Windflowers

by Tamara McKinley

  Jack seemed emboldened by her declaration and before she knew it he’d pushed away from the table and was embracing her. She struggled to shake him off, but found she needed him to hold her – needed to feel his warmth and his strength. ‘This is very unbecoming,’ she muttered, her face buried in his shirt. ‘I don’t know what’s come over me.’

  *

  Aurelia slowly emerged from the memories to the brightness of a midday sun. Yet a part of her still remained in that soft night when there had just been the two of them and the scent of the roses. It was strange how the memories should be so lucid and immediate, as if the hands on the clock had turned back and the intervening years were still to come.

  She looked out over the pastures that shimmered in the heat and breathed in the scent of Ellie’s roses. The same perfume had accompanied her during the hours following Jack’s departure to the bunk house, she remembered. When she had needed the tranquillity of the night to think following his shattering news and her reaction to his declaration of love. Now, every time she smelled their perfume she was taken back.

  She had sat in her old rocking chair staring over the darkened land as she thought about his proposal. Jack Withers was a man of hidden depths, she’d realised. A man of honour she would be proud to marry. Yet she’d been unsure of her own feelings, and despite Jack’s obvious sincerity, had been unwilling to commit herself. For marriage would change things between them, take their friendship to another level that could ultimately destroy them – for there were no guarantees in this life, and living with someone was very different to the long-distance companionship they had then.

  She’d been a widow too long. Had struggled to survive one of the harshest environments in the world for too many years to fall victim to something as ethereal and misunderstood as romantic love. As she had stared out at the silent pastures and the all-encompassing night sky all those years ago, she’d realised she was set in her ways and perhaps too independent – and Jack was not the sort of man to take a back seat. It was a recipe for disaster.

  Aurelia’s sigh echoed the one from the past. She’d learned that to love too deeply could be a weakness – a weakness that manifested itself only when that love was snatched away. As it had when Philip died. She’d mourned for months, the sadness turning to rage at the unfairness of it all until she’d been forced to accept the bitter truth that she was never meant to know the joy of children, or the peace of growing old with the man she loved. Yet she’d learned to live with loneliness, of being regarded as a queer fish among the other cattlemen, had survived drought and flood, pestilence and fire, and had finally been gifted with Ellie to love as her own. Perhaps her reluctance to accept Jack’s proposal had more to do with tempting fate than her fear of commitment?

  Aurelia’s eyes closed and as sleep took her she saw again that slow smile. The smile that transformed Jack’s rugged face and made his eyes dance with humour and love. Could feel his warmth and hear the beat of his heart. It was comforting to know he was near.

  *

  The passionate night had been followed by one of their heated arguments. Angel was attempting to put the boot in about the amount of work she was doing, and Leanne was having none of it. She was independent and perfectly capable of running Jarrah, and she didn’t need her husband telling her what to do. Breakfast had been an awkward affair and Leanne sensed Angel was as relieved as she to hear the approaching thunder of hoofs. ‘They’re here,’ she said unnecessarily as she reached for her hat. ‘Better get on.’

  He barred her way as she approached the screen door. ‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ he said firmly. ‘But you are my wife and I don’t think you should work so hard. I am the man of the house. You should listen to me and know I only want what is best for you.’ His dark eyes looked down at her, the humour touching the corners of his sensuous mouth. ‘We can kiss and make up tonight.’

  Leanne could have slapped him. But she didn’t. It wouldn’t solve anything. Angel was a macho Argentine with very fixed ideas when it came to women. She would just have to let him think he was in charge and go her own sweet way, and if he thought sex was the answer to everything, he had a nasty shock coming. She smiled sweetly, pretending to relent. ‘No worries,’ she said gruffly. ‘I just hate mornings.’ She rammed her hat over her curls. ‘We’ll talk later,’ she muttered.

  He smiled and held the door open for her. ‘You are very fiery when you are cross,’ he murmured. ‘I like spirit in a woman.’

  Leanne could feel her temper reach boiling point. ‘Really?’ she said with heavy irony. ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, hombre, so watch out.’ She pushed past him and stomped across the yard to the stables.

  The cloud of dust swirled around the men and the cattle as they approached the distant dipping pens and stockyards. The crack of stock-whips split the air putting birds to flight, and the complaints of the bullocks was a rumble beneath the shouts of the drovers and the excited barking of the Blue Heelers. The country surrounding the two stations had been mustered in segments, and at the end of each day the bullocks were drafted off and penned in the holding paddocks, the rest of the mob left to wander back out on the plains again. It was the easiest method of handling the vast herds, and the quickest way to get through them. At the end of the muster her father and the head stockman would have spent another two days drafting off anything doubtful so only the best were trucked to market.

  ‘Good looking beasts,’ said Angel as they approached the holding pens. ‘Your dad certainly knows his cattle.’

  So do I, she thought fiercely. ‘He’s had years of experience,’ she replied as the bullocks poured into the holding yards. ‘Used to drove the old stock-route to Longreach.’

  ‘Where is he, by the way? I was hoping to have a word with him.’

  Leanne eyed him suspiciously as she climbed out of the saddle and dropped the reins. No doubt he wanted to discuss her running of Jarrah. ‘He’s out with the others. You won’t see him until the last mob comes in.’

  Conversation came to a halt as they each set about their own tasks. Angel was soon lost amongst the cattle and Leanne was kept busy helping the stock boys. She grabbed a long pole and climbed the railings surrounding the concrete plunge. The bullocks complained and propped as they were forced up the race into the pit that was over six foot deep and fifty yards long. Leanne and the stock boys poked them with their long poles, making sure each beast was thoroughly immersed as it swam through the witches brew of evil smelling arsenic that would kill their ticks. It was important they were tick free and in the best of health, otherwise they wouldn’t be allowed to go to market.

  With the first thousand head passed as fit, Leanne helped supervise their loading on to the fleet of Warratah’s road trains. These enormous articulated trucks often pulled five or six trailers behind them and were the quickest way of transporting stock through the outback. They were an awesome sight as they hammered down the bitumen, usually shrouded in an impenetrable cloud of dust, but woe-betide the hapless motorist who got trapped behind them or tried to pass – it was a growing hazzard, one she’d experienced herself.

  Leanne liked to hear her father’s stories of the old days, and she knew he missed the romance that surrounded those great cattle droves. But time had moved on. Gone were the days when the stockmen had to drive the animals hundreds of miles from water-hole to water-hole. Gone was the insecurity of not knowing how many beasts would make the journey during the dry, for the losses through thirst, lameness, sickness and theft had been high. With the arrival of the road trains most of the old tracks like the Birdsville and Canning Stock Route were no longer maintained and many of the water-holes were polluted.

  Angel came to stand beside her as the first road train left. His pristine moleskins were red from the dirt and dust, his shirt sticking damply to his broad chest. He smeared a forearm over his brow as he took off his hat. ‘It’s a shame you can’t slaughter the animals here and transport the carcasses,’ he murmured. ‘Must be hell cramped up
in those trailers.’

  ‘We’d end up with rotten meat,’ she said firmly. ‘Refrigeration’s still too unreliable.’ She looked at him and smiled. ‘The drivers know they have to stop to feed and water them regularly. They’ll be right.’

  He grinned as he put on his hat. ‘Reckon we’ve earned a tucker stop ourselves,’ he said. ‘I’m starving.’

  Leanne thought of the casserole she’d left simmering in the slow oven and her mouth watered. They’d eaten nothing since breakfast and now it was almost the end of the day. She changed her mind about having nothing to do with him, and her imagination took flight as he drew her close and kissed her. Perhaps there would be time for a shower first, and a change into the green shirt and clean moleskins before they drank gin and tonics on the verandah and watched the sun go down. As she visualised the cosy meal they could share before making love in their big old bed, the ache eased in her back and weariness fled. Perhaps the day hadn’t turned out so badly after all.

  8

  The stand of trees was over the brow of a low hill and down in the dip where the billabong watered the pastures. Joe brought his horse to a standstill and climbed down. His face was mostly in shadow, illuminated only by the fire of the last of the sunset as he reached for Ellie. Yet she could see his eyes and the love that shone there. Could feel the electricity between them as his strong hands lifted her from Clipper’s back.

  He held her close and she felt the beat of his heart. Closing her eyes she breathed in the scent of soap and leather and knew she would remember this moment for ever. They were so close – their lips a breath apart. She wanted him to kiss her. Was longing to taste the sweetness she knew was there. Yet she could see the questions in his eyes and could sense this was not the right moment and when he set her on her feet it was as if they were of one accord.

  He took her hand and led her to the stand of trees, and there, beneath the branches of a coolibah tree lay a blanket, a basket and a fire waiting to be lit. ‘I thought we could have a picnic,’ he drawled.

  Ellie sat on the blanket as he set the fire alight and hooked up the billy. She trembled with unfamiliar emotions as he unpacked the basket and laid out the chicken and ham and cold potatoes he’d persuaded the cook to give him. She knew him so well, and yet tonight he was different. Tonight it was as if he was trying to prepare her for something – something, that in her innocence, she only vaguely understood – something that would change them and the way they thought of one another for ever.

  They sat closely together on the blanket as they ate morsels of chicken and ham and laughed as butter oozed down their chins from the coal-hot damper. Words were almost unnecessary, but as the meal progressed she could feel the tension between them.

  ‘There are things I need to say, Ellie,’ he began after the food was packed away. ‘But first I want you to understand that I love you.’

  His simple words made her want to cry. She ran her fingers over the strong chin and chiselled face. ‘I love you too,’ she whispered.

  He took her hands and clasped them between his own, holding them against his chest so she could feel the drum of life course through him. ‘I need you to be sure,’ he whispered.

  She nodded, unable to speak – the emotion of that moment was too great.

  He smiled and pressed his cheek against her hands, turning the palms so he could plant a kiss in them. ‘You’re more precious to me than anything,’ he murmured, his green eyes glimmering in the light of the quarter moon. ‘And I will do nothing to hurt you – ever.’

  The blood sang in her ears as his lips caressed her face. She melted into his embrace as his mouth sought hers and they kissed for the first time. It was a kiss far removed from the fumbling awkwardness she’d experienced with Seamus, for now the world and the moonlight floated around her. It was as if she was on a drifting cloud and nothing else existed but the scent and feel of the man she loved.

  They eventually drew apart and, despite his hands resting lightly at her waist, she felt bereft like an island adrift in a great sea of dappled moonlight. She trembled from the sheer force of needing him. Longed for his kiss to last for ever, culminating in that final act that would make them one. For surely this was the reason he’d brought her here?

  His lips brushed her cheek. His words echoing her thoughts as if he could read them. ‘It wouldn’t be right, Ellie,’ he murmured. ‘Not now.’ His mouth touched her cheek with the delicacy of a butterfly, sending shivers of longing through her as he spoke against her skin. ‘I want our first time to be when we’re married,’ he whispered. ‘Not out here in secret as if we have something to be ashamed of.’ He cupped her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. ‘Every part of me is crying out to make you mine, but this isn’t the place – or the right time.’

  Ellie drew away. Now, as she looked into those wonderful eyes she understood the reason for his reluctance – the real reason he’d brought her here tonight. Dread made her reach for him and she touched his face as if by transmitting her fear he would change his mind about leaving. For she wanted to live this magic moment a while longer before he destroyed it.

  He captured her hand and kissed the palm before holding it to his cheek. ‘I have to be in Cloncurry tomorrow,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘Then love me,’ she pleaded. ‘Now, Joe. I want.’

  He silenced her with a kiss. ‘It wouldn’t be right,’ he said. ‘Not with me leaving tomorrow.’ He held her at arms’ length. ‘What if there was a baby? I wouldn’t want you to go through the shame that would cause. What if I didn’t come back?’

  Her gasp of pain seared the night as she clung to him. ‘Don’t say that,’ she demanded. ‘Never even think it.’

  ‘Promise you’ll wait for me, Ellie?’

  Ellie fell into his embrace. He was her anchor, her rock, and she clung to him with fierce determination. The ache for him had begun. The pain of having to let him go already sharp. Yet she knew she had to release him. Had to let him follow his destiny before he could return to her. And he would return – she was certain of that. Yet her youthfulness made it hard to express her feelings, and she had only the cliches of her favourite penny romances to help her. ‘I’ll wait for you,’ she promised. ‘I’ll wait until hell freezes over and the moon falls into the sea.’

  Ellie had stolen back to the homestead as the sky began to lighten and was surprised to see Aurelia waiting for her. Devastated by Joe’s plans, yet soaring with the joy of knowing he loved her, nevertheless Ellie soon realised her aunt had her own concerns. In the few short hours before daybreak they grew closer than ever. No longer aunt and niece, but two women who shared the dread of an uncertain future.

  The short flight to Cloncurry later that morning was over too soon, and as Ellie and Joe followed Aurelia and Jack out of the aerodrome, they knew their time together was almost over. A silence grew between them, words held back, thoughts kept tightly under control as they made their way hand in hand to the town centre.

  Cloncurry looked as if it had been startled out of its usual somnolence and was dressed in bunting and flags, the brass band playing inexpertly on the town’s racecourse. Utilities and cars and wagons and horses filled the streets as the locals mingled with the visitors for this special day, and the pubs were doing a roaring trade if the singing was anything to go by.

  Ellie noticed the line of army trucks and the huddles of stalwart women as they watched their menfolk being taken away. It was a forceful reminder of why they were here. Determined not to give in to tears and histrionics, Ellie forced herself to remain calm as Joe tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. These were their last few moments together for what could be months – or even years. She was damned if she was going to spoil them.

  She noticed the other girls eyeing him as they walked towards the tiny park on the edge of town and lifted her chin in pride. He was her man and he was handsome in the tan uniform, with the hat tilted at a rakish angle over his dark hair and the shadow already appearing on his square
chin despite having shaved earlier. Yet he had eyes only for her. Wonderful eyes that were as green as winter grass between the thick black lashes.

  ‘Let’s sit down here,’ he said as they reached a grassy patch beneath a giant red gum that was smothered in blossom.

  Ellie glanced around. They weren’t the only ones seeking these last few moments together, she realised. There were family men whose wives and children clung to them. Boys that looked impossibly young and surely not eligible for call-up whose mothers were doing their best not to fuss over them, and men whose faces looked familiar, but whose names she couldn’t recall.

  She sat on the grass, heedless of staining the cotton dress she’d worn especially, almost numb from the effort of having to keep her emotions under tight control. That’s how things were these days, all buttoned up, tight and constricted – for a careless word or thought could strip away the veneer and leave a person vulnerable. ‘There’s so much I want to say,’ she began. ‘But I can’t think – can’t find the words.’

  He traced a finger over her cheek and down to her chin. ‘There’s nothing to say,’ he murmured. ‘We know what’s in our hearts and that’s enough.’ He caught a strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. ‘Did you know that the Aborigines believe each of us has a spirit song? That this song can only be heard by the singer’s soul mate?’ He leaned close, resting his forehead on hers, his gaze reaching deep within her. ‘Listen, Ellie,’ he murmured. ‘Listen beyond all this noise and hear the wind in the trees and the beautiful note of the bellbird. That’s our song and it will help keep us strong until we find one another again.’

  Ellie thought it was a lovely idea, and although she only half believed it she was willing to accept it as fact if it made Joe’s leaving easier for him. They kissed softly and with such sweet tenderness she thought her heart would break.