You know that’s against the rules, right?’
The tiny ‘Yes, sir’ almost disappeared on the breeze. Romy was struck by how different this encounter would be if her father were undertaking the inquisition. Clint was taking no prisoners, just like the Colonel, but his methodology was every bit as gentle and compassionate as Romy would have been herself. Possibly more so.
As if he knew something about being a young boy who made mistakes.
The thought of a man Clint’s size ever being a small boy made her smile. Then hard on its heels came another thought. About what kind of a boy they might make together. She shut down the tempting thought. Tonight’s dramas would change nothing, long-term.
Clint’s hand dwarfed her son’s shoulder, sympathy and understanding in his eyes. ‘Did you run away, Leighton?’
The tiniest of head shakes. Relief tightened Romy’s chest. Believing her boy had been unhappy enough to run away had been weighing on her since she found his bed rumpled and empty and the window wide-open. Fearing that she had made him feel that way. How many times had she wished of doing the same thing when she was his age?
‘Then, what? Why did you leave the house?’ Clint gently persisted.
His words were almost a whisper.
‘Out loud, Leighton. Your mother needs to hear this.’
Leighton dragged tragic eyes up to her. She itched to bend down to him but Clint’s warning gaze held her back. Now was not the time to treat her son like a child.
‘I wanted to help, Mum. I wanted to catch the bad guys. To make you happier. To make you smile again.’
Not pulling her baby to her breast took all her strength. ‘I’m not unhappy, Leighton. You should never put yourself at risk for me.’
‘You’ve been so sad. Since we came. I heard you crying…’
A surge of heat raged up her throat. She glanced at Clint, whose eyes burned intently. It looked like anger but why would he care whether she cried her heart out in the darkness? She crouched next to her son and wrapped both arms around him. ‘That doesn’t matter now. I’m just so relieved everybody is okay.’ She pulled Leighton into her body, kissed his head and flicked her eyes up to Clint’s. ‘There’ll be no more crying, I promise.’
Awkward tension zinged between them. Romy opened her mouth to speak and then let it close again. The wailing of sirens grew suddenly closer.
‘Saved by the bell,’ Clint said, his eyes as vibrant as Leighton’s green tree frogs. ‘Unless we want to be caught here for hours yet, we should get moving. Leave the authorities to it. Steve will know where to find us when they’re ready for a statement. Let’s go home, Romy.’
They disappeared into the darkness of the bush long enough for three official-looking vehicles to drive past them on the road. Then they clambered back up to the roadway and walked the long way home. At every turn, Leighton thought of yet another aspect of their daring escape to comment on excitedly. Romy knew there wouldn’t be too many times that she’d hear the words awesome and Mum in the same sentence as he got older. She enjoyed the rare moment.
‘Who’s the hero now?’ Clint murmured, swinging a finally flagging Leighton up into his arms.
They walked along in silence, Leighton drifting in and out of awareness. Conversation was almost impossible when so much needed to be said.
‘You were amazing,’ Romy finally said after Leighton had fallen into a deep sleep in Clint’s arms. ‘To put yourself at risk like that for Leighton, for us…Thank you.’
She burned to kiss him. Properly. Words just felt inadequate. ‘You must have been extraordinary in the field,’ she persisted, thinking of the way that man in the clearing had just…ceased to exist. ‘A massive asset in combat.’
He adjusted Leighton in his arms, avoided her eyes. ‘Every asset has an expiry date. After today I don’t think I’d be as effective an operator.’
‘Why not? It didn’t look like you’d lost any of your skills.’
He stared at her, his focus burning even in the dim moonlight. ‘I seem to have lost my heart for it.’
Her own heart started to pound again and this time not from the rush of survival chemicals. This was fear, pure and simple. Opening this door just felt unsafe. She swallowed.
Courage was fearing it but doing it, anyway.
‘I wanted to say…for you to know…that I saw tonight how important your training must be when you’re in real combat. The way you knew exactly what to do—’
He stopped and turned to her. ‘This was real combat, Romy. Just because it wasn’t in a war doesn’t make it any less dangerous. It was worse than warfare because Leighton wasn’t some target to be extracted, just a name on a document. This was personal. This was our Leighton. I was struggling as much as you were to stay objective. That’s why I lost it.’
‘I think I understand now. It’s not a choice you make. To turn the military on or off. It is you. It’s in everything you do, every thought you have. It’s ingrained as strongly as any value I try and teach my son.
‘I’ve seen how you are with him,’ she went on. ‘I’ve seen the positive impact you’ve had on his behaviour. He respects you and your natural authority, Clint, and more importantly, he responds to it. It doesn’t hurt him, it makes him stronger.’ Her feet skidded to a halt as the ground seemed to shift under them. ‘Oh, Clint, what if I’ve made him weaker?’
Clint turned back to where she stood rooted to the earth. ‘Don’t judge yourself like this. You’ve done a fine job raising him entirely alone, with no support. There is nothing wrong with loving your son and not wanting to see him hurt.’
‘Yes, there is. He needs to save me.’ She sought out his eyes desperately. ‘He put himself in danger tonight because he feels responsible for me. I was trying to protect him and instead I’ve made him think his mother is defenceless. That an eight-year-old boy has to protect his mother.’
The shock realisation doubled her over, the breath punching out of her. ‘I did this to him, Clint! After everything I survived with my father, I’ve forgotten how to be strong.’
He lifted her face with powerful fingers. ‘You’re the strongest woman I know, Romy Carvell. You didn’t want to raise your son the way your father raised you. That’s entirely understandable. Everybody has a weakness. Forgive yourself that.’
‘You don’t. You’re made of rock.’ One hundred percent reliable, bombproof granite.
Disgusted breath hissed out of him. ‘Nowhere near, Romy. I wallowed in guilt for a decades-old mistake, I ran to the army to avoid my parents’ self-combusting marriage, I ran from the army when it got too ugly, I ran from death, and now I’m running from you. From what you and Leighton represent. It’s what I do, Romy. I run. That’s my weakness.’
She stared up at him, not caring if her heart was on her sleeve. Blood pumped, pure and hard, through limbs almost numb with cold.
‘You’re freezing. We should keep
