Standing Strong (24 page)

He drove, fuming, while at the same time telling himself he had to put it all out of his mind and start focussing on drenching his sheep. It was good that he'd have a distraction and some physical work for the rest of the day and part of tomorrow. He was quite at ease working with sheep these days. Surprising, when just the thought of it used to make him go purple with rage, but he'd changed – thanks to Jacqueline. She'd been able to get him to see that his frustration and anger lay nowhere near the sheep, but within himself – that living a life of compromise was coming out in this way. It had to come out somehow, she'd said. He was lucky he hadn't turned to drink or dope, like many around had.

Damien opened the gates to the yards that had remained intact thanks to the ground being so bare, though they were a little scorched around the edges. He had to show Bob and Cara, who were quivering all over with excitement, where the stock was expected to come. Other than taking a drive around them daily, he hadn't done anything serious with the sheep since the fire and the dash to move them to safety. As he drove, he tried to blink away the flashbacks: the smoke on the horizon; fear and bewilderment etched in Jacqueline's gorgeous face and later the tears that stained it, running channels through the soot and dust. Oh, how he'd wanted to be the one to ease her pain, especially after she'd done so much for him. But when he'd turned around from thanking the firies she was being escorted away by Auntie Ethel.

As he got out and pulled the wire gate open and hard back against the fence, he tried to tell himself he was just being a big wuss, and to pull himself together. His heart was racing and his legs were like jelly. Thankfully Bob and Cara didn't seem to be affected. They were squirming and whining, keen to be let off their chains to get on with it. He still had the odd nightmare – not that he'd tell anyone that – but this was worse than the worst of them. He could wake up from nightmares. But here he was in broad daylight, eyes wide open, and seeing it all before him again. And there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it, except just get over it. Get on with it.

On his command of ‘Go way back,' the dogs leapt off the ute in a flurry of excited yelping and bounded across the paddock. All Damien needed to do was park out of the way and wait. As he did, he felt the already heavy clouds in his mind descending, closer and closer. He didn't feel particularly tired, just leaden and struggling to care – about anything. He wanted to go back to the van, close the blinds and hide from the world, hide from his problems. But he knew only too well that wouldn't help. The shadow always followed. He had to keep moving, keep busy, keep accomplishing.

He looked up as the mob of sheep raced towards him, dust suspended above them.

‘Good dogs,' he croaked, getting another flashback of the day of the fire. Tears stung and his throat felt blocked and dry. ‘Get a grip, soft cock,' he told himself. ‘Not you, Squish, you're a good dog.' He patted the panting dog sitting to attention beside him then pushed the ute into gear and slowly eased it in behind the sheep as the tailenders ran through the gate.

Damien went through the motions of drenching the large mob; it was taking far longer than ever before. Usually he had his mother helping. He cursed himself for missing her. If he'd thought about it, he could have got a neighbour and mate over. They all swapped labour from time to time. But while it was taking forever – would stretch well into the next day – Damien knew he didn't have the strength to put on a happy face in front of anyone or pretend he was fine. He just wanted to be left alone with his worries and his black mood.

About a thousand times that day, thanks to the monotony of a task, he had cursed how fickle life was, that you could feel great about everything one minute but feel a hopeless desperation about your situation the next. Or perhaps it was just him. Perhaps he really was sick in the head. Regardless, he'd throttle the next person who said, ‘What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.' He believed it, of course it was true – he was proof. It just wasn't a helpful thing to be told when the chips were down, and the only time anyone said it was when you were at your lowest.

Chapter Twenty-five

Jacqueline had intended to go for a decent walk before work to try to stretch her tight muscles, which seemed to be getting worse by the hour – God, she was seriously unfit! But when she'd seen Eileen in the kitchen getting pots and pans out, it didn't seem right to leave. It was lovely having her parents around to take care of her, but if she ended up having to move back in with them she'd have to tactfully ease Eileen away from mothering her. Though she was always telling clients to be extra kind to themselves when going through difficult periods in their lives; perhaps bacon and eggs for breakfast fell into that category. Hopefully Eileen wouldn't do too much damage to Jacqueline's waistline in a week.

After breakfast, she kissed her parents goodbye and headed out the door, deliberately leaving her car keys in the house so she couldn't duck out of walking. For the first time since her career began teetering on the edge, she felt almost normal – almost good, even. She even found herself humming.

She'd just settled in her chair when Louise appeared at the door.

‘Good weekend?'

‘Yes, thanks. You?'

‘Not bad. There were some voicemail messages – eight cancellations for the week. Three today. It's a bit odd, because usually a cold going through means we get inundated,' she mused before handing the phone message slips over with a shrug.

‘Thanks.' Jacqueline went through the slips and updated her calendar.
This can't be good
. It was now looking like a very slow week indeed, and just when she'd begun to seriously build her business. She tried to quell the rising panic by telling herself it was a coincidence. But she couldn't shake the feeling that the cancellations were because word had started to get around the district about her position being tenuous. Disappointment settled in the pit of her stomach and began to gnaw.

And then panic gripped again. Had Tina put word out as well as dobbing her in? Ethel had said she'd written to retract her complaint straightaway, but she could have still told people of Jacqueline's breach of ethics. Would she have? She was certainly spiteful enough to go bragging about it to make herself feel more important for knowing something others didn't. That wouldn't surprise Jacqueline at all.

Should she tell Doctor Squire about the cancellations? She'd really rather not. And he probably wouldn't expect her to. He'd made it clear he wanted her to be a self-starter, to essentially run and build the practice on her own – he was too busy to hold her hand. She felt the slightest glimmer of relief at not having to front up and be the bearer of further bad news. She was damned lucky he was being so supportive of her; anyway, the last thing he needed when he was already so busy was for her to run to him with every little thing. He might already be close to losing patience where she was concerned.

Maybe she was panicking unnecessarily about the bookings. It wouldn't surprise her – she had a lot going on and was feeling quite highly strung as a result. She hadn't had any calls from the Hope Springs evening, though maybe some would soon start trickling in from that. And maybe some of the CFS crewmembers might start approaching her. People needed time to get their heads around the idea of counselling and then more time still to actually act. She tried to ignore the little voice that told her she'd seen a spike in bookings the day after her other talks.

Okay, so she wouldn't tell Doctor Squire about dwindling numbers – that his side-business might be going down the tubes – but should she tell him that it was Tina McAllister who had dobbed her in to the board? Would him knowing make any difference? Hmm. Would it change what he wrote in his letter in support of her? She supposed that was the pertinent question. She tried to come at the problem from all angles. It wasn't as if he'd put in a paragraph discrediting Tina. That would be unprofessional, not to mention verging on defamation. God, she could see an even bigger can of worms opening up before her. No, she would not reveal this either. No doubt he'd find out soon enough – as far as she could tell, not many secrets were kept for long around here.

All the toing and froing in her mind was making her head ache. She got up to make coffee, wondering as she did how she was going to find more clients and keep from getting bored in the meantime. She wished Ethel were there to provide some advice, but she was spending the day acting as tour guide for Eileen and Philip.

‘Knock, knock.'

Jacqueline turned from making a coffee to see Paul Reynolds leaning against her door frame. She lit up, despite her efforts to stay neutral; while she'd enjoyed her time with him, she had to be wary of leading him on. She took in his appearance and almost sighed with disappointment: he was still just as good looking as she remembered. Worse, she knew what he looked like under his clothes – well, sort of.

‘Are you going to invite me in or are you busy?'

God he's smooth
. ‘Sure, come on in.'

‘Fancy making me a cup?' he said with a cheeky grin, nodding at the teaspoon in her hand.

‘How do you like it?'

‘Just a dash of milk would be perfect, thanks.'

Jacqueline half expected him to add, ‘I'm sweet enough,' and was strangely relieved when the moment passed and he hadn't revealed himself to be totally predictable – not to mention cheesy.

‘So, you're out and about early. Ethel Bennett told me you live out past Charity Flat,' Jacqueline said when they were seated with mugs in hand.

‘Checking up on me, were you?'

Jacqueline looked down at her cup and silently cursed, feeling the slight blush rising.

‘Sorry, that wasn't fair. I'm only teasing. I've clearly been spending too much time alone out there and am forgetting my manners. Forgive me. So how are the muscles feeling?'

‘Sore. I didn't realise just how unfit I am.'

‘Not necessarily. Surfing uses a lot of different muscles. Don't be too hard on yourself. You just need to give it another go and work them out again – it helps.'

‘I'll take your word for it,' she said, taking a long sip of coffee.

‘I hope you don't mind me dropping in unannounced like this – I was in the neighbourhood. But while it's wonderful to see you again, my visit is sort of professional.'

‘Oh. Okay.' Jacqueline felt her heart sink. Could a surfing lesson where he'd held her hands and waist to help her balance count as a breach of ethics if she took him on as a client? Why was she feeling disappointed, anyway? Was she hoping for there to be more between them? Or was she hoping he was free of emotional problems?

‘Not me, personally, as such. I was hoping I could convince you to come out to Charity Flat and talk to the community. Morale's pretty low after the fire.'

‘I'd be happy to. I'm actually needing to build the practice and any opportunity for publicity would be good. I don't know anyone out that way.'

‘Well, you do now – know someone out that way, that is. Sounds like a win-win to me,' he said, beaming at her.

‘Yes,' she said. ‘Sounds good. When do you think?'

‘One evening this week? You're welcome to stay so you don't have to worry about hitting a roo.'

‘Oh.'

‘All totally above board,' he said quickly, raising his arms and holding out his palms. ‘If you don't want to stay with me, I'll book you into the pub. You're welcome to bring your parents – it's a nice little town worth a look. And maybe you'd like a chaperone.' He grinned cheekily.

‘Very funny,' she said, unable to stop herself rolling her eyes at him. ‘But, seriously, any night would work for me.' She felt an overwhelming sense of relief that he wasn't wanting to engage her services for himself, though she wasn't sure why.

‘I'll think about it, speak to a few people.' He paused. ‘I thought you would be run off your feet after your debrief and other talks about the place.'

‘Unfortunately not. I had a stack of cancellations waiting for me when I arrived this morning.'

‘That must have been a bit disappointing. But don't take it personally – people change their minds, get busy, feel better, I guess, too,' he added, shrugging. She liked the easy way he did that. She liked him, full stop. She smiled warmly at him.

‘Thanks, but it might be a little more serious than that.'

‘Oh. What's going on?'

When Jacqueline opened her mouth again, it was like floodgates had opened instead. She told him everything, right down to not actually having had sex with Damien. She couldn't stop herself. How bloody embarrassing! Even worse, a few tears accompanied her account. She was pleased Paul stayed where he was. If he'd got up and comforted her, she might just have lost it completely.

‘God, I'm so sorry,' she said when she'd finished speaking and regained her composure. ‘See, I'm not much of a psychologist if I can't keep my own shit together.' She attempted a laugh, but what came out was more of a snort. ‘I shouldn't have told you. Please promise you won't tell anyone.'

‘Don't worry, I won't tell a soul. What a thing to be going through, especially when you haven't actually done anything wrong. Please don't be embarrassed you told me. I'm honoured you opened up to me. And I certainly don't think any less of you for having your own problems and needing to confide in someone. It shows you're human, which is a good thing. I hope it's helped.'

‘Thanks. I really appreciate it. And, it has. I've got my parents and Ethel to talk to, but …'

‘It's okay, I understand. And I promise your secret is safe with me. You'd be surprised at the secrets I'm holding. I'm a very good vault.'

Jacqueline smiled at his attempt to be lighthearted and put her at ease. He really was being a good friend. She toyed with telling him she didn't want them to be any more than friends to avoid any awkwardness down the track, but the timing wasn't right. She just hoped he wouldn't take advantage of her vulnerable state.