She’d invited, no, dragged Rory into her room as she’d caught glimpses of the adored and carefree girl she’d been all those years ago. Stupid woman.
Who was she kidding? She had baggage with a capital B and was too screwed up for any sort of relationship. And she needed to concentrate on finding common ground with her father before it was too late.
Rory had his career. Plus he was carrying a few issues himself. She just needed to get the hell out of his arms and back to the real world.
The Pentecost was an anticlimax. The rush had been through and the river was no deeper than on their way out. The next two hours passed slowly but with no more incidents and finally they drove up the last stretch before Jabiru Township.
Kate looked at the mud at the side of the road. ‘I guess you’re stuck here until the RFDS can land on the strip.’
Rory frowned. ‘Won’t you be? Your plane is grounded too.’
She lifted her head. ‘I’ll drive home. As soon as we get back.’
He tried to control his disappointment. ‘Don’t go on my account.’
‘Why not?’
How could she be so cold after last night? ‘It doesn’t have to be like this, Kate.’
Her eyes didn’t meet his, looked anywhere but his way, just like when he’d first seen her two days ago.
‘Yes. It does, Rory.’
He could feel it all slipping away and the panic fluttered like the spinifex at the side of the road as they drove past. Rory ran his hand through his hair. ‘You can’t deny we shared something special back there at Xanadu.’
Her fingers spread and pressed down on her legs, as if to push away that thought. Still she didn’t look at him.
‘It’s over. Has been for a long time. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, Rory, but I don’t want you to come back.’
Those same words from the letter he’d carried all those years. The hurt stirred anger. ‘I wish I’d never come back.’
‘So do I,’ she said quietly.
Rory couldn’t give up. He felt that same desolation he’d felt ten years ago. He’d stayed the one night he couldn’t avoid in town after Kate had left. Had dinner with Smiley and Sophie, dug for what background they had, and then caught a lift to Derby on a road train early the next morning, like all those years ago, so he could make a flight back from there. Then he drove home from Perth Airport and, without unpacking, he switched on his computer.
He needed to find Fairmont Gardens and a commemorative inscription. Kate needed to grieve and maybe he could get some clue how to help by just seeing where the remains of his son lay.
The next day was a cool autumn day and the Fairmont Gardens were deserted. He crossed the freshly mown grass to the commemorative wall that curved around an enormous bed of roses and the scent was almost heady in its power.
He drew a deep breath and held it, as if imprinting the scent on his memory.
He was standing here for both of them. He didn’t know what to expect. How it would affect him. Just knew he had to do this to gain insight into the journey Kate had travelled on her own.
He looked down at the paper printout the custodian had given him with the directions he sought.
Third row down, twenty-six across from the left; his eyes scanned as he counted. Then he saw it.
The plaque, tarnished bronze, six inches by four inches, with raised lettering. Baby son of Kate Onslow. Lived for a day, 3rd August.
His son. Rory hadn’t expected the rush of sadness that overwhelmed him. Sadness for the little boy who hadn’t had the chance to be held by his mother before he’d died. Or his father. He winced at the pain from such a tiny fragment of grief compared to what Kate had had to bury for ten years.
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Cameron.’ The quiet words floated up into the branches of the leafy tree overhead.
He turned and gazed over the beautiful gardens, the reminders of other lives that had been and gone, the place that families came to grieve and say goodbye. Then he slid the end of the tiny bouquet he’d brought with him into the slot below.
He thought about Kate—so young, so sick, heartbroken and alone. Kate sending him a letter that must have hurt so much to write and the noble but mistaken reasons she had.
He thought of the day he’d received it and his disbelief. How he’d phoned the housekeeper at Jabiru Station and she’d said Kate wasn’t taking calls. And all his letters he’d written that she was destined never to receive.
His parents, working at a new station, the reason for their move now explained, hadn’t been able to offer any information on Kate. They had enough trouble of their own trying to adjust.
So he’d stayed, had decided to achieve what he’d set out to do and more, much more. Driven, as Kate said, and for what? To hide the pain that needed Kate. He should have searched for her. Ten years of pain for Kate and him, wasted. He knew that now. And he wasn’t wasting any more. He knew where he belonged. What he needed to do.
The card on the bouquet floated in the breeze and he brushed it gently with his finger as he read the words, With love from Mum and Dad, and he took a photograph to add to the ones the midwife had confirmed were in the medical records, the grieving parent pack that hospitals kept for years if mementos were refused, not sure if he’d done right to ask.
It was a choice Kate hadn’t been given. The hospital had agreed to contact her and ask.
Then he allowed the anguish for everything to float away, to keep the memories—release the pain; their baby, ten years he’d lost with Kate, his sadness and guilt over his parents’ early misfortune and, most of all, for Kate’s lonely journey.
He understood. He would be there for her and this time she wouldn’t turn him away.
It was time to make things happen. He walked away to lay the foundations for his new life. He would give Kate time to come to the same conclusion—he had to believe that time would come—but if it didn’t he would make it happen.
Kate drove straight home to Jabiru Homestead after dropping Rory at the Hilton and couldn’t help but wonder if she was the same woman who’d left less than forty-eight hours ago. For the first time she considered not selling her family’s land after her father died.
Maybe she did deserve a fuller life. She could take over the reins from her father, make changes for the better, maybe some time in the future start a new dynasty of caring and integrity for Jabiru Station and the township.
But first she had to care for the old dynasty.
‘Hello, Father.’ She looked at him, lying back in the chair overlooking the house yard, a big man brought down by infirmity, his thick white hair still cut short in the military style he preferred and his bushy white brows beetling up at her as he pretended he wasn’t in any pain.
‘So you’re back! Hmmph.’ He turned his head away.
‘Yes, I am.’ She crossed the veranda and picked up his pain relief tablets. ‘You haven’t taken any pills in two days.’
He glared at her. ‘Makes me fuzzy and I don’t see what’s going on.’
Typical despot. Her voice remained mild. ‘There’s nothing going on that’s worth suffering for.’
He stuck his chin out. ‘You can’t make me take them.’
‘Nope.’ Kate shook her head. ‘Your choice.’ She left that battle but knew he would take them now she was home. He had this thing about the ‘family’ being alert to what the workers did. And Kate being home meant he could sleep.
She hoped she’d never be that paranoid. ‘I went as far as Rainbow’s End. They flew Lucy Bolton out from there.’
He thought about that. ‘You took long enough, then.’
‘The road over the Pentecost was flooded.’ She paused and then said deliberately, ‘I went with Rory McIver.’
That made him sit up and she saw the agony cross his face with the movement and she felt a moment’s regret that she’d startled him. Her father. He must have had some redeeming features when her mother had fallen in love with him but he’d never s
hown Kate much tenderness.
He pulled himself up, trying not to wince, until he sat straight in the chair. ‘That young cockerel. Did he make a pass at you?’
Now that was funny. ‘No.’ As if her father should worry about that, after all these years.
He sagged a little. ‘Good.’
‘I made one at him.’ Lyle’s head snapped up. ‘And I told him about the baby.’
‘Fool!’ He looked away. ‘Now, why would you do that? Give him pretensions to glory, knocking up an Onslow.’
Kate winced at the denigration in the comment. This was the only time she could remember when she’d had an equal part in a conversation with her father. And his last comment incensed her. ‘If it hadn’t been for Rory and his family I’d have known no love at all after Mother died.’
It was all starting to make sense, though. ‘Is that what happened? Did Mother have to marry you? Because of me?’
He poked his finger at her, stabbing the air with each word. ‘Your mother was too easy with her ways and then wasn’t strong enough to survive out here. She lost my son.’
She shook her head, suddenly sorry for this sad old man she’d never connected with. ‘My mother needed more than a roof over her head to live here. And you didn’t have a loving bone in your body.’
He sagged back in the chair. ‘Too late now.’
Did it have to be? Was there any hope they could salvage something before he was gone?
‘Maybe it’s not for us. We don’t have to fight all the time. It would be handy to have some nice memories of you.’
She came around and crouched down beside him so that he had to look at her. ‘Were you ever happy?’
He lifted his head. ‘When I thought I’d have a son to carry on with.’
She threw up her hands. ‘Get over it.’ She stared at him. ‘Rory could have been that son but you blew it.’
‘That camp trash? I’d rather leave it to a dogs’ home.’
She glared right into his face. ‘I might sell it to a dogs’ home.’
‘You’re no child of mine.’ It was more of a mutter than a statement and they both knew it wasn’t true.
She sat back, her humour restored. ‘Unfortunately, I do have a stubborn and determined side that I’ve inherited from you, but you’re too bitter and twisted to see it.’
He didn’t say anything. His mouth moved but didn’t open to speak. She gave him another few seconds but he turned away.
She sighed. ‘Goodnight, Father. I’ll send John in to help you to bed, then I’ll bring the rest of your medications.’
The next morning, Kate opened her eyes and stared at the familiar plaster rose on the ceiling above her bed. Since she’d first arrived back to nurse her father, despite her determination to sell, she couldn’t help her feeling of belonging to Jabiru.
Yet this morning it was not the same. Her father had never really cared for her—it was out in plain words, lost in his all enveloping grief at not having a son to inherit. Well, he deserved that she wanted to sell.
But she didn’t know what she wanted. The idea of waking every morning, like today, alone in the middle of this vastness, wasn’t that different from waking alone in a big city like Perth.
At least here she could be useful to people like Lucy, and the Aboriginal women who sometimes needed help to birth, or the man with the croc bite.
She’d be an orphan, no relatives that she knew of, no friends her own age except Sophie and Smiley. Was that what she wanted?
At breakfast her father looked more subdued but without that patina of pain he’d worn yesterday, so he was taking his tablets. He seemed to have thawed slightly towards her and she wondered if anything she’d said yesterday had perhaps made him think.
‘You said you’re determined and stubborn,’ he growled, ‘I’m guessing you’d have to be to put up with me.’ He looked at her from under his brows. ‘And why do you?’
She half laughed. ‘Because that’s what family do.’
‘How would you know?’ He sniffed.
‘I read about it.’ She looked him over. ‘How are you today?’
He glared at her. ‘Old.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Here’s the good news—it doesn’t last for ever.’
He gave a bark of laughter and she nearly fell off her chair in surprise. ‘You should have stuck up for yourself years ago. I like you better.’
Okay for him because he was old and able to say what he thought. ‘It would have been helpful if you’d given me a hint.’
‘Hmmph.’
She looked at him for a moment, fleetingly sad for the impending loss of this tiny rapport. ‘I’ll see you later. I have to go to work.’
He narrowed his eyes and then shook his head angrily, once. ‘Why? They can get other people to do that menial stuff you do.’
He really didn’t get it. She’d fight every day against ever becoming that selfish. ‘The menial stuff I do saved a baby and mother’s life. If there had been someone around when I was Lucy’s age you’d have had a grandson to leave your precious station to.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll be back tonight.’
As she walked away she accepted that they might talk a little more civilly to each other, and even on a rare occasion have a laugh over some incident on the station, but it was never going to be warm and fuzzy.
In Kate’s mind, as well, there was always going to be a rift from his unfeeling stand over her pregnancy.
Over the next few weeks Kate flew between Jabiru Station and the township and each day she settled more into the idea of staying in the Kimberley.
On the Friday, three weeks after she’d left, Lucy Bolton and her mother returned with her baby and came to visit Kate.
The young woman glowed with health and her tiny baby already was filling out into the cutest cherub.
‘How’s it all going, Lucy?’ Kate said, but she could see everything was going well.
‘Cool. Missy eats a lot but she sleeps straight after so that’s easy.’
Kate checked Lucy’s blood pressure and the readings had returned to normal. ‘We’ll still have to watch you if you decide on more children.’
Lucy laughed. ‘Not just yet, thanks.’
‘Congratulations on being a nana, Mary.’ Kate smiled at the older woman. ‘You look like you’re loving it.’
Mary smoothed Missy’s hair. ‘I’m very lucky. And how’s that Rory McIver? I nearly fell over when I saw he was your driver. Hasn’t he turned into a handsome man?’
Kate plastered a smile on her face. ‘He’s back in Perth in his high profile job for the Ambulance. He even sent the clinic a satellite phone, though technically I’m not supposed to know it was him.’ She pretended to whisper. ‘They told me at the post office it was from him. So I guess he’s still thinking of Jabiru.’
That wasn’t all he’d sent. He’d sent a letter to say he’d been to see their baby’s grave and a photo and, a day later, a short letter from the hospital had arrived. It had taken her days to ring for the grieving parent package to be sent. Still she waited.
Mary gave Kate a tiny nudge and Kate blinked and remembered where she was.
‘It must have been nice to see him after all these years,’ Mary said and Kate tried not to see the wink. ‘You two still in contact, then?’
‘Mum!’ Lucy nudged her mother out of the way and frowned her to silence. ‘That’s between Kate and Rory,’ and she took Kate’s hand in both of hers. ‘Thank you for everything, Kate. You were wonderful and I would have been terrified if you hadn’t been here for me.’ Lucy hugged her and went on, ‘They said in Derby I could have lost my darling Missy if I’d got much worse.’
Kate hugged her back. ‘You’re so welcome and I’m glad Missy is fine. Drop in and see me any time.’
‘So you’re staying on at Jabiru?’ Mary asked.
‘For a while.’ Kate thought about it. She had decided. ‘Yes. For a long while.’
After work Kate called in again to the post office and
this time the postmistress handed her a package. Kate thanked her carefully, because suddenly her mouth wasn’t working too well. Her body felt as if it were covered in thin ice and she stumbled stiffly out of the tiny shop like an old woman as she clutched the large white envelope to her breast.
She walked blindly to her car but when she reached it she had to turn her face up to catch the afternoon sun to warm her cheeks. ‘How ridiculous. To be cold when the day’s hitting thirty-seven degrees,’ she admonished herself, needing the sound of her own voice and the heat to soak into her skin and into her heart before she unlocked the car door to climb in.
She leant back on the seat and the package lay in her lap, bulky yet light. She had a fair idea what it would contain because she’d prepared just such packages for other broken-hearted families in her midwifery training.
She didn’t open it—couldn’t open it—and a tiny voice inside her head suggested that there was someone else who should be there when she did.
Instead, she opened her overnight bag that she kept for emergencies and slipped the package in amongst her clothes. Maybe later.
Her father was worse when she got home and she put the envelope away for a time when she had emotions to spare.
There was an improvement in rapport between Kate and her father as Lyle became weaker and more resigned to eternal rest.
Kate could feel the ball of resentment she’d held against him slowly unravelling as he talked to her more.
‘Your mother was a beautiful woman,’ he said one morning, ‘and you’re not bad yourself.’
‘I’ll try not to let your effusive compliments go to my head,’ Kate said, straight-faced, and he shot a look at her before he actually laughed out loud. Then he sucked his breath in as the pain bit.
When he had his breathing under control again Kate asked the questions she’d always wanted to ask. ‘Why were you so cold to me?’
He avoided her eyes. ‘Was I? Don’t know any different,’ he said. ‘My own mother died when I was two. That’s how I was brought up. When my son died with your mother I knew you needed to be tough to run this place. No room for namby-pamby cry babies.’
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