Matilda's Last Waltz (65 page)

‘I'm off to find James. Good luck, Jenny,' shouted Helen over the noise of the fire and the men who fought it.

But Jenny heard none of it. Her attention was fixed on the man struggling to take a rope into the very jaws of the encroaching fire and attach it to one of the water tanks. She'd have known that figure anywhere, despite the wet shirt over his head.

What the hell did he think he was doing?

She put her fingers over her mouth and watched in terror as time and again he disappeared into the smoke and flames and brought down the tanks. She began to pray. She muttered prayers she'd thought long forgotten. Recited rosaries she'd vowed never to repeat. Pleaded with the God she'd turned her back on to keep Brett Wilson safe.

For she knew that if she lost him now, she would truly believe Churinga was cursed and could never make her home here.

*   *   *

Hands helped to gather the ropes. Wet towels dowsed the smouldering sparks in his hair and clothes. His lungs felt as if they were bursting, and his skin burned, yet Brett knew he had to dredge up the very last ounce of his strength to bring down that final tank.

His sight blurred with weariness as he sucked the smoke-laden air into his lungs and began the last run. He entered the swirling, smothering world of the fire and lashed the rope firmly around the great width of the tank.

Something cold splashed on to his arm. He looked up, wondering if the tank was already unsteady on its pilings. He stepped back and a few more drops fell coldly on to his scorched face.

The rope fell from his numb fingers and he began to laugh as he backed away from the tank. It was rain. Sweet, blessed rain. And not a moment too soon.

He joined the others and stood looking up to the heavens. They opened their mouths and spread their arms to the cold, wonderful water which cooled their skin and washed away the dirt and sweat.

The flames hissed beneath the downpour and within moments the fire crept like a giant wounded beast back into the earth and was still.

Brett closed his eyes and cried.

Suddenly he was embraced by a whirlwind of arms and a torrent of kisses. He opened his eyes and looked down at the beautiful smoke-streaked face he'd thought he'd never see again. He held her tight, wanting never to let her go.

‘Oh, Jen,' he whispered. ‘Jen, Jen, Jen.'

‘I thought you were going to die! Brett, I love you. I've always loved you. Don't leave me. Don't leave Churinga.'

He put a finger beneath her chin and smiled, his own tears mingling with the rain on his face. ‘I thought you were going to marry Charlie?' He had to be sure this wasn't a dream.

‘Charlie?' She laughed, throwing back her head. ‘I love you, you great galah. Not old playboy Charlie.'

With the rain falling in torrents over their heads, he tightened his hold and drew her even closer. Then he kissed her. ‘I love you, Jen. I love you so much,' he murmured against her mouth.

The sound of cheering drew them apart and they emerged like sleepwalkers into the real world to find themselves surrounded by a circle of smoke-blackened faces. They grinned sheepishly as they held hands, and once the applause and well wishes were over, Jenny led Brett to the back of the smouldering house.

The cemetery was flooded, the mounds almost covered by the remains of the homestead. The picket fence was no longer white, the crosses splintered and trampled in the mud.

Brett was puzzled as he watched her pick her way over the smoking debris until she reached the largest stone memorial. He went to her side as Jenny beckoned him.

‘The old Churinga is gone, Brett. The diaries, the memories, the past. I understand now why Finn put these words on Matilda's grave. But the fire has cleansed Churinga and put the ghosts to rest. Finally stopped the music. Matilda's last waltz has given us the chance to make a new beginning. One day I'll explain everything – but for now I need to know if you will be a part of that new beginning?'

‘You know I will,' he whispered as he put his arm around her.

They turned as one and faced the stone to read the words Finn had so painstakingly carved into it.

Here Lies Matilda McCauley,

Mother, Lover, Sister and Wife

May God Forgive Us

MATILDA'S LAST WALTZ
. Copyright © 1999 by Tamara McKinley. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.stmartins.com

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ISBN 0-312-26202-7

First published in Great Britain by Judy Piatkus (Publishers) Ltd

First U.S. Edition: August 2000

eISBN 9781466875470

First eBook edition: June 2014