Journey’s End

by Jennifer Scoullar

  Surely not her parents. They didn’t know she was here, did they? Unless Daisy had told them. She wasn’t quite ready for her mother to say, ‘I told you so.’

  When Kim walked into the lounge room, an improbable sight greeted her. Taj and Mel sitting awkwardly together on the couch. Mel looked nervous and nursed a manila folder on her lap. Her hair was as messy as on the first day they met, a tangle of dark curls. Taj nodded a greeting, his dark hair falling over one eye like usual, following the angle of his scar. Muscles tense beneath his clothes, as if at any moment he might leap to his feet. He looked entirely out of place drinking coffee in Daisy’s neat lounge room on her gold-and-white striped couch. Too large and alive. Too wild. Like a wolf masquerading as a family pet.

  Her heart slowly tumbled in her chest.

  ‘It’s terrible about Dusty,’ said Mel. ‘I bawled my eyes out when I heard.’

  Kim nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Was this why they’d come all this way? So Mel could express her sympathy? How did they even know where to find her? She went over to Mel, drew her into a hug.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she managed. ‘I’ve been so worried. Where were you?’

  ‘Doing an advanced training course in rehabilitating raptors.’

  ‘Raptors?’

  ‘Birds of prey,’ said Mel. ‘I want to specialise in eagles.’

  ‘That’s awesome,’ said Kim. ‘You’re amazing.’

  Mel’s cheeks flushed at the praise. ‘We brought your mail. Winnie gave me your address off the redirection notice.’ She took a single letter from the folder and held it out. ‘I thought it might be important.’

  Kim thanked her and put it on the coffee table. A promotion from the Rural Fire Service.

  ‘There’s something else,’ said Mel.

  Oh. She thought there might be. Jake came into the room and saw Taj. There was no more resentment in his eyes. Taj gravely nodded to Jake, who returned the gesture.

  ‘Kim,’ Mel continued, ‘your dingoes didn’t kill my sheep. It was Ben.’

  ‘It was Ben what?’

  Mel bit her lip and glanced at Taj. He shifted in his seat, but his face remained impassive. She went on. ‘Ben shot the sheep. He shot Dusty too.’

  The air grew thick. ‘Wait a minute . . .’

  Taj put a hand in his pocket and pulled out three sandwich bags. ‘Bullets. This is from the spine of Mel’s sheep.’ He tossed it on the table. His tone was low and deliberate. ‘I found this bullet lodged in Dusty’s skull.’ She flinched as it hit the table, saw Jake whiten. ‘And these’ – he held up the final bag – ‘are bullets test-fired from Ben’s rifle. All a perfect match.’

  ‘There must be some mistake.’ She looked from one to the other, hoping. The knot of tension in the room twisted tight.

  ‘No mistake.’

  Kim swallowed, her throat a lump of sawdust as she put a hand on Jake’s shoulder. Despite the absurd improbability of it, despite the shock and regret and terrible hurt, Kim did not doubt Taj for a moment.

  Daisy stood up. ‘How about I get us all a coffee?’

  Taj drew something else out of his pocket. ‘This is for you, Jake.’ A photograph of the garden at Journey’s End, the waratahs, upturned earth beneath them and a small cross. ‘I thought you would like to know where he is.’

  Jake took the photo, his eyes filled with tears.

  ‘I’m going to the park.’ He stopped at the door and turned to Taj. ‘Thank you.’ And then he was gone.

  Mel put the manila folder on the table and opened it. ‘There’s more.’

  Kim braced herself. Bring it. Nothing could be worse than the treachery revealed so far.

  ‘Ben’s been buying up tracts of protected forest for a song, faking logging permits, clear-felling the land and selling the timber to a dodgy saw mill. He’s raking in a fortune.’

  Kim leafed through the documents, cautiously, as though they might bite. Purchase orders for vast tonnages of premium logs, the dollar amounts staggering, and the vendor’s name – Ben Steele. She held up a form. ‘This permit number . . .?’

  ‘It belongs to another property altogether.’

  Something else caught her eye in the folder: a sworn valuer’s report for Journey’s End. ‘Where’d you get this?’

  ‘From Ben’s home office,’ said Taj.

  ‘I see.’ She paused. ‘This valuation’s crazy. My land’s not worth anything like that much.’ The figure was twice what Karen Thompson had offered.

  ‘It is if you count the standing timber as an asset,’ said Mel. ‘And that valuation doesn’t mention any conservation covenant. Did you ever do a title search to check that it was registered?’

  ‘Well no. I always left things like that to Connor.’

  ‘Who arranged it for you?’

  Kim slapped her forehead. ‘Walter Steele. Ben’s father. Looks like Ben inherited his dodgy ways from dear old dad.’

  ‘I’m sorry. This must be hitting you pretty hard,’ said Mel. ‘We know you’re sweet on him.’

  Of course. They didn’t know she and Ben were no longer an item.

  ‘Taj!’ Abbey cannoned into the room like an excited puppy, Daisy right behind her. ‘Have you come to take us home?’

  Mel’s eyes widened with hope. Kim wet her lips and looked at Taj. For a long moment, they held each other’s gaze. Daisy raised her brows and gave Kim a what-do-you-reckon? kind of smile. And Kim was no longer lost. She knew exactly what she had to do.

  CHAPTER 42

  Kim walked into the Taree offices of Steele & Son. Gleaming chrome, lots of glass and bold abstract prints on the wall. Very swish for a country real estate agent. A thin, heavily made-up young woman sat at reception. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Would you tell —’

  ‘I know that voice.’ Ben sauntered round the corner, files in hand. ‘Kim.’ He gestured for her to come through. ‘What a lovely surprise,’ he said, once they were seated in his spacious office. ‘How are things?’

  ‘Much better for seeing you.’

  He flashed her a dazzling smile. ‘That’s the shot. The contract’s ready, by the way. We could grab some lunch and go over it.’

  Kim looked at him. Why had Ben wanted her? Were there dollar signs in his eyes every time he’d been at her house? How had she missed them? She could barely see the resemblance to Connor now. And knew that there was none of Connor’s goodness in him. She wished with a sharp, powerful ache that Connor could see her. He would be cheering her on.

  ‘The contract with that sweet little old lady who hugs trees and wants to retire to the bush?’ she asked. ‘Who is she really, Ben? Your secretary, your sister – your girlfriend?’

  Ben’s smile slipped and he got up to shut the door. She could see his mind working, trying to gauge what she knew.

  ‘You shot Mel’s sheep. What was that about? An accident? Or did you hope my dingoes would get the blame, because that’s exactly what happened, isn’t it?’ A pause. ‘And then, of course, there’s Dusty.’

  Ben held up his hand. ‘Whoa, that was a mistake. After you chucked me out of bed that night, Geoff and I went hunting. I shot a dingo. You can’t blame a man for that, they’re pests. I didn’t know it was Dusty until the next day, when you told me. But I did you a favour, Kim. He was bound to turn savage.’

  ‘You knew?’

  ‘Oh, I knew he was a dingo all right,’ said Ben. ‘From the moment I spotted that black and tan dog on the scalper’s truck. Spitting image of Dusty.’ His confidence was returning. ‘Why don’t you let me organise a kelpie for Jake? Will you have room for it in Sydney?’

  Kim stood up. ‘I’m not going to Sydney. As a matter of fact, the kids and I are on our way back to Journey’s End right now. It’s officially off the market. And if you ever set foot on my land again, it might not be just defenceless animals that get shot.’

  The sun lay low in the sky when Kim sank down on the frayed verandah chair. How she’d missed this place: the transparent sky, the
mountains soft with purple haze. Jake had enlisted the help of Abbey, Todd and Nikki in building the tree house in the old willow peppermint. She loved seeing them like this, four friends together.

  Kim studied Mel as she poured the champagne. She looked very beautiful. Dark curls framing a face full of character and warmth. Skinny jeans that showed off her trim figure, with bling on the back pockets. Those gorgeous dark red boots. Mel seemed to live in those boots nowadays. How badly Kim had underestimated her when they first met. She hadn’t recognised the loyal, brave, clever woman behind the plain facade.

  Mel held up her glass. ‘To homecomings.’

  The perfect toast. That’s exactly what Journey’s End was now – home.

  Kim took a big sip, and let the tingling bubbles slip down her throat. It had been quite a day. The long drive from Sydney. The stopover in Taree to confront Ben along the way. Unpacking. The fun and confusion of rounding up their menagerie at Mel’s place and bringing them back where they belonged. She should be exhausted, and she was, physically at least. But Kim couldn’t shake the restlessness that had plagued her in Sydney.

  Mel must have read her mind. ‘I’ll feed the kids,’ she said. ‘You go see Taj.

  She found him on the hill above his house, driving post-holes and stringing wire. Her body came alive at the sight of him.

  Taj put down his tools and came to meet her, the dogs bounding ahead of him. He stopped short of her, seemingly hesitant. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  ‘We need to talk,’ said Kim.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Not here,’ she said. ‘I mean, we need to sit down together, with no distractions and really talk. And we need to do it now.’

  He followed her to the house. Kim took a seat in the kitchen, and indicated the chair opposite. Taj sat down.

  ‘Why did you leave Afghanistan?’

  His response was short and swift. ‘The war.’

  ‘No, that won’t do. It’s like me telling people I’m a widow, so they don’t ask any more questions. What was the actual reason?’

  He looked a little lost. ‘My life there was over.’

  ‘Right . . . you see, that doesn’t tell me anything. I know you worked with the Australian forces. Did you know my husband, Connor Sullivan?’

  ‘I remember the name. We may have met.’

  Kim took a moment. ‘Okay, we’ll definitely go back to that one.’ She sat forward in her chair. ‘But what about before?’ He looked out the window. She wanted to scream and shake him. ‘What about your life, your family? What about the money and toys you send to Kabul each month? For fuck’s sake, Taj, tell me something important, something that matters.’

  ‘Why?’ He leaned close and brushed her cheek with his fingers. ‘Why do you want to know.’

  ‘You know why. Don’t you? By now.’

  Taj let his hand drop and his expression changed, grew sharp and focused, like a filter had fallen away from the lens of his eyes.

  ‘You can’t un-hear it, Kim. That is the thing.’

  ‘Go on.’

  He began to speak, the cadence of his voice spellbinding.

  He told her of a wild forest, dangerous beyond imagining, that sheltered the world’s most mythical animals. Creatures from fairy tales: moon bears, lynx, wolves and snow leopards. Of Aakil, a black wolf he’d raised from a cub and loved as a brother. A wolf who’d died to save his life. And of how he’d killed a man. His story moved her to tears.

  Taj didn’t try to comfort her. He let her cry.

  Kim blew her nose. ‘So that’s why you quit your ranger job?’

  Taj looked up at her. No, he looked through her. Perhaps he didn’t see her at all. He was somewhere else. ‘The man I killed was the father of Abas Abid, a local Taliban commander. When I returned home, my wife Camila was dead. Her mother and father, dead. Our unborn child, dead.’

  Time stopped.

  This was what she was after, this terrible truth of the heart that he’d revealed to no one, maybe not to God himself. A truth that made sense of Taj’s life. The trust it took staggered her.

  Kim reached across the table for his work-roughened hand, a hand with dirt beneath the fingernails, and embedded in the fine lines of skin. A most beautiful hand. She touched his face, traced the raised, silvery scar down his cheek. Her eyes asked the question. A vein throbbed at his throat.

  ‘I died that day. My friends were deceived because I still breathed, and spoke, and got up in the morning. I ate and drank and buried my family. But it was in imitation of life. I was already in hell, and my one desire was for Abid to join me there.’

  Kim let out a cry. She’d been in that same vengeful place. Anger burning in her bones. Jealous of the soldiers who’d tracked down Connor’s killers, because she wanted to murder them herself.

  ‘I discovered where Abid lived, and disguised myself as one of his men. He asked me in. It felt good to know his death was as close as the pistol in my pocket. When Abid realised, he snivelled and begged like a coward. I made him say Camila’s name, so he would know why he died.’

  Taj’s voice faltered. He shoved back his chair, and walked to the window.

  Kim went to him. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Then I saw her, a young woman, belly big with child. A tiny boy too, wide-eyed, while I put a gun to his father’s head.’

  Kim remembered to breathe. ‘You couldn’t do it, could you?’

  ‘This girl and her son were as innocent as my Camila. Afghanistan is a dangerous place for women without husbands and children without fathers. As I turned to go, she called a warning. Abid had pulled a knife from his robes. He slashed my cheek, before I shot him.’

  Kim wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him like she’d never let him go. ‘And the girl? She warned you.’

  ‘Damira was only seventeen, and hated Abid. I took her and the boy with me to Kabul. Eight weeks later, she gave birth to a daughter.’

  ‘The money and presents are for her.’

  He nodded. ‘School fees, and some extra besides. She works in a shelter now, helping child-brides escape their husbands.’

  Kim blinked and looked around. The room was the same as an hour ago: the same rough-hewn table, bentwood chairs, cast-iron stove. The same forested slopes beyond the windows. Yet the world was changed, utterly and forever. ‘Now you’ve told me something important.’ She held his hand. ‘Take me to the mountains.’

  They stood on the lookout under a painted sky. An ancient tract of rainforest stretched out to the south – safe now, because of Taj. Sunset had turned Devil Falls to a ribbon of fire. Taj touched her arm, and the fire was on her skin. He pointed to the replanted paddock below them, with its thriving jungle of saplings. ‘Look.’

  Last time it was goats. This time it was dingoes – five, six, seven of them, fanning out on a hunt. A timeless scene, played out the same way for thousands of years. Red turned, before melting into the trees, seeming to look straight at them. He raised his head and howled. The cry echoed round the hills, wild and triumphant, a king reclaiming his country. Creatures of the bush shivered at the sound. Kim shivered too.

  They moved nearer to the edge as the western sky flamed crimson and gold. She could hear Taj breathe, feel his heartbeat. The pull grew stronger. Her whole being ached with the waiting, the wanting. Surely he felt it too?

  ‘You asked me if I will stay married to a ghost,’ she said. ‘What about you?’

  Just as she thought she could bear it no longer, Taj gathered her into his arms. They kissed, soft at first, his lips like velvet. Then urgently. He tasted of earth and smelt of the forest. A surge of wild pleasure ran through her. This is what had been missing with Ben, this electricity, this perilous leap of the heart. Strong hands encircled her waist, lifting her down from the ledge.

  Kim kneeled on the grass and tugged him down beside her, under the dome of the sundown sky. Her fingers found bare skin beneath his shirt. Slowly she unbuttoned it. The tattoo of a wolf on his chest. She trac
ed it with her fingertips. Felt him shiver. She marvelled at the breadth of his shoulders, the strength of his thighs, his hard maleness. And still he hesitated, his lean body tense and trembling. She stripped off her top, took his hand and put it to her breast. She said his name, as if it was a miracle.

  His doubts evaporated. He caressed her, explored her body. Each brush of his hand a delicious shock. Time stood still. And when at last he moved inside her, she was ready. In sync, lost in his touch, urging him deeper.

  Afterwards she lay in the curl of his arm as twilight fell. Her body still craved him, would always crave him. His lips sought hers. The kiss said he believed in her, that she mattered above all else, that her truth was his truth. Kim breathed him in. This was love.

  This was knowing someone by heart.

  CHAPTER 43

  Kim woke to sunshine streaming through her window, uncertain for a moment if yesterday had really happened. She took a while to sort through the memories. Taj’s story, the lookout at sunset, their bodies twined together in a declaration of love. A new world. Ben’s betrayal, the hostility in town, even the pain of Dusty’s death couldn’t touch her. The thought of Taj turned despair into a heavy dose of hope.

  Footsteps in the hallway and Jake came in. ‘Can I go to school?’ And she’d thought life couldn’t get any better. ‘Todd wants me to be his partner in the new class assignment. We’re getting the ducklings today.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Abbey, pushing through the door.

  ‘If you’re both sure.’

  Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Hurry up, will you, or we’ll be late.’

  Later that morning, Kim, Taj and Mel were hard at work, putting up nest boxes of various sizes in trees above the dam: part of the future wildlife corridor that would connect Cedar Creek to the national park. Mel was more enthusiastic than ever about the project. Taj had shown her foxes killed by the dingoes. This, and the truth about Ben, was enough to bring her back on board.

  Kim looked round for Taj. He was never far away, and always showing her things. A family of tiny pygmy possums in one of last season’s boxes. A pair of owlet nightjars in another. Pardalotes excavating nests in a bank of earth. The willy wagtail’s courtship dance. Spring was just round the corner. Everything from the lowliest beetle to the mighty eagle sought their mates. Kim stood a while, observing Taj in profile, studying the lines of his face. She was secure in the knowledge that she’d found hers.