Four days?
Gabe had always thought it was five days, but Bella had insisted it was four.
Admittedly his memories of the time in Townsville when they’d abandoned their responsibilities and carried on like honeymooners were overshadowed by the horror of the way it had ended.
He and Bella had been so happy on that last day, happier than he’d ever imagined possible. They’d had an after-lunch swim in the motel pool, then they’d gone back to bed . . .
He’d been roused by the low buzz of his mobile phone vibrating against the fake timber surface of the bedside table.
He’d checked the number, surprised to see that it was Roy calling and he’d glanced at Bella, asleep, her tawny hair tumbled and messy from their swim and spread over the pillow. She’d pushed the sheet off and he could see the pink and white perfection of her neat, delectable breasts . . .
The gold chain that he’d given her the night before winked against her skin . . .
Not wanting to wake her, Gabe dragged on jeans and went outside to return the call. Even now, his stomach hollowed at the memory.
He could recall every detail of the still bright afternoon as he stepped outside in the hot sunlight, the hum of peak-hour traffic, the smell of coffee from a nearby café.
The phone conversation . . .
‘Roy, what can I do for you?’
‘Gabe, I don’t know how to tell you this.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘It’s your father.’
Pain scorched through Gabe like a rifle shot.
‘He went out with the post-hole digger,’ Roy said.
‘On his own?’
‘Yeah.’
His father was supposed to wait till Gabe returned. They’d had the job earmarked.
‘There’s been a terrible accident, Gabe. Looks like his shirt got caught and pulled him into the auger.’
No, please, no. Sickening horror overwhelmed Gabe, suffocating him.
‘I was mending the stockyards near the homestead,’ Roy said. ‘He didn’t tell me he was going out. We didn’t know . . . ’ Roy’s voice was breaking up, clogged with tears. ‘He didn’t come back for lunch, you see, but we didn’t think . . . By the time I went out and found him . . . he’d lost so much blood . . . ’
Shaking with terror, Gabe sank back against the brick motel wall. ‘No,’ he pleaded. ‘No way ––’
He couldn’t bear this. He didn’t want to hear.
‘I’m so sorry, Gabe.’
‘But the Flying Doctor . . . Dad will be okay?’
‘He’s gone, Gabe.’
No.
God, no.
I should have been with him.
I thought he’d wait till I got back.
‘Gabe? Are you still there?’
He was numb with appalled grief. I should have been there. It wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there.
‘Gabe?’
Gabe let out a shuddering moan. ‘I’m here.’
But, God help him, he wished he wasn’t. If he’d been home this would never have happened. ‘I – I’ll come straight home.’
‘Yeah, mate. We need you. Your mum and the girls aren’t too good.’
No, they’d be a mess.
Gabe wasn’t sure how long he stood outside in a horrified, anguished daze. He didn’t hear movements from inside the room, but then the door opened and Bella appeared wearing one of his T-shirts.
She grinned at him. ‘I wondered where you’d got to.’
His throat was too choked to speak. He held up a shaking hand, showing her the phone and he saw the change in her face as she realised that something terrible had happened.
He’d been in such a state as he’d grabbed his things and thrown them into his vehicle. He’d given her a hasty goodbye kiss, never knowing it would be the last time he’d kiss her on the lips. Already he’d begun pushing her away, as if he’d sensed that as soon as he arrived home he would have to deal with too many other things.
Guilt. Grief. His mother’s pain and accusations.
If only you’d been here, Gabe, you might have saved him. How could you have been so selfish, staying away with that Fairburn girl?