by Di Morrissey
They were both unprepared for the surge of physical and emotional passion that rushed through them at the sight of each other. The years were swept away in an instant.
Trisha’s question broke his sweet reverie.
‘Are you going to get married?’
He ran his hand through his hair. ‘You’re your mother’s daughter, aren’t you? No beating around the bush. Well, I don’t know. It seems a bit unnecessary at our age.’
‘Have you asked her?’
‘I’m thinking about it.’
‘Seems to me you hesitated once before,’ said Trisha.
‘You might be right.’
‘It’d be nice while Lorna still knows what’s going on,’ she said softly. ‘And you’ll get to meet our New Zealand rellies!’
‘Sally’s mother sounds formidable, even at her age I’m still nervous about passing muster by Mrs Mitchell.’
Trisha laughed. ‘Our dad was the same. Jem and I were terrified of her when we were little. I think she’d like to see my mum made an honest woman.’
Rob straightened up. ‘We’ll see. I’d have to pick the right moment.’
‘Mum’s the word. I’m going down to see Lorna. See ya later, Rob.’
He watched her stride across the paddock to the small cottage where Lorna now lived at Sally’s farm. Lorna had changed since selling her house in Sydney and moving there. She’d taken a great interest in the small art gallery and loved to chat to the tourists who called by. Sally’s children and grandchildren came and went, and Rob hoped his children would do the same. They still lived in the Territory, but Rob had no regrets at leaving.
He and Sally had decided to set up a small thoroughbred training and breeding program combining her property and his select horses that had been sired by Jasper and his progeny. Funny how the years had disappeared, he thought as he ducked under the rail of the fence. The minute he and Sally had seen each other they knew they’d be together, as they were meant to be. Damn, Trisha was right about him hanging back, not wanting to commit himself all those years ago. He’d wanted to wait until he had everything set up. He knew better now.
Sally watched him walk across the ring, he looked just as he did back at Barra Creek – lean, tall, that fluid way he walked. He was as familiar to her as her own shadow. They’d both had full and interesting lives, but now it was their time. About bloody time too, she thought. She pulled up her horse, and Rob rubbed behind its ear and rested his hand on the bridle.
‘I was thinking, Sally . . .’
‘Thinking what?’ She waited for a small criticism, a suggestion about the horse, her riding.
‘I was thinking it was about time we got married.’
Sally blinked, flung back her head and burst out laughing. ‘Well, heck, why not? Seeing you asked me. Finally . . .’
She swung down into his outstretched arms.
The horse gave a slight flick of its tail and stood patiently, ignored by the man and woman who held each other tightly.
THE END
