The Rebel and Miss Jones
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Annie Claydon
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16,3K
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18
Chapter One
âIâVE got to go. You know that, donât you?â
Theyâd been through this already. Sara grinned up at her brother. âOf course I do. I know what itâs like to be on call. You canât tell a bush fire that nowâs not convenient and youâll be there in a couple of days.â
Simon smiled for the first time since heâd answered the telephone that morning. âYou grew up some time when I wasnât looking. I keep forgetting that.â He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he still couldnât believe the evidence of his own eyes. âTen years is a long time.â
And a lot had happened in the years since theyâd last seen each other. But this wasnât the time to dwell on that. âIf the boot was on the other foot, and that phone call had been for a paramedic, you wouldnât have seen me for dust. You need to go.â
Simon shrugged. âYouâll be here when I get back?â It was almost as if he thought she wouldnât. As if the bonds that theyâd been carefully rebuilding for the last two days would break at the slightest touch. Sara could understand that too. She shared his fears.
âWhere else am I going to go? By the time you get back Iâll have got over my jet-lag, rearranged your house for you and taught Trader how to bark with an English accent.â
âIâve still got an English accent.â Simon frowned. âHavenât I?â
âNow you mention it, no. Not any more.â Simonâs accent was pure Aussie to her ears. Heâd changed in other ways too. No longer the lanky older brother, fresh out of university, who had clashed so violently with their mother and walked out of their lives for ever. He was broader, more thoughtful and a great deal more measured. Much tidier too. âDid I say that Iâm proud of you?â
âNo. But thanks.â The smile he gave her was full of the warmth theyâd once had. Simon heaved his backpack onto his shoulder and turned to face her squarely. âIâll let someone know youâre here as soon as I get to the CFA centre. Thereâs a list of numbers on the pad in the kitchen, so call if you need anything. Someone will come by tomorrow if Iâm not back.â
âIâll be okay. Iâm not sixteen any more.â
âBear with me. The fireâs well out of this region and heading westwards, away from us, but if there is any danger someone will contact you and drive up here to get you. If you can put your valuables into one bag, well and good, but donât waste any time...â
âI know, I know.â Sara held up her hands. âWeâve been through all this.â
âRight.â Simon still hesitated. Finally he leant in, giving her an awkward kiss on the cheek.
âStay safe. See you soon.â Sara gave him a bright smile, and propelled him out of the door.
* * *
Sheâd been restless all day, and had hovered fitfully between being half asleep and half awake all night, but now something shocked Sara into wakefulness. The silence perhaps. Or maybe it was the insidious, nagging worry that she had tried think through logically but still couldnât quite put a name to. Even the feeble light of early dawn somehow seemed slightly menacing.
Simon might have come back while she was sleeping. The thought propelled her out of bed, and took her all the way to the large windows at the front of the house. Nothing. His car wasnât parked in its usual place, and his jacket wasnât hanging in the hallway. Sara knew that she wouldnât find him sleeping in his bedroom either, but she looked anyway.
She wasnât used to this. Sheâd dealt with her fair share of emergencies but waiting it out while someone else handled the situation was way out of her experience. Taking Trader for a long, brisk walk yesterday afternoon, without seeing another living soul, had spooked her even more. Sheâd returned to Simonâs beautiful house, switched on the TV and played one DVD after another, just to hear the sound of human voices.
She padded to the kitchen, the sound of scratching at the back door coming almost as a relief. Pulling back the bolts, she opened the door, and fifty pounds of Australian cattle dog, the only one of his kind that Sara had ever seen before, herded her deftly out of the way to get past her and into the house.
âWhoa, Trader.â The dog had followed her footsteps, trotting hopefully to Simonâs bedroom door, and finding the room empty, was now pacing the hallway fretfully. âHeâs not here. Iâm on breakfast duty today.â
Trader was unsettled about something. Perhaps food would appease him. Fetching the plastic container that held his food, Sara made for the doors that led out onto the veranda, unlocking them and sliding them back.
Maybe the wind changed. Maybe it was just that she was outside the house now. The smell hit her like a slap in the face. Blown in on the breeze, like bad news from across the hillside, came the acrid smell of smoke.
Trader was at her side, pressing himself against her legs, and she staggered back. He nipped at her heels, trying to shepherd her back into the house, and Sara grabbed his collar. âOkay, okay, have it your way.â Maybe Trader knew best. She certainly didnât know what to do.
Gathering up his bowls, spilling what was left of the water in one down her nightdress, she pulled the dog inside the house and shut the patio doors, locking them tight as if somehow that might stop a fire from getting in. âYou can eat inside today.â
Quickly she put Traderâs food down for him on the kitchen floor and made for the sink to fill his water bowl. When she twisted the tap, nothing happened. Sara whirled around and saw that the LED lights on the fridge and the cooker were out too.
âDammit!â No electricity meant that the pump from the water tank wasnât working. Turning the tap off, she poured some spring water from the refrigerator into Traderâs bowl, then took a swig from the bottle. Maybe the hydration would help her to think.
This must be another fire. Unless the wind had changed and the fire that Simon had gone to was coming this way. Sara had no idea, and it didnât really matter. It looked as if the situation had changed, and so Simon needed to keep his promise and either come and get her himself or send someone. Any time now would be good.
The phone was dead and even though she knew her mobile was out of range here, she tried it anyway. âItâs only a little smoke, Trader. Smoke travels for miles, the fireâs probably nowhere near us.â
Her assertion was born of hope rather than knowledge, but at least Traderâs gentle, intelligent eyes looked convinced. Perhaps that was a good sign. Sara left him to eat, and ran to fetch the binoculars that Simon kept in his home office. Slipping outside, she trained them on the horizon in the direction that the smoke seemed to be coming from.
She could see the source of the black smoke, which billowed out from behind a fold in the landscape. It was impossible to gauge how close the fire was or which way it was headed, but the breeze in her face gave Sara a sickening clue.
âOh!â Her chest and stomach tightened painfully, and she doubled over, trying to breathe. She had to get out of here. Had to get home. She had responsibilities.
Suddenly this whole trip seemed impossibly reckless. Gran had urged her to come here, and had even booked herself into respite care for three weeks, but that was just temporary. She was ninety years old, and completely dependent on Sara. What would she do if she didnât come back?
Simon would send someone. He had to. Their mother might have labelled her elder brother feckless, irresponsible and not worthy of a moment in their thoughts, but Sara knew that wasnât true. This time he was going to come through for her.
Self-pity wasnât going to get her anywhere. Emptying the contents of the kitchen drawers at least secured a battery radio and Sara switched it on, scanning for a local station. Surely theyâd be putting out information on some kind of regular basis.
Carrying the radio with her, she quickly filled a couple of bags with what she hoped were Simonâs most valued possessions and put them in the hall. She pulled on a pair of jeans and made her way around the outside of the house, pulling the fire shutters down over the windows and back door as Trader ran back and forth, trying to urge her away from the ever more pungent smell of smoke, which was beginning to hang in the air like a dirty fog.
A tone sounded from the radio, and she held it to her ear, straining to catch every word. It didnât help much, mentioning places that sheâd only half heard of and could be anywhere, and fire alert statuses that could mean anything. She understood the urgency, though. Evacuate. Be safe. Nearest low-risk area.
There was nowhere to go. She was without a car and even if she could remember the way to the nearest town, she knew that trying to walk the twenty or so miles there would be madness. Simon had designed this house himself, and put all his architectural expertise and experience of local building techniques and conditions into it. The shutters were designed to keep burning embers from getting into the house, and the mud-brick walls would afford some protection if the blaze was not too intense. If the worst came to the worst, she and Trader were just going to have to sit it out and hope for the best.
The thought made her feel sick. Gulping back tears, Sara turned to the only living creature that might give her any comfort. âHe wonât forget us, Trader.â The animal seemed to sense her anxiety and nosed at her hand. âItâs probably not as bad as we think it is. Perhaps the wind will change...â
She stiffened, straining to see, as she caught a glimpse of something that looked like more smoke, this time on the dirt road leading to the front of the house. There was movement, and the flash of something bright in the sunlight. Just as dread began to grip her, squeezing all of the air from her lungs, she made out what it was. A vehicle, moving at speed and kicking up dust as it went. It could only be coming to one place. That track only led here.
Not wanting to leave anything to chance, Sara ran back into the house, pulling the red tablecloth from the table and sending the wooden bowls in the centre of it crashing to the floor behind her. Whoever it was wouldnât be able to hear her yet, but she shouted anyway, waving the tablecloth over her head.
âSit, Trader.â Sara strained to see any sign that the driver of the SUV had seen her. Nothing. She waved the cloth again and this time, through her tears of frustration, she saw something. Headlights, three short flashes and then a pause, and another three flashes. Just to make sure, she waved again. Another three flashes.
âThank you.â She whispered the words under her breath, to no one in particular, her chest heaving. âItâs all right, see, Trader. Someoneâs coming.â
By the time the SUV had skidded to a halt outside the house Trader was barking joyfully, pulling her towards the man who swung the door open and got out.
She could have hugged him. If heâd been middle-aged, with a paunch, she might have. But this was the kind of man you didnât just walk up to and hug without having to accuse yourself of an ulterior motive. Tall, broad and with blue eyes, bright against his tanned skin. Thick blond hair that looked as if it hadnât been combed in a while, which just added to the general look of a handsome adventurer.
âSara? Sara Jones?â He was striding towards her and she nodded, lost for words. âSimon sent me to fetch you.â
This wasnât the moment to ask why he hadnât come sooner. Neither was it the time for the normal reservations about getting into strangersâ cars. Trader seemed to know him and at his command gave off trying to lick his hand and trotted to the SUV, jumping in and settling quietly on the back seat.
âWe have to hurry.â The stranger didnât seem disposed to stop for questions anyway, and had already taken the steps up to the veranda two at a time, twisting the handle of the front door and turning to her in surprise when it didnât budge.
âIâve got the key here.â Sara hurried after him, pulling the single key from her pocket. In her agitation it slipped through her fingers, bouncing next to her bare feet on the decking and sliding through a crack between the boards.
At least he didnât call her stupid, but that didnât stop Sara from muttering the word under her breath. He shrugged, starting for the back of the house, and Sara ran after him. âI locked the doors at the back too. Maybe we could lever one of the boards up. I think I can get my arm through...â
He looked at her in frank disbelief. âYeah, maybe. Stand back.â Before she could stop him he had shouldered the door and it burst inwards, snapping back against the wall.
âDid you have to do that?â The door had smashed into the table in the hallway, sending a glass bowl crashing onto the floor, and broken shards were everywhere. Just because her habit of locking doors was a little over the top for this neck of the woods, it didnât mean he had to go caveman on her.
He turned, taking her by the shoulders. âSara, we donât have any time.â The look on his face was making her tremble.
âBut you canât even see the fire yet...â
âIf you can see a fire, itâs too late to run. At the moment we have two options, staying here to fight it or getting out. Weâre not properly prepared for the first and the second isnât going to be available for much longer.â He was focussed, calm, and Sara began to divine that breaking the door down had not been an overreaction. âItâs going to be okay, Sara, but if weâre leaving, we need to do it now.â
There was something in his eyes that made her trust him. Something about the brief smile he gave her. Sheâd made a few bad decisions in her life, but hopefully this wasnât going to be one of them. âYes...okay.â
âGood. Thank you.â Before she could ask him what would happen next, he had lifted her up in his arms, carrying her into the house, his boots scrunching on the broken glass. âHave you got a pair of heavy boots and a thick cotton jacket?â
âYes. But itâs too hot...â
âHeavy clothes will protect you. Cotton is less flammable than man-made materials.â There was no arguing with him, and Sara didnât particularly want him to elaborate on a situation where she might need heavy cotton clothing to protect her. Hopefully he was just being over-cautious.
He let her down, and she bolted to her bedroom. Now wasnât the time to be thinking that despite the smoky smell of his clothes the scent of his skin was alluring, or that the sheer power in his arms and shoulders was somehow reassuring.
When she emerged from her room, the hallway was empty of the bundles that sheâd left there and her new companion was rummaging in the refrigerator, two large bottles of water under his arm.
âReady to go?â
âYes.â She mustnât hesitate now. Mustnât go and check the house to make sure everything was secure. If Simon had trusted this stranger, then she had to do so.
âGood.â He turned to her, kicking the fridge door closed. His gaze flicked over her with an audacity that made her shiver, and Sara called a mental reality check. He was just making sure that she wasnât wearing anything that might catch light. âHave you got everything?â
âYes.â Her passport and valuables were in the large leather handbag she had slung across her body. That was all she needed.
âLetâs go, then.â
He hurried her to the SUV and then went back to draw the shutter down over the shattered front door. Sara craned her neck to keep the house in view as the car described a wide arc and bumped back down the dirt track towards the road.
âReece Fletcher. Nice to meet you, Sara.â
âWhat?â All her attention was on the house, trying to fix it into her memory as if that would somehow ensure that it would still be standing when she returned. It had been Simonâs dream to build this house, and the thought of it being reduced to ashes was impossibly cruel.
âWill you keep your eye on the road ahead of us for me?â
âWhat for?â She swung round, scanning the empty road, before she realised that Reece was just giving her something to do so she wouldnât be staring out of the back window of the car for the next five miles, straining for a last glimpse of the house.
âJust look.â His voice was gentler now. âAnd if you could open one of those bottles of water, that would be great. Youâll find a couple of plastic beakers in the glove compartment.â
âRight.â Now that they were on the road, the lines of tension in Reeceâs face had relaxed and Sara drew her sunglasses out of her bag and put them on, only partly to shade her eyes from the glare. At least when heâd been ordering her around, sheâd been able to respond without feeling the need to cry on his shoulder.
Time for another reality check. Sheâd just been rescued. Wanting to cling to Reece was a perfectly natural reaction. Deal with it.
âNice to meet you too, Reece. Thanks for coming.â She handed him half a cup of water and he downed it in one go, passing the cup back to her for a refill.
âNo worries. Iâll phone Simon when we get into range of a signal, let him know that weâre on our way.â Although the road was empty, he was still watchful, his gaze flipping constantly from the road to the rear-view mirrors.
âThanks.â Sara supposed that she ought to ask, even if she didnât much want to know why it had taken so long for Reece to come for her. âWhere is he?â
âHeâs okay, but heâs in the hospital. No burns, but he has a compound break to his leg. That meansââ
âI know.â Sara struggled to control the panic which rose in her chest. âI mean, I know what that means, Iâm a paramedic.â
He nodded slowly, as if heâd just remembered. âThen youâll know that he needed an operation to set the leg. That was done last night, and heâs awake now and doing well. He has a crush fracture in his lower back, but that will mend with rest. Some smoke inhalation, but it wasnât too bad.â
âWhat happened to him?â
âI donât know the details. He was working on a firebreak when he was injured. They brought him out and airlifted him to hospital. Iâm on his list of people to call in case of an accident.â
It was obvious that Simon should choose someone who lived more locally than she did for that, but it still hurt. âAnd he didnât think to mention that I was out here with Trader?â
Reece shot her a questioning look, the edges of his mouth turned down. âHe was diverted on his way into the CFA centre, never got the opportunity to tell anyone. And after he was injured he was heavily sedated most of the time. I didnât know you were here and assumed that Trader was with a neighbour and that the house was empty. If itâs anyoneâs fault, itâs mine.â
The way he sprang to Simonâs defence so readily warmed Sara. âNo one knew.â She puffed out a breath.
He turned in his seat slightly, shooting her a quizzical look. âHow long have you been here?â
âThree days. We wanted a week to ourselves so we could do some catching up. Next week was going to be for introductions to friends.â
Reece chuckled. âIf heâd mentioned that, Iâd have known what I had to look forward to when I came up at the weekend.â
Light dawned. âSo youâre the doctor he talks about? Fletch?â
He grinned at her and Saraâs fingertips began to tingle. So he wasnât just a handsome face, heâd been a good friend to her brother. Simon hadnât mentioned that Fletch was gorgeous but, then, she supposed he wouldnât have noticed. Sheâd noticed, though.
âWhatâs he been telling you?â The engine of the SUV raced up a gear. Simon hadnât said anything about that easy, intimate grin either.
âHe says...that youâre a doctor. And that youâve worked in lots of different places, from city hospitals to the outback. It must be interesting.â That seemed safe enough. âWhat does he say about me?â
âThat you were just a kid when he left home.â There was a trace of seriousness in his voice. âIâve obviously got some catching up to do.â
He was deliberately not saying everything, but now wasnât the time to start wondering how much Reece knew about the dysfunctional branch of Simonâs family. âSo how come you got to drive all the way out here? Surely this is a busy time for you, with the fires and everything.â
He laughed. âIâve been working for a week straight now. When the call came in about Simon, I was just about to go off duty and catch some shut-eye. By the time I got to the hospital, heâd just woken up and was shouting the place down and I came straight here.â
âSo...â Her brain was working overtime, trying to process all of the new information that had been thrown at her this morning. She decided to concentrate on the most immediate concern. âHow long since youâve slept?â
He laughed. âJust keep talking.â
