thought how a landing might wake Harry, and she didn’t want that. Her twelve-month old nephew, it seemed, hated flying. He hated landings and take-offs. He hated the dust and the heat and the flies. He hated the glare of the sun in its cloudless sky, and hated Sapphie trying to change his nappy in the close confines of the plane. He hated it all—with a capital H—and he had the lungs to prove it. Sapphie had wanted to wail right alongside him.
She’d wanted to wail because Harry hated her too.
During the long, hot five hours they’d so far endured on the plane he’d only stopped crying when she’d given him his bottle—most of the contents of which he had then thrown up all over her shirt. Finally, through sheer exhaustion, he’d fallen asleep. She didn’t want him woken for any reason whatsoever. So not landing at Jarndirri would suit her perfectly. She waited for Sid’s answer.
‘Nah,’ Sid drawled. ‘They radioed through earlier. They don’t have anything for me to collect. And as I don’t have anything for them…’
Sapphie gulped back a sigh of relief. In the next instant her shoulders went all tight again. ‘What about the main Jarndirri station? Will you be landing there?’ The Jarndirri homestead was several hundred kilometres northeast of the out station, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t on Sid’s mail route.
Don’t be an idiot, she chided herself. You’re not going to accidentally bump into Anna or Lea out here. Neither was currently in residence at Jarndirri. Anna was in Broome with Jared, and Lea was at Yurraji—the property in the far north that her grandfather had left her.
And Bryce had died six years ago. She wasn’t going to run into him.
The plane bounced as it hit a pocket of turbulence. Sapphie’s stomach churned and bile rose up to burn her throat. Normally she was a good flyer.
Normally? Ha! Normally she wouldn’t be flying over the northwestern corner of the Australian continent—one of the most remote regions in the world—without any form of invitation. And if she did it would be to see Anna or Lea, not to track down some man she’d never met in her life before.
There was nothing normal about the turn her life had taken in the last two days.
‘The main Jarndirri station is on a different mail run,’ Sid said. ‘Mail delivery to this part of the Kimberley’s on a Thursday. Mail delivery to that part of the Kimberley’s on a Tuesday.’
Sapphie closed her eyes for a moment, beyond grateful that she’d arrived in Broome yesterday. If she’d left it another day then she would have had to wait an entire week to catch the mail plane to Newarra. Broome was small. Anna would have heard that Sapphie was in town, and…
And that didn’t bear thinking about.
Beside her, Harry stirred. Sapphie held her breath. When he didn’t wake, she let it out in one long, slow exhalation. Please, please, please let him sleep for a bit.
He needed the rest.
He needed the peace.
And she needed to think.
What a mess! She’d have dropped her face to her hands, only she didn’t want Sid to see how desperate she was.
‘You’re looking a bit peaky,’ he said anyway.
She had a feeling that as far as descriptions went ‘peaky’ was being kind. She wrestled for a smile. Sid had been kind. ‘Perhaps because I’m feeling kind of peaky.’
He jerked his head in Harry’s direction. ‘Hardly surprising.’
A surge of protectiveness washed over her. Harry might hate her, but she’d fallen in love with him from the first moment she’d clapped eyes on him. ‘He’s not a good flyer,’ she murmured.
‘Lots of kiddies aren’t.’
‘I’m sorry, Sid. This must have been the flight from hell for you, and—’
‘There’s nothing to apologise for,’ the pilot said gruffly.
Yes, there was. There was a wealth of things to apologise for.
Sapphie’s eyes burned. She closed her hand gently around Harry’s foot. How could she make up to him for everything that had happened? How could she help him feel loved and secure again? There weren’t enough apologies in the world to make up for the fact that Harry had been lumped with her instead of someone who would know what to do, who would know how to comfort him properly and ease his fears…someone who deserved the right to look after him. That person wasn’t her.
There was no one else.
‘Oh, Harry,’ she whispered, bending over him and pushing the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. ‘I’m sorry.’
She’d found out about Harry’s existence two days ago, when her nineteen-year-old sister, Emmy, had been arrested on drug charges. Two days ago…The day Sapphie had turned twenty-five. The same day she’d discovered Bryce Curran was her biological father.
She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. She’d spent the last three years searching high and low for Emmy. With no success. When Emmy had rung two days ago Sapphie had thought it the best birthday present she’d ever received.
But her little sister hadn’t rung to wish her a happy birthday. She hadn’t even remembered it was Sapphie’s birthday. She’d rung from Perth Central Police Station—‘I need help.’ When Sapphie had arrived, Emmy had pushed Harry into her arms with a fierce, ‘Promise me you’ll find his father.’
Sapphie had promised. What else could she do? Somehow she’d let her little sister down in every way that counted. She would not fail her on this. She would find Harry’s father.
She knew what it was like to grow up without a father, always wondering who he was, never knowing his identity. She would not let that happen to Harry.
Unbidden, a ripple of relief speared through her. There was someone other than her who could take responsibility for Harry, and she thanked God for it. Emmy had given her dates, locations…and a name. ‘Liam Stapleton—a cattleman in the Kimberley. You’re familiar with the area. Anna and Lea Curran will help you if you ask them.’
Sapphie had to wrestle with the bile that rose through her. She couldn’t ask them. Not now. Not knowing what she knew. If Anna and Lea ever discovered that Bryce had been unfaithful to their dying mother…and that Sapphie was the result of that infidelity…
‘You going to be sick?’
Sapphie started, pulled in a breath and shook her head. She fought to find another smile. And won. ‘No, I’m just a bit worn out, that’s all.’
‘Why don’t you get some shut-eye like that littlie of yours? Do you the world of good.’
Littlie of hers? She swallowed back the hysteria that threatened to swamp her. She didn’t have the energy to correct him. If she’d made a different decision seven years ago she might have a littlie now, but…
She shied away from the thought. She couldn’t follow it. Not today. Not for as long as she was responsible for Harry.
A
