An Outback Affair/Runaway Wife/Outback Bridegroom/Outback Surrender/Home To Eden (12 page)

A force like a whirlwind rushed through Laura. His hand on her skin. He knew how to kiss, how to touch, how to look at her with his dark eyes. There was just no one like him. She was starting to feel quite light-headed, as though she was floating.

“Why don't we get you and your kitten home?” he suggested. “What are we going to call him?”

“Something musical? Freddy—short for Freddy Chopin?” she suggested playfully. “Wolfgang's a bit much.” She was carrying too much emotion inside her. It was riding high right up to her throat. “Harriet and I think you look a bit like Beethoven.”

“What?” He grimaced wryly. “Behind Harriet's acerbic exterior lies a romantic. I don't mind Freddy for the kitten as he belongs to a musician.”

“Then Freddy he is. Look, Evan, he loves me already.” In fact the kitten was purring ecstatically, snuggling up against her breast.

“Lord, who wouldn't?” Evan replied, too softly to be heard. He bestowed on her what he hoped was an indulgent smile when he wanted to wrap her and the kitten in his arms.

“I think this is the nicest thing that has ever happened to me since I was a child.”

He laughed shortly. “Surely your doctor showers you with gifts?”

Her stroking hand on the kitten paused. “He does, but I've never loved anything so much as this. Thank you, Evan.” She kept her head bent so he wouldn't see the expression in her eyes.

“It'll be company for you.” His tone lightened. “Cats are highly intelligent. It won't be long before it's well trained.”

Her smile came out again. “There you are, Freddy. When you're properly trained you can sleep on my bed.”

It seemed to Evan there could be no better place.

T
HEY
walked together to Harriet's house. Laura loved this time of evening, when the stars started to come out in all their desert glory. It was a phenomenal display, far exceeding any she had seen over the costal cities. And every bright star in the sky had an aboriginal myth to account for its origin. She loved reading about them, and seeing the extraordinary aboriginal art proudly displayed in the Shire Hall

The Southern Cross followed them as they walked, its outline brilliantly defined in the soft purple sky. Its points were the spirits of the aboriginal ancestors. The diamond-encrusted river that curved across the sky was the Milky Way, its billions of twinkling stars the camp fires of the ancestors who had flown up there as a reward for the good lives they had led. The Evening Star, hanging by its long stalk, was a lotus, living in the Dreaming Country of the moon.

The aboriginal symbol for a star was a lotus, she had learned. She had admired those paintings—the flower the star's bright glow, the stalk the star's path through the night sky. And there was Orion, the mighty hunter with his jeweled belt. The constellation Scorpio, lovers who had broken tribal law, and the lesser stars of the constellation the boomerang and throwing sticks that had been hurled after them.

“You're quiet,” Evan said, tucking her arm more firmly beneath his.

“I'm marvelling at the brilliance of the stars. Thinking about the aboriginal myths. The Dreaming hadn't come alive for me until I made the journey out here to Koomera Crossing. Now I find myself making a study of aboriginal beliefs as set out in the myths and legends. They're wonderfully dramatic.”

“They are. They involve great Beings and amazing geological events which do contain the essence of truth. It's quite
extraordinary—we have an ancient people whose traditions and cultures have scarcely changed in tens of thousands of years. You'll understand more fully what the land means to the aboriginal people when we visit the Red Centre.”

“I can't wait,” she said, looking up at him with a smile.

“Neither can I, for that matter. As far as I'm concerned no other region in the world can equal its stark primeval beauty. The Timeless Land, the oldest part of the earth's crust. You're going to love it.”

“A real adventure.” Her voice was full of pleasure. “I love this town too, with all its quaint little workers' cottages and grander colonials, like yours and Harriet's. The mix of modest and grandeur, the latticed Queenlanders, with their broad wraparound verandahs to protect the house from the sun. Some of the houses are almost submerged in greenery. It's odd on the desert fringe.”

“Courtesy bore water from the Great Artesian Basin,” he explained. “It lies below a large part of the Queensland Outback, providing invaluable supplies of water, as you can imagine.”

“I've just realized I'm hungry,” she said as they walked up Harriet's front path, catching the drift of succulent aromas.

“That's good, because Harriet's a splendid cook.”

The exterior lights and the lights from the house lit up their way. Nearing the steps, Evan took her hand again.

“Watch those high heels.” He glanced down at her pretty pink slingbacks.

“I like to look taller,” Laura responded a little breathlessly, feeling her heart racing with excitement every time he touched her.

“You look very beautiful.”

How his deep voice stirred her, as if her heart was a cello string. “That's the second time you've told me.”

“I was hoping you'd give me a smile.”

“Didn't I smile the first time? I'd be astonished if I hadn't.”

“As a matter of fact you didn't.” Their glances briefly
locked. “You looked very much like your thoughts were elsewhere.”

He was far too perceptive. She'd been reminded inevitably of other times. Colin introducing her so proudly to new people. “My beautiful wife.” The sheer lunacy of it. She wondered if she'd have faired better had she been plain, not the “classic chocolate box”, as he'd often labelled her with heavy ridicule.

“I heard you all the same,” she assured Evan quietly.

“Good.” He couldn't help the fact it sounded clipped.

Harriet must have heard their voices, because she hurried out onto the porch, giving Laura a quick hug. “Don't you look lovely!” she said warmly. “Such a pretty dress. Evan, I'm so pleased you could come.”

“You're too good a cook, Harriet,” Evan said, bending his dark head to peck Harriet's cheek.

“I don't know if you've heard about my idea—Kyall's, really—of opening a restaurant in the town, but you will,” Harriet said enthusiastically.

“Wouldn't teaching be easier?” Evan asked, thinking running a restaurant would be hard work. Harriet was well into her sixties.

“I don't doubt it, but I feel like a new challenge. In fact I'm very excited at the prospect.”

“Good for you. Count on me as a patron. I suspect Laura too.”

“I
am
counting on it.” Harriet laughed. “Now, come in and meet the rest of my guests, Laura. Evan knows them, of course. And Sarah's here.”

“Lovely!” Laura felt very peaceful with her friend Sarah around.

Harriet was in high spirits. Tonight she wore a fantastic flowing garment of vibrant, swirling colours Laura thought might have been put on backwards—whether by design or accident, she wasn't sure.

Harriet leaned closer, speaking directly to Laura. “Darling, if you think I've got this on backwards, you're right. I thought it made it look better.”

“You look gorgeous, Harriet. I should have brought my camera.”

Harriet beamed at her. “Caftans are back in. I read that in Paris
Vogue
. I bought the material for this one in Morocco. Ran it up myself. Made a reasonable job of it, I think.”

“Harriet is multi-talented.” A smile of warm amusement appeared on Evan's face. “You have yet to hear her playing her viola.”

“I'd love that.”

“This man plays the cello like I imagine the Archangel Gabriel might.” Harriet lifted her head, looking up at Evan with obvious pleasure. “The big, full tone. No question it's a man playing. I think our Evan here has seen a great deal of life,” she challenged, her grey gaze growing pointed. “It's all in his playing. It creates real electricity in the listener. You're looking wonderfully relaxed tonight, Evan. That sharp, passionate mind seems soothed.”

“You think so?” Evan asked dryly.

“At least you're not so fiercely private.”

“That's because, my dear Harriet, I acknowledge you as a friend,” he told her suavely.

And what of Laura? Harriet thought, thoroughly intrigued by this developing situation. The way Laura and Evan moved together, their whole body language, suggested a certain degree of intimacy, of understanding. But lovely Laura, in her summery dusky pink dress, light as air, was still married to her dreadful husband. Laura would have to tell Evan before they became more deeply involved. If they hadn't reached that point already…

“Heavens, you're not going to stay out there all night?” They heard Sarah call from the front room.

“Coming, dear.” With a burst of rich laughter, Harriet swept her guests into the house.

 

The evening was destined to be a great success. Eight people sat down to dinner: Harriet at one end of the beautifully appointed table, her “friend” Dr Morris Hughes, Sarah's colleague at the hospital, at the other, Laura and Evan opposite
each other, Sarah beside Evan, Laura beside Alex Matheson, a very elegant dark-haired, grey-eyed man in his early thirties, the conductor of the town's orchestra, and a very pleasant middle-aged couple, the Wards—Selma and Alan—who were right at the top of Harriet's network of friends, made up the numbers.

Selma, it transpired, was Harriet's “second cook”, and was very good and very interested in Harriet's new venture.

Harriet certainly lived up to her reputation as having special culinary talents, Laura thought as the conversation eddied around her. Apparently Harriet's dinner parties featured a variety of cuisines: Malay, Thai, Indian, Japanese, Chinese and occasionally classic French. But she was a great champion of the more exotic cuisines.

Tonight was Thai. Khao Soi Gai—egg noddles with a spicy chicken curry—to start, followed by sautéed beef tenderloin with black pepper sauce and green baby vegetables, then a choice of mango cheesecake on a pistachio sponge base or iced banana parfait with coconut crust for those who had room for dessert.

They all did.

Laura by this point felt all her tensions and tortured thoughts of Colin had fallen away. Introductions had gone well for her. All the guests were warm, friendly people who'd accepted her immediately. The talk had ranged over a wide number of interesting and entertaining topics. Harriet and Evan, who appeared to have really come out of his shell, had tossed them up as if they were throwing up juggling balls. Alex Matheson, whose elegant manner appeared undampened by the fact he suffered periodic bouts of near blindness, had paid special attention to the fact Laura was a Conservatorium-trained pianist.

That at least she had been able to admit, though she couldn't help noticing with relief no one delved too deeply into her background. An unspoken agreement? Whatever it was, she was grateful.

The Wards were members of the orchestra too, Alex told her. Alan on clarinet; Selma on flute. Obviously the love of
music ran through them all, forming an immediate bond. Their music-making was a source of considerable pleasure and satisfaction, not only to them but to the people of the town.

“When do we hear
you
play?” Alex asked Laura. One would never have known he suffered from a very serious eye problem by looking at him. His grey eyes were crystal-clear.

“I promise you you'll enjoy it.” Evan glanced across at his friend. “Laura's fingers simply draw the music from the keys.”

“As do yours from the strings,” Alex said graciously. “Evan's the rock on which the rest of the group rests,” he confided to Laura. “I don't suppose you'd consider joining us in a quintet for piano and strings? I'm useless these days as a pianist.”

“Not true.” Very firmly said from the rest of the table.

“Well, not what I was.” Alex shrugged. “We've only just started working on Beethoven's
Ghost
. Evan can tell you. We're going to rehearse from now on at his house, so you wouldn't have to go far.”

“I'd be honoured,” Laura said, allowing her eyes to touch on Evan across the gleaming expanse of the table: snowy linen and lace tablemats, sumptuous oriental china and dishes, crystal wine glasses, a long low arrangement of white butterfly orchids that trembled in the breeze.

He was a very striking-looking man, with his strong distinctive features, the breadth of his shoulders emphasized by his soft beige jacket with cotton dress shirt beneath. She knew there was a lot of turbulence and intensity in him, but tonight he had concentrated on being witty and charming.

“Marvellous!”

“I beg your pardon?” Abruptly, Laura realized in staring at Evan she hadn't heard what Alex had just said to her.

“I said marvellous that you'll join us,” Alex repeated, not missing a thing. Smoothly he saluted her with his wine glass. “Welcome on board, Laura.”

 

“That went extremely well,” Evan remarked as they made their way home. Knowing Harriet always served her guests
wine, they had walked the easy strolling distance to Harriet's house rather than take Evan's car.

“I enjoyed every minute. I thought you and Harriet made a great team. Both of you so witty and clever. You've been to so many places! And I didn't know Harriet was a flirt!” She laughed.

“He's a very nice man, and he so enjoys Harriet. Sarah had a lovely time too, but she's missing Kyall.”

“They'll be married soon and they'll have their daughter,” Evan said quietly.

“Like a miracle, isn't it?”

“Thank God they do happen. But no miracles for Alex, I'm afraid.”

“What exactly is wrong with his eyesight? His eyes are perfectly clear.”

“They were tonight. Other times—the bad times—they look quite different. Whatever it is and I don't fully understand the condition, it's quite rare.”

“With no cure?” Laura's voice conveyed her sympathy.

“Maybe I'm entirely wrong, but I think some of Alex's problem could be psychological. He's highly strung, as my mother used to say, and as close-lipped about his past as we are. All three of us could be classed as damaged people.”

“Something should be done to help him.”

“Something should be done to help all of us,” Evan said wryly. “Do you think you'll ever be happily married, Laura?”

She had her opening. Shouldn't she seize it? Tell him at the end of this lovely evening: I'm married, Evan. Not only that, but married to an abusive man, terrible as it is. She hesitated fatally, thinking how desolate she would feel if he dropped her hand like a hot cake.

The moment went by. “Look at you,” she evaded, summoning up a light tone. “Why aren't
you
thinking of marriage? I've deduced you haven't led a normal life, but don't you want a wife, a family?”

“Everything in good time.”

“That's not an answer.”

“All right, Laura, would you marry me?”

For a minute she couldn't move on. She froze, shocked out of an answer until she realized his tone had been sardonic.

“I couldn't,” she said finally, and released her breath.

“Of course you couldn't. You're in love with your doctor.”

“No, I'm not.” Sadness mingled with utter truth.

“You just like being under his thumb?” He regretted it the instant he'd said it. Not that he didn't mean it but it had sounded chastening.