by Margaret Way
“Zara, I’ve never denied it,” he exclaimed. “I was in a state. Heartbreak is a damned sight worse than breaking an arm or a leg. I admit it was really, really bad. I could only see your flight as betrayal. I’ve explained my side of it over and over. Maybe I carried my pride too far—”
“You certainly did!”
“Okay, okay!” He stopped her sharply, half turning his head, one hand raised.
“What is it?” The friction between them was instantly replaced by concern. Was something wrong with Daniel? Here they were, having an argument, when Daniel could have taken a bad turn.
Both of them were on their feet as Helen moved very fast across the colonnade. “Come quickly,” she bade them. Her face, even in the half light, showed tremendous grief. Her voice was choked with emotion. “I fear my Daniel is close to the end.”
Helen and Garrick stood beside Daniel’s bed, Helen at the head. The lights were dimmed but Zara could see Daniel was in extremis. A once powerful man had simply faded away. She hesitated in the open doorway, not wishing to intrude on the family grief. But Helen turned to beckon her in. Once inside the sick room, Helen exuded a stoic calm. “Come in, Zara, dear,” she invited. “You should be here. Daniel wants you. We all do. You’re family.”
Her heart lifting at the kindness and inclusion, Zara moved at once, going to the opposite side of Daniel’s bed. Her throat was full of tears, but she refused to let them out. She had to be brave and calm herself, like Helen. She held Helen, her mother’s friend, Garrick’s mother, in the highest regard. Daniel’s eyes were shut. His face was bloodless like an effigy. His body was not so much a shell as a wraith. He appeared to have passed into the merciful realm that lay between life and death.
“Dad?” Garrick put a gentle hand on his father’s shoulder, speaking very lovingly. “Dad, can you hear me?”
None of them really expected a response, such was Daniel’s condition, but Daniel must have heard his son and miraculously rallied. He opened his eyes, looking quite lucid—his suffering had not affected his cognitive skills, but he was struggling to find breath. “All present and accounted for?” All he could muster was a hoarse whisper. He looked first at his son and wife, then turned his head along the pillow to give Zara a smile that broke her heart. “What a blessing you’ve come back to us, Zara!” The burning light of zeal suddenly shone in his eyes. “You and Garrick must join hands across me. I know you share as deep a love as my Ellie and I do. It’s our dearest wish you marry after I’m gone. No lengthy delays now. You have to make up for lost time. It’s what we need and want as a family.”
“It will be done, Dad.” Without a second’s hesitation, Garrick stretched out his hand to meet Zara’s. She extended hers, realizing that neither she nor Garrick could ever break their vow. All things had become clear. This was their life.
There could be no doubt that Daniel was made happy. He somehow found the strength to place his frail hand atop theirs. Helen moved in closer so she could put her hand over her husband’s.
A pyramid of love.
That was the way Zara ever after thought of it.
Daniel smiled again, gave a little shuddering cough.
Then he was gone.
Though his hand dropped away onto the coverlet, the three of them continued to stand there, hands joined, as they bore witness to the passing of a very fine man.
There was great comfort in those joined hands.
Daniel Rylance’s funeral drew one of the greatest gatherings in Outback history. Everyone saw such an attendance for what it was—a tremendous show of respect for a man universally liked and admired. They all knew the sad story that had brought about his premature end, just as they knew, given a similar set of circumstances, Daniel Rylance would have done the same thing again. Bravery was what he did, though he had always called it “doing what had to be done” even if it resulted in one’s own death or certain injury.
Corin and Miranda came home, cutting short their long blissful honeymoon. It was no imposition. It was what they both wanted—Corin to offer support to his great friend and kinsman and, as an extension, to Garrick’s grieving mother. Miranda had wanted to be there for Zara, who was the nearest she would get to a much loved sister.
There had been concerns about telling Julianne in Washington about the death of her father. Helen had rung Julianne’s husband, Elliot Mastermann, to break the news to him first before asking his opinion on when to tell her daughter the sad news—before or after the birth of their child, their first. The baby—they already knew it was a boy—was due two weeks’ hence.
It was something of a dilemma. They all knew Julianne would want to know immediately and would probably hold it against them all if they didn’t tell her of her father’s death. But she had not enjoyed the easiest of pregnancies. She had really suffered from morning—or all day—sickness, as she called it, for the first few months. Her health was being closely monitored. Her blood pressure was consistently higher than her doctor would have liked. She had been told she must rest. She and her baby were in excellent hands but even her obstetrician, when advised, thought it better to delay the tragic news.
So the decision was taken in the best interests of mother and child.
As Helen confided, “I had a strong sense that Elliot didn’t want her to be told. He’s actually more nervous than Jules about the birth. He wants me to fly over. So does Jules, of course. She loves her husband, but she does need her mother.”
“You must go, Ellie,” Garrick said. “There’s nothing that can be done here. Dad would have expected you to keep to the arrangement. That was the plan all along.”
“But for your father to die now!” Helen’s beautiful blue eyes welled with tears. “This will be his first grandchild.”
“I’m sure he knows, Helen,” Zara said, though there was no proof of any such thing. Just faith. “I believe we keep on loving whether we’re dead or alive. The birth of your grandchild will give you a sense of renewal.”
“That’s beautiful, Zara,” Helen said, forever amazed at how like her mother Zara was. Kathryn had been such a compassionate, understanding person.
So it was arranged. Garrick flew his mother to Brisbane with Zara going along to offer the warmth of comfort and support.
“You don’t have to walk me right up to the departure gates,” Helen, flanked by son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law, teased.
“Not only that, we’re going to stay there and watch you go through,” Zara assured her. She knew Helen would never get over the death of her beloved husband but she was putting up a very brave front. “You’ve got to wave to us until you disappear.”
“Will do!” Helen kissed and hugged both of them in turn.
“Love to Jules,” Garrick said. “She’s going to be fine, Ellie. She has Elliot, but she loves her mum.”
“I’ll let you know when I’ve arrived in LA,” Helen promised. “Then again when I get to Jules’s. Elliot is meeting me. Take care now, my dears!” For the first time Helen gave way to a few tears.
She kept up her waving until she disappeared from sight. This was the first leg of her journey to LA and, from there, to Washington DC. They waited until take-off, watching as the big Qantas jet roared down the runway, then lifted off into clear blue skies.
“I pray all goes well,” Zara said, still clutching Garrick’s hand.
Garrick looked down at her. She possessed such quiet grace, slender as a lily, yet she had proved a tower of strength for Ellie and him.
“She’s her mother all over again,” Ellie had told him with great affection.
He was coming to fully appreciate that the serene look Zara had developed to perfection was not only natural to her but also a way to hide her griefs. “All will go well,” he answered. “It must. We’ll catch a cab to the house.” They were staying overnight at the Rylance mansion with Corin and Miranda before returning to Coorango. There was far too much for Garrick to attend to; he was unable to stay the extra few days that had been
suggested. He told Zara she could stay on if she wished, but she had shaken her head.
Coorango is my home now, Zara thought. Her real home. She and Corin had never had a real home after their mother died. “I hope Corin and Miranda will always stay as much in love as they are now,” she said, pressing her hands together as if in prayer.
“Count on it,” Garrick said prophetically. “It’s beautiful just to look at them together and see their happiness.”
“And us?” She lifted her poignant gaze.
His expression was grave, bordering on severe since the death of his father—death did tend to bring one’s own life into sharp review—but his brilliantly blue eyes exposed his heart. “Zara, if I know with certainty only one thing in the world, it’s I love you.”
For that exalted moment Zara soared.
Miranda was there to greet them as soon as the cab circled the broad driveway in front of the house, surrounded by magnificent rose gardens. “Hello. Hello there!” She ran towards them, all aglow, throwing her arms around Zara and kissing her on both cheeks. Suddenly shy—she didn’t know Garrick all that well and he looked so imposing; his height, the way he carried himself so different from city men, an outdoors man, his handsomeness, his whole demeanour—she gave him her hand.
That amused him. Garrick dipped his head low to kiss her gently on the cheek. “Good to see you again, Miranda.”
“And so lovely to have you both. Corin should be here any minute. I thought we’d stay in for dinner. You’ve had a long flight.”
“What she means is, she’s a very good cook,” Zara explained with a teasing smile, hooking an arm around Miranda’s waist.
The very real affection apparent between Zara and Miranda was another kind of pleasure, Garrick thought. Their ease with one another was such that they might have been sisters, yet they couldn’t have presented a more striking picture in physical opposites. Miranda the platinum blonde, turquoise eyed and petite; Zara, much taller, long slender limbs, dark hair, dark-eyed. They could have posed for a caption: Blonde or brunette?
“I’ve put you in adjoining rooms,” Miranda said, alight with excitement. “I expect you want to freshen up after the long trip. We’re having seafood. Wonderful fresh seafood. I know you both love it. We hope it’s the best possible news for Julianne and her baby. Which means for her husband and loving family.” So happy and secure in her marriage, Miranda had all but forgotten she had been abandoned as an infant by her mother.
After that things went forward in peace and harmony with four young people who had a deep connection and liked one another enormously. Dinner, as Miranda had promised, was a delightful experience. It seemed to the greatly admiring Zara that, Miri had gone to a lot of trouble, although she assured them it was easy once she had settled on the right balance of dishes. No course was heavy. It was all light, delicious fresh food—stir-fried fresh crab with a mixture of sprouts and chives tucked into an omelette to start, followed by melt-in-the-mouth Tasmanian salmon served atop a beautifully dressed nicoise-style salad and, a little later on, a lime and ginger crème brulée just to top the meal off.
Afterwards they sat talking quietly on the terrace. There was so much to talk about. Later they decided to take a stroll around the garden before retiring for the night. Garrick wanted to get away immediately after breakfast the next morning.
“It’s a pity you can’t stay on for a few more days, Zara,” Miranda said, almost succeeding in hiding her disappointment.
“She can if she wants to,” Garrick broke in smoothly. “I have some compelling reasons for heading back but Zara will benefit from a break. I’ve already suggested she stay on.”
“That would be lovely,” Miranda exclaimed, giving Garrick a warm smile. “We can easily arrange a charter flight for Zara, perhaps at the weekend? We can, can’t we, darling?” She turned to her husband, reaching for his hand.
Corin took it, carried it to his lips. “Of course.” It gave him a great sense of comfort to know his wife and sister got on so well. Both young women benefited from their close friendship.
“In which case, make it Longreach—” Garrick named a convenient Outback terminal “—and I’ll pick Zara up there.”
Zara lowered her eyes. On the one hand she would like to stay a few days more with Miranda, on the other she didn’t want to leave Garrick; only she had the dismal feeling Garrick might have the need for quiet. He might welcome some time out. Could that be it? He was seizing his chance?
Her inner voice spoke with sharp impatience. How many times does he have to tell you he loves you? So why then do you continue to be beset by anxieties that can only cripple your relationship?
It was peculiar stuff in a way. Yet Sally Draper had seen her fatal flaw. Vulnerability. Once the painful subject had been raised, she found her mind had reverted to painful speculation on her mother’s tragic death. She had always known in her heart that Garrick would never have spoken to Sally about it. But Sally had achieved her objective. She had gone about the business of stirring things up, like a woman looking to wreck a relationship. That was the least Sally had hoped for—to cause distrust and dissent between Garrick and her.
Alas, as yet I haven’t perfected supreme self-confidence, Zara thought. There had been too much havoc in her life up to date. Easy to talk, move on. No matter how hard one tried, havoc took its own time to go away. Sometimes people carried their own personal griefs and resentments for a lifetime. Madness, really, when life was so short.
They regarded one another across the expanse of Garrick’s guest room, which imparted a sense of richness but with a masculine bent. Her room, adjoining, was of similar dimensions but decorated with a feminine woman in mind. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” she asked, aware that the question had come out the wrong way.
“What about you, Zara, my love?” he asked. Do you want to stay with me?” His blue eyes mocked. He was still wearing the clothes he had worn at dinner, but he had shed his beige linen jacket. Now he started unbuttoning his blue and white striped shirt, revealing a lean muscular torso with a cleanly defined ribcage. This was the body of a supremely fit man.
“I only meant I thought you might feel the need of a good night’s sleep.” Quickly, she tried to explain herself.
“Then you presupposed wrong. Plenty of time for a good night’s sleep.”
“I can easily come back with you,” she offered. Though his tone was wry, it was showing an edge.
“And disappoint Miranda? No, seriously, I mean it, Zara, you deserve a break.”
“What about you? You don’t get any.”
He shrugged his splendid shoulders. “That’s my job. With Dad gone, I hold the reins.”
She made a fluttery gesture with her hands. “Might you need a little break from me?” she asked with a little crush of the heart. “Things between us have been a bit strained of late.”
“Well, one can easily see why. Taking the loss of Dad out of it, we had to deal with zonked-out Sally. I meant what I said, Zara. Having you with us gave Ellie and me enormous comfort. Now, come here to me.” He held out his hand, waiting for her to close the distance between them. “I never cease to be amazed at how beautiful you are,” he said. “Just possibly it’s driving me crazy. You have one of those faces that could easily be identified, just from your eyes and arched brows alone.”
“Genetically transferred,” she said with a little sigh. “Beautiful as my mother was, inheriting her beauty, in essence, has caused me a lot of grief.”
He considered that with a frown. “Your father once told me he thought you were perfect.”
She felt an immediate surge of impotent anger. “The problem with my father was he used people,” she said sharply. “He saw the danger from you. So he set to work. You were mad to believe him.”
Garrick had to consider that neither his mother nor father had had any time for Dalton Rylance. “So using people was his great talent?” he asked. He had never trusted the man himself. Nor had he ever
come remotely close to liking him, yet he had believed in Dalton’s sincerity when he had said Zara, his only daughter, was perfect. After all, she was. He had thought the same thing. Beyond perfect. Everything in the world to him.
“He’s dead now, Garrick.” Zara’s sober tones broke into his thoughts. “I have to get over all that.”
“Time to make your peace?” he suggested.
Her lustrous gaze was intense. “I’m not that good. I’m not a saint!”
Garrick grimaced. “All right. Let’s not discuss your father. I can see how much it pains you. But here’s something I have to ask you. And then maybe I can settle.”
She stared up into his face. The brightness of his blue eyes was such a contrast to his dark features “Rick, ask whatever you like. I knew something was worrying you, quite apart from your grief over your father and concern for Julianne.”
“Zara, my love, this is about you,” he said, taking her by her shoulders. “You and me. No one else.”
What lay ahead now? “Go on,” she urged, struck by the quality of his expression.
He was silent a moment. “I need you to tell me if you could possibly regard a commitment made over my father’s deathbed as a form of emotional blackmail,” he said eventually.
She could feel anger and frustration begin to encircle her. “Sweet Heaven, Rick! I can’t believe you said that.”
“It has to be said. That’s why.” He tightened his hands. “I need to be absolutely certain. It was pressure in its way. Pressure has been put on you right from the minute Ellie and Dad invited you to Coorango. They wanted you for their daughter-in-law all along. They conspired—it could be construed as that—to put you back into the frame.’
He was right in a way. But Ellie and Daniel had been quite open about it. Most importantly, they had given her her big chance to make things come right. She wrenched herself away from him, the hem of her silk robe swirling around her feet with the force of her action. “Certain? Absolutely certain!” she burst out. “Oh, I could weep for both of us. I really could. I love you, Garrick.” Her eyes were smarting with hot tears.