Secrets At Wongan Creek Page 6

  Harley dropped her hand and she felt him shuffle about before she heard his voice, urgent and full of fear, on the phone to the captain of Wongan Creek’s Rural Fire Service.

  ‘For God’s sake, Barry, hurry up with the fire trucks or there’ll be nothing left. And can you get onto the paramedics too, we need that ambulance now. She’s in shock and floating in and out of consciousness. She has a head injury.’

  Black edged around her vision, dulling the flicker from the flames. Harley should have left her in the house. Left her to die. She didn’t deserve him or his care. Living the way she had for the last eight years … closing her eyes to the wrongs … burying her head in the sand … hoping things would change …

  Harley’s voice faded from her mind along with the flicker of light and roar of flames into silence.

  Sirens. Bright lights. Voices. Harley’s hand torn from hers. Bone-jarring movement that made her head thump and her back burn. Soothing cool against her heated skin. The prick of a needle against the back of her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry, love, this might sting a little.’

  Soft hands smoothed the frown from her forehead, easing the throb that beat like a drum. A quiet female voice uttered reassuring words as the skin on her hand burned with a jab, then seconds later a small sting and a rush as fluid joined the blood in her veins.

  ‘Harley—’

  The nurse patted her hand as she plastered strips over the needle onto the skin of Tameka’s hand. ‘The doctor is giving him a check over too, and then he’ll wait outside to see you. As soon as we’ve got you sorted, we’ll let him in, okay?’

  ‘My head hurts.’

  ‘That’s quite a whack you took. Do you remember how that happened?’

  How could she forget? But to speak out against her father … maybe it was an accident. Maybe he hadn’t meant to hurt her. Just like he hadn’t meant to hurt Ryan. Could she trust that memory? What if she’d made it up in her head?

  ‘Fell against the cooktop.’

  ‘That must have hurt. Did you slip on something?’

  ‘Spilled oil.’

  The hands soothing her forehead hesitated. A different voice, vaguely familiar as it registered between the drumbeats in her head. ‘And your arm, Tameka? How did you get that bruise?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ Lies. How many more lies would she tell until this was over? Would it ever be over? She moaned as pain clutched her head, smothering the sting of the burns on her back.

  ‘Okay, honey, the pain medication will kick in soon and you’ll start to feel better. Who was with you in the house when you fell? Was Harley there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know where your dad is, honey? Was he hurt in the fire?’

  Tameka felt her eyes sting and emotion clog her throat. She focused on the cold, heady sensation of the oxygen being fed from the tube in through her nose. ‘Don’t know.’ How could she tell them he’d left her alone to burn?

  She caught the look the one nurse sent the other and closed her eyes to it. Pity, doubt, questions. There’d be a lot of all three. Later.

  The pain in her head began to ease as the questions stopped and the nurses focused on tending her burns and taping the split skin together on her temple. Their voices faded to murmurs as Tameka drifted, not allowing her thoughts to travel down dark roads.

  Instead, she focused on the memory of Harley’s face, the feel of Loki’s short fur body tucked into hers as the dog had warmed her down by the river, and didn’t think about what would happen when Dad came back to the farm and found she’d survived.

  When she woke next, she was in the ward propped up on her side to keep the weight off her back and Harley sitting in a chair right next to the bed with his hands between his knees and his head bent.

  ‘Hey.’ The word rasped from her smoke-dry throat.

  Harley raised his head. ‘Hey. How are you feeling?’

  She let a smile spread her lips even though it hurt. Her face felt tight and tender like she’d spent the day out in the field under the sun without a hat. She could still smell the smoke clinging to her skin. ‘Sore.’

  He straightened his back and unclenched his hands. ‘Even your hair is singed.’ He ran a hand over her head, his fingers brushing lightly around the bandage on her temple before he let it rest next to her on the sheets, curling his pinkie finger around hers. ‘You scared the crap out of me.’

  ‘Where’s Loki?’ Thinking about what could have happened and what her dad had done only made the ache inside her heart worse.

  Harley frowned. He’d know she was being evasive. He knew too much about her. She wanted the fun times back, the easy banter they’d shared throughout their childhood. But that had been taken by Ryan’s death, what they’d done—what she’d done—and her mum walking away.

  He took a breath and blew it out. ‘Mum and Dad picked him up a while ago. They’ve taken him home with them.’ He smiled and her heart skipped a beat. ‘The ambos let him ride with me. He wanted to get into the ambulance with you, but they were worried about infection. I think my dog has a crush on you.’

  ‘He is kinda sweet … when he’s not ploughing up my fields.’ She coughed as her lungs burned still with the effort to breathe, the sound harsh in the almost empty ward. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Better than you. My throat’s a little sore from the smoke. A bit of heat rash from the flames.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Harley. You could have died in there … looking for me.’

  ‘I would have lost another part of myself if I wasn’t in time to save you, Tikki. Jesus, minutes later and—’

  And he might have been too late. She’d be gone, just like Ryan. She held that intense gaze for a long moment, let it warm the ice in her heart and ease the lead weight in her stomach. Was he thinking of his brother too? ‘How much is left?’

  Harley shrugged, the movement heavy on his shoulders. ‘They were still fighting the fire when we left. The whole kitchen, the mudroom and laundry—all gone. What’s left will have smoke and water damage. You won’t be able to live there for a while.’

  So much for her dreams for the homestead. Had Dad even paid the insurance premiums lately? She didn’t have a clue what state their finances were in. Dad kept the files under lock and key. He managed the finances, she managed the physical workload. Would he come back and report the incident to the insurance company or would he stay away, shake the humiliation of Golden Acres from his boots?

  ‘Was the ute outside the house?’

  Harley shook his head. ‘I don’t remember seeing it. Do you think your dad took it? Do you know where he went?’

  Questions. Too many questions. ‘I’m tired. So tired. Go home. I’ll be fine.’

  Harley sighed and loosened his pinkie from around hers. ‘When will you let me back in, Tikki? Let me take care of you while we sort this out.’

  She closed her eyes, shutting out the hard-to-resist offer in his words. It would be so easy to let him in. But then the horror of the last eight years would unfold and the town would know what her father was really like. And she’d be judged by his measure using the same yardstick, just as they had in the hardware store.

  She’d have to face more questions, more pitying looks, and live with a scandal that small town gossip would grow by adding to the story through speculation. Like a picture painted with many hands and different artistic interpretation.

  ‘Later.’ She listened to the sound of his chair scraping back as he stood, felt the mattress dip under his weight and the press of his lips to her cheek.

  ‘Would you like me to keep an eye out on the farm while you’re here?’

  ‘Okay, thanks.’

  ‘You can stay in my spare room until you get things sorted.’

  ‘I can stay at the caravan park.’

  Harley sighed. ‘Whatever you think is best, but at least you can keep an eye out over your place if you stay at mine. No strings attached.’

  ‘I’ll think about it, thanks.’ She hated t
his awkwardness between them and the reasons her tongue couldn’t form the words when her heart screamed ‘yes’.

  His hand touched her shoulder, his fingers squeezing reassuringly, before his palm trailed down her arm. She flinched as it skimmed over the tender spot where her dad had gripped her forearm.

  Harley pulled his hand away. ‘That’s a nasty bruise, Tikki.’

  She evened her breathing and faked sleep until his footsteps faded from the room.

  Chapter 8

  Watery sunshine filtered in through the window on the ward, the beams catching the fine sprinkles of dust in the air. Tameka let her gaze fall on the empty seat where Harley had sat the night before.

  She was glad there was no-one else in the room, grateful for the silence. In silence, she could think, plan. Another chance to leave, to shake the soil of Wongan Creek from her boots. When they handed her the discharge form, she’d be free. And with Dad gone, it would be so easy to take the first bus out of town.

  Tentacles of doubt and fear of the unknown wrapped themselves around the thought. At least on Golden Acres, she knew what she was dealing with, had learnt to read Dad’s moods—when to hide, when to stay, when to keep quiet.

  She knew the land and how to work it, the trials and challenges. To leave and look for work in another town with no references, work among strangers after living with the familiar all her life, take the risk that Dad might come looking for her. Or not. To leave Harley forever or wait until she was free to find him again. How long would he wait for her before he gave up?

  ‘Tameka?’

  She turned her head to see a man wearing the navy blue Rural Fire Service uniform and epaulettes that gave him rank.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Barry Metcalfe, captain of Wongan Creek’s Rural Fire Service. How are you doing? A little better than last night, I hope?’

  Here came the questions. Some she could answer, others she wouldn’t. Not to protect her father, but to protect herself. ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Good.’ Barry blew out a breath. ‘Right. I realise this might be a difficult time for you, but I have to ask you some questions.’

  ‘Sure, go ahead.’ Tameka tried to keep the resignation from her tone. She’d been expecting them all while wishing she could avoid them.

  ‘Whenever there are injuries sustained in a fire, we are required to file a report. This helps us to identify the various causes of house fires and allows us to develop better training and prevention measures.’ He walked around the bed so he could face her, pulled the chair a little closer and sat.

  ‘I understand.’ She’d tell him what she could, keep the emotion out of it and stick to the facts, even if she had to omit a few.

  The captain of Wongan Creek’s Rural Fire Service was the kind of man she felt she could trust. The vibe he gave out put her at ease. At the very least, his presence was far from intimidating. He made her feel safe—a true hero, a protector and, if she remembered correctly, a father himself.

  He’d be a good dad, a kind one who’d discipline his children without violence but with a firm hand that requested respect rather than demanded it.

  ‘Good, makes my job a whole lot easier.’ His smile was easy and friendly, reassuring. ‘If there is any suspicion of criminal intent, we have to report it to the police. So for example, if the fire was deliberately lit that would be arson.’

  She liked his gentle smile, the kindness and empathy in his expression, the quiet way he spoke. If only her dad could be more like Barry Metcalfe.

  ‘I understand. The fire was an accident. It was my fault. I knocked the bottle of oil onto the flames.’

  The truth, perhaps not the whole truth, but an investigation into how the fire started would uncover more questions than she wanted to give answers to. All she wanted was for everything—the fire, her father, the last miserable few years—to go away.

  Barry frowned at her quick admission, but nodded after a moment, accepting her explanation. ‘I understand. We aren’t investigating that it was deliberately lit. We could see the source of ignition. You had a lucky escape.’

  Luck depended on which point of view he was looking at it from. Tameka closed her eyes against the thought. Lucky to be alive, lucky to not have sustained worse injuries. Unlucky not to have escaped the cycle she found herself in. Unable to leave, reluctant to stay. She let the tears that stung her eyes fall before dashing them away. She’d cheated death, and there had to be a damn good reason for that even if she had no idea what it was yet.

  Chief Metcalfe handed her a tissue from the box on the metal cabinet next to the bed. ‘We also understand that fires can be devastating for victims particularly those who have sustained injuries. We can direct you to counselling services if you need them. It’s not unusual for victims to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder following injury or loss from fire.’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.’

  He smiled and consulted his clipboard. ‘Good, because I’ve asked Heather Bailey to come in and introduce herself to you in case you’d like to make use of her services. Right, let’s get these questions out the way then, shall we? I’m sure you’d like to get some more rest.’

  What she wanted was out, away from the questions, the speculation. She didn’t want counselling either, but refusing now would only raise more questions. Maybe answering Captain Metcalfe’s questions would stop other people from asking, so she answered them as he ticked them off on his list.

  ‘Now, I understand your dad wasn’t in the house, is that right?’

  Tameka nodded. ‘He came in while I was cooking dinner but it wasn’t ready yet, so he left.’ And still, she was protecting him. Why couldn’t she tell the captain the truth?

  He stepped over me on his way out the door instead of reaching for the fire blanket.

  ‘Okay, were you expecting him to come back?’

  No, he didn’t even look back. ‘I had no reason to think he wouldn’t.’ Liar.

  ‘Right, because we were there until late mopping up and a crew went out there to finish up this morning, but there was still no sign of your father. We’ll need to talk to him too since he’s the owner of the property. Any idea where he went or when he’ll be back?’

  At last a question she could answer honestly. ‘I don’t know.’

  Footsteps echoed over the hard floor and Barry looked up with a smile.

  ‘Heather, hi. Thank you for coming in.’

  ‘Hi, Barry. No problem at all. I’m on a mission from the CWA anyway.’

  Barry grinned. ‘Didn’t think it would take long for them to gather the troops.’

  ‘They’ve been gathered all week on some crisis or another. Things in town are a little hectic at the moment.’ Heather stepped around the bed to stand next to Barry. ‘Hi, Tameka, I’m Heather, Travis Bailey’s wife. We haven’t had a chance to meet yet. The ladies asked me to come around and see if there was anything you might need. Clothes, supplies, that sort of thing.’ She squeezed Tameka’s hand gently. ‘I’m so sorry to hear about your accident.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Tameka shivered. Everyone would be sorry, most of their regret genuine until they found out the truth and then they’d turn on her, shut her out. The well-meaning comfort would turn to gossipy spite on which the thorns would grow bigger every time it was shared around.

  Barry stood. ‘Sit, Heather. I’m about to leave anyway. Tameka, thank you for answering those questions. I doubt we’ll need to file a police report given that it was an accident, but I’ll let you know for sure, okay?’

  ‘No problem, thanks.’ Relief flooded her. If they didn’t ask any further questions about it, they wouldn’t poke at her father when … if … he returned.

  ‘Good, good. Now get some rest and follow the doctor’s orders. We want to see you up and about again soon. Please call me if you have any questions or need anything, okay? Are you all right for somewhere to stay when you’re discharged?’

  She thought of Harley’s offer which she ha
dn’t accepted or rejected yet. ‘I am. If not, I’ll rent a cabin or van at the caravan park.’ Even though she had no idea how she would pay for it with the balance of her allowance teetering on the edge of zero.

  ‘Excellent.’ He put his card beside the tissue box. ‘My contact details in case you need them.’ With a wave, he left.

  ‘Such a nice man,’ murmured Heather.

  Tameka forced a smile to her lips even though they quivered. ‘Yes, he is.’

  The hard shell she’d grown around her heart had so many cracks in it now that she’d need a barrel of super glue to fix it before the people of Wongan Creek found a way to crumble it completely.

  Heather pulled the chair Barry had vacated closer and sat. ‘I hope you don’t mind me popping in? I guess Barry explained it all from a professional point of view?’

  ‘I don’t mind.’ Not exactly the truth. She did mind, but Heather seemed like a nice girl. ‘It’s very kind of you to visit.’

  Tameka gave her a wavering smile. What she really wanted was solitude, but Heather’s presence brought a subtle soothing with it that settled her nerves. She liked the gentle smile that curved her mouth, the kindness she saw in Heather’s warm brown eyes, and the laughter lines that fanned out from the edges onto flawless, creamy skin that hinted at her Irish heritage.

  Tameka tried to remember what she knew about Heather Bailey. Fairly new in town, Harry’s missing granddaughter, a social worker. Her heart skipped a beat. Someone like Heather was trained to read the signs. She’d see the bruises and wonder, ask a barrage of questions. If she did the math, would she come up with the right answer? Dear God, she hoped not. Explanations would result in a manhunt for her father, the whole situation would escalate out of control, and she’d be the one to pay the price when he talked his way out of it.

  Barry and the ladies at the CWA had meant well sending Heather here, their actions kind and generous. It wasn’t their fault she wasn’t used to being treated with care, it was hers, but she had to keep her guard up around Heather Bailey.