Country At Heart

by Mandy Magro

  ‘Just tear it open, Dean. It’s more fun that way,’ Summer said, smiling. She wanted to ask him how he was coping, but at the moment the mood between them was light and happy and she didn’t want to ruin that by dragging out his heartache. They’d spoken enough about it via texts for now, and they’d have plenty of time later in the day to talk about Tommy, if Dean wanted to.

  Dean obliged, grinning from ear to ear when he spotted what was inside, a doona, a cover set featuring the Australian flag, two fluffy pillows and a laughing Buddha statue. Dean held up the statue, rubbing the Buddha’s belly.

  ‘Bloody brilliant, Summer, I love it! Thanks! How about we go in and deck the shack out with all this now?’

  Summer hesitated for a split second and Dean just as quickly picked up on it. He hurriedly put her at ease. ‘And I’m not dragging you in there to have my way with you, if that’s what you’re thinking …’

  Instantly relaxed, Summer nodded, clapping her hands together. ‘Let’s get to it.’

  They placed the Buddha near the front door, facing outwards, Summer explaining that his image was meant to evoke mindfulness and blessing to all who entered the shack. Then, happy with the statue’s new home, they padded off towards the bedroom, where Dean’s newly handmade rustic timber bed set sat in the otherwise empty room. Dean put the doona in its cover while Summer wrestled with a pillowcase. Frustrated it wouldn’t go on, she stomped her foot, grumbling to herself. Dean laughed at her, and Summer turned to face him, mischievousness written all over her face. Dean, being the alert soldier he was, picked up on the incoming attack before she even had time to strike, ducking just in time as Summer tried to knock him over with the pillow. Somersaulting across the bed in a comical fashion, he landed on the opposite side and grabbed the other pillow, poised to strike back, wriggling his eyebrows at Summer as if to say, ‘Come get me.’ Summer grinned, accepting his offer by striking out with the pillow once again, this time hitting him across the back. Dean responded, the two of them laughing as they ducked and weaved, skidding across the newly polished timber floors.

  After a few triumphant hits from Dean, Summer began to get the upper hand, and Dean surrendered by crouching to the floor, pillow positioned over his head, begging Summer for mercy in between his riotous laughter. Summer went to stop but Dean jumped up, a wicked grin awakening his dimples. He lashed out once again with the pillow, this time connecting with Summer and sending her sideways onto the bed. He knelt over her and pinned her down but Summer fought back with passion. Then the pillows collided, bursting in a shower of feathers.

  Her eyes squeezed shut from the shock of the exploding pillows, Summer opened them to see Dean kneeling above her, his head completely covered in feathers and blowing one from his mouth. They burst into uncontrollable laughter once again and she looked down at herself, covered in so many feathers she resembled a duck.

  The atmosphere in the bedroom shifted as their laugher subsided, the gravity of the tenderness they felt overwhelming them. Dean reached out and ran his thumb down Summer’s cheek, smiling in such a gentle way it made her heart melt.

  ‘Thank you, Summer, for making me laugh at a time I didn’t think I had any happiness left in me. My dad’s right, you truly are an amazing woman.’ He leant down and kissed her firmly, holding the kiss for what felt like forever, only pulling away to whisper to her, his voice husky with longing, ‘I’m madly in love with you, Summer Milton.’

  Summer’s heart swelled as Dean’s declaration of love filled her with absolute joy. ‘I love you too, Dean, and I think I always have, even before I met you. I feel like I’ve been searching for this missing piece of me, believing with all my heart that you were somewhere out there, looking for me too. And now I’ve found you, now that we’ve found each other, it’s even more powerful than I had ever imagined, this love I have for you. I don’t know how I’m going to say goodbye to you when you have to return to war.’ Pushing her face into his hand, Summer’s eyes welled with tears, the deep emotions Dean evoked in her overwhelming her and almost stealing her ability to breathe.

  Dean quickly wiped a tear that was rolling down her cheek, and brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Oh Summer, please don’t cry, I don’t like seeing you cry, it hurts my heart. Let’s be happy that we’ve got what we have, and focus on the now, live in the moment. You’ll cope with me going back to war, you’ll see.’

  Summer rolled on her side and Dean lay down beside her. Without needing to speak another word, they snuggled into one another, their bodies merging as if they were made from the same mould. Pulling Summer as close as he could, Dean breathed in her scent, the sensation of her skin against his heavenly. It was as though they were making love by just lying in each others arms, connecting in a way he’d never experienced before. He couldn’t explain how this had happened, how he had fallen for this spellbinding woman so quickly, but now he had, there was no way he could ever lose her. He would fight to the death, lay down his life; do anything he had to, for her.

  Gradually feeling Summer’s body relax into slumber, Dean closed his eyes too, relishing the fact they had a few hours before dinner and grateful he finally felt like he could drift off into dreamland without his mind tormenting him with vivid nightmares. Summer Milton was his sanctuary, his life, his everything. Nothing was going to ever stop him from loving her.

  CHAPTER

  12

  It was 10am New Year’s Eve, the day of the year when people came together to celebrate the end of another year, and rejoice in a totally new year to start afresh. The day when resolutions were made, laughter was universal and happy memories were created. It was certainly not a time anyone wanted to be burying a loved one, if there ever was a ‘right’ time for it. But today, for Dean, that was the case. Today, Tommy Walters would finally be laid to rest.

  The Tasmanian Blackwood coffin was draped in the Australian flag, the top left quarter of it strategically placed over where Tommy’s shoulder would be. Inside, along with Tommy, were Rebel’s cremated remains. The five hundred–strong crowd, including the prime minister, squashed into the tiny Edens Edge church and spilled out around the perimeter, most mourners dabbing wet eyes. Beside the coffin stood a large photo of Tommy in his cams, his arms fondly wrapped around Rebel’s furry neck, a huge toothy grin on his face and his eyes twinkling with life – a life that had been so heartbreakingly stolen from him. His boots had been placed at the foot of the stand, his hat rested on the top of the coffin beside a wreath of flowers. Jim Walters sat at the front of the church, between his wife and Tommy’s two children; his shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world was upon them while he comforted his loved ones as best he could.

  Clenching his jaw in an attempt to stop his tears, Dean clutched Summer’s hand and looked up to where Renee stood at the microphone, her voice breaking as she read out the last email Tommy had sent her from Afghanistan. ‘To my darling Renee, and my two beautiful children, Luke and Shelby, I miss you all so much, every second of every day. The photo I carry with me of you all is the only thing that brings me strength at the times I think I cannot go on. Yes, I am fighting for my country, but I am also fighting the never-ending battle within myself of not being able to see all your smiling faces on a daily basis. Not long now and I will be back home with you for Christmas. I can’t wait to hold you all in my arms again and kiss you over and over. Please give the kids a big kiss from their daddy. All my love, forever and always, Tommy.’

  There was not a dry eye in the church as Jim helped Renee down from the pulpit; her entire body leant against his as though she hadn’t an ounce of life left in her. Dean stood and straightened the black armband the short sleeve of his starched dress uniform, his eyes coming to rest on Summer’s, the compassion he found there consoling him. He’d told her she didn’t need to be here today, that he would never expect her to attend a funeral of a man she didn’t know, especially on New Year’s Eve, but she had insisted, saying she would be standing by his side and th
at was that. At first he’d been a little unsure of her attending, not wanting to put her through it, but now, her beautiful face looking up at him, he was so thankful that she was here. How lucky was he to have a woman like Summer Milton in his life.

  Clutching his crumpled speech in his trembling hands, Dean squeezed past his dad, Kimmy and Max, and headed up to the microphone, his heart wrenching out of his chest as he walked past the coffin. His best mate was gone, forever, and forever was a mighty long time to go without seeing a person he loved; he knew all too well the cavernous emptiness he’d feel for the rest of his life after losing his mother.

  Clearing his throat and taking a few moments to gather his thoughts and emotions, Dean slowly leant in to the microphone.

  ‘Tommy Walters was a courageous man, an honourable man, a devoted father and a loving husband, and he was my best mate. He was always the larrikin, never worrying about himself, grabbing any opportunity he could to make his fellow diggers laugh, to help ease the burden of being at war. He saved many lives in Afghanistan, those of the local people, and also of three fellow soldiers during the time he spent there. He was a fearless man, never taking a step backwards, always one of the first into the danger zone, his job perhaps one of the toughest on the modern-day battlefield. Tommy will remain a mischievous, tough, loving, twenty-four-year-old Anzac forever …’ His throat tightening with sadness, Dean turned away from the microphone. He blinked his tear-filled eyes then squeezed them shut, taking a few deep breaths, silently asking his mother to give him strength. He could get through this, he had to – it was his final way to show his respects to a wonderful lifelong mate. Wiping his cheeks, he turned back around, his eyes meeting his father’s, and then Kimmy’s, before coming to rest on Jim Walter. Jim gave him a nod; smiling softly as if to say, ‘Thanks for honouring my son.’ And through Jim, Dean found the strength he needed to continue speaking.

  ‘I feel very privileged to have known Tommy, to have been able to call him my mate, and I see so many of his wonderful qualities in his two beautiful children, Luke and Shelby. Let us all honour Tommy for his sacrifice, his bravery and for his devoted love of our community and country. Thank you, Tommy.’

  Placing the coffin on its stand, Dean and the other coffin bearers worked together to fold the Australian flag that draped Tommy’s coffin, being cautious not to let any part of the flag touch the ground. Carefully, he draped the flag over his arm; it would be framed and given to Tommy’s family.

  Stepping back from the coffin, he tried to keep his eyes from looking down into the earth Tommy would be buried in, the vision of it just too much to cope with. Summer slid her arm around his back, a gentle squeeze letting him know that she was here for him. He placed his free hand over hers, gently returning the squeeze, the connection between them powerful, poignant. How deep could his love go for this woman beside him, because it just seemed to grow stronger every passing day. They’d had limited time together as Summer had needed to spend time with her parents and he had to support Tommy’s family, but they’d managed to create intimate moments that would leave him with beautiful memories he’d hold in his heart when he went back to war in less than four days’ time.

  The graveside proceedings complete, a volley of shots was fired before the ‘Last Post’ began to play. Loud sobs burst from Tommy’s mother, as she buried her head in Jim’s chest and he wrapped his arms around her, her entire body trembling as she mourned the loss of her only son. Renee knelt on the ground; her children huddled to her side, their arms wrapped around one another as they wept. Dean kept his eyes on the coffin as it slowly began its final journey into the earth, believing with everything he had that Tommy’s and Rebel’s spirits were now soaring above the clouds.

  Peering over her bedroom balcony, Summer took in the scene before her. Twilight had descended and the entire backyard of the holiday house had been transformed into a glittering sea of candles set among lavishly laid tables and intricately decorated day beds. Chefs were at open-air kitchens preparing mouth-watering canapés while smartly dressed wait staff walked about the sizeable crowd. A blues band played on the stage, the huge disco ball suspended above the musicians sending a plethora of colours across the dance floor. Ladies in cocktail dresses daintily holding champagne flutes gathered in clusters, their laughter travelling on the gentle sea breeze, while men in suits were gathered in groups and probably discussing the ways of the world. Summer knew how these parties worked; she’d attended them for most of her life. Normally she looked forward to socialising, enjoying the opportunity to catch up with friends she hadn’t seen in ages, but tonight, after being at Tommy’s funeral, all she wanted to do was spend some quiet time with Dean.

  Gazing out over the crowd she spotted Marcus, his arm entwined with an unfamiliar young woman. A wave of nausea washed over her. Although she was beginning to come to terms with that horrible night, Summer was dreading running into him, and hoped he steered well clear of her. But who was she kidding? How was he going to react when he realised she was with Dean, after telling him she wasn’t ready for a relationship? For that matter, how was her dad going to react when he met Dean? She and her mum had gently broken the news that she had met a man to him last night over dinner, and her father had been openly annoyed, especially when she had mentioned Dean’s last name. He’d glared at her mother like she was a criminal. And he was still hell-bent on reuniting her with Marcus. If only he knew what Marcus had done, that would definitely change his mind. But she wasn’t about to tell him, especially after promising Marcus she wouldn’t – it would only create drama in everyone’s lives, and she didn’t want that. She just wanted to forget it had ever happened and move forwards.

  Raised voices came from her mum and dad’s bedroom, their verandah only a few metres away from hers, but before she could focus on what was being said, silence fell and a door slammed, then heavy footsteps stomped off down the hallway. Her parents quite often had heated discussions, but now, with all their guests to attend to? It was very out of character for them.

  Looking at her watch, Summer swore under and breath and rushed back to her bathroom mirror, adding the final touches of black mascara, a little blush and some red lipstick. Stepping back so she could see her reflection in full, she adjusted the plunging neckline of her silky red dress to make sure it was giving her coverage where needed then, satisfied with how she looked, slipped her feet into her diamanté Gucci shoes. Grabbing her matching clutch from the bed, her recently straightened hair tickling her bare back, she dashed out of her bedroom to the room where Fiona was getting dressed.

  Rapping a few times on the door, Summer jiggled on the spot, eager to get downstairs so she was there when Dean arrived. His father had graciously declined the invitation, saying he was too drained after the funeral, which Summer completely understood. She still couldn’t help but wonder if there was another reason – something to do with her mother. She was surprised that Dean felt like coming, having looked like death warmed up when she’d dropped him back home this afternoon. But she was overjoyed he was going to be here, so she could kiss his gorgeous lips at midnight.

  ‘Hey Fi, you decent, chicky?’

  The door swung open, Fiona’s cheery face lifting Summer’s spirits. ‘Am I ever decent, Sums?’

  Summer giggled while admiring how beautiful Fiona looked. ‘I don’t know about that, but I tell you what, my friend, you scrub up pretty good. You look smokin’ hot, toots.’

  ‘She looks bloody stunning, doesn’t she?’ A male voice pulled Summer’s attention over Fiona’s shoulder and she saw Bailey beaming at her. ‘She’ll be lucky to leave this room with that dress intact if she doesn’t go downstairs soon. Talk about teasing a bloke.’

  Summer grinned. Bailey and Fiona had really hit it off, the pair of them inseparable since first laying eyes on one another. Just because Bailey was best mates with Marcus didn’t mean Summer couldn’t like him. ‘Well, you two lovebirds, I’m going to get down to the party. I’ll see you both there, and w
ith your dress intact I hope, Fi!’ Summer winked.

  Fiona winked back. ‘Phillip and his boyfriend, Justin, should be here soon, too. Can you keep your eye out for them, mate, and if you see them, just let them know I’ll be down soon?’

  ‘No probs, toots,’ Summer said, before giving her mate a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Catch you down there.’

  Passing through the kitchen, Summer stopped to give Astrid a kiss on the cheek. ‘What are you doing in here, Astrid? You’re not meant to be working tonight. Get out there and enjoy yourself.’

  ‘I know, I know, but Boris is, well, is being Boris, and he’s complaining that there’s no real food. So I’m making him a sandwich with the leftover sausages from breakfast.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Men, can’t live with them, can’t live without them.’ Astrid looked her up and down, and whistled. ‘My goodness, you look absolutely beautiful, Summer.’

  Summer twirled once, her dress floating about her knees. ‘Thanks, Astrid, you look pretty damn hot yourself.’ She tapped her on the arm, dropping her voice. ‘Look out, Boris is going to want to get lucky tonight with you looking like that!’

  Astrid playfully slapped her. ‘Now, now, there’ll be no talk of hanky-panky from you, young lady.’ Her broad smile faded and she held Summer’s eyes, as though trying to read her thoughts. ‘Is everything okay between you and Marcus? From what he told me, I thought you were going to give it another go? But your mother told me you had met a special man, and he’s coming tonight. I’m a little confused.’

  Summer felt her face flush a bright shade of red. ‘I’m not sure what Marcus has told you, but nothing’s going on between us. And yes, I’ve met an amazing man and I’m completely head over heels in love with him. Marcus is just going to have to deal with the fact he and I are never getting back together … It’ll all smooth out eventually.’

  Astrid gave her a sceptical look, but smiled nonetheless. ‘Good, that’s what I like to hear. Now you go have fun while I find a way to sneak this sandwich out to Boris. How embarrassing if anyone spots him eating this when there’s all that beautiful food out there.’