Amy's Touch

by Lynne Wilding

  When she’d finished, David Carmichael reached across and took one of her hands in his. ‘My dear…’

  Amy’s chin lifted proudly. ‘Father, I don’t want platitudes or empty promises. I know the situation is bad. I’ve nursed men with less serious wounds than Randall and seen them die.’

  ‘I don’t know how long. I did all I could, Amy.’ Gavin’s expression was apologetic as he admitted that. ‘The bullets did so much damage to his intestines, his bowel, his spleen. I couldn’t extract one of the bullets and…’

  David finished for him. ‘Randall lost so much blood.’ He glanced at Gavin, who nodded approvingly, so he added, ‘And now septicaemia has set in.’

  Amy bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. With her nursing experience she understood what was happening; still, it was a huge emotional blow for Gavin and her father to detail Randall’s condition in clinical terms. Hearing the words out loud destroyed the last hope she had that Randall would somehow beat the odds and survive.

  ‘No consolation, I’m sure, but Joe Walpole had a bit of an accident after the constable picked him up from here and took him to the police station,’ her father told her. ‘Fell on his face in the cell and somehow broke his arm.’

  ‘Rumour in town has it that Joe might have had a little help having his accident,’ Gavin said. ‘He’s being taken to Hawker tomorrow and will stand trial in about two months. Believe me, he’ll get his just deserts.’

  Amy made no comment. She couldn’t care less what happened to Joe Walpole. Her thoughts and anxieties centred around Randall and the children and what would happen afterwards. Don’t think about that now, she ordered herself. Take things an hour, a day, at a time. That way, you just might be able to get through what you have to.

  ‘I think I should stay,’ David said. ‘To…help out, to watch over my grandchildren, whom I don’t see often enough.’ He waggled a finger at his daughter. ‘No buts now; I’m staying.’

  She gave him a wan smile and acquiesced. ‘All right.’

  ‘Good, that’s settled. Now, I should be getting back to town.’ Gavin finished his tea and stood up. ‘Rebekkah will come out later this afternoon.’

  As they stood, the three watched an automobile kick up a trail of dust as it came down the road and around into Drovers’ back yard. The late-model Ford, one of Frank Smith’s hire cars, came to a halt near the back porch. As the dust settled, a man stepped onto the running board, then to the ground.

  Amy’s eyes widened. She blinked in disbelief, and for several seconds couldn’t find her voice. He was taller than she remembered, and in his tailored business suit, a narrow-brimmed hat in one hand and a suitcase in the other, he looked exactly what he had become, a successful businessman, so different from the man she’d known. He looked more confident and mature, but still she would know him anywhere. A smile broke her serious expression as she called his name: ‘Danny!’

  When he extended his arms in greeting, she jumped up, rushed down the porch steps and was enveloped in his welcoming bear hug.

  Moments later, curiosity got the better of Amy and she had to ask, ‘How did you get here so quickly? I wasn’t expecting you for several more days.’

  Danny grinned. ‘I was lucky. I tracked down this pilot, Dennis Hatfield, and offered him an obscene amount of money to fly me from Suva to Sydney.’

  Amy’s eyes widened in concern as they stood there, still holding hands. ‘Oh! Wasn’t that dangerous?’

  Danny thought for a moment or two before he spoke. It was a little hard to concentrate, being so close to the woman he still loved. ‘Let’s just say that I wouldn’t want to fly over so much ocean or land ever again. Hatfield has nerves of steel. He flew me all the way to Quorn, which is almost halfway across the Australian continent.’

  Amy smiled, she couldn’t help it. It was so good to see Danny again, to have him home. She gave his hands a slight squeeze before disentangling hers from his. ‘It’s wonderful that you’re here. Come and see Randall, he’s been waiting for you.’

  Danny had five days at Drovers before Randall was laid to rest in the family plot on the property, next to Edward’s memorial headstone, on a warm, sunny, early-autumn day.

  It was a large funeral—the McLean family was mostly well liked in the Flinders and mourners came from as far as Hawker in the south and Blinman to the north to pay their final respects to a man whose life had been unfairly snatched from him by the vengeful, mercenary Joe Walpole.

  Amy had done the lion’s share of nursing Randall, holding his hand and not leaving his side when he lapsed into a coma. Like Danny, she’d been there when Randall had peacefully drawn his last breath.

  As the mourners, having enjoyed the traditional morning tea and sandwiches, began to disperse, Danny looked for Amy in the crowd of soberly dressed people. She was surrounded by men and women offering sympathy and wishing her well. His admiration spilled over as he watched her hide her grief, and even manage an occasional smile. A remarkable woman, in so many ways. There and then he knew his fate was sealed, that he would love Amy forever. He would turn over the management of his island trading business to Verne and Gretel Dennison, and stay at Drovers until the property was as financially sound as Randall wanted it to be.

  At least Beth and her mother had had the good grace not to attend Randall’s funeral, but that it was Joe who had taken Randall’s life was a reality that would take Danny a long time to come to terms with. He pushed thoughts of the Walpoles from his mind, focusing more on what had occurred between Randall and himself. Before his brother’s health had deteriorated they had discussed the past, and Randall’s hopes for the future, making peace with each other for past hurts too, and talked about Randall’s love for Amy, Kate and Ian. Even about the dreadful episode during the Great War when Randall had mercy-killed the young German soldier. In turn, Randall had listened to Danny and been impressed and proud to acknowledge Danny’s achievements in Fiji, and the wealth he had amassed there.

  Attuned to Amy’s emotions, Danny sensed that she was close to exhaustion. He made his way to where she stood, flanked on one side by her ageing father, and on the other by her friends Winnie Cohen and Dot Quinton.

  ‘We should go.’

  Danny held out a hand to her and, without hesitating, she put her hand in his, clearly grateful to escape so much attention. Her blue eyes were slightly glazed and showed confusion, but after a moment’s thought, she responded with a question: ‘Go where, Danny?’

  He pointed towards the homestead. ‘Home.’

  A relieved sigh escaped Amy’s lips. ‘Oh, yes. Let’s.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Spring 1933

  Leaning against the timber rail, Amy watched Danny lift Ian onto his pony, hand him the reins then lead the pony around the breaking-in yard by a lead rope. As soon as the horse moved, Ian’s face broke into a happy grin. Kate, an accomplished rider for her age, was riding her own, bigger pony in the adjoining paddock, where the Duchess and her foal roamed free.

  As Amy studied her son’s reactions, and Danny, she admitted that she didn’t know how she would have managed the last eighteen months or so without him. Living with Randall had, on occasions, been hard, but living without him had been an introduction to hell. But Danny remained easygoing and, surprisingly, still had a boyish charm, even though he was in his late thirties. Yet now there was more to him than there had been ten years ago. An astute businessman, he had insisted on pouring funds and casual labour, as well as his own time and energy, into revitalising Drovers Way.

  Looking at the homestead, its sandstone gardens neat and ordered and now containing mostly native plants and shrubs, and the outbuildings and shearing shed all tidy and painted, she was pleased by what had been accomplished. They ran more sheep than cattle these days and the flock had increased dramatically under Danny’s expertise and watchful eye. He’d even begun the thoroughbred breeding program Randall had been keen to start, and the Duchess and her colt, the first progeny of his
program, were doing well.

  And, what was more, Kate and Ian adored him. He got along well with Nora, Jim and Mike, and Amy had come to appreciate more than ever his kind and caring nature. Encouraged by him, she had decided to run for the position of mayor again, because Andy Cummings had made a hash of the job. Many had been surprised when Andy was voted in for a second term, but since then it had become clear to most ‘thinking’ people that he simply wanted the title of mayor, not the duties that went with the job. Besides, without Bill Walpole—who’d run the council from behind the scenes—to back him up and direct him, Andy had been, as the saying went, all at sea!

  Amy’s gaze focused on Danny again, and she smiled. Another good thing was that the passage of time had lessened Danny’s resemblance to his brother, apart from their similar-coloured brown eyes. His looks, size and personality were very different from Randall’s. Amy would have found Danny hard to be around had they been more alike.

  Over the days, weeks and months, the sorrow, missing Randall, had settled into a dull ache, a sense of never-ending emptiness—and though her friend Winnie, who’d been widowed many years, said this phase would pass, Amy believed she would never experience joy again. To compensate, to survive, she filled her days and sometimes her nights with work. At the hospital, and for the Country Women’s League, which had become affiliated with other like-minded leagues from other states in the Commonwealth. And should she win the mayoral position this time, she would be the only lady mayor in the state. Danny had joked with her that the next step had to be state or Commonwealth politics, but she’d laughed the suggestion off, saying that politicians spent too much time away from home and to her, Drovers and her family were everything.

  ‘Look, Mummy, I’m riding by myself.’

  Ian’s voice broke the thread of her mental meanderings. Danny had unhooked the lead rope and Ian’s pony was obligingly continuing to walk around the yard on his own. A soft breeze began to blow, and Ian’s blond hair, in serious need of a trim, was flying about freely.

  Standing on the inside of the fence, close to her, Danny said, ‘I’ll have him trotting tomorrow and cantering by the end of the week.’

  ‘Ian’s not yet four. Shouldn’t you take things more slowly?’

  Danny chuckled. ‘Spoken like a true worrywart mother. He’s doing just fine. Randall and I were riding at his age.’

  Amy’s sigh was a concession. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  Danny’s hand covered hers on the timber rail. ‘Amy, surely you know I wouldn’t do anything to harm him, or Kate. They’re wonderful children and I love them too much.’

  Amy stared at his hand. The skin was tanned with fine golden hairs on the back, and his fingers were short and square, yet she sensed their strength. It was a good feeling. Surprised by her train of thoughts, her cheeks flushed. How strange! Recovering, she withdrew her hand from beneath his and stepped back from the railing.

  ‘I should get ready for the hospital.’

  All at once, without forethought, she needed to get away to dispel the sudden rush of memories of Danny as the man to whom she had once been engaged. It was silly, an aberration. She was lonely. Oh, God, what was she thinking? She didn’t know. Her chin squared stubbornly: she didn’t want to know!

  A frown wrinkled Danny’s forehead as he studied Amy’s graceful walk back to the homestead. Had he said something, done something she didn’t feel comfortable with? Just now, she had got a bit funny, gone into her shell and retreated from him. He was thoughtful, as a glimmer of hope struggled to remain alive inside him. Was she becoming more aware of him as a man and less as just her brother-in-law? Or was it wishful thinking on his part that her feelings towards him might be changing? God knew he was a patient man, but being so close to her now, seeing her every day, for hours at a time, knowing that she slept two bedrooms away from him, was testing his patience and self-control to the limit.

  With difficulty he pulled his thoughts away from the woman he loved and remembered what he had to do tomorrow. It wasn’t a task he relished, but he felt that he had to see it through. After a trial and two failed appeals against the death sentence, Joe Walpole was scheduled to hang at noon, and Danny had made a silent promise to Randall’s memory to be there to watch his brother’s murderer’s life come to an end…

  There was little satisfaction in seeing a man hang, Danny decided after attending Joe Walpole’s execution in Hawker. It was a disturbingly unpleasant way for a man to die, but then, compared to the slow, painful death Randall had suffered, perhaps Joe, as usual, had got off lightly. Danny gave a little shudder as he drove towards Gindaroo, grateful that Beth and Margaret—who hadn’t attended—had been spared the experience of seeing Joe cry like a baby, and wet himself as the hangman placed the noose around his neck. Joe had died the same coward he had been in life.

  Justice had been served, and Danny was simply glad that it was all over. Hopefully, now Amy and the children and everyone at Drovers could get on with their lives.

  Amy becoming mayor of Gindaroo in the early summer of 1934 was sufficient reason to hold a celebratory dinner at Drovers Way, and because it was a special occasion they were eating formally in the homestead’s dining room.

  ‘To Amy.’ Danny raised his wine glass in a salute to her as he made the toast. ‘Congratulations. You’re going to be a great mayor.’

  ‘Did you know that there’s an article about your win in the Adelaide Advertiser?’ Mike commented. ‘Dot Quinton told me. I’ll bet one of the political parties, probably the Country Party, will come knocking on your door before the year’s out.’

  Amy laughed at Mike’s enthusiasm. ‘They can knock all they like, I’m not interested in state politics. I just want to do my best for Gindaroo and the district.’

  Nora, now six months pregnant, said, ‘Did any of you see Andy Cummings’s face when the official read out the numbers? Hardly anyone voted for him. He stormed out of the hall in a temper.’

  ‘You’ll have to watch him, Amy, he’ll be something of a nuisance at town meetings,’ Jim advised.

  ‘I’m not worried about Andy. As his mother-in-law Valda once said, the man’s all bluff and bluster and no substance.’

  Everyone at the table laughed at the all-too-accurate description of Gindaroo’s barber.

  ‘Now, because yesterday was a special day for the McLeans and for Drovers, I’m declaring tomorrow a holiday,’ Danny decreed. ‘You all have the day off and we’re going to take the children to Boolcunda Creek for a picnic.’ He smiled over at Amy.

  Later that night, sitting at the dressing table to brush her hair before bed, Amy’s mood was reflective. She’d always tried to be honest with herself about her strengths and weaknesses but…was it weak to have fallen in love with Danny McLean? Of late, just thinking about him made her heart beat faster, her cheeks grow warmer. When she’d first realised what was happening, over a year ago, she had felt some guilt: was she being disloyal to Randall? She had tried not to let feelings spiral out of control but she hadn’t been successful.

  And so, after a good deal of soul-searching, she had concluded that it was fate, that it was meant to be. After all, she had always been fond of Danny, practically from the first time they’d met in the hospital in Britain, but then Randall had come along and…She smiled a melancholy smile, and for a while became lost in the memories. Blinking her thoughts back to the present, she stared at her image in the mirror and, resting her elbows on the dressing table, cupped her face in her hands. The concern she now had was whether Danny harboured a similar feeling towards her. A long time ago he had been head over heels in love with her, but time changed people’s feelings, she knew that for a fact, because if anyone had said more than a year ago that she’d fall in love with Randall’s brother, she would have laughed at the idea.

  One thing that had changed about Danny was that she could no longer read his feelings. While in Fiji he had evidently become a successful poker player, and he had credited that success to being
able to mask his thoughts. But…what if he loved her still and was afraid to show it for fear of another rejection? She picked the brush up again and brushed her brown locks with vigour. It was possible. So, she mused on, was it up to her to show him that she cared? A burst of heat travelled through her body. She touched her warm cheeks with the back of the hairbrush. Was she bold enough to do such a thing? What if he rejected her?

  Oh, such thoughts were getting her nowhere, she decided. Annoyed, she threw the hairbrush down on the dressing table, stood and walked over to the bed. Perhaps she would have a satisfactory answer in the morning…

  Last winter’s rain had been less than hoped for, but the children were happy to splash around and cool down from the day’s heat while Amy and Danny laid out the contents of the picnic basket, setting the goodies out on a blanket.

  Observing Amy as she put down plates and unwrapped the tea towels that contained cold cuts, cheese, pickles and tomatoes, Danny was very much aware of a special glow about her. She had been animated at breakfast, and had sung songs with the children as they travelled in the ageing Ford to the creek. It made him think about how she’d changed, improved, over the last several months, and he believed that had happened because she had finally accepted Randall’s death and made the decision to get on with the business of living without him. He liked to think that he was partly responsible for that change. She seemed warmer towards him, and while that was all well and good, he wanted more. Much more.

  ‘Do you remember the last time the two of us came to the creek?’

  She smiled at him. ‘It was a long time ago. We picnicked. I brought my easel and did a sketch.’

  ‘Do you remember anything else?’

  Amy took a deep breath. ‘Yes.’ She looked at him. He was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the blanket, and the expression in his eyes was intense. Her blue eyes meshed with his brown ones. ‘You asked me to marry you.’