Page 46 of Wandering Souls

Chapter Nine

After a day spent raisingand lowering her arm to cover the cottage walls in paint, Abi was grateful to feel an ache somewhere besides her leg. She sat on the covered veranda of the last cottage Hollywood had to finish, a cold can of cola in one hand, and a ham and cheese toastie in the other. A cool breeze fluttered through the shrubs lining the veranda while Magnus used a six-foot crowbar to deepen a hole for a feature tree.

Offering assistance had never felt so good, and the fact it took her mind off her newly discovered family didn’t go unmissed. The almost rhythmic motion of painting had soothed and calmed her frazzled thoughts. Knowing they were alive was one thing, accepting their presence was another.

“Need anything?” Mia slid into the chair beside her. The redhead grinned at Abi. “Another toastie?”

Abi shook her head. “This project is ingenious.”

“Well,” Mia leaned back on the wicker chair and set a protective hand over her abdomen. “It’s still in its infancy. We have big plans.”

Presently, six cottages adorned the property, but there was room for many more. Abi had asked Hollywood earlier in the day how many he’d hoped to build. All he did was smile, touch a finger to the side of his nose and shake his head. She didn’t know what that meant but took it to mean he didn’t really know either.

“We plan to build a common room,” Mia continued. “With a bathroom and kitchenette, where you folks can gather and help each other. I want to include a therapy room, though James wants three.”

“Therapy room?” Abi took a bite of her now-cold toasted sandwich as she watched Mia’s hand rub circles over her rounded belly.

“Maybe for a psychologist, or a physio.”

It sounded like a fabulous idea, having the specialists come to those in need. Abi knew she was relatively lucky when it came to the after-effects of her service. Her combination of physical and emotional wounds was manageable, compared to some of her fellow servicemen and women.

“We already have a psych in mind, and Colt has located a physiotherapist who specializes in combat-related injuries. Colt might even use one of the rooms to consult non-urgent issues. What do you think?”

Abi smiled her approval. “There are still so many soldiers deployed in high-risk zones who could benefit. I think you and Hollywood are going to create a ground-breaking facility here.”

“It’s just a pity we don’t have it fully ready yet. We could if my fiancé wasn’t so determined to build it all with his bare hands.”

Abi wondered what the ADF and VA thought about it. In her experience, ongoing trauma from service had only recently been recognized. Whether the big wigs would stump up the funds in support of the kind of retreat Hollywood and Mia wanted to build was an unknown factor, let alone if they’d embrace it as part of the recovery process.

She thought back to the flyer she’d found on her bedside table at the base hospital. Questioning its origin had never occurred to her. She’d just assumed everyone had got one, but now, in hindsight, she doubted that was the case at all. Not when the place was barely operational.

“Have you been in touch with the defense forces, to gauge their level of support?”

“It’s still early days, Abi.”

“I take it you haven’t sent out any promotional material, then?”

Mia shook her head, her green eyes full of questions. “We had a flyer made up but haven’t actually sent it out yet. The website is basically just a bookmark, with a general blurb and acoming soonnotation. Now that you bring it up,” she said and sat up. “At dinner, you mentioned a flyer?”

Abi bit her lip. “I don’t know where it came from.”

Her hostess rolled her eyes and shook her head, as if putting two and two together and coming up with the answer. “I think I owe you an apology.”

How, exactly? Abi frowned in confusion.

“It would appear my father may have had a hand in this. He asked Damien to let him find you, and it would seem he did.”

“You think he planted the flyer?”

“Think?” Mia laughed, the sound more exasperated than entertained. “I know. Why he couldn’t have just told Damien where you were, or maybe met you himself is anyone’s guess. The name Bob Holland doesn’t ring a bell, does it?”

“You mean Senator Bob Holland?”

Mia nodded. “He didn’t come and visit you, did he?”

“He visited the base hospital. We didn’t meet in person though.”

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