The ground crunched underfoot as she walked away from the car, and she savoured the stretch to her legs.
A burnt-orange lizard scuttled under a leaf beside her and she heard a bird shift leaves to watch with hungry eyes. Then she saw the cross she’d forgotten about. The white roadside crucifix with dusty, faded silk flowers at the side of the tree.
Zac was slower out of the car, but as soon as he saw the marker he stopped, closed his eyes and turned away.
Damn. Of course that would hurt. She felt like stomping her foot. Damn, damn. She’d reminded him of his wife when he was already fragile. ‘Sorry, Zac. I’d forgotten about that.’ She said it softly, not really to him, aware she could only make it worse by pointing out she’d noticed his distress.
He heard her. ‘No. They’re everywhere and I know why. I agree they should be if it will slow some other silly bugger down and save a life.’
They had their own example of this just four days ago. But there was no use talking about that now since he couldn’t remember. ‘Was someone speeding when you were in the accident with your wife?’ She hoped it hadn’t been him. For his sake. If he wanted to talk, she’d listen.
‘Yes.’ And as though he’d heard her question, he added, ‘Not me. But we were all travelling motorway speed.’
‘Let’s walk for another two minutes.’ Out of the car or house was better for emotion, her grandmother always said. ‘Where did you meet her?’ She didn’t know why she asked – probably because she wanted to change the subject from the accident – but she regretted it now that the words hung between them like a dark little cloud. If she’d thought before she opened her mouth, she probably didn’t want to know more about his wonderful dead wife.
He fell into step beside her along the deserted road. ‘I knew my wife since we were children. She was beautiful even as a child, vivacious and my friend, and we were destined to marry. It was a steady progression. Roslyn’s parents were distant business associates of my father’s and it all began to cement into permanence with ridiculous ease.
‘Before we knew it, we were post-wedding, and sadly we drifted apart far too quickly. I dived into work, and she disappeared back into the social whirl she’d come from. We smiled at each other at breakfast or dinner, whichever one of those events we occasionally met at, until one day I realised I’d let her down. We’d lost each other in the rush of life.’
Ava glanced at him and then away. You couldn’t lose people if you lived on a remote station together. They were all you had. She didn’t understand his dilemma but had seen it happen in Alice. ‘And then you had the accident?’
‘A romantic trip to the Blue Mountains to try to salvage the warmth of our marriage. That ended in the middle of a six-car pile-up with Roslyn comatose. If she hadn’t married me, she’d still be alive. I’m sure her parents think so, too.’
‘That’s crap and you know it.’ There was a trace of impatience in her voice and she reined it in. ‘I don’t subscribe to that theory.’ You can’t explain it, you can’t change it, you just have to learn from it. These were her grandmother’s words, and Ava agreed with them. ‘I think we make our own luck. Or what happens to us teaches us a skill we need for later.’
He kicked a rock and it skidded across the road and disappeared into the bush. ‘Well, I was lucky and she wasn’t,’ he said. ‘She never woke up. I respected her parents’ wishes for prolonged life support, but I hated it.’
‘She’s at rest now.’
He nodded and glanced back at the tree and its marker. ‘And I share a story of loss with those little crosses all over Australia. I’m not special for being there.’
‘Were you hurt?’
‘Barely. But Roslyn’s head injury was obvious. Frontal lobe.’ He blinked rapidly and she put her hand out to steady him as he swayed. His face drained of colour until it was as white as the cross at the roadside.
‘Enough walking,’ she said and steered him until he leaned against the car.
‘I’m sorry. I’ll never lose that picture. Everything went dark for a minute there.’
‘We walked too far.’ Or grief could do odd things. She opened the door and nudged him to sit. ‘Do me a favour and have a drink. You’re an interesting shade of pale.’
‘Sorry,’ he said again as she closed his door.
Shock from his recent accident combined with grief, Ava thought as she climbed in and started the engine. She’d been there. She thought of the flawlessness of her infant daughter, Amelia, as she lay in her tiny white coffin. Pale-pink lace around her alabaster face of unmoving perfection. Cold porcelain fingers that lay still and straight against her own trembling palm.
That picture would never leave her, either. She’d never shared it. Yet now seemed a good time. ‘Five years ago, I lost my daughter, Amelia. She was ten weeks premature, and by the time I was flown to Alice we couldn’t stop the labour. She died from necrotising enterocolitis. The lining of her bowel was just too injured when we started the feeding and she passed away at six weeks.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. She didn’t look to see his expression, but she heard understanding in his voice. ‘You’ve known loss.’
Well, he would understand, wouldn’t he? ‘She was perfect,’ she said softly. ‘My family were amazing. It took me six months before I could go back to work and twelve before I could go back to midwifery. But I’ve found peace. And I wouldn’t change it to avoid having gone through the pain if it meant not meeting her – even for that brief time.’
There was silence for a minute, then he said, ‘And the baby’s father?’
‘He wasn’t the man I thought he was.’ She shrugged. ‘He was head stockman here after my grandfather died. I thought we were both in love, but the month we found out I was pregnant, he left. Took off to work as a contract musterer. I suspect he’d also discovered that Setabilly wasn’t going to make him a rich man and that my family had debts from previous years. I’d never gone into the finances and it wasn’t a pleasant surprise for him.’
‘Not someone you’d want to spend your life with.’
‘Absolutely. But he did make me wary of allowing my heart to rule my head.’ Lot of good that’s done me in the last week, she thought.
‘So your mother and grandmother were supportive?’
‘Every step of the way. Like lionesses, lined up beside me, unmoving, warrior women guarding me during labour and early motherhood, and while surgeons tried to operate on my baby. The first two they were successful with. Nobody could help me with the third.’ She remembered the morning she’d met Zac. ‘Before I met you on the plane, I’d been thinking of her at the airport. It was probably why I was vulnerable to your scintillating conversation on the flight.’ She wondered if he’d been thinking about Roslyn.
He said, ‘Any age is tough for loss, and twenty and single is tough for any birth, let alone one that ends in a baby dying.’ He thought about that. ‘No wonder you’re composed in your work.’
‘I’ve been blessed. My mother and grandmother were rock-solid supporters through everything. They showed me they were proud of me, and reminded me to be proud of myself. I remember every minute of being a parent and regret none of it.’ She glanced at him. ‘But you’re right. Guilt is out there ready to pounce. Forgiving yourself is underpromoted. I was a mother for a very short time and she changed me. Having known Amelia helps me every day in my work, especially the midwifery.’
‘I can see how she would. Thank you for telling me.’
The car sped down the highway towards their destination, and despite the emotion and scars from the past, despite the solemnity of the little white crucifix at the side of the road and the shared grief from different tragedies, empathy had cracked the walls between them and they both stared ahead with mutual understanding.