Chapter 8

A LOUD droning sound penetrated Lara's slumber and snapped her awake.

The plane!

Ric…gone from beside her…flying away!

She leapt out of bed, realised she was naked, grabbed the dressing-gown from the chair in front of the dresser, thrust her arms into its sleeves as fast as she could, and wrapped it around her as she rushed to the door that led onto the veranda.

Too late to say goodbye. The plane would already be in the sky now. But she wanted to see it, if only to feel Ric was safe in the pilot's seat and the flight was going smoothly. She just caught a glimpse of it passing overhead. Then it was gone beyond the roof of the homestead and all she could do was listen until the sound of it was gone, too.

'Safe journey, Ric,' she murmured, willing him to get beyond Gary's reach as fast as possible and remain safe.

A sad deflation hit her as she walked back into her room. It was impossible to project how long it would be before she saw Ric again. If she saw him again. Her heart cringed at that thought. He'd said he would come back. She had to believe he would because she was in a helpless position to change any of the circumstances for him or anyone else. Everything to do with Gary was out of her hands.

Much stronger hands than hers were dealing with it now, she told herself, but she was still frightened for Ric, despite all his reassurances. He'd been so good to her, good in every way, and she was fiercely glad she had the memory of how it had been with him—the loving of a man who knew how to love, making her feel beautiful and precious, intensely cherished and cared for.

Her gaze fell on the indentation left by his head on the pillow beside hers. She crawled across the bed and buried her face in it, wanting to breathe in whatever scent of him was left behind. She closed her eyes and concentrated on remembering all the pleasure he'd given her from the lightest tingling touch to the final crescendo of incredible sensation that had tipped her into a sea of ecstasy.

How long had she floated there in blissful contentment while Ric had simply held her? It had seemed like time itself had stopped and they were in a world of their own, complete unto itself. She remembered listening to his heartbeat, stroking his body with a sense of awe, wanting him to feel how he had made her feel—incredibly special—because he was.

She wished she'd told him that.

Somehow last night the feeling of sharing something totally overwhelming had been so strong, so deep, words had seemed trivial, useless for expressing what had gone beyond anything that could be described. The silent, physical communication had seemed more right—just being together.

Had Ric understood?

Should she have said something?

Thank you were the only words she had spoken. And his mouth and eyes had smiled. No other reply. None necessary. He'd given what she'd asked of him. He was happy she was satisfied. And she didn't have to be told the pleasure had been mutual.

So it had all been good. No regrets on either side.

She sighed and rolled over, knowing she had to face this day—without Ric—and take whatever steps she could toward making a different life for herself.

I won't let you down, Ric, she silently promised. No matter what happens, I will become a better, stronger person because of what you've done for me.

Having made this resolution, Lara got up and moved purposefully to the ensuite bathroom. A clean start, she thought. As clean as she could make it. No looking back.

Half an hour later she was showered, dressed, hair brushed, a touch of make-up applied to diminish the discolouration around her eye which was much less swollen this morning, rooms tidied and bed made. She walked around the veranda to the main body of the house and found her way to the kitchen, a huge utility room where three women were busy rolling out pastry on marble slabs and the smell of freshly baked bread instantly whetted her appetite.

The women—all of them part Aboriginal—stopped chatting when they saw her. Lara smiled and said, 'Hi!' but they just stared back until Evelyn, the housekeeper, whom she'd met last night, took charge of introductions.

'You're looking a lot better this morning, Miss Lara,' she said approvingly. 'These are my helpers, Brenda and Gail.'

'We're making pies for the men,' Brenda declared, a young curly-haired woman, probably in her twenties, merry brown eyes.

'Lamb and potato,' Gail added. She was about the same age, darker skinned, rather wildly dyed red hair, and a grin that beamed an attitude of finding fun in everything. 'I told Mister Ric he was missing out by going so early.'

'He had a good breakfast before he flew off,' Evelyn stated firmly as though Lara needed to be assured of it. She was a big woman, her salt and pepper hair marking her as middle-aged but wearing her years well, her plump good-humoured face relatively unlined. 'Now what about you, Miss Lara? There's still some pancake mix or I could cook you some eggs. What would you like?'

'We've got plenty of eggs from the chicken run,' Brenda added as she saw Lara hesitate.

All three faces looked at her, beaming an eagerness to please. It assured Lara they were happy to welcome her amongst them and she relaxed, warming to the cosy atmosphere in the kitchen. 'What I'd really like is a couple of slices of your fresh bread. It smells wonderful.'

They laughed, inviting her to sit at the big kitchen table while they worked around her. Two thick slabs of bread were cut. A tub of butter and jars of honey, vegemite and fruit conserve were laid out for her use. A pot of tea—her preference—was quickly produced.

Lara enjoyed her breakfast and the conversation which revolved around good-humoured answers to her questions about Gundamurra. She wasn't asked any questions about herself. It seemed her presence was simply accepted and the women were happily intent on drawing her into their community.

Their husbands worked on the station, carrying out maintenance and moving the sheep from paddock to paddock. Their children went to school here, lessons supervised by the overseer's wife and directed by radio from The School Of The Air. While the Paroo River ran through the property, most of the water used came from bores. There were beef cattle, as well as sheep, though they were more a sideline to the main business which revolved around stud rams and first class wool.

'Where is Mister Maguire this morning?' she asked, wondering when she would meet her host again.

'In his office,' Evelyn replied. 'I am to show you through the homestead before taking you to him. Make sure you know where everything is.'

'Thank you.' She smiled. 'I must say every room I've been in is beautifully kept, Evelyn.'

The housekeeper beamed with pleasure. 'Mrs. Maguire trained me herself,' she stated proudly. 'I am training the girls, just as she told me.'

'Well, you do a great job, Evelyn.' It was on the tip of Lara's tongue to offer her own help, but decided it was best if she speak to Patrick first in case she'd be treading on the toes of the domestic staff, butting in where she shouldn't be.

The tour of the homestead gave her a broader appreciation of how life was lived here. Adjacent to the large laundry was a mud room, stocked with raincoats, akubra hats and boots, clearly the first and last stop for those working outside. A bathroom completed the facilities for cleaning up before moving into the main body of the house.

'Have you had much rain?' Lara inquired.

'Many storms this time of year. Which is good. We need the rain. It's hard to keep everything going in times of drought.'

Lara had seen television coverage on the devastation of long periods of drought in pastoral Australia. It had evoked both horror and sympathy but the visuals had been so far removed from her own life, the feelings had been only momentary. It would undoubtedly have more impact on her now she had entered this different world.

Though it was certainly not without many civilised amenities. The billiard room was also a library and music room, open for use to anyone on the station. Walls of shelves contained an amazing selection of fiction and non-fiction books, videos and CDs. A generator supplied electricity and a satellite disk gave them television and internet facilities.

'Mr. Johnny bought us the hi-fi system,' Evelyn informed her, grinning as she added, 'So we can play his music.'

'Johnny who?' Ric's friend who owned the plane?

Evelyn looked surprised. 'You don't know him? Johnny Ellis? He's a very famous country and western singer.' Then she laughed. 'They call him

Johnny Charm. And he is.'