The Last Mile Home

by Di Morrissey

  This silence was worrying. Doubts crept into her mind. Had he given up on her, and decided he liked his life of freedom? Had he met someone else, or had it all become an impossible dream? She knew she had to hang on as she had been doing all these months, drifting in limbo, only thinking of one day at a time. She sighed and opened her eyes, the day of reckoning would soon arrive.

  She dragged herself from the water and asked Kevin to take Brian into the water to rinse off at least some of the mud.

  ‘I’m not having a bath with him tonight,’ declared Colleen.

  The wet group trudged towards home.

  ‘Wish I had a bike,’ sighed Kevin. ‘I’d be home by now.’

  ‘Ask Santa,’ said Shirley.

  ‘Oh sure,’ muttered Kevin. ‘I think Santa Claus is going to bring baby stuff this year,’ he said, giving Abby a wink.

  ‘Santa doesn’t bring babies, that’s the stork,’ said Colleen.

  ‘What do you want for Christmas, Ab?’ asked Kevin.

  ‘A healthy little baby.’

  This set the girls off on their favourite game — would it be a girl or boy and what would ‘it’ be called.

  When the letter finally came, Abby turned it over in her hands, smoothing it, looking at his handwriting and the postmark, Katherine. For a moment her heart flipped, then a warm feeling came over her. This had passed from Barney’s hand to hers. She read it slowly.

  My darling Abby,

  This is the big letter. I’ve been crazy these past few weeks, for various reasons. I was put in touch with a fellow who works for a pastoral company that owns a big station up here — a thousand square miles with roughly six thousand head, they reckon —no one’s mustered for some time and, are you sitting down Ab? I’ve got the job as manager! I’ve been over the place. Decent sort of a house, some Aboriginal hands, and a lot of opportunity. They want to sink a lot of money into the property and they reckon I’m the chap to get it up and running at a profit.

  So Abby, this is our chance. I’m doing this for you and for our baby. I want you to come up and be my wife and start this new life with me. I hope one day my father will come round but right now all I can think of is us being together, being a family. A family like yours. You have made your stand, but things are different, now we have a future. Please, marry me, Abby. With this job we are both starting on an equal footing and together we can make each other happy. Tell me yes, my darling, and I will be there for the birth of the baby and our wedding — just name the day. I love you, and I always will.’

  Barney

  Abby handed the letter to her parents after dinner. Gwen read it first, pausing a couple of times to look briefly at Abby and give a hint of a smile. She handed the letter to Bob, who read without lifting his eyes, then handed it back to Abby.

  ‘I get the impression the bloke’s in love with you, Abby,’ said Bob, leaning back in his chair, and the ice was broken. The three of them laughed, but for Abby the laugh only masked the internal conflict that the letter refuelled.

  ‘Katherine? That’s a long way from here,’ observed Gwen, sensing how Abby felt and trying to get her talking. ‘Way up in Never Never Land . . . Well, that’s what we learned to call it in school. Remember reading We of the Never Never, Abby?’

  ‘Yes, Mum. You don’t forget books like that. Never thought it would come into my life though.’

  ‘Has it?’ asked Bob quietly. ‘Has it really come into your life in the way Barney wants it to?’

  Abby turned the letter over and over in her hands and looked from one parent to the other, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I don’t know . . . I don’t know.’ She stood, pushing the letter into her pocket. ‘Mum . . . Dad . . . I do love him . . . so much . . . but I just don’t know. I’m going out for a walk for a little while.’

  Gwen and Bob watched her go . ‘Poor girl,’ said Gwen, reaching out for Bob’s hand, ‘ it must be torture for her.’

  It was a clear summer night. The smallest of breezes danced lightly around the garden and Abby felt it with surprise because it was unusual. There were no clouds. Oh Barney, how I wish you were here, she thought as the breeze lifted a strand of her hair.

  She walked down the track to a small rock that was a favourite spot for all the children to sit and yarn and hatch mischief. She climbed up and sat hugging her knees, trying to sort out the churning emotions that had her head in a whirl.

  She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there when she again became conscious of a little breeze, the slightest surge of air that died away almost at once, but it was enough to stir her. She stretched out her legs, leaned back and looked up at the sky.

  The Southern Cross constellation came into focus. She smiled in recognition, and found the star that she and Barney had made their special star that wonderful night on the ridge nearly nine months ago.

  ‘Hello, star,’ she said softly. ‘Have you got the answer?’

  An hour later, as Gwen and Bob were settling down to listen to the wireless, Abby came inside and stood at the door of the living room. They looked at her and she at them. No one spoke. Bob turned down the radio play.

  ‘I’m going to marry Barney,’ announced Abby quietly.

  Gwen rushed to her daughter and they hugged each other. ‘Oh, Abby, my darling. Oh Abby.’

  Bob came over. ‘Might as well make it a family hug to mark the occasion,’ he said, and kissed both of them.

  Gwen and Abby sat on the lounge holding hands. ‘What decided you?’ asked Gwen.

  Abby smiled at her mother. ‘I suppose you could say I had guidance from the stars. I was looking up at them and I suddenly remembered a chat I had with Mr Richards. It was about listening to the heart, the importance of love and things like that. Every detail of that talk came back to me and suddenly I felt very calm, and everything was very clear.’

  ‘Well, Barney said he’d put you first and he’d get a job so you could be together and independent. The letter proves he means what he said. He’ll make a good husband, Abby. You’re a lucky girl,’ said Bob.

  ‘And he’s a lucky man,’ countered Gwen.

  Bob went to the Silent Knight refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer. ‘I reckon a couple of toasts would be in order.’ He raised his glass. ‘ To Barney.’

  ‘To Barney and Abby,’ added Gwen. ‘All the happiness in the world to both of you.’

  Long after Gwen and Bob had turned out their bedroom light Abby was still at the table in the kitchen writing to Barney. She told him everything about the day and the evening, from the moment his letter arrived to finding their star and how Mr Richards’ ‘sermon’ had come back to her.

  The strange thing about it, Barney darling, she wrote, was that I had this feeling he was really there with me.

  The crackling, tenuous thread of the phone connection finally brought Barney and Abby together. They both cried and promised to love each other forever.

  Abby held the bulky black handset in both hands, cradling it to her lips as she listened to Barney confess how painful the waiting had been, not knowing if Abby would change her mind and agree to marry him.

  ‘Perhaps it happened this way for a reason, Barney darling.’

  ‘Maybe it has been for the best,’ he agreed. ‘We’ve certainly been tested and we were both prepared to make sacrifices for each other, but it’s been hard. I’ve missed you so much, Abby . . .’

  ‘Me too. Oh Barney, if you only knew how much.’ She started to cry again.

  ‘Abby, that’s all in the past now, let’s think about the future. Start making wedding plans. I should be there just before Christmas Eve and, Abby, don’t make me wait. I want to marry you straightaway. I’m not letting you escape this time.’

  The line buzzed and faded and Abby spoke quickly, afraid the poor outback connection would be broken . ‘Barney, it will be just a simple ceremony . . . I’m not sure where, we’re going to have problems with the church . . . but don’t worry, we’ll sort something out.’

 
‘As long as it happens, I don’t care if we get married in a tree wearing gumboots!’ The line dropped out for a second and Barney found himself shouting, ‘I love you, Abby,’ as if she could hear him directly across the miles that separated them.

  ‘I love you too, Barn . . . forever!’ the line hummed and neither could hear the other, but at the far ends of the phone line both were reluctant to let go of the handpiece that had, for a few brief minutes, linked them. Abby closed her eyes, seeing the man she loved and longing to feel his firm strong body wrapped around hers.

  In the hurly-burly of plans and organisation, Abby, who’d been feeling weary, decided to take some time out for herself. So she packed a picnic, threw a blanket and a Thermos into Betsy and, kissing her mother goodbye, set out.

  ‘I might be gone all day, Mum, don’t worry. I’m going back to a place Barney and I went once for a picnic. I need to do some quiet thinking and planning.’

  Gwen was unsure about this idea but could see Abby needed time alone and she was a sensible girl.

  It took more than a hour to reach the remote spot that she and Barney had found on one of their Sunday drives. It was down a fire trail made by the local bushfire brigade, in the shade of a cool grove of river oaks. Abby settled down with her picnic and a writing pad on which to make lists. After a while she felt drowsy and she stretched out to nap and dream of Barney.

  Abby had no idea how long she had been asleep when she was woken by a sudden tightness across her belly. She felt as if her skin would burst open. Wide-eyed she lay there, hands clasped on her bulging stomach, staring unseeing into the treetops.

  ‘Oh God,’ she whispered.

  The spasm passed. She sat up and reached for the bottle of water in the basket, drank, and leaned back thinking, It’s not due for a fortnight. I must get home. Don’t panic. That’s the worst thing — panic. Stay calm. She began packing up and was leaning over when she became aware of rippling sensations across her abdomen. Oh, oh. Here we go again. Don’t panic, girl. Deep breaths.

  She somehow packed the car and began driving up the fire trail, aware that she was sweating profusely.

  ‘Where’s the nearest farmhouse?’ she said out loud. ‘ Ca n ’ t remember. Thought there was that old pioneer place round here.’

  The sensations grew stronger and time seemed suspended. She didn’t dare speed and every bump on the trail was frightening. She felt like she was looking at the world through wet blurred glasses. A sudden cramp made her gasp and the car swerved off the track. She braked hard, skidding into a steep ditch. The motor stalled. Breathing heavily and holding her now painful belly, she got out and walked to a little rise and looked over the open country. She could see a small cottage, just a shack really, its corrugated-iron chimney topped by a thin wisp of smoke.

  ‘Thank you, God, thank you,’ she gasped.

  She knew before she turned the key that the car wasn’t going to start. When she did turn the key and nothing happened, she was hit by another spasm, as if it had somehow been triggered by the key. She collapsed over the steering wheel until it passed. Then she put the key in her pocket and set out for the shack, which looked about a mile away.

  In a trance, Abby plodded along the track, trying hard to take her mind off the pain. ‘Funny, I never noticed the shack when we were here before. Doesn’t matter, so long as they can help me get to hospital. Not much shade now. Keep going. Ignore the heat. Think snow. Snow . . . that’s crazy.’

  She was about halfway there when her waters broke. She stumbled to the shade of a lonely tree and sat propped up against its trunk till her strength returned. Then she set off again, frightened and breathing rapidly.

  Through misty eyes, Abby became aware that the hut was made of crude slabs, wattle-and-daub style. It had verandahs front and back and, despite the smoke, didn’t look as if it was normally lived in. She could hear the sound of an axe splitting wood as she stepped onto the verandah. The front door was open and revealed a single room with open fire, plain table, several chairs, a cupboard made of old boxes and a bed. She was leaning on the door frame fighting back the feeling that she was about to collapse, when a man carrying wood came to the back door opposite. He was silhouetted against the glare of the summer sun and Abby couldn’t make out his features.

  ‘Abby!’ The voice was unmistakable.

  ‘Mr Richards! What are you . . . I’m . . .’ She slipped to the floor unconscious.

  When she came to, she realised she was in the bed and Mr Richards was sitting beside her. She smiled weakly at him and lay there holding her stomach, feeling the surges of giddying waves that threatened to overwhelm her.

  ‘Please get me to the hospital, Mr Richards, or get a doctor.’ She grimaced, then shouted, ‘Please!’ and pulled her knees up to her stomach to help ease the pain.

  He held her hand while she relaxed a little. ‘Can’t go anywhere now, even if I did have the old truck. We’re a long way from anywhere. You can’t be left alone, Abby, we’ll have to sit it out for a while. Apart from that, it’s lovely to see you again. How have things been? What’s all the news?’

  Abby felt a momentary calm, and tried to respond to his efforts to reduce her tension. ‘We’re getting married, Barney and me. Only decided the other day. He’s up at Katherine, managing a big station.’

  ‘Well, how about that! Congratulations.’ He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said softly, then looked him squarely in the eye. ‘ Mr Richards, what are we going to do?’

  ‘We’ll have a baby. Simple as that. Don’t worry now. I’ve done this sort of thing before, believe it or not.’ He smiled and patted her hand.

  ‘I’ll put some more water on the fire.’

  By the time he returned with water from the tank outside, Abby was in the agony of a severe contraction. Then suddenly they started coming faster and stronger. She lay back groaning slightly as Mr Richards rolled a blanket and placed it under her back and helped her establish a breathing pattern.

  Now all Abby could focus on was Mr Richards’ kindly blue eyes and his mouth inhaling and exhaling in time with her. She lost track of time. Mr Richards stayed beside her, talking softly until it was time for the baby’s birth. With sure hands he settled Abby, folding a sheet across her and then, with firmness and some insistence, directed her to push out the baby. Abby thrust and panted and pushed, crying out as her body finally gave up the child it had sheltered. Deftly Mr Richards eased the child out, wrapping it in a clean towel and laying it on Abby’s breast as he took the knife he’d sterilised and cut the cord.

  ‘You have a fine son, Abby.’ He lifted her into a sitting position as she stared down at the miracle she held in her arms. ‘Check him over,’ grinned Mr Richards.

  She unfolded the towel and looked at his little body, tentatively touching his toes and his fingers. ‘Oh, he’s perfect,’ she breathed. At that instant the baby cried lustily and she hugged him to her, tears rolling down her face. ‘Oh, Mr Richards, thank you . . . thank you. You said you always turn up when you’re needed.’

  He threw back his head and laughed. Abby felt the baby react to the sudden noise. ‘Just a happy coincidence. I was going to call in on you in a couple of days anyway,’ he said, then quickly changed the subject. ‘The most important thing to do now is to get you home as fast as possible. Everyone will be at panic stations by now, I reckon. I’ll go up to your car and see if I can get it started.’ He lit a kerosene lamp and put it on a box beside the bed. Taking a torch off the crude mantelshelf over the fire, he put on his hat, smiled, nodded and strode off.

  The story of the birth was the hottest item on the district party lines well into the night. From the moment Mr Richards telephoned the McBrides from the first farm they found on reaching the main road, the telephone lines hummed with amazing versions of events. The McBrides, Sarah and Keith Pemberton and one of the local policemen were all waiting on the verandah when Betsy spluttered up the track and coughed to a stop at the gate.
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br />   Gwen ran to the car and pulled open the door. ‘Oh Abby,’ she cried. ‘We were so worried. We had half the district out looking for you.’ She leaned in and kissed her daughter then carefully took the baby from her. ‘Bob, help Abby. Dear Lord, look at this precious darling,’ she cooed.

  Bob helped Abby from the car, nodded across the seat to Mr Richards. ‘Thanks, mate,’ he said softly.

  Two days later, Abby, who’d been resting in a canvas deck chair on the verandah, suddenly felt a surge of energy and happiness. Trembling with joy, she called to her mother to watch the baby while she went for a walk.

  She headed down the track, knowing in every fibre of her body that her love was soon to be with her. Walking slowly, still recovering from the birth of the baby, she headed doggedly towards the road. She was at the half-mile point when she heard the engine. She leaned against a gumtree, and flagged the car as it came into sight.

  Barney raced from the car and swept her into his arms. Holding her tightly against him, he rocked her gently, smoothing her hair, not speaking, totally overcome by his feelings of love and longing.

  Finally they drew apart and Barney kissed her passionately. ‘ Oh Abby, my darling. I’ve missed you so much . . . What you must have been through. God, I wish I’d been here . . . Are you all right? And the baby . . .? I’ve been so worried since I heard.’

  ‘Hush, it’s all right, my sweet. We’re doing just fine. Thanks to Mr Richards. Oh Barney, the baby is so beautiful . . .’

  ‘What are you doing so far from home? Come on, get in. I can’t wait to see him.’ Tenderly he helped her into the car and as he went to put it into gear he gave her a shrewd glance . ‘You knew I was coming, didn’t you?’ And as she nodded, he shook his head. ‘I don’t know why, but I’ve stopped wondering about some things. I’m leaving my life to the fates . . . so far they’re doing a pretty good job.’