further accidents — the organs required to make a baby had been irrevocably destroyed. At the tender age of eighteen, Wendee O'Connor's hopes for a family to compliment her planned career were as dead as her baby.
She stared up at her mother, working her tongue to moisten her mouth. 'Don't visit me again, Ma.'
'Wasn't going to,' her mother said, dismissing the subject of her daughter's mutilation and her part in it without a second thought. 'Got better things to do than drive fifty miles to see an ungrateful child,' she grumbled as she rose, rocking the bed so violently, Wendee felt faint from the pain. 'Don't know why they had to fly you here anyway,' she added, grunting as she retrieved her hat and bag from the visitors chair.
'Because she would have died otherwise, Mrs O'Connor,' the sister said briskly as she strode over to the bed. 'Good day.'
Wendee watched her mother's piggy eyes narrow before she turned away, lumbering out like a large, ugly beach ball.
'I don't want to hurt your feelings, dear,' the sister said kindly as she took Wendee's pulse, 'But your mother is a cast-iron bitch. I hope you don't have dogs because I'd hate to see what she'd do to them if she treats a daughter like that.' She passed Wendee a paper cup of water and some tablets from the tray she'd brought and Wendee gulped them down, swallowing the liquid greedily. 'Must be a difficult life for you,' the Sister added sympathetically.
They looked at each other for a moment, allies against the enemy.
'I hate her,' Wendee said aloud for the first time in her life.
The sister nodded, as though she’d expected no less. 'Coming out of the anaesthetic you were babbling about winning a physics scholarship to a Brisbane University. Is that true?'
'Yes. I'm…' Wendee faltered for a moment, feeling the gut-wrenching pain of loss, permanent loss that no painkiller could touch. She'd had part of the dream torn away from her, but not all of it. 'I'm going to be an Astronomer,' she said softly, her voice carrying the absolute conviction only a driven person can know. A person driven by hate.
She would succeed. And she'd never look back.
'I've got a niece, Marie, who lives in Brisbane,' the sister had said, looking at
Wendee speculatively. 'She's got a spare room…'
Dee opened her eyes, blinking against the unexpected sunlight, totally disorientated. Her body had returned to the present, but her consciousness still lay on that hospital bed, hurting.
An insistent ringing in her ears unsettled her further.
She blinked again. The sound, like the buzzing of a mosquito heard through the groggy layers of sleep took her a moment to identify. The telephone. Still staring out the window, she reached behind herself, fumbling to retrieve it. Her arms felt leaden and her fingers thick and clumsy, as though she really was asleep and unable to wake herself.
Her lips moved sluggishly. 'Hello.'
' Dr. Williams?'
'Yes.'
' I've got a student here with a problem. You're the Convenor of First Year at the moment, aren't you?'
'Yes.'
' Are you busy right now?'
'No.'
' Thank you.'
The caller hung up, and Dee slowly replaced the receiver, feeling herself slide through the last of the barriers, back into the present. She was in her own chair at her own desk. She had been gone, but now she was back. Gradually the sensation of losing herself passed. The area below her window was deserted, but she continued to stare down at the paved paths. Thinking. Feeling.
The dream had certainly driven her to achieve her career goals. She'd become a respected Astronomer. And more importantly, the mistakes of the past had not been repeated. But was that the best she could expect from life? Should she count her blessings and be satisfied with a marriage in name only? Or was there more?
One thing she did know — the nightmarish memory hadn’t brought her the inner strength she’d hoped it would. Conversely it had, if only briefly, rekindled all those feelings of insecurity, hopelessness and the desperate need to be loved. Like a dream that was so realistic it took hours to shake off, Dee knew she'd be feeling vulnerable until she could rebuild the emotional barriers that protected her from her past.
She needed to be alone, at least for the rest of the day, and the sooner she got off campus and away from everyone the better. Despite her attachment to her hobby, she would take the night off, and possibly the next day as well. She could work on her project from home if she wanted to, and there were no lectures scheduled for her tomorrow. She'd just pack her notes and…
There was a soft knock on the door.
'Dr Williams?'
Dee frowned, suddenly remembering the phone call. What had she said she'd do? She swivelled her chair to face the door.
'The secretary said she called you.'
Dee blinked at her visitor in shock.
It was Billy McKenzie.
Chapter Three
'But if you're too busy…'
Dee simply stared, her lips parting as she absorbed the warmth of his tanned skin, the soft texture of his flannelette shirt and his eyes — the same milky grey as the fierce thunderclouds that had heralded the electrical storms of her youth. She remembered them distinctly, building up along the Western plains. They'd been terrifying in their intensity, but the young Wendee had felt only exhilaration, running wildly through the paddocks as lightning arrowed down around her, knowing that for a brief period of time she was truly alive.
Exactly as she felt now.
'Dr Williams?'
Even his voice was dangerous. Deep. Needy. She struggled to contain her childhood recklessness, damping it down with her adults fears. She was Dr Williams now, not Wendee.
She straightened her shoulders. 'Yes?'
'I didn't want to bother you. It's just, I have this problem…' he glanced around her office, either out of curiously or nervousness, she wasn't sure. 'The secretary said to come to you.'
Dee nodded, seeing the pieces fall into place. The Convener of First Year. She remembered the conversation now. As convener it was her responsibility was to listen to any first year student's problems, either with their work or personal dilemmas, then refer them on to whomever could help. It was a small responsibility she'd been unable to evade, but for which there'd been little call in any case.
Yet now, the one person she wanted to avoid, Billy McKenzie, was calling on that responsibility. Could it possibly be a coincidence? Or had he known she was the convener?
And why now, today?
He'd never spoken to her personally before, merely been one of many in her lectures or tutorials. What force had brought him to her right at this moment in time when her resistance was so low? Two weeks ago she'd imagined herself to have aroused him with her carnal thoughts. Had she drawn him to her now with her guilty longings? She stared at him, feeling the chaotic churn of desire raging just below her surface calm.
He was dressed in faded Levis and an unbuttoned shirt over a navy singlet of the same blue as the briefs she'd seen him in that night — briefs that had strained to confine his erection. Unconsciously, her gaze drifted to his crotch as that scene replayed itself in her mind. She remembered his tight abdominal muscles, the large tentative hand…
'Dr Williams?'
