The Aborigine camp rose from the barren earth. The flies greeted in swarms, flocked at his eyes and nose and mouth. He ran past the rusted, bent homes. He twisted on his feet, spun his outstretched arm at every building. His mouth watered for death; his eyes searched for any movement to strike. But there was no movement—no shadows—no life to take away.
Alex stilled. Clouds of black flies flew unmolested in and out of the abandoned doors and windows. His one eye twitched. The bewildered tic moved to his other eye and then to his jaw and then to his chin. The anger erupted through his hands. He pointed at the buildings and shot wildly. He screamed with each shot, screamed as each bullet clanged against dull metal, screamed as the bullets puffed into the dust, screamed as the shots ricocheted between the buildings and reverberated in the unmoving, listless air.
A spark of fire bit his foot. “Fuck!” The gun fell from his hand. Alex rolled on the ground clutching his shot foot. The bullet had gone straight through his boot and blood poured from the hole at the sole.
Alex writhed with the pain, rocked on his hips. He cried—hard, choked, childlike sobs. “Look what you’ve done, Leonora!” he screamed, his leg burning as if it were surrounded with red coals. “You did this!”
EPILOGUE
Two Years Later
CHAPTER 66
The torn canvas flapped tiredly from the two gnarled posts. A thin slice of shade formed a gray line down the center of Ghan’s body. The hot sun found the holes in the tarp and compounded their focus on bits of his skin. His mouth was open to assist the fading lungs. Dried saliva caked the corners of his mouth. The flies clung to these spots and walked upon the slits of his eyes. There was no strength left to bat them. Ghan was dying.
The next labored breath hurt his chest. The weakness in his lungs spread to his muscles like a yawn in a listless crowd. Ghan’s slow eyes stared at the dirty fabric hanging low above his head. Shadows of passing clouds moved along the threads, played hide and seek with the ball of sun. The smell of dust had fallen away, his nose chapped and raw and senseless. Sounds drifted away with the scents. The world was void now—just sun and shadows and waning breath.
Ghan’s body drifted and dragged toward death, but thoughts were still alive, would kick fighting until the very last beat of his heart. He never thought it would end this way—quiet and slow, without violence. The pain of death was not like the pain of life had been. This pain was a caress, a rocking in a mother’s arm. Still, he never thought he would be an old man, never thought he would greet death—always expected to be beat or blown or broken into it.
Ghan’s neck arched. His body gasped for more air. The rest between breaths had been too much for the lungs and they did not want to wake. But they did. And another breath came jilted and prolonged. Death still waited lazily in the wings. Ghan’s body relaxed back into the dirt.
He missed the camels. The thought came upon him too quickly, brought its own ache. The camels had been with him on the hardest of days. And they were gone now. He never got to say good-bye or to make sure they were being cared for and he missed them. A heaviness seeped into his body and pushed his limbs and flesh farther into the ground. His fragile heart began to pound. Panic rose suddenly. I don’t want to die. His cold hands began to shake. I don’t want to die! The shaking tracked up his arms and went down his legs. His feet flapped. The flies scurried but hovered stubbornly above the spastic body.
A worthless man. Ghan’s eyes were dry and crusted, but the tears came. They were light tears and the fluid stung the corners of his lids. A worthless life for a worthless, horrid man. His mouth opened wider and a raspy cry left his lips. He had brought nothing to this world—only ugliness. The immediate wretchedness seized the breathing parts of him. The terror pinched and begged him to run and hide from the death and the loneliness and the ugliness, but his body could not move. He was trapped in a closing shell, could only listen to the fear pounding on the outside. Things were fighting and things were dying in him all at the same time. And he was alone. Scared to die. Scared to die alone.
But a new voice answered, came from the same body, from a place buried much deeper than the loneliness. You are not alone! It was clear. The words screamed loudly but without fear or urgency. Ghan stilled—his mouth agape—and listened to the thudding, soundless words.
The tears came again. His mouth twisted. He nodded into the words. The air was fading and the darkness was coming. A child touched his hand. He could feel the heat of it on his dying flesh. The eyes of the little one engulfed him. She had found him beautiful. And now more fingers touched him, held him in death and cradled him. Suddenly, there was not just a child but a million open, sweet children and a million tender touches and a million answering calls that he was beautiful. You have never been alone! they all cried.
Ghan’s body trembled now without fear. They surrounded him and hugged him from all cells and he rested into their folds and let their light and warmth love him, love him! And in that instant there was no abuse, no pain, no loneliness, no violence. There never was.
The last breath hardly moved in his lungs. The trembling stopped. His fingers uncurled. His body sank limply, evenly, into the earth. His mouth hung open. His lids slid down. The thoughts stopped. The heart beat once more and stilled.
CHAPTER 67
Sadness wrapped around her instantly, came from nowhere and was suddenly everywhere. Leonora brought her hand to her mouth, shook her head against the sudden flow of tears. A soft breeze slid past her hair like the brush of an angel and the tears fell faster.
There was a gentle tug to her skirt. “Why yeh cryin’, Mum?” came the soft little voice.
Leonora looked down at the little boy and smiled through her tears. She knelt and took his hands, wiped her eyes against her sleeve. “I don’t know,” she answered. The sadness began to fade, blew away like clouds over the sea. She laughed softly. “I don’t know.”
The little boy still stared with worried eyes. Leonora glanced down at his polio-ravaged legs held upright by steel braces. The orphanage had all but given up on the poor child. Leonora grabbed him to her chest and hugged him.
James walked into the kitchen, his back bent under the weight of a little girl clutching his neck. “I can’t breathe,” he choked dramatically. The little girl erupted in giggles, her blind eyes bobbing with amusement. He plopped her down next to her brother.
“Mum’s been cryin’,” Nathan alerted with adult significance.
James shot her a look. “You all right, Leo?”
Leonora laughed at her own silliness. “Just a little sentimental today, I guess.”
James watched her carefully and then nodded. He moved behind the children and clapped his hands. “Kids want to sleep at the Shelbys’ tonight.” He winked at her slyly. “Feel like having the house to ourselves?”
“Please, Mum!” the children begged in chorus. “Pleasssse?”
Ever since Mrs. Shelby and the girls moved into the guesthouse, Leonora and James had to fight for custody of their own children. The Shelbys had kept busy catering to the Aborigine children for the first few months, but then the Aborigines moved on—left in the night without a sound.
“All right,” she consented. “But first thing tomorrow morning, you’re both mine!” She grabbed them in her arms and covered their squirming, giggling faces with kisses.
“Nathan,” James ordered, “help your sister get her things and then we’ll head out.” The little boy grabbed his sister’s hand and retreated happily to the bedroom.
James put a hand on Leonora’s waist and kissed her neck. “You ready to adopt more?”
“Only another twenty.” She faded sleepily into his mouth.
“Well, tonight, it’s just the two of us. And you’re all mine,” he said sternly in her ear.
“Yes, sir.” She kissed his warm cheek. His body was full of heat and strength and still left her heart beating too quickly.
Behind them, the setting sun turned the sky to purple, seemed to
widen the length of the world. A pink and orange line highlighted the edge around the tremendous gum trees and turned the waist-high grass to emerald. And between their kisses, the sea breezes blew in from the jagged New South Wales coast and captured every strand in an endless, moving zephyr—their whispers singing one endless word—home.
Please turn the page
for an exciting Q & A
with Harmony Verna!
This novel takes the reader deep into the beauty and harshness of Australia’s Outback, yet is it true that you’ve never been there?
That’s right; I’ve never been to Australia. People find that hard to believe, but it’s true. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a near obsession with this country . . . the land, the people, the history. I remember when I was eight years old I got a map of Australia and hung it above my bed. I would run my fingers over the elevations and the strange city names, but my attention always stopped at a tiny town called Leonora. It’s hard to explain what effect this place had on me. I would simply start to cry, like a deep longing for a place I knew nothing about. I was just a child, so I never understood why or where those feelings were coming from. Only later did I realize I was homesick.
Are you saying you were in Australia in a past life?
Yes. And I know that must sound a bit out there, but it’s my truth. As I got older, I started to have distinct memories, visions of Australia. They always started the same way, at that time of lucid sleep. I would see a flash of white light and then one image . . . a cemetery, a name, a face, a fence post. The image was almost always in black and white like a photograph. It would only last for a second and then I would wake up, my heart racing, and I would know that it was part of a past-life experience.
So, is the novel autobiographical or purely fiction?
The story and characters are absolutely fictional. I did a tremendous amount of research into the history and landscape of the country. But the feelings around Australia, the emotions and oneness to the environment, were quite real for me. Writing the book was like going home.
You infuse a number of different accents within the character dialogue. How did you get the language to flow in such a manner?
I started off listening to recordings of people with different dialects, but found it was hard to translate those subtle speech nuances to the written word. So I started to read Australian poetry and eventually picked up on the general cadence. After a while, the characters would just chat away in my ear and I was able to get their words down while conveying a proper accent.
With so many colorful characters in the novel, do you have a favorite?
Ghan is my favorite. When I first started writing the novel, Ghan was not going to be a main character. He was going to find Leonora and get her to safety and that’s it. But I couldn’t get this man out of my head. Ghan is so special to me because here is this man who has “an ugly face to match an ugly life,” the roughest and loneliest existence, and yet at his core he is full of goodness and kindness. All he sees is his scars, without ever seeing his true light. I often think most of humanity suffers in the same way. We tend to focus only on our ugly parts, our scars and flaws, instead of our beauty and light.
Now that the book is published, do you plan to make a trip to Australia?
I don’t know. My whole life I dreamed about visiting Australia, but after finishing the book the need is gone. Perhaps one day I’ll get there, but if I don’t I’m fine with that. All I know is that as I was writing I was there.
A READING GROUP GUIDE
DAUGHTER
OF AUSTRALIA
Harmony Verna
ABOUT THIS GUIDE
The suggested questions are included to enhance
your group’s reading of Harmony Verna’s
Daughter of Australia!
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. The novel begins with the heart-wrenching scene of a father abandoning his daughter in the harsh Australian Outback. What would drive a parent to leave his child? Do you believe the father’s intent was for her to perish? As she was found in an area of only “saltbush an’ dust,” where do you think they traveled from?
2. Ghan, the crippled mine worker, has had a lonely existence of scars and hardship. Yet, through his actions, we are exposed to both the rough and tender sides of the man. Do you find him a vulnerable character and, if so, why? Do you believe people are born with innate traits of compassion or is this an acquired emotion? If you met Ghan in real life, would you be afraid of him?
3. When the injured child is brought to Mirabelle’s boardinghouse, she is surrounded by strangers and does not speak, exists within the house as a ghost. But when she saw Ghan again, she touched his hand and “looked at him as if she thought him beautiful.” Do you think she was simply grateful for Ghan saving her life or do her feelings go deeper? Do you think she sees something in him below the scars and distorted features? Do you think she would have wanted to remain at the boardinghouse if given the choice?
4. Upon the cliffs of the orphanage James and Leonora develop an unlikely friendship and an unbreakable bond. Why do you think they were so drawn to each other? What did each gain from the other?
5. James chooses to leave the orphanage, the only home he has ever known, in order to live with his Irish relatives, the O’Reillys. The land and work are hard and James grows up in poverty. Did James make the right decision in leaving the orphanage? Do you think Father McIntyre would have committed suicide if James had not left?
6. Leonora’s life with the Fairfields is filled with abundant wealth and loneliness, her childhood spent under the threat of being abandoned yet again. Her only taste of freedom comes from working with the wounded soldiers at the hospital. Could Leonora have done anything to change her lot? Could she have run away or acted out? Once a legal adult, did she have any real power?
7. By marrying Alex, Leonora can finally escape the confines of the Fairfields’ grip, even if it means she must live with a man she does not love. Did Leonora have any other choice but to marry Alex? With so little love in her own life, would it be difficult for her to know true love or what it would feel like?
8. After James’s aunt passes away, he is left to face the wrath of Shamus until the Shelbys fold him into their home as if he had always belonged there. Why didn’t James ever retaliate against Shamus’s beatings? Would James have survived if the Shelbys hadn’t rescued him?
9. When Leonora returns to Australia to her new home at Wanjarri Downs, she is reborn in a sense—“She was Australia. Its air was her air, its cells her own.” Given that her early years in Australia were not favorable, why does she feel such a longing for the country?
10. James and Leonora finally reunite at Wanjarri Downs, but the first meetings are uncomfortable and tense. Do you think the attraction was instant? How had they both changed since the orphanage? Whose upbringing had been more difficult?
11. When Leonora and Alex return to Pittsburgh for her aunt’s funeral, she learns the truth about Eleanor Fairfield’s past. Does this explain why Eleanor treated Leonora the way she did? Do you believe Eleanor truly loved Leonora? Is this enough reason for Leonora to forgive her aunt for her traumatic upbringing?
12. When Alex learns of Leonora’s pregnancy and her affair with James, a series of violent events unfold, leaving Leonora in grief over the loss of her child and the apparent death of her true love, James. Why does Leonora still stay at Wanjarri Downs? Does she believe Alex murdered James? How did these events “awaken” her?
13. When James heals from his wounds and struggles against death, he realizes that he is not an orphan but “the son of many.” Do you think this is true? Do you think this realization finally heals his emotional wounds? Was it necessary for him to go through the violence and near-death experience in order to heal the scars of his past?
14. As Ghan approaches death, he is gripped with fear and grief until a soft inner voice and angelic image of a little girl guide him gently to his end. Why do you t
hink Ghan’s and Leonora’s paths continued to cross? Do you believe the connection was coincidence or spiritual? Was Ghan her guardian angel?
15. James and Leonora are finally home. They have adopted children of their own and built the life together that they had always dreamed of. Does it make all their hardships worth it? Do you have examples in your own life where the darkest of days brought the brightest future?
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2016 by Harmony Verna
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-6177-3941-5
First Kensington Electronic Edition: April 2016
Daughter of Australia Page 47