by Margaret Way
“Sarah, you must be feeling unreal!” Harriet jumped up again to find a box of tissues, her own eyes glistening. “Here. Blow your nose. I’ll take a couple of tissues, as well. I’ve often said I’d put nothing past Ruth McQueen, but this beats anything I could think of. What a response from a grandmother! Kyall must’ve been horrified.”
Sarah nodded, struggling for control. “It’s been such an emotional day. A day like no other. Life is never stationary, is it?” She sighed. “So much upset and suffering all because of one woman. Kyall told his grandmother to go, to pack up and leave. She’s rich. At least she can go anywhere she pleases.”
“Oh, I love the sound of that!” Harriet gave a hard laugh of irony. “And won’t we miss her! You’re serious?”
“Kyall was deadly serious. He said he can’t and won’t live with what she’d done.”
“And the child?”
“She thinks I must be a relative. She’s so beautiful, Harriet.” Sarah’s voice broke again. “So beautiful and so sweet. A tender, sensitive girl.”
“She would be if she’s your daughter,” Harriet sniffed. “This is what I call a heart-wrenching story. But it’s not over, is it, Sarah? What are you going to do about the…other parents? It sounds as though your daughter’s being loved and well cared for.”
“She is, and I’m deeply grateful for that. But she’s our daughter, Harriet. We’ve lost fifteen years of her life. We can’t just say hello and goodbye. We want our child. We don’t want to hurt the Hazeltons—that’s their name—but it’s inevitable. Because of the way Ruth manipulated things, they’ll have a hard time believing the babies were switched. They may fight us, but I’m as certain as I can be of anything that the girl I saw today is my daughter. We have to talk to the Hazeltons. Try to work out some sort of arrangement. It would be too cruel to snatch Fiona away. But we want our child.”
A TERRIBLE APPREHENSION gripped Stella Hazelton. She listened to her daughter’s excited voice at the other end of the phone.
“I’m the image of her, Mum! She’s the image of me. It’s absolutely incredible. Clemmie said she couldn’t believe her eyes. We must be cousins or something. You never told me.”
There was so much she had never told. Stella put down the phone blindly. Dr. Sarah Dempsey. Fiona thought she was about twenty-seven or -eight. Apparently Dr. Sarah was head of a bush hospital. At Koomera Crossing.
Stella was now so upset she was literally shaking. All these years later, wonderful, fulfilling years, and she still remembered. A special young girl with flowing blond hair. She remembered it spread out on the pillow as golden as the sun’s rays. The purity of the profile. The shallow dimple in her chin. The screams of agony when she was told her baby had died.
An immense sadness came over Stella. It was all over. Her heart almost stopped in anguish. She had never been able to conceive another child. Her own sickly baby had died probably within twelve hours of delivery. Somehow there’d been a mix-up. She’d been sent home with the wrong baby. She recalled reading about a case like that. It had disturbed her. DNA testing had proved the child in dispute had been given to the wrong family. The court ruled in favor of the biological mother. Why wouldn’t it?
I have two options, Stella thought. I continue to live this lie or I go to my husband with what I believe to be the truth. It will kill him. Take the life from him. They both adored their Fiona, their Noni. Only, she wasn’t theirs.
Her real mother had been destined to find her.
Stella didn’t know how long she sat there staring into space. Nothing will ever be the same again! She whispered the prophetic words aloud.
“TELL ME this isn’t true!” Enid Reardon burst in on her mother, her face blotched with tears, her eyes glittering with rage. “Look at me, Mother! Do you know I could kill you for what you’ve done?”
Ruth’s laugh was uncaring, slightly mad. “Wouldn’t you have done the same if you’d had the guts?”
Enid flew for her, mindless of her mother’s physical fraility and advanced years. “You did this to my son. You did this to Sarah. You did this to Max and me.” She raised her hand as if to strike her mother, standing there so brazenly, the very image of contempt, and knowing she couldn’t hit her. “How in God’s name did you do it?” she asked, dropping her hand. “You switched the babies. One little one died. Not Sarah’s. You took the chance, but you had to have someone inside the hospital to help you. That woman, that Nurse Fairweather. She was the one, wasn’t she. Your coconspirator. No wonder she went insane.”
“Do shut up, Enid. Your voice is as shrill as a cockatoo’s,” Ruth admonished. “I did what I thought was right at the time. I saved your precious boy. He was sixteen, remember, and that conniving little bitch was out to get him. You were very much against her back then.”
“I can’t believe this!” Enid stumbled into an armchair, face blanched, mouth quivering. “For you to have done this to your own flesh and blood. This was my grandchild, Mother! Your great-grandchild. You gave her away. You did that. You gave away Kyall’s baby. You know he’ll never forgive you.”
“He’ll get over it,” Ruth said dismissively.
“I’m sorry, Mother. You’ve lost him forever. He won’t get over it. Neither will I. He told you to leave this house.”
“That’s fine. I’m packing a few things. I’ll take a long trip while he gets over his shock.”
“Have you no conscience, Mother?” Enid stared up at the woman who had ruled her life.
Ruth gave her silky, shivery laugh. “I’m not a great believer in the afterlife. All we have is the here and now. I’ve always had to act because you and your brother—”
“Poor Stewart!” Enid heaved a great sigh. Losing her brother was something that should never have happened.
“—were too gutless. I had to run everyone’s life. I had to run this historic station. I had to keep it for Kyall.”
Enid shook her head. “If, despite your beliefs, there is an afterlife, Mother, you’ll go straight to hell. Such power you’ve possessed and you’ve used it in all the wrong ways.”
“Do stop, Enid. Your sanctimonious manner tires me. You knew where the door was. Just like Stewart, who got too big for his boots. You and your husband could’ve left at any time.”
“That’s another lie,” Enid erupted. “You’ve always gone on about how you’ve run this station. Well, Max and I have been an integral part of it. You’ve never given us any credit. You’ve never loved me. Or poor Stewart. The only two people in the world as far as you’re concerned are you and Kyall. Yet you did this monstrous thing to him.”
“I did not mean to hurt him.” Ruth’s voice was clear and steady.
“You took hurt to its absolute limits. No one can do that and get away with it. And what about that poor demented woman, Molly Fairweather? I suppose you didn’t mean to hurt her, either. How did the taipan get into the house? Did you pay Vernon Plummer to plant it there? He’d do anything for a price.”
A ripple of fear brushed Ruth’s heart at the mention of Plummer’s name. “Enid, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Kyall will get it out of him,” Enid assured her. “He’s probably asking him questions right now.”
Ruth’s heart began to race. “What on earth for?”
“Well done, Mother.” Enid clapped her hands. “You’re a talented actress, aren’t you?” She suddenly frowned. “It was a bit strange, too, Joe dying the very night he stayed in this house.”
“You’re actually accusing me of something, Enid?” Ruth’s eyes smoldered. “You always were a fool.”
“No, Mother. I’ve allowed myself to be blinded to the truth. Now my eyes are open. You’ve sold your soul to the devil, haven’t you. You’ve sinned against us all. I think you planned everything that’s happened, every bad thing. You could even go to jail. Think of it! Mrs. Ruth McQueen locked in a cell! And you’re the one who goes on and on about family! Dear heaven! What do you have against Sarah, anyway? Sh
e’s a beautiful, distinguished woman who—”
“In plain words, my dear Enid, I hate her.”
Enid closed her eyes at the profundity of the venom. She rose, speaking quietly but firmly. “I’ll ask Mrs. McDermott to help you pack your things. Don’t come down to dinner. Or breakfast. They can be sent up. Max is making arrangements for your flight out. He’s booking you into a suite at the Wentworth in Sydney. You’ll be out of here by noon tomorrow. I couldn’t care less whether that suits you or not.” Enid’s voice rose as she pointed one shaking finger at Ruth. “I’ve been afraid of you all my life, Mother. That’s all over. I’m far from perfect, but I’ve never done anything to be ashamed of. You have.”
VERNON PLUMMER, shoved against a wall with all Kyall’s might, confessed to his part in Nurse Fairweather’s death. He confessed, too, to entering the Sinclair house in Sarah’s absence, doing things that were meant to scare her. He hadn’t wanted to do any of it, he swore. He respected and admired Dr. Sarah. She’d saved his daughter-in-law’s life. He wasn’t ever going to do anything for Mrs. McQueen again.
“She owned us, you understand. The thing with the snake was meant to scare Nurse Fairweather off, not—”
“Damn you!” Kyall cried. “You son of a bitch!”
“I knew it was wrong all along, but I swear I’ve never deliberately harmed anyone in my life. Your grandmother threatened me—said my whole family would be out of a job and without a home.”
Kyall let go of the man, watching him collapse to the ground. “I told Dr. Sarah I was her friend. I meant it.”
“You wouldn’t have tampered with the brakes on her car if you’d been asked?” Kyall looked down at Plummer with contempt.
“My God, no! Kyall, I used to pray your grandmother would leave me alone.”
“She will from now on,” Kyall told him grimly. “Get up and get back to work. I might want to speak to you further.”
HER HEART WAS ROARING in her chest, but Ruth kept on walking.
“Damn you, Sarah Dempsey,” she cried to the wild bush.
She thought she saw a flash through the trees. Long hair, white face, white figure. But it was a trick of the darkness. She was afraid of no ghosts. She was afraid of only one man. Her grandson, Kyall.
“Damn you, Plummer!” she cried again, stumbling but walking on doggedly. The leaves of the ghost gums were moving in the breeze. The moon had gone under a cloud. A night bird screeched so loudly the noise went right through her pounding skull. She’d left the homestead way behind. She was heading for the lagoon. The so-called experts said drowning was euphoric. Not that she’d ever trusted experts. She could think of nothing now but oblivion. Of disappearing without a trace like that other poor creature, Fiona, the first McQueen bride.
The girl’s name was Fiona, she’d been told. How very, very odd.
And now she thought the first Fiona might be shadowing her. That white figure seemed to be everywhere she looked.
“Go to hell!” she yelled, then started to laugh until her body shook uncontrollably. It was the mist off the swamp. That was all….
The moon sailed out from beneath the clouds and she saw the glitter of the water. She moved toward it without hesitation. “All right, try and find me,” she dared her family. “My own daughter to talk about jail. Me! There’d be no bars to hold me.”
The long scratches on her arms and legs were bleeding, but she paid them no mind. When she was young she could walk for miles and miles. When she was young she could do anything. She was beautiful with long, jet-black hair. She thought of Ewan, her husband, who couldn’t get enough of her body. How disgusted he would be with her. His parting words to her had been, “Love you, Ruthie. See you soon.”
I had to do it, Ewan, she mumbled. Her poor lifeless Ewan who went and left her.
She’d been so young and a widow. All alone. Full of unsatisfied passions.
A boulder rose up in front of her. She tripped, tried to find her balance, fell cursing. The boulder loomed over her like a headstone. She lay there for a moment to rest before she moved on once more toward the water.
Her heart was burning in her chest. She forced herself up, tasting blood in her mouth. She must have bitten her tongue. Death held no terror for her. There was nothing to live for anymore. Sarah Dempsey and her child had won. The thing she could not accept had happened. She got clear of the boulders, one of them taller than her, walking, stumbling, toward the silent, shining waters that could easily trap a body.
Ruth!
She wheeled and sent a panicked glance into the trees. At something. Someone. She’d heard her name clearly. The thing, the illusion that had been following her, seemed to float out of the top branches.
For the first time in her life, Ruth knew pure terror. All her strength withered away. Excruciating pain rose into her neck.
“Get away from me!” she screamed, flailing her arms. But the white haze kept coming. “Get!” Ruth McQueen cried. “I’m not afraid of you. Or anyone.”
The iron brace around her heart tightened by notches. The white haze seemed to grow brighter and brighter. It dazzled her eyes. A trick of the moonlight? She ground her teeth against the pain that now gripped her back like steely fingers.
How it hurt!
Oddly, she began to have flashes of her childhood in a place more than a thousand miles away. Her mother and father. Both dead. Then an image of her dead son, Stewart. Ewan, exactly as he was the day she’d met him—the same day she’d decided she was going to be Mrs. Ewan McQueen. She’d wanted Ewan, and all that marriage to Ewan brought with it. An historic station. A magnificent homestead. Wealth and position. A grand pioneering family.
Lastly, Kyall, who would not forgive her for her sins.
“How can I live with that? I will die.”
Ruth gave a final shuddering cry, then slowly folded backward onto the sand, coming to rest in a small inert bundle.
After that, nothing. Nothing save the whisperings of the trees and the scuttling of numerous small nocturnal desert creatures that lay concealed in their burrows during the heat of the day.
The lagoon was a setting as old as the world, richly colorful under the sun, by night a study in shades of black and charcoal, darkest purple and gleaming silver. From time to time the primitive landscape was illuminated by the bright rays of the moon as it sailed from behind the night’s cloud cover. It was wondrously white, passing over the body of the woman who stared up at it blindly.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
September (four months later)
Wunnamurra Station
SARAH FELT as though her heart could not contain all the happiness that was in her. It blazed through her veins and sharpened all her senses; everyone who looked at her thought she vibrated with inner light. Ruth McQueen’s name had been swept clean the moment she was laid to rest, her casket decked with masses of lilies that even in the cooler weather had wilted quickly. The veil of tension and countless other desperate emotions that for so long had hung over the family had lifted. It was like a liberation after long years of war. Now it almost seemed that there was nothing to mark Ruth McQueen’s long tenure except her handsome white marble tombstone in the family cemetery near the fork of the creek.
From the moment Sarah and Kyall had laid eyes on their daughter, the decision had been made to bring her back to her family. To her mother, her father and her doting grandparents, Enid and Max. They had flown more than a thousand miles to meet the Hazeltons, not unnaturally expecting massive resistance, heartbreaking scenes, protests, denials and refusals—but by the time they sat down together, all areas of conflict seemed to have dissipated. All that was left was a deeply sad acceptance. It was obvious to Kyall and Sarah that Stella and her husband had been over and over the dilemma that had invaded their home and their marriage. Although it was never said, Sarah had the intuitive feeling that Stella Hazelton had long suspected Fiona was not her biological child. Both Hazeltons, in fact, had gasped when they laid eyes on Sarah. The resembl
ance between her and “their” daughter was too remarkable to be explained away.
Afterward both women sat quietly, the tears rolling down their cheeks.
“Fiona will always be part of your family, Stella.” Sarah sought to comfort her, fully conscious of the older woman’s pain and mental stress. Both women had achieved an intense two-way connection. “You’ll see her often. I’m so sorry, Stella, but you realize that Kyall and I want our daughter.”
“God willed it,” Stella heard herself say, never doubting it for a minute. She knew in her heart that she had no real right to hold on to the child who had so graced their lives.
Afterward, when Fiona came home from school, her eyes brilliant with excitement because she’d been told Sarah and Kyall would be visiting, Sarah and her “mother” sat with her, telling her all the things she didn’t know. It had taken quite a while. Fiona had been alarmed and overwhelmed by their disclosures, looking from one to the other as though she couldn’t absorb such stunning revelations all at once.
Several times she put out her hand to Stella for support. Stella grasped it and carried it to her mouth. But Fiona listened until finally both women ceased talking.
“So you’re my mother?” Fiona turned to Sarah, obviously shaken but unafraid.
“The mother who loves you.” Sarah reached to take Fiona’s hand. “The mother who loved you from the minute she gave birth to you. You would’ve come home with me, Fiona, except for a terrible stroke of fate.”
“You’re so young!” Fiona shyly touched the beautiful face in front of her. “You could be my sister.”
“I’m your mother, I promise.” Sarah tried to smile. “Your father and I don’t wish to take you away immediately from the people who’ve been so good to you, but we want you to come home.”
“And what if I won’t go?” Fiona was trying to hold back a torrent of tears.
“We’re not going to force you to do anything, Fiona,” Sarah said in a gentle voice. “I can only say we desperately want our daughter with us. Please try to understand that we’ve missed nearly all your childhood.”