The Outback Bridal Rescue (17 page)

‘Right! Now for Evelyn’s superb carrot cake,’ he said with relish.

Of course, Evelyn had it ready for him.

And Johnny was in such high good humour he gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek to thank her for it. ‘I love being in your kitchen, Evelyn,’ he declared, sitting down at the table, ready to enjoy his afternoon tea. ‘This is where I real y feel I’m home.’

‘Oh, go on with you, Mr Johnny.’ She was bridling with pleasure, beaming love right back at him. ‘You’re just proving the old adage—the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Here you’re served with good home-cooking instead of al that hotel stuff.’

‘Only you, Evelyn, can make a cake like this,’ he declared, hoeing into the huge slice in front of him.

‘Wel , that’s nice to know. Now tel me how the concert went?’

He shrugged. ‘Did its job. Ful house. Lots of money for drought relief.’

Evelyn sighed her frustration at what was to her a total y inadequate report. She shot an appealing look at Megan, who knew where Johnny’s dismissive attitude was coming from. Nevertheless, it was measly fare for his greatest fan.

Impulsively she jumped into the task of giving satisfaction.

‘He was wonderful, Evelyn. He had the whole audience

—thousands of them—in his hands. The way he used his voice was just magic. They didn’t want to let him go when the concert ended, standing up and cheering and clapping.

I’ve never heard anything like it. Absolutely amazing!’

Her warm appreciation of his performance seemed to startle Johnny, jerking his head towards her, but he frowned, too, as though he didn’t want to hear it.

‘So they should want more,’ Evelyn happily declared.

‘He’s the best singer I’ve ever heard.’

‘Wel , they can buy my music anytime they like,’ Johnny said carelessly, then switched to a charming smile. ‘
You
wil always have it free, Evelyn. Now please…we’re hanging out for news of what’s been happening here while we’ve been away.’

Over and done with,
Megan thought.

And Johnny kept it that way.

The weeks rol ed on towards Christmas. Megan became more heavily pregnant. Johnny bought his helicopter and learnt to fly it. He took over more of the running of Gundamurra, insisting that she had to slow down and rest, look after herself and the baby.

Quite frequently e-mails came in from his agent who was based in Los Angeles. Johnny read them, answered them, deleted them. He did not discuss them with her, didn’t even refer to them. Which Megan found disturbing. The block-out on his career seemed too extreme.

Eventual y she felt driven to question him. ‘Al these e-mails…are you getting offers for work, Johnny?’

‘Nothing I want to take up, Megan. I’m finished with al that.’ He smiled with grim irony. ‘Sooner or later my agent wil believe me.’

She let that ride, leaving the decision completely up to him, though she wondered if he would remain content with their life here. Times changed. Currently he was looking forward to being a father, but later down the track…

He shrugged and added, ‘Most of the messages are about outstanding business which wil rol on for years.

Contracts with recording companies and sponsors running out, being re-signed…stuff like that. Nothing for you to worry about.’

‘I’m not worried.’

‘Good!’ He smiled. ‘I don’t want you to be. I like my life just the way it is, right here with you.’

He meant it and she accepted it, not raising the issue again.

Johnny invited their extended family home for Christmas and they al came. Tradition was upheld with the Christmas Eve party held around the homestead quadrangle, everyone who worked and lived on Gundamurra attending.

Johnny took on the role of Santa Claus, giving out gifts he’d bought personal y and piled under the Christmas tree with almost childish delight, anticipating the surprise and pleasure they’d give when unwrapped.

It made Megan wonder how many miserable Christmases he’d spent as a boy. Empty times. Lonely times. And she thought how much her father’s understanding had encompassed when he’d opened his heart and mind and home to his three bad boys, turning their lives around, teaching them there were different paths to take—paths far more rewarding to their true inner selves.

‘If anyone can fil Mr Patrick’s shoes, it’s Mr Johnny,’

Evelyn whispered to Megan, almost bursting with pride in her personal favourite, watching him charm the children with

‘Ho-ho-hos’ as he made much of selecting just the right gift for them.

But would fil ing those huge shoes answer what Johnny truly wanted for himself?

Megan remembered what Mitch had said when she’d been so angry over the terms of her father’s wil , carrying on about Johnny being a pop-star—

You’ve just pasted a label on the man which I know to
be very superficial, Megan. Johnny has not yet reached
the fulfilment of the person he is.

And yes, it had been a superficial label, meanly judged.

Her father, Mitch and Ric had known Johnny far more deeply. She was stil learning about the person he was, knew that fatherhood would be something big in his life, but where true fulfilment lay for him, she didn’t know. Perhaps he didn’t know himself yet. She could only hope it lay in their life at Gundamurra.

Regretful of her lack of generosity towards him in the past and far more aware of his childhood background, she’d bought him many gifts for Christmas; a new Akubra hat, a leather belt with the letter
G
for Gundamurra worked into the buckle, a coffee mug with Daddy printed on it, a big enough possum harness for him to wear if he wanted to carry the baby with him as he walked around the station, a box of chocolates to feed his sweet tooth. She had another, more important gift for him, waiting for when they could be alone together.

Johnny gave her a beautiful pearl ring which he’d bought secretly while they were on their honeymoon in Broome.

Megan loved it. Somehow it made the gift of the pearl necklace for her twenty-first birthday far more personal and special.

After the usual massive feast on Christmas day, when everyone else was tottering off to have a siesta through the heat of the afternoon, she drew Johnny along the verandah to the office. Although she felt nervous that he might feel pressured to be what she wanted him to be, the gift stil felt right to her.

She handed him the prepared envelope.

In it lay the deed to two percent of Gundamurra from her share, giving him the control ing hand.

He stared at it, frowned, and panic instantly played havoc with Megan’s taut nerves. He turned an un-comprehending look to her. ‘Why?’

‘Without you, Gundamurra would not have survived. And you’re my husband, Johnny. It’s…it’s more fitting that you be the boss.’

He shook his head. ‘Patrick’s wil …’

‘My father chose you to play the role of knight to the rescue and you did it very generously. But it’s moved beyond that now, Johnny. We’re married. I think Dad would give his blessing to this gift.’ Her argument faltered into uncertainty. ‘Do you… Do you mind?’

He threw out his hands. ‘How could I mind?’ Yet he stil frowned, searching her eyes. ‘Are you sure you want to give this, Megan? I know how much inheriting Gundamurra meant to you.’

A painful flush scorched her cheeks. She’d been so hateful to him over the wil , scornful of al he’d stood for in her eyes, fiercely rejecting any encroachment by him on what she saw as her territory.

‘I was wrong, Johnny. Wrong about so many things…’

Her apologetic smile was tinged with irony. ‘You’ve shown me how wrong I was and I want to make up for it.’ Her eyes begged him to let her.

‘Megan…’ He sighed, then moved to curl his hands around her shoulders, his eyes warmly reassuring. ‘You’re Patrick’s daughter. You didn’t need to do this. I don’t feel less of a man because you own more of Gundamurra than I do. This gift is too big for me to accept. I can’t feel right about it.’

‘But I feel right to give it,’ she pleaded. Or was she subconsciously tying him to her? Loading him with a responsibility to stop him from ever walking away? Trying to balance out her own secret insecurities?

He hesitated, assessing her need, weighing it against what he felt. Final y he said. ‘Then let it be one percent.

Equal partners.’ He grinned. ‘I can live very happily with that.’

Relief poured through her. ‘Partners. Yes,’ she eagerly agreed, winding her arms around his neck, pul ing his head down to draw him into a kiss which would seal their partnership—a kiss that very quickly led to Johnny sweeping her off to bed.

They gave Mitch the job of fixing the percentage for them.

Their baby was born three weeks after Christmas—an adorable little girl whom they named Jennifer, instantly shortened to Jenny by her doting father.

The drought had not broken. Johnny’s helicopter wasn’t needed to transport Megan to and from the maternity ward in Bourke hospital. However, they were no sooner back on Gundamurra when the rain did come, and it was a Big Wet, raining on and off for the next two months. The parched country, that had seemed so lifeless for so long, started to bloom again.

‘It’s like a miracle, isn’t it?’ Johnny remarked with awe as they stood on the front verandah one morning, looking out on grassed land that reached to the horizon.

‘Rebirth,’ she murmured, loving how it always happened

—what looked like dead ground coming to life again.

‘Two miracles,’ Johnny crooned down at their daughter who was cradled in his arms. ‘You came into the world and brought the rain with you, Jenny. Now we’l be able to build up a whole army of sheep. Lots of lambs for you to play with.’

She gurgled back at him, perfectly happy with her father’s plan. And Megan, too, was perfectly happy. No doubts at al that Johnny was happy to make his life on Gundamurra with her and their child.

No doubts…until she watched Johnny’s movie on the night before Good Friday.

The weather had turned fine enough for the family to fly in for Easter, an invitation pressed by Johnny so he could show off his daughter. Ric brought
the surprise
with him—a video copy of
The Last Cowboy Standing,
which had already been released in the U.S. and according to Ric, was grossing huge box office profits.

‘You’re slaying them, Johnny,’ he said with huge pride in his old friend. ‘I’ve just been in L.A. on business, and believe me, even the diehard critics are hailing you as an actor who should be up for an Academy Award for this performance.’

‘That’s just hype,’ Johnny demurred.

‘Wel , let’s see,’ Mitch drawled, grinning from ear to ear as he added, ‘Can’t wait to watch John Wayne riding again.’

Everyone stood up, eager to go to the TV room. They’d finished dinner. The children were in bed asleep. There was no reasonable excuse not to watch the movie and it would be like another rejection of Johnny if she didn’t, yet Megan could not quel the fear that Ric’s report had stirred.

If Johnny’s acting was so good…she didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know.

He’d put aside his singing career. She could accept that because he had already achieved his ambitions in that arena, but this might be another career pinnacle he’d want to climb. They’d been so happy together these past few months. She didn’t want anything to threaten what they now shared, but wasn’t that being mean again, thinking only of what
she
wanted instead of considering Johnny’s needs?

If she had to, she’d go with him anywhere.

He caught her hand as they were heading out of the dining room, pausing her while the others moved on, squeezing it hard as he murmured, ‘Are you okay with this, Megan?’

She looked up into eyes that were sharp with concern, caring about what she felt, caring which was undoubtedly fed by the bad memories she’d given him.

‘Of course,’ she replied, smiling to show they would not be in conflict over this movie or anything arising out of it.

Stil he hesitated, apparently reluctant to see himself in the movie, anyway.

‘Have you got a problem with it?’ she asked, wondering if he’d been intent on blocking out everything he’d done before their marriage.

He grimaced. ‘I’ve never watched myself perform.’

Embarrassment that he might not live up to the hype?

‘You’re bril iant onstage, Johnny,’ she assured him, squeezing
his
hand to inject her support and confidence.

‘You have a talent for emoting that I’m sure wil come across on film, too.’

‘Emoting…’ He looked quizzical y at her for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Wel , might as wel see what the director did with al the scenes he shot. Just remember it’s only a movie, Megan. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ she repeated firmly.

There had to be a woman in it, Megan thought, as they fol owed the others to the TV room. The tension emanating from Johnny probably meant there were love scenes. But she was not going to be jealous. The movie had been made before they were married. Johnny’s commitment to her since then had been rock-solid. She fervently wished she hadn’t doubted it over the blonde at the concert. So many wrongs…stil to be righted.

One of the sofas had been left vacant for them. As soon as they were settled on it, Ric started the video rol ing. The credits zigzagged over a long shot of a cowboy riding towards a ranch. Ric and Mitch tossed a few teasing remarks at Johnny which he took good-humouredly.

However, everyone was stunned into silence when the cowboy final y reached home and entered the ranch house.

Silence from the movie, too. No music track. No speech.

Just the stark images of a wife who had been beaten, raped, and kil ed, and two smal children lying broken and dead on the floor, blood on the wal showing where their head injuries had happened. The shock and grief of the cowboy were heart-gripping and everyone watching could see—feel—the surge of savage need to find the perpetrators, grim purpose mixed with a terrible tenderness as he removed a red and white polka dot neckerchief from his wife’s dead grasp.

He crushed it in his own hand and that image was instantly transferred to the cowboy standing at three graves, slowly turning away and walking to his horse. Then the music started—music that seemed to reinforce the relentless beat of the horse’s hooves, riding out on an unshakeable mission.