Stars over Shiralee

by Sheryl McCorry

  The next morning I awoke and I knew my body had really let go of the past. ‘I’m free, free, free!’ I cried out to no one but myself as I ran through the back paddock, dancing and twirling in the brilliant spring sunshine, the crisp cool air fresh against my cheeks. I felt the enormous weight of sorrow had lifted from my shoulders. I was truly ready to start living again.

  *

  It was getting known around the district that I was living back on the Shiralee, and neighbouring farmers dropped by to offer a helping hand. Some would stop for a cuppa and leave homemade cakes and biscuits. It is wonderful to be surrounded by such good kind neighbours, both men and women.

  In just a few months back at the Shiralee I felt more at home than I had in all the time since old McCorry died. I was beginning to think I was acclimatising to life in the south — so much tamer than it was in the Kimberley — when we had a ripper of a storm.

  News flashed across the local radio and TV channel early one evening that violent weather was expected in the south-west, with winds up to a hundred and thirty kilometres an hour. We put the tractors and trailers in the large shed by the farmhouse, and all smaller items into the lock-up shed, then retired to bed to see what the night would bring. About 10 pm gusting southerly winds buffeted the farmhouse windows, rattling the glass and whistling in through the cracks. The power failed and plunged us into darkness. I heard the crashing of a eucalyptus gum tree hitting the ground, then another crash, which I hoped wasn’t my bird-attracting flowering gum by the house fence. By torchlight, however, I discovered it was.

  ‘Mum,’ said Robby, ‘I reckon the wind is that strong it could blow a dog off its chain.’

  I wondered what would be destroyed next. Inside, I checked the ceilings for leaks and found water running down the walls of the spare bedroom. We brought towels, rags and buckets to stem the flow, then I thought, bugger this, the work wasn’t going to go away. ‘Let’s go to bed and face the mess in the morning,’ I said to Robby and Tara and it wasn’t long before I was snuggled down in my warm comfy bed, the covers pulled over my head. Whatever the storm was doing out there, I slept like a baby.

  Next morning while surveying the extent of the damage, I received a phone call from my new friend Michael. ‘How did you weather the storm, any damage?’ he asked in his deep voice.

  ‘Not too good,’ I said, ‘trees over everywhere.’

  ‘Do you want a hand? I’ve got two chainsaws, I could bring them down and help out,’ he offered.

  I hesitated. It was a lovely offer, and I did want to see him again, but something made me hold back from saying yes. I needed to stand on my own two feet for a while. I had only just found my own belief in myself and I wasn’t going to give that away again, ever.

  Weeks later, however, there was another wild storm. By morning, this one had brought down a large tree, blocking access to the cattle-loading ramp and putting several trees over the boundary fences as well. Michael was due to arrive that day with the herd of Angus cattle I had bought from him. Not only was access blocked, but the fences needed repair or the cattle would easily be over them — and would beat Michael’s truck back to his Kojonup farm if they were so inclined.

  My own chainsaw went on the blink after the first few cuts, and with the cattle arriving that afternoon I called Michael. ‘If you want to unload these cattle you’ll have to bring your chainsaw,’ I said.

  ‘What are you going to do, cut the cattle yard up for firewood?’ he said and laughed. Well, he would laugh, not having seen my new steel yards. I wasn’t feeling so happy about the storm’s trail of destruction — he’d see the Shiralee when it looked a mess. But he said, ‘I’ve done nothing but fix up fallen-down farms all my life, so this won’t be a problem.’ I thought, Holy hell, you sound like my sort of guy.

  ‘Do you have a tractor?’ he asked. ‘I’ll bring both chainsaws and the fencing gear.’

  By sundown, with Michael’s help, we were in a position to release the cattle into the now secure paddocks. A week later he returned to the Shiralee and helped me repair the electric fencing. As we worked side by side, laughing and joking through the long day, we found we enjoyed each other’s company. He was a very playful man. We were out near the dam when he suddenly dropped his fencing tools, grabbed me and threw me over his shoulders as if I were light as a feather, then ran towards the dam with me screaming my head off. He stopped just two steps from the muddy edge, his strong arms holding me firmly as he lowered me slowly down in front of him. For all his size and strength he was a very gentle person. I shivered; I could feel the warmth of his body, but I could not lift my face to his yet. I was still a little wary of men, only slowly beginning to admit the possibility that there might really be decent men to be found.

  Michael understood how I was feeling, because he had been in a disastrous relationship too. He had battled in a marriage to a woman who already had four children from as many different men, who loved the plonk more than the man, and who had no qualms about shoving the barrel of a loaded rifle into his stomach or holding a butcher’s knife to his throat in view of their little daughter. Luckily for everyone he was strong enough to report these incidents, and man enough not to have retaliated.

  I felt as if I had known Michael forever, he was so easy to talk to and get along with. There was not a trace of the mockery and ridicule I had grown to expect in my relationship with Terry.

  He was an impressive farmer too, and that counted for a lot with me. He worked the whole outfit alone, managing eight hundred head of fine Angus breeder cows and their offspring, as well as an Angus stud, and putting anything from three thousand to three and a half thousand head of mixed young cattle for fattening through his feedlot in any one season.

  ‘I don’t know how you do it, this is a three-man show,’ I said, amazed, when he showed me around Forrest Downs. ‘It’s a tough job.’

  As our friendship grew, so did our respect for one another. He would help me on the Shiralee, and in return Robby, Tara and I would go up to his farm each week and help him process two to four hundred head of young cattle through his yards. Working with Michael was more like fun than work, and we all enjoyed it immensely. If something went wrong he dealt with it with good humour.

  Leisha took an instant liking to him. ‘He’s fair dinkum, Mum. I know he’d never let anything bad happen to you,’ she told me calmly. ‘He’s not selfish, it’s not all about him — and I have never seen you so happy.’ I didn’t say anything to that.

  ‘I bet your mojo’s come back,’ she said with a mischievous smile.

  ‘Leisha Marie, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said, trying to keep a straight face.

  ‘Mum, all we want is to see you happy, especially after everything you’ve been through.’

  ‘I am happy, darling,’ I said. ‘But I have to go carefully, you must understand that.’

  ‘Let the past go, Mum,’ said my wise girl. ‘There’s a liveliness and enthusiasm about you now. It’s wonderful to see you let your spirit fly.’

  How true it was, I thought, that God’s greatest gift to us is the people who love us.

  *

  One evening Michael was driving me home when he said, ‘I’ll wait for you as long as I have to — so long as I’m not wasting my time.’

  Holy hell, I thought, that’s laying it on the line, and I suddenly burst out laughing, probably because I was nervous.

  Michael started to stutter and stumble with his words, trying to explain himself more clearly, and I realised in that moment that he was sincere, that his intentions were warm and honourable. I realised too that since I had known him I had been waiting for things to turn ugly. Part of me just expected that they would. But they hadn’t because he was a truly decent man.

  ‘I like you a lot,’ he finally managed. ‘I don’t want to frighten you away.’

  I let myself sink into a deep feeling of contentment. I liked this man too, very much. I could no longer deny to myself that I was falling for th
is rugged bushy. I loved his steady good humour and playfulness.

  I had begun to refer to him as my ‘gentle giant’ when talking with my family. My parents were very happy for me. They came down to the Shiralee after my glowing reports, anxious to meet him, and found Michael to be a kind and happy person. Best of all, he had put the twinkle back in their daughter’s eyes.

  Best of all for me was the difference in Robby. With Tara he had grown into himself; gone was the anguish that had burdened him while I remained with Terry. Laughter filled his eyes now and he had an enormous zest for living. Robby and Tara both had a wonderful connection with Michael. Happiness embraced my entire family, and as a mother I could not ask for more.

  Throughout my life I have observed that my intuition has nearly always been right — if only I’d had the courage to believe in it, I might have saved myself and my children a lot of heartache. Now it’s telling me I have met my gentle giant, a man who isn’t out to impress anyone; an honest, hard-working gentle man; a genuine and compassionate human being.

  As the weeks turned into months, our friendship developed into a deep love for one another. Sitting together one evening on the back verandah at the Shiralee, feeling the electricity between us grow, so that a brush of his arm as he reached for his cup made me shiver, my only worry was whether I would be able to give myself to Michael completely, having been celibate the past seven years. But I need not have been concerned.

  As the sun set to the west of the Shiralee, and the evening star rose high in the night sky, our desire to be together only grew. Our eyes met and my gentle giant lifted me in his strong arms and carried me across the threshold and into my bedroom. My yearning to be held in my loving man’s arms was finally satisfied and our feelings for each other were released in alternating waves of slow tenderness and uncontrolled passion the whole star-studded night long.

  As I lay in Michael’s arms contemplating a happy future together, I realised the emptiness had left my soul, replaced by deep love and a new enthusiasm for life.

  As morning came I tapped him on the chin. His eyes flew open and his face lit up in a beautiful smile.

  ‘Do you realise, you bushy old bastard,’ I said, ‘you’ve got one hell of a grip on my heart.’

  Acknowledgements

  A big thank you to Alex Craig of Pan Macmillan for believing I had another book in me. Thank you also to my editor Janet Blagg for convincing me to let my feelings flow, and making the process so easy — it was truly enjoyable to work with you. Thank you Tara for typing the whole manuscript for me.

  Special love to all my family, you know who you are, and to you Michael.