Zac looked around his impersonal apartment at the hotel in Alice Springs and decided it was decent but too big for one person. The view from the window faced the MacDonnell Ranges – he guessed a different side to that he remembered from Setabilly – but looking at the rugged mountains made him feel closer to a station he had no cause to return to and held a barb of regret.
Apart from his own things in the room, he didn’t recognise anything here or anyone he ran into. He’d cancel the booking and pack his stuff. Just move into a normal hotel room next week when he came back from Uluru.
It was best he left town while he waited to go back to work. He knew he needed to give Ava space. Her family had been flung into the worst kind of turmoil. He felt as if he’d let them down by not seeing the perilous depth of Jock’s depression, though he had broached the subject of a consult for Jock and made the referral for the next time he and Hana would be in Alice. But it had been too little too late.
The horror of yesterday would stay with him for a very long time. He could feel his heart rate pick up and blew out a breath to reassure himself. At least he’d got the tube in. Jock would recover physically and Zac staying around here wasn’t helping anyone. George had suggested another week off, but he’d be back to work after that.
He glanced at his phone and checked the time in Greece – 8.15 am. He placed the call to his parents and checked in, as well as letting them know the latest from George. Then he began to pack his things.
The next morning, Zac drove down to stay at the Ayers Rock Resort in Yulara, because he’d be going back to Sydney soon and Ava had been quietly persistent that he should see the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park before he left.
His first sight of Uluru made him stop the car and stare. Even from a distance the monolith rose as an immense protrusion into the sky, and as he drove closer it reared up from the surrounding desert, drawing his eye back like a magnet from the road to the rock.
Yulara township was a surprise. It appeared suddenly after miles of desert, a collection of buildings, a turn, and a row of verandahs from the hotel on his left looking out to the road and across to the monolith. The township was bigger and more modern than he’d expected. An isolated outpost with desert gardens and smiling staff and tourist buses, and he could see why it drew visitors from around the world.
There was an adventurous feel to the place, an excitement and a buzzing of expectation, and despite his tiredness from the five-hour drive, he could feel the effect lifting his mood. And the smiling Indigenous woman at check-in with her brown eyes crinkled in good humour and the expansive wave of her arm towards his room left him with a definite feeling of welcome.
He climbed the stairs to the Rock View Room he’d requested, a recommendation he’d taken from Ava. On opening his door, he could see why she’d pushed him to be specific. The room itself was fine, an upscale hotel room in desert reds and greens, but it was the view that drew him through the screen door onto the small balcony.
Across the road, and across the far red desert, past the rocks and low, scrubby desert foliage, Uluru sat grandly in the distance as it had sat for millennia. Drawing the eye with a subtle power and insistence that kept his eyes roving over the shadows and lines of the face. He’d go there soon.
First, he dropped in to the medical centre where George had said he’d almost died, and one of the nurses there made a fuss of him. Actually, she became quite animated about how agitated and critical he’d been and remembered the smoking ceremony the traditional healer had performed. Ava had mentioned that briefly and now he wished he’d asked more at the time. The nurse kept touching his arm as if reassuring herself he was real, and he had to laugh, which he was severely reprimanded for as ‘it’s no laughing matter’. Ava’s name came up a lot and he found himself growing wistful the more he heard it.
He left there and drove the twenty-five kilometres out to Uluru, stared in awe, walked a little way along the winding base walk path, and when he could, at different sections, he ran his fingers along the rough surface of the rock, but the magic wasn’t working for him. All he felt was loss and being lost.
He drove back to the resort and sat in his room, out on the verandah, and contemplated the rock in the distance as he remembered his time at Setabilly and how much more interesting this would be if Ava were with him.
The next day, he drove to the cultural centre in the shadow of the monolith. He examined the history wall and marvelled over the artefacts and artwork, which seemed to draw him in. A tall woman with glowing ebony skin rose from her seat where she’d been creating a dot painting and came across to him.
‘Zac. Welcome back to Uluru.’ She held out her hand. ‘You don’t remember me. I’m Denise. Ava’s friend. I was there when the twins were born and the night they brought you in from the accident.’
He took her hand and shook it. ‘I’m afraid I don’t remember anything from before the accident.’ Then he recalled what Ava had told him about her friend. ‘Was it you who helped me with your traditional medicine?’
‘Yes.’ Her eyes were kind and very calm. ‘Both you and Ava needed me. She asked me to look out for you while you’re here.’ She pressed a small card into his hand. ‘My mobile number. Either I or my husband will have the phone on us most of the time. Leave a message if you need assistance.’
‘Thank you.’ He wouldn’t, but the kindness he’d met here was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. ‘I love your paintings.’ His eye was continually drawn to a blue-and-white dot painting.
‘Ah, you like the medicine art. That’s not surprising. There are curtains made of this design inside the medical centre at Yulara and perhaps you’re remembering that, too.’
He had a vague picture of that from earlier today. There seemed something so familiar and calming about the blue-and-white waving lines that he bought a painting as well as a small postcard of it to tuck into his wallet. It was getting tight in his wallet and he needed to clean it out. Denise wrapped the painting carefully and he carried it while she gave him a tour and explained the artefacts and artwork to him.
When another tourist came over to ask questions, he wandered away and spent another hour listening to the explanations on the free running video and reading the interpretive texts along the warren of nooks and flowing walls.
He’d booked for dinner so he left to give himself enough time to drive out to The Olgas. Kata Tjuta. He needed to be back at Yulara for the bus that took those who’d booked to the sandhills for the Sounds of Silence dinner.
Despite his feeling of displacement, Zac stayed for a week: did the sunrise, the lunch and the sunset tours, went again out to Kata Tjuta, up to Kings Canyon, and took short hikes that connected him more to the feeling of timeless space around him. He attended several Indigenous events which he enjoyed, but the Sounds of Silence dinner out in the desert under the stars that first night remained the highlight. Though he wished he could have gone to it with company. The Dreamtime stories told that night reminded him of the night he’d spent with Poddy and the desert community, but his mind kept returning to Ava and how it seemed they’d been doomed from the start.
On the last day, he drove back to Alice Springs for his pre-work check-up. He’d moved no closer to the past, but was more easy with it, and had come to the conclusion that he probably never would remember.
George looked up as Zac entered. ‘Zac. Welcome back. How was the rock?’
‘As amazing as they say. And the resort is excellent. I’m glad I went.’
George studied him and Zac raised his brows. ‘Well? Do I look human?’
‘Well rested. How are the headaches?’
‘Almost gone.’ Most of the time, but George didn’t need to know they still came, though each one was milder than the last. He didn’t mention that the dreams were getting worse, either.
‘Let’s have a look at you, then.’ George came around the desk with his ophthalmoscope and proceeded to attend to the neurological examination Zac had expected. His hand ran over the rough area at the back of Zac’s neck. ‘Stitches out, I see?’
‘The clinic at Yulara obliged. The nurse there is very friendly.’
George laughed. ‘You were very exciting for them.’
Five minutes later it seemed George was satisfied. ‘I’m happy to tick you off. Are you ready to come back to work?’
Was he? ‘I believe so.’
‘On night shift because I have no one else?’
‘Sure. Nights are fine.’ He wasn’t sleeping well anyway, and maybe the nightmares would stay away in the day.
‘Great. Then come back tomorrow night.’ He cleared his throat a little sheepishly. ‘Ah, in view of a shortage of doctors –’ he coughed – ‘is there any chance you could do an extra fortnight’s locum if you feel up to it?’
‘Of course.’ And funny how quickly that had come out. Why wouldn’t he just want to go as soon as he could? Zac frowned at himself. He’d answered so quickly in the affirmative that anyone would think he wanted to stay here. He wasn’t thinking that, of course not, he reassured himself – he just wasn’t ready to return home yet.
George had gone on, rubbing his hands. ‘Do two shifts and then two days off. And then we’ll add another four after that and see how you go.’
George wasn’t giving him a chance to change his mind. Which was fine by him. Sitting around was driving him mad. ‘Do you want to go back to the same hotel?’ The hospital provided the accommodation.
‘Sure. I don’t need the apartment, though. Just a room will do. I need to sort my things and get ready for the week.’ In fact, it would be good to have a purpose, and his gear was a mess from moving so many times in the last couple of weeks.
An hour later, sitting on the bed of his new hotel room, Zac cleaned out his wallet. As he tipped out the change from the zippered section at the back, something else fell out with the coins he’d accumulated over the last few days. A ring. He stared at it, nonplussed. Judging by the single pink diamond, it was an engagement ring.
He kept watching it as if it were a lizard about to dash off the bed.
Why would he have an engagement ring?
His mind darted to thoughts of Ava and reared back. There were only two answers. One: he was holding it for a friend, and that was unlikely. Or two: he was going to ask someone to marry him.
Ava? After only a week? Not yet three months after Roslyn had died?
If things had progressed so far, no wonder Ava had been devastated when he hadn’t remembered her.
An engagement ring!
Gingerly, he picked it up in his fingers. The faceted diamond instantly captured the light and flashed brilliant. It was a beautiful ring, and on the very expensive end of the price range, he’d guess. What had he been thinking? Had they even talked about it, or was it all in his plans for later – assuming he didn’t get hit by a car and suffer amnesia!
Bloody hell.
But did it change anything, apart from giving him some understanding of how intense their relationship must have been or was becoming?
What the hell had he been thinking?
He kept coming back to that. Had he planned to move to Alice Springs, which seemed radical considering his life was in Sydney? Or was Ava going to leave the place she loved – surely, he hadn’t been stupid enough to ask that or even think that? His head began to pound and he put the ring back and zipped it away.
He had no idea.
He needed to think.
There was no rush. The ring had sat there at least since the accident – and diamonds didn’t age. What was a little more time?
Zac returned to the emergency department the next evening, and apart from having to learn everyone’s names again, to his relief he had no problem with the work.
Hana and Jock had both been discharged – he’d asked the night-shift clerk to check, though they were staying in Alice Springs because Jock was coming up to the hospital twice a week to see his case worker. Before he’d left for Uluru, Zac had left his number with Hana, but he still thought it for the best that he didn’t see them unless they asked. Neither needed to be reminded of the last time if it caused them pain.
After the first night his headaches stopped and he slept better, though once it was dark, his nightmares developed into epic disasters that left him sweating and cold. The agitation and feeling of loss each time he woke up grew, but the stress eased once he was in the rush and drama of work. When his two-day break came he drove off-road, went back along the Red Centre Way, and took to any walking tracks he could find with a vengeance.