Outback Sunset (27 page)

She didn’t say anything but stayed in the room long enough to stare him down. When he dropped his gaze, feigning interest in the drawings on the desk, she turned on her heel and left.

Coldly furious, Vanessa showered and got into bed, lying on top of the sheet. If she lived to be one hundred she would never understand men and in particular, Bren. There was something lacking in her husband, a sensitivity of feelings. She had once thought him sensitive but as time passed she was learning otherwise. Curtis, surprisingly, showed more of an emotional response to things and circumstances, than his older brother. Anxious and irritable, she lay listening to the whir of the overhead fan for a long time before she drifted into a dreamless sleep …

The week following the Selby family’s arrival in Sydney flew by in a flurry of activity. Admission, tests, more tests until, finally, the day for Kyle and Curtis’s surgery arrived.

Not a moment too soon for Kyle, Curtis observed as, in his theatre gown, he stood at his nephew’s bedside while Bren and Vanessa murmured encouraging words to the drowsy baby. The youngster’s skin tone had become quite yellow because his condition was deteriorating quicker than the doctors had expected. And it was obvious to anyone with reasonable vision that he was a very sick baby. Curtis glanced at his brother and his heart went out to him. He could only imagine what Bren was suffering mentally — the worry, the anxiety. His gaze moved on to Vanessa, the courageous one. Talk about stoic! She was shedding a few tears now but this was the only time he had seen her cry. Oddly, her sorrowful features didn’t seem to make her any less beautiful.

‘Mr Selby, Curtis,’ a sister came up to him. ‘You should be in bed. You’ve had your pre-med,’ she tuttutted at him. ‘We don’t want you falling down and injuring yourself before surgery, do we?’

Sister Bennett was a good-looking woman, around forty, he guessed. ‘I wouldn’t mind, Sister, if you’re the one who’d be picking me up,’ he answered flirtatiously.

‘No such luck, Curtis. The male sisters get to do that and they’re not half as gentle as the female ones.’

Taking note of that, Curtis scooted back to bed. If he were honest with himself, he wasn’t looking forward to surgery. Dr Samuels had explained in great detail that he might have considerable post-op discomfort, possibly more than Kyle. But he accepted that because he knew the cause was right. Besides, had the situation been reversed and Regan been ill, Bren would have done whatever he could to return
his
daughter to good health.

He would have plenty of time to think while he recuperated, he realised as he stretched under the hospital sheet, about where life was taking him. Of late he had been doing a bit of that and as a consequence a strange restlessness hung over him, something he had never before experienced. He was sure as to what he wanted from life, wasn’t he? If he saw more of Regan it would make a difference; he’d be more involved with watching her grow, and helping her to learn things, which would give his life a certain purpose but he was coming to believe that he wanted more — someone to
share
his life. But … who and where and how could he meet women,
isolated as he was on the station? Still, when this — the operation and convalescence — was behind him he would make a sincere attempt to find that special someone.

As he put his hands behind his head he could feel his body relaxing, the pre-med injection finally kicking in. His eyes drooped, closed. He opened them and saw Vanessa standing in the room’s doorway. She came up to the side of his bed and gave him an encouraging smile.

‘I know I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again before you nod off. Thank you for what you’re doing. We’ll see you when you wake up,’ she said softly.

Curtis drifted into oblivion with the image of her face in his mind …

The next twenty-four hours, then thirty-six hours were a stressful time for Bren and Vanessa who had been briefed by Dr Samuels and his team as to what to expect by way of Kyle’s recovery rate.

When her baby son opened his eyes for the first time, a few hours after the operation, saw her and smiled, Vanessa had to exert all her self-control not to burst into tears. The transplant team had deemed the operations on both Kyle and Curtis a success but she couldn’t accept that Kyle’s was until her son’s smile. Her baby boy was still smiling, weakly, but Bren wasn’t there to see it because he was with Curtis. They had been taking turns to sit with each of them as both became more alert.

The intensive care sister, checking several of the monitoring machines above his hospital cot, grinned
at Vanessa. ‘That’s a good sign,’ she said, patting Kyle’s head. ‘It’s a little too soon for liquids like water or milk but you can give him a little crushed ice. I’ll go get some.’

Vanessa smiled with relief as the sister walked away. Instinct, love, desperation or perhaps a mixture of all three emotions told her he was going to be all right. The relief wended through her body and into her soul, diluting the worry, the fears that had caused her so many sleepless nights. Her imagination had been working overtime from that day in Dr Klemski’s rooms when they’d learned of Kyle’s condition, conjuring up all kinds of dreadful scenes. All she had been able to think about and concentrate on, was her baby, how sick he was, and that he might die. It was an experience she prayed never to go through again.

The scope of Curtis’s generosity, given unstintingly in his no fuss way, strengthened her respect and liking for the man she had once loathed. They had travelled a long way down the friendship road from the day of the wedding reception in Darwin. It hadn’t always been easygoing between them with differences of opinion aplenty, but of late they were very much in agreement, with regard to Amaroo, and Kyle. She wasn’t religious but on occasions she said a prayer and when she did she would remember Curtis for the gift he had given to her son. It was interesting too, that while being uncle and nephew, the bond was now a lot closer because they both shared part of a vital organ.

As she spoon-fed a sleepy Kyle pieces of crushed ice, she thought how this crisis had taken its toll on
Bren and was still doing so. He’d been distraught after the operation, fearing the worst, unable to lift his morale or to be optimistic. She knew he couldn’t help it because sometimes he became either hyped up or depressed. However, while she felt sympathy for him, she also experienced waves of frustration. Her husband was a man of strength and determination in many ways, but Bren hadn’t been dependable in this regard, and that he hadn’t been, confounded her. It would have been a comfort for him to be her ‘rock’, but too often she was the one with the stiff backbone who was leant on rather than vice versa.

Five days after Kyle’s transplant operation Dr Samuels advised the family that his prognosis was a positive one. His small body hadn’t rejected the donor organ, something that often occurred within thirty-six hours of receiving it, and if he continued to recover at the present rate he could go home and lead a reasonably normal life within weeks with the proviso of regular medical checks for several years and having to take anti-rejection drugs, probably for the rest of his life.

For Curtis, the recuperation period took longer and was hampered by him suffering a blood infection that kept him in hospital for another week after Kyle’s release.

Kyle and Curtis’s return to Amaroo was a good reason to throw a welcome home party. Those attending were close neighbours, the Johns from Linford Downs Station, plus the Selbys from Broome, Lauren and her family, and Hilary, who’d
brought Regan with her. It took place during a lull in the annual wet, before Christmas, which made it a double celebration for everyone.

Curtis, with his fifteen-centimetre scar, was still too weak for normal duties and had been relegated to attending to the station’s paperwork. Kyle, amazingly, was almost back to normal, and had begun to crawl, getting into lots of mischief, and trying to copy the antics of his cousin, Guy, who at four was the closest to him in age.

However, if any one person could be regarded as the happiest, it was Bren. He liked nothing better than a party and having family around. He knew that he had been less than one hundred per cent supportive of Vanessa during Kyle’s illness and his inability to cope depressed him as much as his son being sick. Children, Bren had come to see, were a huge, ongoing responsibility and he couldn’t help it that he disliked the ‘baby phase,’ and had little patience with their crying, their puking and the demands made on the mother. Vanessa, having to spend more time with Kyle, meant less time for him.
You’re a selfish bastard, Bren Selby
. He was but he couldn’t and didn’t want to change and that was that.

Sipping his beer, his gaze followed Vanessa, good hostess that she was, as she mingled with everyone. She was the best thing that had happened to him and, damn it, why wasn’t he more appreciative of the fact? It amazed him, when he took the time to think about it that she, with her personality, talent and charm, could love someone as ordinary as himself. A bloody miracle, he reckoned. He watched
Vanessa fuss for a few minutes over Curtis, who was sitting in a comfortable wooden chair near the barbecue.

His brother wasn’t bouncing back to good health as quickly as he’d have liked to, and like Bren, Curtis hated to be inactive. This made him recall some of the injuries that had landed him on his back over the years. Broken ribs from a horse he had been breaking in. Later, he had fallen off one of the artesian bore towers and cracked his skull, and there’d been the sprained ankle when Vanessa had been making the movie,
Heart of the Outback
. He had loathed every minute of being incapacitated and had some sympathy for how Curtis felt.

Vanessa spent considerable time, tending to Curtis’s needs in the cottage. It was good that the two of them got along well now, when once they’d spat insults at each other. The specialist had said Curtis could be the slower one to recover and Dr Samuels was being proven right.

His gaze moved to Regan, who was having a rare visit to Amaroo with his mother, and Lauren’s eldest boys, Lance and Cameron. They were all getting along well. Outback kids usually mixed well, because there were fewer choices for company than in the city. They were presently playing a game of shuttlecock before it got too dark.

Stuart came up behind him and slapped him soundly on the back. ‘Good to have everything back to normal, hey?’

‘Not quite normal. Curtis isn’t one hundred per cent yet.’

‘And he won’t be in a hurry to get back to full
strength either. Look at the attention he’s getting from the women. Fran, Lauren, Vanessa, Diane, even Hilary. They’re all making a fuss of him.’

Bren shrugged his wide shoulders. ‘A little spoiling won’t do him any harm. He’s lacked a woman’s touch and caring for a while,’ he commented as he watched Fran and Vanessa try to entice his brother with several plates of nibblies.

‘Now you can start to plan the home-stay development, the one we talked about on the phone a while ago.’ Stuart changed the subject, though his gaze remained fixed on Curtis and those dancing attention on him.

‘Not yet, I want to keep it hush-hush for a while. I’m not even telling Vanessa or Curtis till I’ve done some preliminary planning. They won’t be keen for the station to go into debt again,’ Bren said quietly. ‘Knowing Curtis, the first thing he’ll want to do is a damned business plan, projecting costs and profits for the first five years. I’m not ready for that yet.’

‘Bren, Bren,’ Stuart scolded. ‘The home-stay plan can’t fail, believe me. I know the tourism business. Well-heeled tourists will jump at the chance, and pay handsomely to stay several days on a working cattle station,
your
station. Look at the El Questro Ranch up north, it’s top of the line. There are a few other good ones too. You’re not the only station thinking of making a move in this direction. You’ll see what I mean and,’ he nudged Bren in the ribs, ‘it’s good business to get in on the ground floor, before others do. Trust me.’ He paused for a brief reflection then added slyly, ‘Besides, it is
your
station. You’re the boss.’

Bren kicked a small rock as he hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. ‘Maybe.’ His uncle was a smart businessman with a proven track record. It made sense to believe him rather than be swayed by what his wife and brother might say. ‘When Curtis is fit, in about a month, we’ll do a few trips, check out several places.’

‘Good. In the meantime, have Fabian do a cost-effectiveness chart or whatever it is that accountants do. That’s sound business too.’ Stuart smiled as Bren nodded agreeably, confident of his influence over his nephew.

‘I will.’ Stuart was right. He was always right! The home-stay plan called for boldness, for enterprise and if told prematurely, Curtis and Vanessa’s caution could strangle his vision. A muscle flexed in his jaw. He wasn’t going to allow that.

‘It’s time to diversify, to give the property a double income stream,’ Stuart went on encouragingly. His gaze, still focussed on Curtis, narrowed as Vanessa, who was standing next to him with a hand on his shoulder, laughed at something he said. Curtis looked up and smiled. Stuart’s mouth thinned speculatively for a moment or two then a knowing smile lit his still good-looking, lightly lined features.

‘Do what you think is right, but just don’t leave it too long, that’s all I’m saying,’ Stuart said, his tone quietly conspiratorial.

Reg banged his barbecue fork on one of the saucepan lids signalling that the steak and sausages were cooked. Bren and Stuart meandered first to the trestle table that bore an array of alcohol — spirits
in bottles and cans of beer in old, scoured-out oil barrels, packed in ice flown in from Kununurra that afternoon — then to the table laid with a variety of food.

His uncle was right, he was the boss, and when he was ready he’d announce the home-stay plan as an accomplished fact, even if it took more than a year to get his head around the whole idea; he wasn’t going to let it come over as a pipe-dream. Amaroo was his and if he decided that’s the way they would go then Vanessa and Curtis had to accept that. He tilted his glass of whisky and brought it to his lips …