An Outback Affair/Runaway Wife/Outback Bridegroom/Outback Surrender/Home To Eden

by Margaret Way

  “I’m as interested in your soul as your body, Nicole. So don’t worry. You’re my guest. I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

  So why didn’t that give her a lot of joy?

  THE AFTERNOON WAS SPENT outdoors where the air was as sweet and heavy as syrup. Inside the Toyota it was mercifully cool, the air-conditioning pouring into the vehicle full blast. Drake drove to various parts of the station, pointing out all the improvements to the giant operation. Along the way there were conversations with colorful characters; mostly trackers and stockmen. Also a man called Boris, an exile from “Mother Russia” who could speak five languages fluently, mend any piece of machinery and restore it to full running order, but wanted nothing more out of life than the peace and freedom of Outback station life. Nicole had Drake stop frequently so she could take photographs. They even fitted in billy tea and fresh scones with the brumby hunters when they rode in. These highly experienced stockmen—two she acknowledged as ex–Eden employees—had spent much of the previous day scouring the vast station for wild brumbies that could be successfully trained as useful workhorses. Afterward they continued their leisurely drive surprisingly in accord. It was the land, Nicole reasoned, its calming effect on them both.

  The spinifex plains marched their countless miles to the Larkspur ranges, which ran in a series of east-west parallel lines to the horizon. Not high as mountain ranges went, the Larkspurs nevertheless presented a spectacular outline, deep ragged indentations and long, inviting valleylike chasms against the brilliant cobalt-blue sky. Their purplish hue was the same dry-pottery purple used by Namatjira, the famous Aboriginal painter. It contrasted wonderfully with the orange-red of the desert soil, the burnt gold of the spinifex and the patches of gray-green of the extraordinarily hardy desert vegetation.

  Nicole viewed the natural terrain in all its drama and brilliance with her painter’s eye. She wondered if there was ever going to be a time when her work reflected her spirit at peace with itself. Surely that spirit was starting to emerge. She knew she was feeling stronger.

  Majestic river-red gums lined the white sandy banks of the innumerable watercourses—billabongs, lagoons, remote swamps where pelicans built their nests—that crisscrossed all Channel Country stations and allowed the raising of giant herds. Despite the drought, there was quite a lot of water in most lagoons, with splendid water lilies of cerulean blue, deep pink, cream, standing aloft, turning their lovely smooth faces to the sun.

  As always the birds were out in their teeming millions. Nicole viewed them with the greatest pleasure; the great winged formations of budgerigars passing overhead like bolts of emerald- and gold-shot silk, the clatter of flocks of whistling duck, the white sulfur-crested cockatoos that completely covered trees like huge white flowers, the chattering pink and pearl-gray galahs, the countless little finches and chats of the plain. The great wedge-tailed eagles and the falcons dominated the skies, no other birds a match for them.

  She would never forget the falcons, wings spread, coming closer and closer to the sprawled, defenseless body of her mother.

  “What’s the matter?” Drake asked perceptively, registering the abrupt change in her.

  “I never see falcons without thinking of that terrible day,” she said in a pained, low voice. “The way I ran about crazily trying to frighten them off. The way Granddad was trying to hold me while we both died inside. I wasn’t going to let them come anywhere near my mother.”

  Recognition of her terrible trauma was in his eyes. “It was a ghastly experience for you, Nic.”

  “I’ll never forget it no matter how long I live. I’ve never been able to go back there. The escarpment used to be a favorite resting place, remember? A marvelous vantage point, the best on Eden, though it isn’t high, a couple of hundred feet. It’s amazing how hills and ranges seem to tower when everything else is so flat. It’s the way Uluru astounds, rising so abruptly from the desert floor. It appears mighty. Remember how we used to go to the escarpment after the rains to see the miracle of the wildflowers? Miles and miles of flowers shimmering away on all sides, clear to the horizon. And the heavenly perfume! The desert Aboriginals used the escarpment as a resting place on their walkabouts.” She suddenly seized his wrist.

  “For God’s sake, Nic, be careful,” he warned, the muscles of his arm flexing.

  “I’m sorry. Stupid of me. But what if some of the desert nomads were in the area that day? They could have seen something.”

  He sighed heavily. “Many people asked that question, Nic. There was no sighting of any Aboriginal party.”

  “That doesn’t mean a thing. They move like shadows. They could have been there and feared to come forward.”

  “You’re only torturing yourself.”

  “Okay, then. But so many odd things have been happening lately. I’ve only recently heard that Siggy paid Dot off without a word to me.”

  “She shouldn’t have done that.” He swung his head to her in surprise. “I would have thought Dot would die on Eden. Or die if she had to leave it.”

  She nodded with a small frown. “I have to follow up on that, as well as what happened to Dr. Rosendahl. Hit-and-run driver? It doesn’t sound right to me. I know that street. Narrow. Cars lining both sides. An unlikely street for a hit-and-run. What I don’t know is if anyone was caught.”

  “Don’t go thinking there’s a connection. I can’t believe Rosendahl’s death had anything to do with the old tragedy, Nic.”

  “Don’t dismiss the idea out of hand,” she said slowly. “Dr. Rosendahl knew an awful lot about us.”

  “If he was murdered, surely you’re not suggesting the person responsible could have been someone we know,” he asked incredulously.

  “It’s damned odd.” She swung her binoculars up to watch two brolgas dancing on the flats of a lagoon. “Slow up, would you?” she murmured. “There’s a ballet in progress.”

  Drake not only slowed, he cruised in gently to the shade of the blossoming orchid trees, the bauhinias.

  It was a familiar vision but one that always enchanted her. A bush ballet. The long-legged cranes, their plumage pale gray, their heads swathed in a broad band of red almost like scarves tied around them for the dance were well into their fascinating ritual—lifting up and down excitedly, bowing, pirouetting. One of the great sights of the Outback.

  They were both silent, watching. “How beautiful!” Nicole breathed. “I’m so glad I’ve seen that.” She lowered the binoculars, her expression soft.

  “The small wonders around us,” Drake observed as he reversed the vehicle. The heat of the afternoon had built up swiftly. Far off in the distance, a mirage shimmered before them like swinging curtains of crystal beads, creating optical illusions of wondrous forms, misty-blue pinnacles and domes guarding phantom lakes that had lured many an early explorer deeper into the desert with the promise of life-giving water.

  It was Drake’s keen eyes that first discerned the speck in the blue sky.

  “A plane.” He peered through the windshield. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, the Stirlings’ Cessna.”

  “You’re joking!” Nicole shook her head in mock surprise. Callista hadn’t wasted a moment.

  “I’m seriously considering it’s Karen.”

  Nicole made a little derisive sound. “It didn’t take Callista long to call for help.”

  “What the devil could she want?”

  “Be your age. She wants you. Kooltar. Do you want me to go on? Callista has got her here for security and comfort. That bad girl, Nicole Cavanagh, is back on the scene.”

  “It could be her father,” Drake said, not very hopefully. “He could have a cattle buyer with him. One’s working the area.”

  “Want to bet?” Nicole asked, thinking she wasn’t going to get the chance to be alone with Drake for long.

  “How much?” he grunted, his eyes still on the sky.

  “Five hundred thousand? I’ll take a check.”

  He gave her a gleaming glance. “We can continue ou
r trip.”

  “Suit yourself.” She shrugged, not giving protest or encouragement. “She’s your friend and, I guess, your sometime bed pal. Don’t worry. I’m not jealous, even though Callista was thoughtful enough to point out that Karen’s bedroom is close to yours. So easy to pop in.”

  “Do you have a problem with that?” he asked lightly. “We’re both single.”

  “Anything that makes you happy. But is the affair incendiary enough for you? Why not pepper it up with a little competition?”

  His voice sounded edgy. “I just hope Cally hasn’t engineered this.”

  Nicole looked off to the right to where a palisade of papyrus met the shining water of the river. “You think she’d ever admit to such a cunning plan?”

  His eyes glittered. “I promise you I’ll find out.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  THEY ARRIVED BACK at the homestead toward sundown, having continued their leisurely exploration of the station. Neither had made any further effort to debate whether they should return to greet Karen. They had simply gone on their way, Nicole climbing out of the vehicle now and then to examine some feature more closely. Once she’d stopped to talk with an old friend, Judah, a full-blooded Aboriginal. Judah had once been Kooltar’s finest tracker, but he was now old and physically diminished, the black liquid eyes not as good or as bright but as wise as ever. Judah had been part of the search party for her mother and David McClelland, coming upon her and her grandfather as they huddled on the sand in grief. Even through her shocking trauma, she’d been aware of how kind and sensitive Judah had been with her.

  “We old spirits, missy,” he’d told her, his dark eyes tragic. “We survive. Your mama fly up to the sky. Understand? After longa while, you’ll see her in the stars.”

  So far she never had, but the idea still gave her comfort.

  When they arrived back at the homestead, seated on the broad veranda were Callista, expression as inscrutable as ever, and a tall, good-looking brunette dressed in a tight strawberry-red T-shirt—she had eye-catching full breasts—with knee-length navy shorts, a sparkling white smile on her face.

  “Hi!” she called in a bright, friendly fashion, pushing out of the rattan armchair. She moved to the top of the steps. “I was in the area—over at Mount Myora actually, an errand for Dad—I just had to call in. Hope you don’t mind?” She’d been addressing Drake, and now her golden-brown eyes shifted to Nicole. “Nicole, how lovely to see you again. It’s been such a long time. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Karen.” Nicole walked up the steps, extending her hand. “You look wonderful.”

  “So do you. Like a model on safari in one of those glossy magazines.” Her dark eyes swept appraisingly over Nicole’s willowy figure. Nicole was dressed in a black T-shirt with khaki cargo pants. She’d woven her long hair into a thick braid. It hung between her shoulder blades, a carefree style that showed off the elegant column of her throat and the shape of her head. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat. Her eyes glowed an iridescent blue-green.

  Inspection over, Karen linked her arm through Nicole’s in friendly fashion. “You have to tell me all you’ve been up to. It’s really good to see you. I was in Singapore when you were here for your grandmother’s birthday. Callista very kindly invited me to stay to dinner and overnight.”

  “You might as well spend the night with us as fly in the dark,” Callista said, giving Karen a fond smile. “I’m sure you two young women have lots to catch up on. How did the afternoon go?” Callista’s glance slid to her nephew, who was lounging against the wrought-iron balustrade.

  “Fine,” he replied casually. “We managed to see a lot.”

  “That’s splendid. I thought you might have returned earlier.”

  He shrugged. “The idea was to have Nic see as much of the station as she could.”

  Callista appeared disconcerted by the nickname. She gave Nicole a glinting look. “Why don’t you both sit down. What would you like, dear?” She addressed her nephew.

  “A nice cold beer.” Drake held out a chair for Nicole, who slipped into it. He sat down beside her with Callista and Karen in their original positions on the opposite side of the glass-topped table. “What about you, Nic?”

  “A gin and tonic would be lovely. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed our little sight-seeing trip, but it was thirsty work!”

  “Not so little,” Callista cut in. “You’ve been gone for hours.” She said this as though she thought they’d been astoundingly rude.

  Nicole barely stopped herself from laughing aloud. “The time passed so quickly. Kooltar is in remarkably good condition, given the drought.”

  “Drake takes the trophy as a cattleman.” Karen beamed at him, reaching across Nicole’s body to touch his hand. “Running a big operation takes very special skills. My dad says Drake is the best in the business.”

  “One of the best,” Drake amended. “It’ll be quite a while before I can touch Kyall McQueen, for one. He’s a truly formidable businessman.”

  “So are you,” Karen maintained loyally.

  “I imagine nothing is the same for Kyall with his grandmother gone.” Nicole gave a tiny involuntary shudder. “I was terrified of Ruth McQueen when I was a child and I didn’t scare easily. I remember once we were at a wedding getting overexcited and noisy. One look from her silenced the lot of us. She was positively awful to Christine, her own granddaughter. Christine was so sweet and beautiful. She tried so hard to please. Oh, I do want to see all of my old friends again. Shelley Logan was special—very brave! I understand she’s marrying Brock Tyson. Kyall married his one true love, Sarah Dempsey, at long last.”

  “Dr. Sarah McQueen, head of the Koomera Crossing Bush Hospital,” Karen said. “Sarah is much loved and respected. She’s a fine doctor. The far-flung community is lucky to have her. She’s expecting another baby, did you know? It’s only just become official.”

  “I’m quite sure Nicole hasn’t heard Sarah’s extraordinary story,” Callista said, more than a tinge of disapproval in her voice.

  “Actually, my grandmother told me,” Nicole said quietly. “Gran has always had a soft spot for Sarah. Sarah was there for my grandfather. Gran will never forget that. When you think about it, Sarah’s story is not so unexpected. She had a baby when she was fifteen. She’s not the first and she’s not the last. She and Kyall loved each other. The miracle is they found their daughter Fiona even though she’d been adopted.”

  “You’d know Fiona anywhere, Nicole,” Karen said. “She’s Sarah’s mirror image, just as you’re your mother’s. I expect you’ll meet up with everyone at Shelley’s wedding. We’re all going.”

  “Alas, I don’t have an invitation.”

  “That’s easily attended to,” Drake said lightly. “Brock has already asked me to be best man. He has Philip of course, but they’ve never been close. Shelley will be delighted you’re home, Nic. Every time I run into her in town, she asks after you.”

  “As if you’d know.” Callista stood up as if at a signal. “I’ll go attend to the drinks. Anything else for you, Karen dear?”

  Karen leaned back comfortably in her armchair. “I’ll join Drake in a long cold beer.”

  NICOLE HAD BROUGHT something pretty so she could dress up a little for dinner. She brushed her hair until it crackled, then allowed it to hang full and loose the way the men in her life had always liked it.

  What men? They paled into insignificance beside Drake. She had all but broken away from this man, but look how effortlessly he had reeled her back in. Something inside her, some niggling little voice, suggested he could have been the real reason she’d found it difficult to make a lasting commitment to any other man.

  Under the shower she’d felt herself reliving that kiss. The kiss she couldn’t deal with. It was more like a revelation with the potential to disturb her life. All that long hot afternoon, they’d been acutely aware of each other, the hot air sexually charged, but he’d made no further move to touch her.

  It could
be his plan. His eyes watching her, like a big cat with its prey. Despite what Karen had said, she still believed Callista had called the young woman to come, but Callista was the only one with claws. Karen’s manner was friendly, her attractive smile at the ready, but Nicole knew there had to be a great deal of wondering going on behind the pleasant facade. Maybe their relationship hadn’t arrived at the point of commitment, but Karen obviously held to her high hopes. Her golden-brown eyes were constantly on Drake, her expression a dead giveaway. She listened attentively when he spoke. She was obviously madly in love with Drake, but he chose in his male arrogance not to heed it.

  Men!

  It was nice to get out of slacks and a T-shirt and into a dress, this one silk, in an iridescent shade of blue, cut like a slip. Her only jewelery was a pair of silver and enamel art nouveau pendant earrings set with amethysts given to her by her grandmother. They were right back in fashion. A light spray of Chanel’s Gardenia and she was ready to go. She couldn’t allow herself to be upset by Callista’s deeply ingrained hostility. Some things never changed. Callista had never been kind to her. Drake was the reason she was here.

  She was ready to go downstairs, when someone tapped on the door. She knew it wasn’t Drake from the light, rather hesitant tap. Not Callista, either, she thought.

  Opening the door, she looked into Karen’s glossy-lipped face. “Hi, Karen, have you come to get me?”

  “I wondered if we might have a word.” Karen looked beyond Nicole into the large bedroom.

  “Sure. Come in.”

  “This is a beautiful room.” Karen advanced, staring around her. “Those paintings! Aren’t they lovely?”

  “Haven’t you been in here before?”

  Karen looked almost shocked. “Gosh, Nicole, Callista doesn’t give me the run of the house.”

  “How extraordinary! I thought you were good friends. Please, sit down.”