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“We’ll meet you there,” Kee called out. There was no way she was getting into his car.
Wazza eyed her skeptically. “It’s a long bloody walk. Especially in this heat.” That concerned frown was back, puckering the skin of his brow. “It’s not good for the little one,” he added, glancing down at Benni, who held tight to Kee’s hand.
Yes, Kee knew exactly how far away her car was, she and Benni had walked between the water and the vehicle at least eight times over the past few days. And she knew that by the time she and her daughter covered the distance back to her car, they’d be desperately thirsty again. Each time they’d done the trip, they’d drunk their fill of the disgusting water, then filled two water bottles with the stuff to take back to the car with them. How could she not have thought to bring more water with her? It still astounded her every time she thought about it. But how was she to know? A girl brought up in the heart of Sydney, where there were shops and kiosks and cafés on every corner. Finding a drink had never been a problem.
But even so, she was loath to get into his vehicle. If she got in with him, she lost all control over the situation. Effectively became his prisoner. She shot a quick glance up the road and then swung around to face Warwick, indecision keeping her feet planted firmly in the dirt.
“The car’s air conditioned. And I’ve got more bottles of water in the back,” he said, opening the driver’s door and beckoning inside. “It’s clean, look,” he added.
As if she’d care how dirty the car might be. But his plea touched a chord inside her heart.
“Come on, Mummy.” Benni suddenly tugged on her hand, pulling her toward the open door. “I don’t want to walk.”
Should she trust this man? Her daughter obviously did. Benni was often shy around strangers, but she’d seemed to take an immediate shine to this guy. Or was it just that her little daughter, who’d been so stoic and cool-headed about their situation—lost in the desert without water or proper shelter—was finally tired of the heat and the flies and the dust? Kee had a sudden urge to take Benni into her arms and hold her tight, so she’d know just how much she loved her. Sometimes Benni was wise beyond her years; showed intelligence that scared Kee. Kee’s father might’ve called her an old soul. If he ever met her. Kee tucked that dark thought away for another day.
“Here, you can drive, if you like.” Wazza held out a set of keys.
It was this act of careful compassion on his part that finally had her shaking her head in embarrassment. “No, no, it’s fine.” She led Benni around to the passenger side and boosted her daughter up into the seat. Then she climbed in behind her and placed Benni in her lap, not bothering to put on the seatbelt; they weren’t going far. It was much hotter in here, the cab acting like a mini greenhouse, concentrating the sun’s heat. Wazza started the engine, but it took a minute for the air inside the cab to cool. Kee directed a vent on to her daughter’s face, and Benni laughed with glee.
“It’s colder than ice cream,” she said, with a giggle that made Kee want to smile along with her. It was often the simple things that made Benni happiest. Kee drew in large gulps of the cool air, letting the gusts dry the sweat off her skin, the relief from the searing heat a godsend.
Wazza steered the vehicle carefully over the bumpy track. His big hands rested lightly on the wheel as his blue eyes studied the ground ahead. Kee was suddenly acutely aware of the large man sitting beside her. Of his physicality. Of his solid male presence. He exuded an air of attentiveness, as well as an aura of calm. Completely different to Jakov’s manner of restrained violence, as if he might explode at any second. When Kee had first met Jakov, she’d been attracted to his vitality and strength. But over time, it’d morphed into something uglier and meaner. Wazza’s air of calm was a soothing balm to her soul. She just wished she wasn’t so aware of him.
The drive seemed to take an eternity, even with the cooling cabin and Benni bouncing on her lap with excitement, pointing out little things of interest as they passed by, like the pile of brown cow dung by the side of the road, or the pockmarked trunk of the old bottle tree growing all alone and lonely farther out into the plain. At one point, Benni stared at the man next to her intently, glancing from his large hat right down to his boots, before she finally asked in a slightly breathless voice, “Are you a cowboy?”
He laughed, and said, “Yes, I guess you could call me a cowboy. But out here we’re called station hands, or a ringers.”
“Oh.” Benni seemed to consider his answer, but by the way she puckered her lips, she wasn’t that enamored with it.
At last, Wazza drove up behind her car, tucking it into the shade behind it, and pulled on the handbrake.
Trying to see their little campsite through a stranger’s eyes, Kee scrutinized her attempt at making them both as comfortable as she could out in the middle of the desert. Her four-wheel-drive was old and rusty in some places, but her friend Leni from the animal shelter had assured her it still had plenty of miles left in it. She wished she could tell him now that he’d been wrong. But she had no one else she trusted to help her. And Leni’s heart had been in the right place. Perhaps whatever was wrong with her car was something that even a trained mechanic might not have been able to spot. Cars broke down all the time, for no reason that she could see. It was all Kee could afford, anyway, and at least it blended in well with all the other vehicles out on the country roads. Both doors on the side nearest the clump of trees stood open, and she’d rigged up an old sheet to form a sort of roof, strung between the car and the branches a little higher up. Underneath her rustic tent, she’d spread out a couple of beach towels to keep them off the red dirt. At night, they slept in the back seat of the vehicle, Benni wrapped carefully in her arms, despite the heat. Kee had hardly slept during the two nights they’d spent out here, too scared of the nightly noises—at one stage she’d heard a dog howling and had shut the car door until the stifling air had forced her to open it again—and too hot, her daughter’s sweaty little body acting like a furnace. During the day, when she wasn’t tinkering uselessly under the hood of her car, they spent most of their time stretched out in the shade. It was too searing to do anything else. Except when they made their trips to the water trough.
“Jesus…” Wazza seemed to bite back any further words, but he glanced at her sideways, as if reassessing her character. Was that admiration she saw in his eyes? “How long have you been here?”
“Two days and two nights,” she replied. There was no point in lying about that part. It was pretty obvious they’d been here for a while.
“Jesus,” he said again, adding a low whistle. “Right, let’s take a look, then.” He jumped out of the driver’s seat and headed to the front of her car. The hood was already propped up. She’d peered into that engine so many times over the last few days. Prodded and poked and yelled in frustration. But she had no idea about anything mechanical. That’d been Jakov’s thing. And her father had never encouraged her to learn anything about looking after a car. It was expected that her husband would do all that for her. She didn’t even know how to check her engine oil. Which was one more thing she’d beaten herself up about over the past days. Self-flagellation wasn’t normally her thing, but with so much time on her hands to dissect everything she’d done wrong over the past two months, she’d pretty much covered every aspect of her life. How had it all become so mixed up?
Wazza had his head down in the engine bay, and she couldn’t see his expression because of his large hat. Then he lifted his head, and with a frown of consternation he went around to the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. The motor whirred for a second, then nothing. Exactly like it’d done every time she’d tried to start it. He came back to the front and stared into the engine, using his long fingers to gently prod at something.
“Come and sit in the shade,” she said quietly to Benni, taking her hand and crouching down to lead her into their makeshift tent. When Benni was settled with more water and her dolly—thank the lord she’d remembered to snatch up some of her daughter’s toys before they’d left—Kee went back to watching Wazza examine the engine.
Finally, he looked up at her. “It looks like the fuel pump is gone. It’s either that, or a clogged fuel line. How old is this car?” He leaned over the engine, rubbing a finger over some writing scrawled at the back of the engine bay.
“I don’t know,” she answered in a hurry. She didn’t care how old the car was, there was only one question on her mind. “Can you fix it?” she asked, trying, but failing, to keep the hope out of her voice.
Her heart sank at the shake of his head. “No, sorry. You’ll need a replacement part. This’ll have to get towed into town. But don’t worry, I know a great mechanic…”
The rest of his words were lost in a fog of despair. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she’d pinned all her hopes on this man. She needed her car fixed. Now. Not in town, and not in a few days’ time.
“Jebi ga,” she spat the word at the sky.
“Excuse me?”
“What? Oh, sorry. It’s Croatian.” It took her a second to regain her composure. There was no point in showing this man her desperation. She angled her head slightly in Benni’s direction. “So she doesn’t know I’m swearing,” she added quietly.
A large grin split Warwick’s face. “Nice,” he said, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Are you Croatian, then?”
