The tail end of a bad dream slipped away, and Charlie emerged from the fog of sleep, knuckling sleep from her eyes. What a relief. This wasn’t her hospital bed, and she wasn’t ill again. This was her own room at Brumby’s … and someone was knocking on the door. She pulled on her clothes, and ran down the hall. It was Karl.
The three weeks since she’d met Karl had been the most fascinating and rewarding weeks of her life. Nearly every day now, Karl swung by and collected her on his way up to Balleroo. He was conducting a field review on the impact of the grazing trial, and Charlie was helping him. She didn’t know what was more exciting: being involved in a serious scientific research program, or spending hours on end with Karl. With each day they spent together, Charlie felt more drawn to the quirky, sexy ranger.
She opened the door to Karl, gave him a huge smile and grabbed her bag from the porch.
It had started with the emails. Then one morning Charlie had woken to the sound of a car coming up the track, had crept down the hall and peered out the bathroom window. A government vehicle and a khaki-clad figure in the drive. Karl.
Charlie had stepped into jeans, leaving off her belt for once, letting them sit low on her hips. She gave a little shimmy. The mirror told her she looked good – no longer skeletal, but slim and healthy. The knock at the door had come again. This time she’d opened it to find Karl standing there, holding a cardboard box. He’d combed his sandy-blond hair, slicked it neatly back in an obvious effort to be presentable. With his boyish features, his pressed khaki uniform and polished boots, Karl had looked like an overgrown scout. Charlie had almost expected a three-fingered salute and an admonition to be prepared. She’d tried to restrain herself, she really had, but laughter had crept around her edges and spilt from her seams.
Karl had looked perplexed, unhappy even. That wasn’t what she wanted. Charlie had slapped her hand resolutely over her mouth.
‘Miss Kelly?’ He’d inspected her face. ‘It is Charlie Kelly this time? You have not transformed into another?’
‘No, it’s me. Charlie.’
He’d proffered the box. It looked heavy. ‘For you.’ She’d gestured for him to come in, and he’d put it down on the kitchen table. ‘Open it.’
Inside were copies of government field notes for Balleroo, dating back to the 1950s. Endangered species reports, flora and fauna surveys, bog water-quality assessments, frog population reviews. Charlie couldn’t believe her eyes. It was a veritable treasure trove. ‘Where did these come from?’
‘The Department of Environment library. I made copies.’
Charlie had flipped through volume after precious volume. ‘It must have taken forever.’
‘It took some time, yes.’ His eyes had locked onto hers. ‘Do you like them?’
‘No,’ said Charlie. His face fell. ‘I love them.’ She’d moved closer, taken his arms and pressed her lips against his cheek, sliding them at the last minute to his mouth. He’d quivered a fraction but not pulled away.
Then Drew had pushed in through the flywire door, with impeccably bad timing. ‘What’s going on here?’
Karl had seemed wary. Charlie had introduced the men, then pulled Drew out the door. ‘Haven’t you got some cows to chase or something?’
Drew had put on his hat. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Of course I am. Just piss off, will you?’
‘Is that your boyfriend?’ Karl had asked her after Drew left. Charlie shook her head and Karl had smiled. ‘Very good. May I see you tomorrow?’
‘Yes Karl,’ Charlie had said solemnly. ‘You may.’