Page 79 of Wings Above the Mallee

‘No dialysis if you can keep your markers in stage four.’

‘Thanks—’ He paused, cleared his throat. ‘Thanks, Doc.’ He disconnected the call and dropped his head into his hands. His chest ached as he tried to control the sobs that wracked him.

He wasn’t dying. Charlee was winning against the demons she’d inherited from him. Heath was on his way to finding happiness again.

Life was good.

29

Amelia

‘Where’s the rest of the crew?’ Amelia asked, looking over Heath’s shoulder and across the garden. It was winter-bleak, but the season would be over soon. For the first time in years, the thought of spring brought her a little joy.

‘Drove myself.’ Heath looked like he was trying—and failing—not to sound too pleased with himself.

‘That’s awesome.’ Instinctively, she knew that he was also feeling the stirrings of spring, the promise and potential of new starts.

‘Dad got a call from the doc,’ he continued. ‘Wouldn’t tell me exactly what it was about, but he seems pleased as punch with himself, and headed off to celebrate with an extra AA meeting … however that works.’ Heath’s lips quirked and Amelia quickly shifted her gaze back to his car. ‘I ran him into Murray Bridge to take the bus to the city.’

‘I wasn’t expecting to see you before dinner.’ She’d done a good job of hiding the funny little kick her heart gave when she opened the door to his knock, though.

‘Ah. Sorry.’ He ran a hand through thick black hair, shot with silver. ‘I figured I’d take a chance on you being here, not at work.’

‘Didn’t fancy facing Faelie?’

‘Didn’t fancy Faelie full stop. That’s why I’m here.’

The implication flustered her. ‘It was my last day yesterday, anyway.’ She gestured into the house. ‘Coming in?’

‘In a minute. Thing is—’ again, that nervous rearrangement of his hair ‘—I’ve got something for you. In the car.’

She laughed, her confidence restored by Heath’s apparent insecurity. ‘You know that sounds like a pervy “look in my van, I’ve got puppies” kind of line, don’t you?’ She grabbed the pair of tall ugg boots from alongside the door and started tugging them on. Spring might be around the corner, but the cement garden path would be like ice.

‘Well, I do have a sack of lupins in there for the kids.’

She liked the way Heath referred to their shared sheep as ‘the kids’. He offered a hand to steady her as she balanced on one foot to tug on the second boot.

And then he didn’t release his grip, instead drawing her with him along the path.

She felt ridiculously like a teenager, holding hands for the first time—although that had never been a part of her experience. Station life hadn’t lent itself to either hand-holding or flirting. Even Tim had been more of a business proposition: a good wrangler, a reliable farmhand, a decent-looking bloke. He hadn’t swept her off her feet—she’d argue she was far too grounded for anyone to do that—he’d simply been a sensible choice, a good partner for her to build a life with.

So what was with this weird breathlessness she now felt, her desire to concentrate on the places Heath’s skin touched hers, as though she expected there to be some kind of transfer of thought or emotion?

‘I owe you an apology,’ Heath said as they reached the car. ‘Weeks back, I made a stupid comment about your maternal streak. Though I’m not taking that back.’

‘Interesting way to apologise,’ she said, her fingers slipping from his as her hand curled into a defensive fist.

‘I’m apologising for thewayI used the word. I failed to respect how much of an asset that part of your character is,’ Heath said, putting a hand on her arm to draw her to a standstill. ‘The way you look after all these lost, hurt animals is nothing short of amazing. But even more importantly, I see it in the way you’ve helped my daughter.’

‘I can’t claim any kudos for that. Charlee’s rescuing herself.’

‘You’ve given her a soft place to land. You’re providing something she desperately needs; something I couldn’t give her, no matter how much I wanted to. And … you’re doing the same for me.’ Again, that hand through his hair. ‘I’m not great with expressing it, but you’re helping us heal, Amelia.’

It took her a second to find words. ‘You know it’s mutual, Heath. I have healing of my own that I need to do, but I’d refused to let my wounds scab over. It felt like … allowing love would mean that I’m trying to replace what I’ve lost; that I’m forgetting Noah, instead of honouring his memory. So I’d been avoiding letting myself feel anything that might turn to love. Oh!’ What had she just said? ‘I mean, I love Charlee. And Sean. And the animals, of course …’

Heath’s hand cupped the side of her face. ‘I think love comes in many forms, Amelia.’ His words were low. ‘I know that I love you.’

She froze.

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