Sarah's Baby Page 19

  “You’re talking about Ruth?” Julanne grabbed hold of her daughter’s arm, making her turn around.

  “Of course, Ruth!” India’s bright blue eyes glinted like glass. She picked her mother’s fingers off her arm one by one. “She told me I’m perfect for Kyall.”

  “She’s a cruel bitch!” Julanne erupted, her maternal hopes falling meteorically.

  “Really, Mum.” Now it was India’s turn to chastise.

  Julanne focused on her daughter. “You mean it’s thanks to Ruth you thought you had a chance with Kyall? You told me—”

  “I don’t care what I told you!” India said rudely, causing her mother to glare at her.

  “Please behave, India, or we might as well go home. I brought you up to be a lady. Ladies don’t make scenes.”

  “Too bad, because that’s just what I want to do.”

  “Then I’ll get your father,” Julanne warned.

  “God, he and Mitch acted like seeing Sarah again was the high point of their lives. Don’t they realize I love Kyall? He should be mine.”

  “But sweetheart, falling in love with Kyall McQueen is something all the girls do.” She frowned. “You told me Kyle admitted to being in love with you.”

  “You bet he did!” India lied.

  “Then, my poor girl, I think he’s about to take that back.”

  “That’s why I hate her,” India mumbled.

  “She’s too nice to hate,” Julanne suddenly counterattacked. “The one who needs hating around here is Mrs. Ruth Bloody McQueen. If Ruth McQueen was running the world, we’d all be at war.”

  “You’ve never liked her, have you, Mum?”

  “India, no one likes Ruth McQueen, with the possible exception of you, and that’s only because she’s been filling your head with false hopes.”

  “So no one likes her but no one stays away when she issues an invitation?” India said in a challenging voice.

  “It’s not like that at all,” Julanne Claydon retorted sharply. “Our families tend to stick together. We all go back a long way.” She shrugged helplessly. “Ruth might want you to marry Kyall, but even she can’t make it happen.”

  “She’s going to give it a darn good try.”

  “How?” Julanne gasped.

  “There you go again. How, when, why? I don’t know, Mum.”

  “Put poison in the drinking water?” Julanne volunteered sarcastically. “Then again, maybe she would if she thought she could get away with it.”

  “What are you saying, Mum?” India eyed her mother critically.

  “I’m saying, my girl, don’t trust Ruth McQueen. And get a grip on yourself,” Julanne snapped. “This isn’t the end of the world. It might feel bad now, but there’s always tomorrow. You’re young, you’re beautiful and you’re a Claydon.”

  “What I really want to be is a McQueen,” India announced tartly.

  That hurt Julanne’s feelings. “Let’s get this straight, India,” she chided. “The Claydons have always been a happy family. The McQueens, believe me, would fit into a pretty grim movie script. And the woman to blame is right over there watching Kyall—whose hand has just slipped around Sarah Dempsey’s waist.”

  “Do you think I can’t see it?” India asked, stung.

  “We’re not alone. The whole room can see it. I don’t know how to tell you this, my darling, but Ruth Bloody McQueen has been wasting your time.”

  God help me she has, India thought, completely revolted by the woman she had once revered.

  THE BUFFET SUPPER was sumptuous, served at ten-thirty in the huge garden room at the rear of the house. This was a fairly recent extension to the original homestead, opening up an informal dining room and giving the whole area a view of the rear landscape—the towering trees, the dark-emerald creek that snaked through the home gardens and by day, the cloudless peacock-blue sky. Tonight the gardens had been strategically lit, the illumination of lights and stars shown to advantage through the series of floor-to-ceiling arched doorways.

  “I never thought anyone would go to so much trouble for me,” Morris remarked in wonderment to Harriet. He gazed around him with dazzled eyes. “The homestead is magnificent. Such a sense of history. And just look at that food! It would feed an army.”

  Harriet looked toward the laden buffet tables. “You may be amazed to find how little will be left over,” she said dryly. “This family has money, my dear. Not flashy new money. Old money that’s grown and grown with time. One has to hand it to Ruth. She handled everything extremely well for many years after she lost her husband. Enid and Max helped a great deal, not that they ever got much credit. But it’s been Kyall who’s built on everything his forebears accomplished. He’s the one with the vision, getting into all kinds of new areas as a safety measure against an uncertain future for wool. You should listen to him sometime, Morris. He’s a young man with ideas.”

  “I’d very much like to.” Morris was most impressed with Kyall McQueen. Real character there, and a charm of manner he obviously hadn’t inherited from his grandmother. Though Morris was very appreciative of the honor accorded him this evening, not fully realizing it had been Kyall’s idea, he found Ruth McQueen rather frightening, although he didn’t know why. Normally he wasn’t a man who felt threatened by powerful women. He’d met quite a few in his time, but no one like the McQueen matriarch, with her chill demeanor. It was a pleasure to turn back to Harriet, who looked the world straight in the eye. He was becoming increasingly fond of her.

  Now she was saying, “Yes, Kyall’s a young man with the Midas touch, but he has a lot more to offer than the ability to make money.”

  “Quite obviously he’s in love with Sarah. Indeed, I’ve never seen such a couple. The way he looks at her. The way she leans into him. Part of each other.”

  “They’ve been like that since they were very young,” Harriet said. “You could say they bonded from the moment they set eyes on each other. It does happen. The classic love story.”

  “How come they broke up?” Morris asked with interest.

  “The R word again.” Harriet answered right away.

  “And what on earth is that?”

  “Ruth. It’s no secret in this town that Kyall’s grandmother had very different plans for Kyall. Sarah, as exceptional as she is, simply wasn’t good enough.”

  “Good grief! I would’ve thought who better?” Morris replied in an amazed tone.

  “India Claydon for one,” Harriet said with a sympathetic sigh. “India was very highly regarded in the marriage stakes. Two great pioneering families united, and so forth.”

  “I see.” Morris bent closer as other guests were approaching. “So neither Mrs. McQueen nor Miss Claydon can be too happy to see Sarah back?”

  “You can be sure, my dear Morris, that they loathe it.”

  OVER SUPPER Ruth McQueen made an elegant little speech outlining the history of the town hospital, the McQueen involvement, and then went on to formally welcome Dr. Morris Hughes to the hospital and to the community. Some forty minutes after that, Kyall held up his hand in a gesture for quiet.

  What am I afraid of? Sarah wondered. In finding Kyall again, hadn’t she been released from her terrible spell? The woman who’d placed the spell on her was only a few feet away, her face masklike as she lifted her head, eyes glittering with subterranean life.

  Sarah’s heart was pounding hard, but Kyall put a strong arm around her, drawing her close.

  “With my family and our friends here, I’d like to make an announcement,” he began, his pride and happiness making him look wonderfully vibrant, his blue eyes afire.

  HERE IT COMES, thought Ruth, conscious of a terrible tightness in her chest. The very thing I’ve fought for years and years—the intolerable thing. She, the fighter, forever triumphant in her dealings, trounced by a mere girl. It was not to be borne. From a distance she heard Kyall continue, his voice solemn but exultant.

  “…Sarah and I would like to announce our engagement.”

 
A terrible anger flooded the autocrat’s veins. This can’t happen. She wanted to climb to the very top of a tall desert dune and howl like a dingo.

  “We can’t bear to keep it a secret any longer,” Kyall concluded to a cascade of clapping and gasps of genuine pleasure. “Most of you know I fell in love with Sarah when I was about eight years old.”

  “I think it was before that,” Mitch Claydon teased, torn between joy for his old friends and pity and discomfort for his sister, who had refused to listen to a single word of advice he had given her.

  “I believe it was.” Sarah turned up her face to Kyall. “You turned eight two weeks later.” Oh, yes, and I wasn’t invited to your party.

  Kyall simply gazed back at her with love, withdrawing his ring from the inside pocket of his cream silk jacket and fitting it on her finger to another outbreak of applause.

  Kyall’s mother and father reached them first. “Oh, my goodness, look at that ring!” Enid cried, taking Sarah by the arms and lightly kissing both cheeks. “I’m sorry your mother isn’t alive to share in your happiness, Sarah,” she said softly. “Welcome to the family, my dear, welcome.”

  Max took Sarah’s face in his hands, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “My son is a very lucky man,” he said gently, smiling down at her, his expression one of understanding and an undeniable hint of sadness. “Be happy, both of you. It’s my greatest wish.”

  “Thank you, Max.” Sarah knew it would be easy to grow fond of Kyall’s father.

  “My turn.” Mitch Claydon presented himself with a rakish grin. “About time, too, Sarah. As we’re old friends, I don’t think Kyall will mind if I steal a kiss?”

  In fact, it was a graceful salute that landed between her cheek and mouth. “Kyall has always needed you.”

  “And I need him.”

  Ruth, conscious that all eyes were now on her, drew herself up to go through an elaborate little charade, kissing her grandson and saying in a mock-censorious tone, “You might have told me, darling,” before moving on to Sarah. She took Sarah’s hand, staring down at her ring. “You always were amazing, Sarah,” she murmured beneath her breath. “Do you think you can make my grandson happy?” She glanced up for a split second, but Sarah saw the flash of anger in her eyes.

  “I’m going to prove to you I can.”

  “And if you don’t?” This was said so quietly only Sarah heard.

  “You’ll be the reason,” Sarah responded in a matching undertone, so the people around them, most of them busy trying to congratulate Kyall, thought the two women were finally making up.

  “Just as long as you know. If you think you’re good enough, Dr. Dempsey—” she drew the words out “—you’re not.”

  Sarah met her look head-on, impressively cool, hoping her act was convincing. “What undermines me undermines you,” she pointed out very gently.

  Ruth favored her with a malevolent smile. “And how is the ghost at the house? Been at work? I can promise you, Sarah, I’ll destroy you however long it takes.”

  Reveling in having the last word, Ruth released Sarah’s hand, moving off with her habitual—and slightly exaggerated—regal poise.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  JOE RANDALL had single-handedly run the hospital for more than thirty years, but Sarah was very grateful to have Morris Hughes on board, especially when the hospital had a run of accident victims. One of them tragically resulted in a death. A stockman herding cattle by motorbike lost control of his machine and was thrown off so violently he broke his neck. There were accidents mending fences, one when the wire snapped back into a man’s eye, another a goring by a bull, the amount of bleeding suggesting the injury was a lot worse than it was. Then there were the usual accidents with children. A little boy was admitted unconscious, having been given tablets containing codeine for a cough, the drug suppressing the child’s breathing, as well as the cough. As Sarah’s former boss had predicted, a tourist was rushed to hospital needing urgent medical attention because of sunstroke. The tourist’s car had broken down within the boundaries of Marjimba Station, and he’d set off on foot for help, ignoring all the warnings, posted throughout the outback. The man had taken a canteen of water, but it was not enough. Dehydration had rapidly set in.

  Mercifully Mitch had been the one to find him, very near collapse but not far from a water hole. Mitch had driven him there, drenching the man’s heated body with buckets of water before having him airlifted into town by the station helicopter. Other frequent procedures involved skin cancer caused by the sun, the solar system’s greatest uncontrolled nuclear reactor. Patients who for most of their lives had exposed themselves carelessly to the radiation of the sun presented with squamous and basal-cell carcinomas for removal by liquid nitrogen or surgical procedure. A bleeding ulcer that had been too long ignored was confirmed as a melanoma by laboratory inspection. Sarah had dreaded giving the patient, a family man in his mid-forties, the news.

  One morning about two weeks after the party for Morris, Sarah encountered Vernon Plummer on the street. His vehicle was parked outside the store she and her mother had lived and worked in. He was stocking up on supplies.

  “Good morning, Mr. Plummer,” Sarah called when she realized who it was.

  He threw a few more bags in the back, then twisted his heavyset frame. “Mornin’, Dr. Sarah.” Although he spoke gruffly, he sounded pleased that she’d bothered to greet him. He had been so preoccupied she could easily have walked on by.

  Sarah expected the man to continue with his loading; instead, he wiped his hands with a rag and approached her. “I’ve been wanting to thank you for all you’ve done for Kathy,” he said, genuine gratitude in his eyes.

  Sarah nodded. “That’s my job, Mr. Plummer.” She smiled pleasantly.

  “You’re very good at it. ’Course we all knew you’d amount to something, even when you was a little kid. Congratulations on your engagement, by the way. Kyall is a very lucky man.”

  “Well, I guess it took long enough, but we love each other,” Sarah responded, short of time, but not wishing to appear rude. Vernon Plummer seemed to have something on his mind.

  “Saved her life, didn’t ya. I won’t forget that.”

  She could feel him studying her with respect. “By the grace of God, yes. Kathy is well on the way to recovery. She and Darren will have their baby, and you and Mrs. Plummer will have another grandchild.”

  “I owe you one, Doc.” His voice and eyes held a degree of commitment Sarah didn’t think was warranted.

  She shook her head. “No, you don’t, Mr. Plummer. It gave me the greatest satisfaction to know I was there for Kathy. Frankly, that’s what a doctor lives for. To save lives.”

  “You know your stuff,” he responded. “That other doctor—Hughes?—didn’t seem so sure. You’re a good woman.” He dropped his gaze for a moment, studying the pavement, then lifted his head, his demeanor quite changed. “Do ya get a sense Mrs. McQ might mean you harm?” The words came out so hoarsely, so full of anger, Sarah was numbed.

  “I—I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean?”

  “Yes, you do. Wasn’t she the one who chucked you out of town?”

  Sarah didn’t deny it, although she was astonished the man had spoken out. He was, after all, in Mrs. McQueen’s employ. “Should you be saying this?” she questioned.

  “You need to know. Yeah, I still work for her. I’ve been workin’ for her, lemme see, damn near forty years. Started as a kid of twelve. Let’s say I’m one person who knows Mrs. McQ.”

  “Am I to understand you’re warning me?” Sarah managed, leveling her gaze on him.

  “I’m sure you don’t need no warning, Dr. Sarah. She really hates you.”

  “How do you know that for sure?”

  “Let’s just say I do.”

  “And why is that?” Sarah felt deeply troubled.

  He shook his head almost regretfully. “Nothing I can say.”

  “I have Kyall to protect me.”

  “What if Kyall ain�
��t around? He has to take a lot of trips. Go places for business.”

  In fact, Kyall was in Sydney on McQueen business right now, due back at the end of the week. “I have absolutely no idea why you’re telling me this, Mr. Plummer,” Sarah said, apprehensive and trying not to let it show.

  “You do something for me and mine,” he said. “I do something for you. I got things on Mrs. McQ.”

  Wasn’t that Sarah’s gut feeling? “Well, then, shouldn’t you keep them quiet? What if she found out? You say you know what she’s capable of.”

  “I do. You don’t.” He shot her a strange look. “You’re too innocent, Doc.”

  The deepening heat of the morning gave Sarah an excuse to move off. She picked up the briefcase she had rested at her feet. “What do we do now, Mr. Plummer?” she asked.

  “We watch and wait,” he said. “This is one time Mrs. McQ isn’t gonna win. I’m your friend, Dr. Sarah. You can count on it.”

  WASN’T LIFE FULL of odd turns, Sarah thought as her encounter with Vernon Plummer plagued her throughout the day. Would the man even have approached her had she not been instrumental in saving his daughter-in-law’s life? Fate worked in mysterious ways.

  Plummer had confessed he had a lot on Ruth McQueen. Didn’t that place him in danger if Ruth ever found out he’d involved himself with Sarah’s safety? What could Ruth do? Sack him? Put his whole family out of a job when working on Wunnamurra was all they’d ever known? Engineer an accident?

  Preposterous! She couldn’t believe that Ruth McQueen, dangerous as she was, would resort to murder. One would have to be beyond all civilized behavior for that. Prepared to risk exposure, arrest, jail. It was unthinkable. The man she loved was the woman’s grandson! She might detest me, Sarah reminded herself, but she loves him.

  “Sarah, have you got a minute?” Morris Hughes appeared at her door.

  “Yes, of course, Morris.” Shaking off her disturbing thoughts, Sarah stood up, coming round her desk.