The Last Mile Home

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Barney, this is wrong. You must go back to your family.’

  His ebullient mood faded. ‘Abby, I thought after yesterday we had this settled. I won’t go back to Amba without you. Please, oh please, darling, don’t think I’m running away from you. I will send for you, I swear, wherever I am.’

  Abby began to cry and turned away from him, walking swiftly down the track, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

  Barney hurried after her . ‘For goodness’ sake, Abby, what now? What’s wrong?’

  She spun around, her face contorted in anguish.

  ‘Barney, I can’t marry you. How can we live happily knowing what you’ve given up, what you’ve lost. The guilt and resentment would start to eat away at us.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter! I love you, and you love me no matter how much you try to stop yourself. We’ll make it work. It has to, Abby. It’s too late to go back now.’ Barney grabbed her and swept her tightly to him. ‘I won’t give you up. You’re everything to me! Tell me you don’t love me, Abby. Tell me that.’ He took her face between his hands, his eyes burning into hers. She wrenched her face away, tears running down her cheeks. ‘You can’t, you can’t say it. Then for God’s sake tell me you’ll join me, please, Abby.’

  ‘It’s because I love you so much that I can’t marry you. Think ahead, Barney — we’ll always be struggling and you’ll blame me and the child for taking away the life you should have had. Please try to understand this is best for all of us.’

  ‘No!’ Barney shouted. Then a sudden image of his parents flashed into his mind. He recalled the unfathomable guilt he’d suffered as a child because he felt responsible for the tensions between his parents. Is that what his mother had meant when he’d said goodbye and she’d whispered, ‘Don’t let history repeat itself?

  Barney’s face settled into a stubborn expression, but his voice was tender. ‘I will not give up on you, Abby, or our baby, no matter what you say. I’ll send for you and I’ll expect you to join me and we’ll get married. That’s all there is to it.’

  ‘And live happily ever after?’ Abby gave a sad smile.

  ‘Yes. I won’t consider any other alternative. When we’re settled, married and have children, Mum and Dad will come round. Otherwise, if you don’t marry me, we’ll all be left alone. Come on, don’t make this any harder for us.’ He gathered her to him again and rained kisses on her face, her neck and her hair, murmuring in her ear , ‘I love you, Abby. I always, always will. Never forget that in the days ahead.’

  His voice was choked and he couldn’t look at her any more. He swung onto his horse, turned around and kicked it into a fast canter. Abby clutched the gatepost, one arm curled protectively across her belly as great thudding sobs were torn from her body. And with the realisation she hadn’t said what was uppermost in her heart, she screamed into the trees, ‘I love you, Barney.’ But he was gone.

  She lowered her head onto the splintery wood and cried as if her heart were truly broken.

  Abby didn’t know how long she crouched, huddled miserably by the gate, but at the sound of a car motor, she struggled to her feet, wiping a dusty hand across her eyes leaving muddy streaks on her cheeks.

  She peered down the track expecting to see Betsy, but instead a very battered utility truck, trailing smoke from its exhaust and churning up a column of dust, chugged towards her and stopped at the gate to Anglesea. The driver got out and took off his very worn hat. He was an older man, but straight-backed and broad-shouldered with a thick beard and very clear light blue eyes that Abby noticed immediately. He radiated enormous strength, and seemed to bristle with energy. He was dressed in overalls that had seen better days, a work shirt, and worn but solid boots.

  Holding his hat, he came to her and stood looking down at her. ‘Hello, Abby,’ he said.

  She stared at him. ‘ Do I know you? I’m sorry.’ Abby brushed at her face again, trying to compose herself.

  ‘No, we haven’t met before. I’m Mr Richards. Here …’ He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a neatly folded clean handkerchief.

  Abby wiped her tear-stained face and stared at his gently smiling face. She began to feel strangely calm and managed a brief smile in return as she handed him back his handkerchief.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Richards.’

  ‘Things are never as bad as they sometimes seem, you know.’ He leaned back against the fence, perfectly at ease.

  ‘I hope you’re right. Well, where are you off to, Mr Richards?’

  ‘Anglesea. I’m looking for work round here for a bit. I figured I might be needed here or there.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you there. But here comes my dad. He’ll know.’

  ‘Right then.’ Mr Richards helped Abby open the gate for Betsy.

  Bob McBride leaned out of the window. ‘Thanks, mate. How you doing, Abby?’

  ‘All right thanks, Dad. This is Mr Richards, he’s looking for work.’ Mr Richards stepped forward and shook Bob’s hand. Bob felt the calluses on the older man’s hand, earned from fencing and dingo and rabbit trapping. He looked into the clear cheerful eyes of Mr Richards. ‘You been travelling a bit, have you?’

  ‘I have. But here I am,’ said Mr Richards.

  ‘Well, follow us up to the house and join us for Sunday lunch. That okay by you, luv?’ Bob turned to Gwen, who smiled and nodded.

  ‘Want to ride with me, Abby?’ suggested Mr Richards.

  As he helped Abby into the cabin of the ute, Colleen nudged Shirley. ‘He looks like Santa Claus.’

  As the ute followed Betsy’s plump rear end, Mr Richards asked, ‘How far up to the homestead?’

  ‘Just a mile.’

  Mr Richards nodded and murmured, ‘The last mile home, it often seems the longest, doesn’t it?’

  Abby twisted away and looked out the window, suddenly overcome by tears again as she wondered where her own track was taking her and her child.

  THE DAY WAS DRAWING TO A CLOSE; A LINGERING lavender light hovered above the hills, reluctant to give way to the soft fringes of the night claiming the sky.

  Leaning on a fence post, Mr Richards lit his pipe and puffed contentedly, the wisp of exhaled smoke dissipating in the twilight.

  He had finished the week’s fencing work around Anglesea. Keith Pemberton had been glad of the extra hand and Mr Richards had gratefully accepted the invitation from Bob and Gwen to stay in the verandah sleepout and join them for meals. From the moment he arrived it seemed he was one of the family.

  The children loved him. Each evening after work he would help with their homework or join them in games and would round off the evening with stories of his travels and adventures, which enraptured the whole family. He was a good storyteller, just as he was a good worker.

  Abby found that during the evenings she’d often catch him watching her, and he would give her a brief smile and wink which made her feel they shared some secret bond.

  With the fencing done, Mr Richards went over to Amba to see if work was available there. He spotted Enid’s straw hat bobbing in the rose bushes and walked towards her. Two fluffy white bundles hurled themselves at him.

  Enid straightened up, ready to call the dogs, but she hesitated when she didn’t recognise the visitor. Then, to her amazement, she realised that the dogs were not barking in warning or taking up their familiar aggressive position. Instead they were braying in delighted welcome — puff-ball tails wagging, tongues licking Mr Richards’s boots — and leaping up to be petted. He bent down with a smile and fondled their ears as they rubbed happily against him.

  Enid came closer. ‘Well, I’ve never seen my dogs give anyone such a welcome, especially someone they don’t know.’

  ‘They know me, don’t you now?’ He straightened up and pulled his hat from his head, revealing thick salt and pepper curls that matched his beard. ‘My name is Richards. I was told there might be some work going here for a time.’ He smiled and Enid, who was normally timid with strangers, gave him a friendly smile i
n return.

  ‘Well, you’ll have to speak to my husband of course. I’m Enid Holten. My husband, Phillip, is down at the woolshed, I think.’ Enid turned back to her pruning.

  ‘Can I help you there?’ offered Mr Richards. ‘Some of those branches are very thick to cut through.’

  ‘Well, that’s kind of you, I was having a bit of struggle with my Celeste here.’ She handed over the shears and he expertly snapped through the branches at the correct position and angle.

  ‘We have to get rid of the dead wood before new growth can flourish, is that not so?’ Mr Richards tipped his hat to her and headed towards the woolshed, leaving Enid wondering whether it was roses or life he was referring to.

  Phillip Holten’s normal suspicion of itinerants was restrained as he talked to Mr Richards. He knew he had only to phone the Pembertons to check on the man but there was no doubting with Barney gone an extra pair of hands would be useful. The man looked like a hard worker too. They shook hands and Mr Richards offered to start straightaway.

  On leaving at the end of the day, he called by the house to thank Mrs Holten for the lunch she had sent down to the shed for him. She was sitting on the side verandah in a favourite rocking chair, eyes closed. When she opened her eyes, he was standing at the steps, hat in hand and smiling. She had no idea how long he’d been there.

  ‘It’s a lovely time of day for thinking, isn’t it?’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yes it is,’ said Enid, a little puzzled by his sudden appearance, yet pleased that he was talking to her. ‘ Do you have family, Mr Richards?’ she asked.

  ‘Ah yes, I have a family, of sorts.’ Tis one of the greatest gifts of all, don’t you think … family, that is.’

  Enid felt a little flustered but gathered her composure. ‘Indeed. But sometimes some of us are deprived of the gift. It’s like …’ Enid paused struggling for words. ‘Like unwrapping the gift and finding nothing in the package. Do you understand?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he acknowledged warmly. ‘It’s as if something got lost on the journey.’

  ‘That’s it,’ said Enid with enthusiasm. ‘You’ve put your finger on it, Mr Richards.’

  ‘Well, I must be going, Mrs Holten. Thank you very much for the lunch. See you tomorrow perhaps.’

  He had turned to walk back to his ute when Enid asked, ‘ Mr Richards, what do you think was lost … on the journey?’

  The tall bushman turned and stood silhouetted against the glory of the setting sun. After a minute, he spoke. ‘Love, Mrs Holten. It’s the only reality.’

  Enid was still puzzling over this reply when the dust trail of the ute disappeared over the ridge. She stepped off the verandah and, flanked by the two small dogs, wandered, a lonely figure, in the darkening garden.

  As she walked, Mr Richards’s words echoed through her mind. She felt a quiet and rare confidence and decided to talk to her husband.

  ‘Phillip,’ she said when she found him , ‘I’ve come to the conclusion we must reconsider Barney’s wishes.’

  Phillip looked up from his stamp album in astonishment and removed his glasses. ‘I beg your pardon, Enid?’

  ‘I believe we must accept the girl and the baby. It is the only way Barney will come back to us.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Enid.’

  ‘I don’t want to lose my son.’

  ‘Give him time. He’ll come to his senses. He simply can’t marry that girl, baby or no baby, and that’s that.’

  ‘He loves her, Phillip.’

  ‘He’ll have to learn to love someone more appropriate. The girl is not suitable — she’s from a different class and she’s a Catholic.’ ‘I was a Catholic when I married you, Phillip. Even if I wasn’t a practising one.’

  Enid spoke quietly but her statement hit Phillip hard. ‘Enid,’ he gasped, ‘how could you bring that up again? We agreed before we married that this matter was in the past, finished.’

  Enid’s mind was a whirl of images as she recalled the long and agonising talks she had had with Phillip when they were courting. As she battled with the agony of the loss of her first love, she questioned her belief in God and the infallibility of the Catholic church. Her faith had almost been destroyed and, under Phillip’s pressure, she had renounced it, seeing that as a way of showing him how much she cared. She had abandoned the Catholic church and agreed to raise as Presbyterians any children she and her husband might have. At the time, Phillip had made her promise never to refer to it again, and she hadn’t, until now.

  ‘We only thought it was finished, Phillip.’

  ‘Only thought … what do you mean?’ snapped Phillip.

  Enid leaned back and closed her eyes. This was not how she had expected the confrontation with Phillip would go. She was grateful that Phillip did not demand an immediate answer but sat silently waiting while she regained her composure.

  ‘I’m sorry to upset you like this, Phillip, but in recent years I have felt a great yearning to return to the Catholic faith. I can’t explain it too well, and you’ll have to bear with me,’ she pleaded, her face showing the agony of her predicament.

  ‘Why? Whatever for? Why bring unwanted tensions into our life?’

  Enid took a deep breath . ‘What do differences really matter, Phillip? Marriages should be based on love, understanding and compromise. Not sacrifice. Real love should override all differences. Can’t you see that?’

  ‘What are you really saying, Enid?’ Phillip felt uncomfortable, vulnerable, as if the defences he had built up over a lifetime were crumbling.

  ‘Why shouldn’t Barney and Abby marry if they are so much in love? You’re turning your son away. What little we had to call family will be reduced to nothing, Phillip. You will regret this, but at least I tried and it gives me some comfort to know at least I was prepared to accept Abigail.’ Enid slumped back in her chair, exhausted, one hand resting on her heart.

  ‘You’re being melodramatic, Enid,’ said Phillip gently, suddenly feeling concern for his wife’s condition. ‘You know I cannot approve of what Barney has done. He’ll come to his senses. Amba means too much to him. Now let me help you to bed.’

  That evening, as Bob McBride and Mr Richards entered the usually bustling and noisy kitchen, they found everything very quiet.

  ‘What’s up? Someone drop a bomb in here?’ asked Bob, giving Gwen a kiss on the cheek.

  She finished peeling the vegetables, rolling the skins into the spread newspaper. ‘You might say that.’ Then in a low voice she explained, ‘Kevin heard about Abby. We’ll have to tell them all now.’

  ‘How’d he take it?’

  ‘He’s upset. He’s out doing the chooks. The girls are in their room with Brian.’

  ‘And Abby?’

  ‘Back steps. She got her first letter from Barney today. She misses him so much, the poor luv.’

  ‘Better have a family conference after dinner, eh?’

  Mr Richards went around the verandah to his sleepout and put on a clean shirt. He spotted Abby on the steps and sat down beside her. ‘Mind if I join you? Um, good place for star-gazing. And thinking through things too, I suppose.’ He noticed Abby was holding a letter.

  ‘Mmm. Thinking is one thing, finding answers is another thing altogether.’

  ‘Perhaps. You have to know where to look. People travel here and there, all looking for something, when it’s right under their nose all the time.’

  ‘How do you mean, Mr Richards?’

  ‘I take it you have a decision to make?’

  ‘I’ve already made it.’

  ‘And is it the right one, Abby? Before you answer that, look to the place where answers are found.’

  ‘And where’s that?’

  He smiled at her sceptical face. ‘Life is a journey and you can travel a long way looking for answers and meanings … The answer could be at the end of a journey as long as the light of the stars.’ He paused as they both looked into the early evening sky. ‘ Or it could be found at the end of a single mile track
that leads from the gate to your home. Or the answer could be right here.’ He pointed to her heart. ‘ Take the inner journey and look into your heart. That is where your true spirit rests and that is where you’ll find your answer, Abby. In your heart. Nowhere else.’ He touched her hands clasping Barney’s letter, and stood and went inside.

  After dinner, Gwen and Bob quietly and calmly talked to the children and Abby told them of the baby. While the girls clapped their hands in excitement and Brian copied them, Kevin sat stony-faced.

  Abby reached over and touched his shoulder. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Kev. Don’t be angry. I want you to understand. Please don’t think I’ve let you all down. I love Barney and he loves me and that’s all that matters for the moment.’

  ‘Sometimes things happen that aren’t planned, and although we mightn’t see it at the time, it’s all part of God’s plan,’ said Gwen gently.

  ‘But people are saying horrible things about us. About Abby,’ he burst out. ‘Kids at school and ladies in the shops.’

  ‘That’s life, son. People talk, and they like to talk about the bad things, never the good,’ said Bob. ‘Just about everyone’s got a chip on their shoulder or some sort of bias against people or someone else’s ways.’

  ‘We know Abby; we know ourselves, and we know what we believe. We have each other and that will protect us,’ added Gwen.

  ‘I need you to stand by me, Kev,’ said Abby to her brother. ‘ It won’t be easy. You’ll get a bad time from some of the kids at school.’

  ‘If anyone says anything about you, I’ll thump them,’ said Kevin defiantly. ‘ Don’t you worry, Ab. We’ll look after you.’

  ‘Thanks, Kev.’ She smiled at him and he looked at his beautiful big sister with eyes full of fierce love.

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ said Bob.

  ‘But don’t you get into any fights; just ignore them, Kev,’ said Gwen. ‘Don’t go down to their level. Now, how about a bedtime snack?’ She reached for the large square tin of Arnotts mixed biscuits she kept on the top of the pantry shelf.

  Before she went to bed, Abby went into the garden and looked up at her special star . ‘ Oh Barney, are you looking at these same stars and thinking of me?’ His letter had been so full of hope and love. He was leaving Charleville and following up a real possibility for a job. So we can be together soon. I miss you so much, Abby. I’m doing this for us, for our future. And I know things will work out. Have faith in me Abby and come to me. I should have good news soon. I love you.