Free Violets in February by Clare Revell Page B

her stubborn streak was sometimes the only thing outside of her faith that kept her going.
    Jed yanked open her door. “Let’s get you settled, and I’ll put the billy on.”
    “I could do with finding a bathroom first,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “One with a seat, running water and no livestock.”
    He gave a short laugh. “In that case, sit tight a few, and I’ll see what I can do.”
    Twenty minutes later, she had to admit his best was pretty good. He’d improvised and not only was it snake free, it was private, dry and she’d been able to sit. Now she half lay on the truck bed, her leg propped up on his rucksack.
    Jed sat by a small camp fire he’d built towards the back of the hut. His shirt hung over the flames in an attempt to dry it properly. A blanket lay across his shoulders. The flickering light illuminated the tattoos on his upper torso. She counted four, five including the one she knew of on his back, but there could be more.
    He looked at her. “You should sleep.”
    “So should you.”
    He grunted.
    Lucy’s gaze fell on the pot of violets. “Who are the flowers for?”
    “You. I never got to deliver them.”
    She reached out and picked them up. “For me? Is there a card?”
    “No, there wasn’t.”
    She held his gaze. “So I won’t know who to thank.”
    A strange expression crossed his face. “Why thank them?”
    “Because I was brought up to believe that saying thank you is the done thing when someone gives you a present; especially something as unexpected and beautiful as these flowers.”
    He shrugged. “Well, I’m sure whoever sent them knows you’ll love them without a written thank you letter.”
    She nodded slowly. Setting the plant back in the crate, she slid down a little, trying to get comfortable. Pain shot through her, and she gasped, biting her lip to prevent a full blown cry escaping.
    Jed stood and crossed over to her. “I can give you another shot.”
    “No,” she whispered. “I’ll manage.”
    He shook his head. “Have you got kangaroos loose in the top paddock, or something?”
    “Huh?” She did pretty well with his slang, but that was beyond her.
    He made the crazy sign with his finger.
    “No,” she muttered.
    He shoved the med box at her. “Then take the blasted meds and get some shut eye. You choose the one you want.”
    “OK.” She pulled out the prepared shot and gave it to him. Then she tugged her phone from her pocket and opened the Bible app.
    “You won’t get a signal out here,” he told her as he gave her the shot.
    “Don’t need one to read.” She rubbed her arm.
    He tidied up. “What ya reading?”
    “Mark’s gospel.” She paused at the look of distaste that crossed his face. “What do you have against Christians? It’s obvious you don’t like us much.”
    “With good reason.” He made sure the fire was secure, then got into the front of the truck.
    “Why’s that?”
    “Doesn’t matter.”
    She twisted to see him settled against the door, his wide-brimmed hat over his eyes and legs stretched over the two front seats. She’d wondered if he ever wore it, as she hadn’t seen him do so while driving. “You’re not sleeping back here?” she asked. “There’s room.”
    He shook his head. “Here’s fine.”
    “OK.” She turned her attention back to her phone. The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God…
    ~*~
    Jed jerked awake, his heart pounding, senses on full alert. What had woken him? Something hit his arm. “Hey.” He swatted whatever it was away.
    “Stop snoring, and I’ll stop throwing things at you.” Lucy sounded tired and irate.
    He sat upright, rubbing the back of his neck. He must have slept awkwardly, as it hurt. “I was not.”
    “Were, too.”
    He settled down again, putting his hat over his face, before closing his eyes. Something hit his arm again. “Will you stop that?” he muttered.
    “You’ll be far more comfortable over here. Or do you always sleep sitting