Snowy River Man

by Lizzy Chandler

  ‘That’s not what happened,’ she said. ‘Not between Jack and me. And not with my mother and your husband, either. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘She told you her sob story, did she?’ Gwen scoffed. ‘About my Ted getting drunk and taking advantage of her? Don’t you believe it! Did she also tell you that she ruined him? That supporting her was the reason I had nothing when he died? You ask Jack. He knows. He knows everything now.’

  Katrina rocked back. Could it be true?

  When she was growing up, she and her mother hadn’t wanted for anything financially. Katrina had enjoyed horse-riding and ballet lessons; she had gone to a good school. Her mother had worked as an executive assistant — a well-paid job — but there was always enough for ‘extras’. Katrina had guessed that came from her real father, although her mother had never told her who that was. Had the money come from Ted Harrington?

  ‘If your husband supported us, maybe it was because he felt guilty.’

  ‘Rubbish. She blackmailed him.’

  Katrina blanched. ‘Do you have evidence of that?’

  ‘I don’t need evidence. I knew Ted.’ Her eyes glittered with tears.

  For the first time, Katrina felt compassion for the older woman. Gwen Harrington had clung onto a belief in her husband for years. Yet, instinctively, she guessed that Ted Harrington — her father — had been a weak man.

  ‘Mrs Harrington,’ she said, choosing her words carefully, ‘I’m sorry for whatever hurt you’ve been through. I can’t imagine how painful it must be for you to have me here now. But I won’t hear anything against my mother when she’s not here to defend herself.’

  ‘Call her, then. Ask her.’

  ‘I can’t. She died several years ago. Of cancer.’

  ‘Like my Ann-Marie.’ Gwen’s face crumpled, tears falling down her cheek. ‘You look so much like my daughter, too.’ Her shoulders drooped as her tears came in full, making her seem shrunken, almost frail.

  Katrina’s heart contracted in sympathy. Without thinking, she pulled the older woman into her arms, holding her briefly as she imagined Ann-Marie would have done, but Gwen shrugged her off and pulled herself up, straightening her shoulders. Nevertheless, her expression was less hostile.

  ‘I wanted to hate you, Katrina. But I guess you’ve got more of Ted in you than I realised. He was a rogue. He made a lot of mistakes. But he was a good man.’

  She held her tongue. What harm could there be to leave the woman to her illusions? It might be all she had left.

  ‘Does Jack know about Ted…that he’s my father?’

  The other woman nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks with a tissue from her handbag. ‘He knows now. His solicitors got in touch this morning, the ones who used to handle Ted’s affairs. I overheard them talking on the phone. Apparently, they handled Jack’s support payments to you.’

  ‘What support payments?’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘You’d better take that up with Jack.’

  Katrina tried to talk the older woman into coming back to the hut and having a cup of tea, but Gwen was adamant. ‘I’ve said what I came to say.’

  As the older woman retreated along the lake shore, Katrina returned to the hut. Nick was drying off in the little dinghy. He’d pushed it a little way out into the water, but it was securely roped between the stone jetty and a tree stump.

  Murray Tom was dozing in his chair on the veranda.

  Everything looked peaceful, normal, happy. She could almost imagine that nothing whatsoever had happened to turn her life upside down. Yet so much had happened. Too much to fully take in.

  ‘Come out with me, Katina,’ Nick cried, picking up an oar. ‘We can row out on the lake and try to see the buildings below the water. There’s a whole town down there, don’t you know?’

  ‘Sorry, Nick,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘No rowing without life jackets.’

  ‘Well…’ he said, his face screwing up as he considered. ‘Can you come out and sit here with me?’

  She looked dubiously at the rock pile. It would be just her luck to slip and fall in. The bank fell away steeply and the water was surprisingly deep. But if a six-year-old could manage to climb aboard, she supposed she could, too.

  Go on. Take a risk.

  There was nothing magical about this voice. It was her own thoughts. Life was too short for worries and fears.

  ‘Okay.’ Smiling, she stepped out onto the rocks.

  ‘Goody!’

  Nick pulled the rope, bringing the dinghy alongside the rock jetty, and held it steady while she climbed in. She settled on the middle bench as they drifted back with the slack of the rope, still safely anchored to both the jetty and the stump. Nick sat at the front, leaning against the tiny bow, soaking up the sun.

  She took a deep breath and relaxed.

  The water lapped gently against the side. Ducks flew overhead. Bleached snow gums cast shadows on the lake that rippled as the breeze stirred. Shadowy trout swam below. She trailed her hand over the side.

  Nick broke her meditation. ‘Why was Grandma sad, Katina?’

  She turned, observing him carefully, her heart full of love. He didn’t miss much, this son of hers, this little combination of her and Jack.

  ‘Because she misses Ann-Marie…’ she said gently. ‘Your mother.’

  ‘Are you going to be my mummy now?’ he asked with a matter-of-fact air. ‘Like you are in my dreams?’

  Katrina’s heart thumped. She stared into her son’s eyes. He knew. He really knew.

  ‘Look, there’s Daddy!’

  She looked where he was pointing. Jack was riding down hard through the bush. He made it onto the shale and galloped onto the shore.

  Nick stood up and waved. ‘Over here!’

  As Jack pulled the reins, the horse reared. Nick stepped forward and the boat dipped to one side. Katrina watched in horror as the boy lost balance. Before she could grab him, he fell over the side with a splash.

  Frozen for a second, she remembered her dream of Nick sinking down to the town at the bottom of the lake. No! Without another thought, she jumped in after him.

  Chapter 15

  Jack saw everything in slow motion. Nick standing up to wave, stepping forward and losing his balance, Katrina diving in after him. And he was unable to prevent a thing.

  In a flash, he saw his mistake. If only he hadn’t come charging down. If only the boy hadn’t seen him and stood up, everything would have been okay. There was no sign of Gwen. No sign of any threat to Nick. Or Katrina. By trying to fix things he’d ended up making everything worse. Nick and Katrina, both in the water.

  As he jumped off his horse, his boots hit the crushed shale. He raced down to the water’s edge and dived in the water, his bones jarring from the shock of the cold. His sodden clothes weighed him down as he swam toward the boat. As he reached the side of the dinghy he saw Nick hanging onto the mossy side, spluttering.

  ‘I’m okay, Daddy. I’m okay.’

  Jack heaved the boy up and over the side of the dinghy. ‘Stay there and don’t move, Nick. Promise me?’

  His son nodded, shaking off water.

  Fear gripping his gut, Jack sprang away and dived down, opening his eyes in the shadowy water. Despite being close to shore, it was surprisingly deep, cold and dark. He forced himself down, searching. Finally, he glimpsed Katrina below. She was struggling, bubbles of air coming out of her mouth. She was stuck, her blouse caught by the branch of a submerged tree.

  As he reached her, the air bubbles were less frequent. Her face contorted as she started to swallow water. She was pulling at her blouse, trying to tear it away from the branch. He tried to help her yank it free, but his fingers fumbled. She was still stuck. Anchoring his boot against the tree, he pulled as hard as he could. The fabric tore and Katrina broke loose, leaving a strip of cloth floating behind like a flag.

  He hooked her under one shoulder and propelled her toward the rippling light, his lungs bursting. Breaking through the surface, taking g
ulps of air, he cupped her chin in his hand and forced her head above the water. She floated motionless in his arms. Her lips had a bluish tinge. No, no, no. He hooked one arm over the side of the boat, holding her tight with the other.

  She was too heavy to get in the boat. Trying could tip Nick in again. But he had to get her to breathe.

  Nick leaned over the side. ‘Can I help, Daddy?’

  ‘Pull on the rope,’ he said. ‘It’ll drag us back to the jetty.’

  His son did as he was told, hauling the rope into the boat, his little face determined. Jack held onto the side, kicking, pulling Katrina, keeping her head above water. When they bumped into the stone jetty, he found his footing and hauled her onto the rocks. He turned her on one side and checked her airways, and put his ear to her mouth. She still wasn’t breathing.

  He began performing compressions on her chest. One, two, three. Breathe. One, two, three. Breathe. Nick climbed onto the rock pile and knelt beside him, his face white.

  ‘I fell in and Katina tried to save me,’ he said. ‘Is she going to die, like my other mummy?’

  His other mummy?

  Keeping up the rhythm, Jack shot his son a look. Trust Nick to know the truth. And somehow, in his childish mind, there seemed to be no conflict. It gave Jack hope. Fate couldn’t give him back Katrina only to take her away again so soon. Not like this. She had to be okay.

  ‘No, Nick,’ he said with desperate certainty. ‘Katrina’s not going to die. She’s going to be okay.’

  * * *

  Katrina was floating in a dream she never wanted to leave. Peaceful, warm, calm. At one with everything. A place where there was no past, no future. Just the beautiful, ever-present now. Pervading her whole being was a strong sense of love and happiness, a contentment she had only ever glimpsed before.

  Merging into oneness, it was as if Katrina Delaney no longer existed. Her spirit was merely part of a much greater consciousness whose essence was love. In that state, she knew it would be easy to let go, to drift into peace, to surrender totally. But a shadow grew in her heart. From somewhere far away, she heard a child’s cry, an aching, lonely lament which she had heard for years in her dreams. She hadn’t ignored it then and she couldn’t ignore it now.

  Mummy!

  Another even lonelier voice found its way inside her mind. I love you, my darling. I loved you then, and I always will. Please don’t go.

  Nick wasn’t the only one she had to go back for, she realised. If only she could forgive.

  * * *

  As Katrina began to cough and suck in air, Jack’s throat constricted; his eyes filled with tears. He hadn’t lost her. She was going to be okay.

  Rolling onto her side and lifting her knee into the recovery position, he watched as she dragged in air, her body trembling. When her colour improved, he took her in his arms and held her cold, wet body to his. He wanted to give her his warmth, his breath, his life. His love. But how could he give her what she refused to receive?

  Her eyes blinked open. ‘Where’s Nick? Is he okay?’

  ‘He’s here,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘He’s fine.’ Of course, her first priority would be her child. That’s why she had risked her own life, to save their son.

  The boy crept closer. ‘I can swim, Katina, remember? Murray Tom taught me.’

  She reached out to hold him and her eyes rolled back in her head.

  * * *

  When Katrina came to again, she was in Murray Tom’s hut. She was lying on an old wrought-iron bed, a lumpy mattress beneath her, the smell of dust in her nostrils.

  The room was simple. Bare boards and walls, a single chair and wardrobe. The tin roof expanded and contracted with heat. The blinds were drawn, showing only a crack of day. She leaned back, her body aching. Her hair felt damp against the pillow, but the rest of her was dry. Someone had taken off her wet clothes and wrapped a towel around her, put blankets over her.

  Jack, she supposed.

  She shivered, still cold, despite the layers. She could hear voices, concerned voices, in the other room. But she was alive. And Nick knew instinctively he was her son.

  Footsteps approached and the door swung open. Light stabbed her eyes, then dimness returned as the lock clicked shut again.

  ‘Katrina? Thank God, you’re okay.’

  It was Jack, his blonde hair stuck up at all angles, his t-shirt drying in patches. He’d pulled on a scruffy pair of trousers that were several inches too short for him, revealing his ankles and bare feet.

  Tenderness flooded her heart. She had heard his voice inside her head, his words of love. Surely she had to believe in him now? He was part of her soul, part of her heart. There had always been a connection, over the years, despite all the pain. Could her heart be wrong?

  ‘Doctor Tan’s on his way. I’ll bring you in a cup of tea. Warm you up.’

  ‘Jack, wait.’

  He paused at the door, tension evident in his back muscles, the strain of his neck.

  ‘I don’t need a doctor. I need to talk.’

  He turned to face her, his expression grim.

  She pushed herself up, sitting back against the feather pillow, the hinges of the old bed squeaking. He leaned a shoulder against the wardrobe. Her heartbeat picked up pace. Had she said too much to go back now, to give them another chance?

  ‘About last night, the way I reacted,’ she began. ‘I said a lot of things —’

  ‘Most of which were true,’ he countered. He pushed himself upright and took a step, as if the emotion he felt was too great to contain. ‘Forget it, Katrina. You have every right to be angry.’

  ‘Don’t go,’ she said, her throat tight.

  He was right. She did have a right to be angry. But the heat had gone out of her anger now. She had been afraid she might never be able to claim her son as her own, and she had blamed Jack for that. But she had been wrong. Nick sensed the truth and he accepted her. If a child could let past hurts go, so could she.

  ‘Jack, about Nick —’

  ‘You needn’t worry about custody,’ he said, his words cutting through hers.

  ‘That wasn’t what —’

  ‘Hear me out. Please. I thought about it a lot while I was out riding. Nick’s at home at Yarrangobilla. It wouldn’t be right to uproot him. If you move in there, you could still do your work, and he’d be less disrupted. I’ll move into the hut, so I can still see him every day, and run the property from there. I won’t get in your way.’

  She swallowed, her heart aching. He had it all planned. But there was one thing he was leaving out of his equation. She loved him. And he loved her. She was certain of it. She didn’t want him to abandon his home, however noble the gesture. She wanted his love.

  ‘Gwen told me you made arrangements through your solicitors to support me. Is that true?’

  He didn’t reply. In the dim light of the old shed, his expression seemed like granite rock exposed on the hillside, immovable and uncompromising.

  ‘My mother was always very generous to me, Jack. She helped me after the hospitalisation and supported me through uni. She even gave me the deposit for my flat. She just never told me where the money came from. I thought it was from my father, but she refused to tell me who he was. One of her many secrets, I gather. It was her idea to say my baby was dead, wasn’t it?’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘She thought I wouldn’t be able to cope. The same reason why you didn’t tell me straight away about Nick.’

  ‘Whatever your mother did, I’m sure she believed she had your best interests at heart. She might have been misguided but considering what happened to her with Ted Harrington —’

  ‘Gwen told me you just found out about that.’

  ‘My solicitor told me. Ted never forgave himself, apparently. Even though he gambled everything else away, he never touched the trust fund that supported you and your mother.’

  ‘That doesn’t condone what he did, Jack. And it doesn’t exonerate my mother, either.’

  ‘No, but it makes
it more understandable.’

  ‘She let me think…’ Emotion well up inside, choking the words in her throat. ‘She let me think my baby died.’

  ‘She didn’t understand your gift,’ he said gently. ‘And she didn’t think you’d cope raising a child alone. Even love gets it wrong sometimes. Believe me, I know.’

  Katrina closed her eyes. What he said fit with what she knew of her mother: her not wanting Katrina to repeat her own mistakes, her worry that her daughter would turn out to be ‘mad’ like her own father. But it wasn’t love that had caused her mother to make such a mistake, she knew. It was fear.

  Be afraid, and you’ll find things to fear. But look with love…

  That was the secret Katrina had discovered by returning to the place where her roots were. If ever she wanted to be happy, to forgive and let go, she had to look with love. But did she have the courage to do that? She hoped so.

  ‘I understand now why you didn’t tell me about Nick when I first came,’ she said quietly. ‘After seeing me in hospital, it was natural for you to think I might not be able to cope.’

  ‘That’s how I rationalised it, Katrina,’ he said. ‘But it’s not the whole truth. I was worried about Nick, too. And I was scared. Scared of losing him, and of losing you again. Scared you wouldn’t forgive me for my part in what happened. The ironic thing is, by trying to control everything, I’ve ended up losing you anyway.’

  Katrina listened to Jack’s words, drinking them in. Jack had been just as much a victim of her mother’s deception as she had, she realised. All she had to do was to find the courage to open her heart to him, to take a risk, to forgive, to trust. He was a good man. He had made mistakes, but who hadn’t? He was human, fallible, and she loved him all the more for that. She felt as if she was standing at the edge of a cliff top, as if the wild snow-capped mountains stood behind her, and a sunny land stretched beneath. All she had to do was step off that cliff and fly.

  ‘You didn’t lose me,’ she said, the momentousness of the admission flooding through her. ‘I love you, Jack Fairley. And I don’t want you to move out of your home. I want all of us to live together, you, me, Nick, and as many other little Fairley-Delaneys who might come along in time.’