Her Galahad

by Melissa James

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  Epilogue

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  Five years later

  "Dad! Daddy! Daddy, come here quick!"

  From inside his studio Jirrah put aside his planing tool with a wry grin. He always knew when Tess and the kids were home from school—Tani always called him as if the house were burning down.

  At ten, she had a strong flair for the dramatic.

  He'd long since learned he didn't have to panic when Tani screamed for him. His parents were due for a visit, coinciding with the summer holidays. Probably they'd arrived early. "I'm here, darlin'," he called. "What's up?"

  His daughter flew in the studio door and cannoned into his arms, panting, with Michael right behind her. The frowning, worried look on his little son's face told him something really was wrong. At six, Michael was the quiet, calm one, as artistic as his father, learning carving and painting at his side. Michael rarely let things get to him. If he was upset, there was something worth worrying about. "What is it?"

  "It's Mummy. There was a letter in the mailbox, and she went all white when she saw who wrote it," Tani got out, in a breathless rush. "She's on the phone now, tellin' someone off. You know she's not s'posed to get upset, Dad!" she wailed.

  "Okay, Tani. Thanks." He ran over the paddock to the large ranch-style brick and tile house he'd built for his family.

  As Tani said, Tess was on the phone. She sat on the heavy wood-frame sofa before a blazing open fire. She held an unopened letter in one hand; the baby they were fostering for two months nestled sleeping in the other arm. "You should have called first!" She kept her voice low and soothing for baby Megan's sake. "Do you know how much you terrified me? No, I didn't read it. I don't want to know what he said. I don't care how he died! He's dead, and that's enough for me."

  There was only one person she'd speak of this way. Jirrah sighed in deep, quiet relief. So Beller was finally out of their lives for good…

  He crossed the room. Squatting beside her, he put a hand on her shoulder, the other caressing the rounded belly beneath the woolen smock-sweater, where their baby grew and flourished.

  Another miracle they'd never expected to have.

  The doctor's opinion was that this was the last pregnancy she'd have. There was no reason why she couldn't carry this baby to term, if she was careful—but he advised Jirrah that trying for any more babies would be dangerous for her. Jirrah promptly took care of it. A vasectomy was a small price to pay for the peace of mind that came with it. As much as he adored his kids, he loved his wife more. He couldn't stand the thought of another day of his life without Tess again.

  He'd thanked God every day of the past five years that he'd made the right decision, standing by Tess. Now his gratitude knew no bounds. Seeing the woman he loved rounding out with his child was worth the wait, the five years of having her incredible love, believing it would balance never knowing this intense joy.

  "You all right?" he whispered.

  She nestled her cheek against his hand, but kept talking. "I don't want it, Rod. No—not a cent. I don't want the house. I don't want anything that belonged to him. I don't care what you do with it! Just get rid of it."

  He couldn't hear all of Rod's reply, but the stunned words seven million dollars! came through, loud and clear.

  She didn't even hesitate. "Do some good with it, then. I don't want it … no, Jirrah won't, either. We don't want anything of his. Take half the money for your service … use it for people who need legal representation and can't get it. I don't know, however you think … take the other half with the house, and turn it into a shelter for battered women. Of course I know it's a Harbourside mansion," she replied impatiently, "I lived in it. And yes, rich women are abused, too, and can have nowhere to go. I don't care who stays in it, rich or poor. Open it to everyone. No—don't put my name on it. I don't want thanks for getting the last of his sick baggage out of my life!" She sighed. "Call back later with the details. Megan's asleep on me, Jirrah and the kids are worried, we're expecting family to visit tomorrow and I'm tired. Please just do it. I want nothing of his, Rod. Nothing!"

  Seeing she was emotionally frayed, he took the receiver from her, keeping the other hand gently caressing her in reassurance. "G'day, Rod. Go ahead with what Tess wants. Take a hefty commission for the Aboriginal Legal Service while you're at it. We don't want Beller's money. Just send us the papers and we'll sign them … yeah, I'll be a trustee if you want, but a silent one. We don't want recognition in this. I'm happy for you to be the other trustee. You're too honest to cheat people who need the money. I have to go, mate. Thanks. We'll talk later."

  He lifted baby Megan in his arms, and put her in her cot. Then he returned to Tess on the sofa, taking her hands in his. "Mulgu, right now I'm so proud of you I could burst. I didn't think I could love you more than I did five minutes ago, but I do."

  "I love you, too. More and more every day." She buried her face in his shoulder. "It made sense, to give his money to people who are going through what he did to us."

  "You all right?"

  She nodded, with a trembling smile. "Better than all right. I'm so relieved! Rod sent me a letter Cameron wrote from prison. I was terrified. I couldn't read it. I called Rod, and he told me Cameron died in a prison brawl … and all I could feel was glad!" She shuddered. "I've been so afraid he'd get out and come after us—but he's gone, Jirrah. He's out of our lives forever."

  "And he left you everything?" No surprise there. Knowing Beller, he'd thought it a romantic way to make Tess remember him forever. He was also unsurprised by his wife's reaction. It was typical of Tess to give it away to people in need—and he was glad she chose to throw out everything Beller wanted to give her.

  She nodded in answer to his question. "Seven million dollars, and the house in Mosman. No one can even contest it. He named Tessa McLaren, not his wife, as the beneficiary."

  Jirrah shrugged. "No one we know would contest it any way. Keith will support our decision. So will my family."

  Her face gentled. "Yes." Her father was too sick now to leave his home, but they visited him every month, taking the children. Keith had softened in his old age. The shock of discovering the truth about the man he'd picked for his daughter humbled him. Knowing Jirrah had saved her forced him to reevaluate his belief systems—at least where his son-in-law was concerned. As had Matt and Annie Oliveri, finally taking Tessa into their hearts as their daughter-in-law. Thanks in part to Tani, and also to Jirrah's cold promise that he'd always put his wife first—even before his family, if he had to. Now, after five years, they were a close-knit and loving family entity.

  They only needed Duncan to finally come home from his long wandering to complete the unit … but where he was nobody knew. They occasionally received letters from around Australia; but he had yet to face them. His guilt was so deeply buried they couldn't assuage it with any amount of forgiveness.

  "The kids are worried about you," he said as they burst through the door, Esther and Vincent huffing and puffing in their wake. But even in their fear, the kids came to Tess gently, not barreling into her as they did Jirrah. "Mummy, are you all right?" Michael asked, his little hand caressing her burgeoning belly as his father's had moments before.

  Tess kissed the son who had become hers through her tender love for him. "I'm fine, baby. In fact—" she looked up at Jirrah "—I feel so happy I could burst!"

  "Don't," Tani cried. "You'll hurt the baby!"

  After the laughter stopped, Jirrah pulled Esther and Vincent aside and told them what happened. Then he asked aloud, "Can you mind the kids for us tonight? I'd like to take Tess to dinner. We've got a few things to celebrate." He touched his wife's face.

  She gaped at him, understanding what he was trying to say. "You won the award?" she gasped.

  "I got the news today." He grinned. "Looks like we're flying to London once the baby's born—all of us, if you'd like to come," he added to Vincent and Esther. "The gallery owner wants me to meet distributors for the U.S.
and European markets. We can all have a holiday. We can swing by Alberta on the way home if you want, see Rachel and Bob and the family."

  "Mum would love to see the kids again." She flew off the seat to throw her arms around him—and Beller's letter fluttered to the floor, unnoticed. "We'll all celebrate tonight. You guys get pizza, burgers, anything you want. Your daddy won the Richmond Award for the wildlife carving!"

  "Can me and Michael eat in our new treehouse?" Tani's eyes lit with eagerness.

  "Absolutely." Tess kissed Jirrah with knockout enthusiasm, the unopened letter crushed beneath her feet. She'd already forgotten Beller … again … and Jirrah would make sure it stayed that way.

  That night, in the town's only restaurant, they celebrated in style … and later, in bed, they celebrated again. The loving was tender, showing their unborn child just how much their daddy cherished their mother.

  He never let himself forget how he'd lost her once—how close he'd come to losing her twice. He never wanted to live any part of his life again without Tess in it, without letting her know, every day, just what she meant to him.

  She lay with her head on his chest in the afterglow, idly toying with his skin. "Hmmm. Now this is what I call a real celebration, Galahad."

  He chuckled. "You're going to persist with that ridiculous nickname for the rest of my life, aren't you?"

  Tess didn't laugh. "I don't want to forget what you did for me. You saved me, in every possible way. You gave me life and love and happiness again. And my children."

  He tipped her face up to his. "No more than any man would do for the woman he loves." He touched her nose, running his finger lovingly down its gently crooked slant. "Besides, I can't claim my motives were entirely unselfish, mulgu. I more than got my reward for any effort I put into our adventures."

  "Me, too." She snuggled into him. "I never, never thought I could be this happy."

  "You make us all happy. You're the heart and soul of the family. We all live to love you, to be with you."

  "If I'm its heart, you're its protector," she teased, obviously wanting to shift the limelight. "My hero lives on. My gallant knight in dark armor."

  "Just don't say all that romantic junk when we're in London," he groaned. "The art reps and buyers will think I'm a sap."

  "You love it," she stated in total confidence. "If you didn't, you wouldn't try so hard to stay in the heroic mold."

  "I don't do anything," he protested.

  "Oh, yeah?" she mocked. "Let's see—he builds a house for people totally unrelated to him, to keep his wife and daughter happy. He builds another three houses for the family who turned their backs on us, forgiving them without question when they accept me into the family. He takes his wife and children to Canada for a late honeymoon even before the spring thaw, so she can meet her mother and know her heritage. He spends hours every day minding the baby his wife offered to foster. He creates world-famous works of beauty and inspiration, hut does it around his wife's working hours because he wants to help her out with school sports while she's pregnant. He helps cook and clean. He visits the father-in-law who watched him go to prison, and not only forgives him, but ends up his friend in the process. And to top it off, he even forgives his wife's brother, who did put him in prison, and would welcome him home if we only knew where he was."

  "He'll come home, Tess. When he's ready."

  The momentary touch of sadness left her eyes; she poked out her tongue at him. "See what I mean? No hero, huh, Galahad?"

  "Hey, I can't help it if making my beloved wife happy is my top priority," he protested, with a grin. "I'm just an ordinary family man, doing the best I can."

  "Far from ordinary, my love, my dark knight." She drew him down for another kiss. "Very far from ordinary."

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