this soul-tearing encounter.
“I know how I feel.”
“And that’s all you care about, isn’t it?” she fired at him bitterly. “Never mind anyone else’s feelings! Did you stop to wonder why Tom didn’t respond to whatever you were offering him?”
He made a sharp dismissive gesture. Then as though struck by second thoughts, his eyes narrowed, and he asked, “Why did he respond to you as he did?”
She lifted her head proudly. “Because I’m his sister. And we share an understanding that you don’t have, Mr. Carew.”
“His sister?” Shock and puzzlement chased across his face.
“You see? You know nothing about me. Or Tom. Where we come from or who we are.”
“I know you can’t be any blood relation to him. Tom James is of the Pitjantjatjara tribe. I was told he lived in the Gibson Desert as a boy, and no-one knows it as well as he does.”
“That’s right! But you can’t go over the heads of the aboriginal trackers who assisted the police. Tom wouldn’t insult them by taking your offer. It’s a matter of respect. And sharing. Your best course is to give a donation that will benefit the whole community, and let Tom organise the search with the others. There are rules and customs that you’ll just have to be patient with if you want the best result. Listen to my brother and do as he says. And that advice is all I can give you, Mr. Carew.”
“No. It doesn’t end here,” he insisted, shaking off the distraction she had hit him with.
“Yes, it does!”
“I won’t let it.”
“Brendan Forbes is the most decent man I’ve ever met. Last night I hope I conceived his child. Does that tell you how I feel, Mr. Carew?”
She saw the colour drain from his face. The intense conviction in his eyes glazed to a look of tortured uncertainty. The strength of his grasp on her arm slackened. She pulled free and propelled herself towards her car, her whole body churning against the threatened violation of the life she knew, the life she had made for herself, the life she shared with Brendan.
She reached the car.
“Suzanne...please...”
His voice tugged at her. She fought against it, clutching at the door handle, yanking it, uncaring that the hot metal scorched her fingers.
“I beg you to reconsider.”
“No.” The word was torn from her. “No!” she repeated vehemently as she opened the door and stepped around it, ready to get into the car. Then she looked at Leith Carew for the last time, firmly enunciating the only involvement she had with him. “I hope Tom can help you. I hope they can find the child.”
Then she closed herself into her car and drove off.
It came as a shock when she found herself parking at the medical centre. She had no recollection of the trip across town. Not that it mattered now. She had arrived safely. And she had left Leith Carew behind.
Despite the oven-like heat of the car, Suzanne felt too drained to move. It was as though the encounter had sapped all her energy. She wished she could empty her mind of it. Wipe out the memory. Wipe out its impact on her.
She found herself wondering what might have been if she had met Leith Carew before she had met Brendan. A useless thought, with the unpleasant taint of disloyalty. She squashed it and pushed herself out of the car. A wave of dizziness caused her to sway. Her legs felt watery.
Get out of the sun, her mind dictated.
Get out of the heat.
Get on with your life.
CHAPTER THREE
AMY BERGEN WAS NOT FOUND.
Tom told Suzanne privately that the little girl had been taken from the scene of her parents’ tragic deaths, but not by a dingo. He had tracked as far as two aboriginal camp sites. The search had been defeated by limestone outcrops that made it impossible to pick up any direction. Who had taken the child and where they were now, weeks after the last trace of them had been left behind, was impossible to tell.
No more could be done. Not even an army could find aboriginal nomads who didn’t want to be found. The great outback held too many secret places for those who inhabited it.
A reward that ran into six figures was posted for any information that led to the recovery of the child.
Leith Carew left Alice Springs without making any attempt to see Suzanne again.
His departure lifted a weight off her mind.
* * *
EIGHTEEN MONTHS WENT BY, eighteen months that made devastating changes to Suzanne’s life.
The joy of becoming pregnant was shattered by a miscarriage at three months. Suzanne became obsessed with conceiving again. Somehow having a baby was all important. She did not allow herself to dwell on why. Subconsciously she knew it was connected to putting the insidious memory of Leith Carew behind her and making an absolute affirmation of her commitment to Brendan.
She became more and more desperate and uptight about it as month followed month and it did not happen. Brendan persuaded her that she needed to relax and forget about getting pregnant for a while. He decided to take her on a second honeymoon.
They flew to Sydney for a quick visit to relatives and a shopping spree. The plan was to fly on to Brisbane, then over to one of the Whitsunday Islands near the Great Barrier Reef. They didn’t make it past Brisbane.
Brendan became so ill on the flight that an ambulance was called to the airport to take him to the hospital. Suzanne could not believe it when the doctors told her he was a victim of a current variation of legionnaire’s disease. That was something that happened to other people. She and Brendan didn’t even live in Sydney. It had only been a brief visit.
Throughout her desperate worry over Brendan she was pestered by questions from health authorities who worked around the clock to pinpoint the source of the deadly bacteria. What shopping centres had they gone to? Had they stayed at a hotel? The bacteria was generally found in air-conditioning ducts or warm-water plumbing systems.
Suzanne answered automatically, questioning why she hadn’t caught the disease as well. No-one could explain. The incident of the disease, compared to the number of people exposed to it, was minuscule.
The doctors couldn’t make Brendan better. All they could do was treat the dreadful symptoms and ease the pain.
He died four days later.
Suzanne had stayed with him every hour she could, day and night, sitting by his bed, holding his hand, willing him to be one of the survivors.
It was her big American brother, Zachary Lee, who came to take her away. She couldn’t accept that Brendan was dead.
“He’s gone, Suzanne,” Zachary Lee told her, wrapping her in his gentle bear hug, enclosing her in the warm security of the caring he had always shown her. “There’s no more you can do.”
Somehow his soft words crumpled the hard shell of disbelief she had clung to in the shock of her bereavement. Nothing seemed real anymore. Only the firm solidity of her big brother gave substance to the truth she had to face.
It was Zachary Lee who had found her all those years ago amongst the bewildering crowd at the Calgary Stampede, alone and frightened and crying her eyes out because she couldn’t find her father. She clung to him now as she had clung to him then, a steady rock, emanating a comforting security that was totally dependable.
“I didn’t love him enough, Zachary Lee,” she sobbed in despair.
“Yes, you did,” he assured her.
“No. You don’t understand. I wanted a baby.