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But her mind grew cloudy so thinking of the possible consequences got muddled up with the remembered warmth—no, heat—the act had brought with it.
She made a mug of tea, grabbed a couple of biscuits from the never-empty tin, and sat down to muse.
Well, to think really, mostly about consequences of actions, but there was more musing than thinking going on.
Marty’s arrival put paid to both. Her mind went blank and she could only stare at him.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said, and she recovered enough to point out, ‘Neither should you.’
Then he was sitting on the sofa beside her, close but not too close—annoyingly not too close, but she wouldn’t think about that either.
‘Oh, Em,’ he said, and even the shortening of her name made her feel warm. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t think, I didn’t ask—Hell, what if—?’
She put her hand on his knee, wishing he was closer, knowing the wish was stupid.
‘It’s as much my fault as yours, and it’s highly unlikely that there’ll be any fallout so don’t worry about it.’
‘Not worry about it?’
His voice had risen and she touched her finger to his lips to hush him, then grew hot and breathless as he slid his tongue along it and closed his lips against the tip, sucking it gently.
It took a mammoth effort but she finally removed it.
‘We can’t do this,’ she said, and if she sounded desperate, well, that was just how she felt.
He shifted, nodded, shrugged, stood up, then reached down to touch her cheek.
‘You will tell me if you’re pregnant,’ he said, his voice harsh with an emotion she couldn’t read.
She nodded, not at all sure she would.
If it happened, and that was one huge if, she’d think about it then—think about what was to be done, what would be the best way forward. But not today. It would be like when Simon had been dying and she would only let herself think of one day at a time.
Although that had been totally different—back then it had been death she’d been desperately trying to hold off.
But life?
A new life?
She had no idea how she’d feel about that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EMMA HAD PUT the possibility of being pregnant completely out of her mind, and tried, unsuccessfully, to do the same with Marty.
He seemed to be around more than usual, bobbing up in the tea-room at unexpected times, coming in with a patient when usually Mark and Dave would bring them in.
So, a week or two later, when she heard the helicopter fly over—its distinctive noise far too recognisable by now—she fully expected to see him when it returned. The gossip in A and E was something about a road giving way—the result of the rain they’d had during the week after the bushfires causing a landslide effect.
She was hearing snippets of theories about why this sometimes happened, but not really taking much notice as it was a busy morning.
Until Mark walked in, with a list of equipment and drugs needed for restocking.
‘You not on the chopper for the landslide mission?’ she asked.
‘Kicked off by Marty,’ he said. ‘Matt’s flying, and Dave will act as winch man. Marty wants to go down.’
‘Marty wants to go down?’ Emma repeated the words as ice-cold fear swept through her body.
‘He’s still a qualified paramedic—jolly good one too—but he knew he was a better pilot than anyone else around here when we first got the chopper, so he took it on.’
‘But why would he choose to go down now?’ she asked, although she already knew the answer.
The rescue must be tricky, probably dangerous, and knowing Marty now, she also knew he wouldn’t let his crew put their lives at risk.
And definitely not crew with families.
‘Where is it? What’s happened?’ she demanded of Mark, when he’d ignored her first question.
‘Out on an old timber road. Some new folks have recently bought a property out that way and want to turn it into a holiday camp for children—you know, farm animals and horse riding and milking cows.’
But Emma couldn’t care less about the cows right now, or the new people.
‘Apparently,’ Mark continued, ‘Pop was taking out a load of cattle for them. These days he only does the odd job like a small mob of cattle, or sometimes in his covered trailer a load of furniture for someone. As far as I know, the road slid out from under his cabin in the prime mover and he’s stuck there, with the cabin of the prime mover balanced over the edge of the slide, the trailer weight and cattle the only thing holding it from plunging down the slope.’
Mark was still talking but somehow Emma’s mind had stopped at the word ‘Pop’. That’s why Marty was going down the wire. Of course he would, with Pop in danger.
