hand. He opened it up and found the syringe he was looking for. He attached a large needle. He tried to keep it out of the girl's sight, but knew that just wouldn't be possible.

‘All right,' he said. ‘I'm going to have to rip your shirt open. I hope there's no jealous boyfriend here going to hit me for that.'

Her skin was already starting to darken with bruises. Carefully Adam slid the large needle between the girl's ribs, hearing a moan of pain as he did so. She was too short of breath to cry out. Slowly he withdrew some of the air from her chest cavity. Almost immediately her breathing became a little less laboured. He sucked more air and she took a deeper breath.

‘You're doing great,' he told her. ‘Now I'm going to give you some painkillers, get this arm secured with a splint and then it's off to hospital we go. I've got a plane standing by.'

‘I don't like flying.' Even through the pain she sounded stronger already.

‘Ah – but I have a great pilot. She'll take good care of you, just wait and see.'

Jess was alone at the airport. She had left the rest of the medical team at the hospital, claiming the need to run some small checks on her plane. The reality was that she just wanted to be alone. She needed to figure out what to do with the shocking truth she had learned about Adam.

Sitting at the small desk inside the hangar, she relived those few seconds in the hotel room. Again and again.

The terrible scars had revealed so much about his past. She couldn't begin to imagine what he had been through. Something deep inside her cried for that horribly injured boy. The pain he must have suffered! No child should ever know that sort of pain.

And what about the man that boy had become?

Adam's father could not have known his child was in the house when he set it on fire. That past was a tragic accident. But Adam still had to live with the knowledge that his father had caused his injuries. How difficult must it have been growing up with that knowledge? How did anyone live with that? She wondered how his relationship with his family was now – he never spoke of them. Not his mother and certainly not his father.

Not only that, she wondered how he had come to terms with such a difficult past to become the man he now was. How had he maintained the compassion for others that was such an important part of him? She imagined Sister Luke had a lot to do with that.

She had run from the hotel room before Adam had seen her. He didn't know that she had seen his scarred body or learned his secret. How could she tell him? But how could she ignore what she had learned? She was a little afraid to face him. Afraid that he would read the knowledge on her face. She knew now why he kept himself distant from others. Why he didn't like to be touched. If he learned that she knew the truth, would he become even more distant? The mere thought was like a hot knife in her heart.

The phone on the desk began to ring.

‘There's been a fall at the race.' The caller didn't identify himself. He didn't need to. His message was the important thing. ‘You need to get to the Isa. The ambulance will be there in a few minutes. One injured female jockey.'

‘I'll be ready.' Jess ended the call and got to her feet.

Her plane was ready for a fast take-off. By the time she had opened the doors and completed her pre-flight checks, she could hear the ambulance approaching. A small convoy of other vehicles followed in its wake. Jess ignored the other vehicles as the ambulance pulled up close to her aircraft. The driver walked swiftly to the rear and opened the double doors. Jess looked inside to see Adam seated next to the stretcher, one hand on his patient's shoulder.

The driver slid the stretcher forward. Adam stepped out and smiled down at the terrified girl in torn and bloodstained jockey's silks.

‘Carrie, this is Jess, our pilot.'

‘Hi, Carrie,' Jess said gently. ‘Let's get you on board.'

As the driver started to manoeuvre the stretcher, Jess became aware of other people milling around. She heard an all too familiar sound … the whirring of a camera shutter. She spun to face the noise. A man with a large camera was pushing his way towards them, his finger on the shutter trigger. Not far behind him was another man with a video camera. She knew them – or rather she knew their type. They were press out for a story. Her first instinct was to duck away, to avoid their stares and their lenses. But she had a job to do. Adam and his patient needed her. Besides, it wasn't her they were chasing. It was the injured girl. She was their victim this time. But Carrie was in her care now, and Jess wasn't going to let them have her.

She immediately moved her body to block their shots. Behind her, she could hear some pushing as the two men tried to get through, but she had a feeling there were others around who shared her desire to protect their injured jockey.