Moonlight Plains (24 page)

‘Kitty, I’m sorry about this.’ Ed spoke softly, and she realised then that he hadn’t asked her to sit so they were touching. It was so he could talk to her without being overheard. ‘There are so many things I want to tell you. So much I want to say that I can’t.’

Please, tell me. Don’t leave the important things unsaid.

She needed him to talk about their future, after the war. She wanted him to assure her that he would make contact again, that he would come back for her. Send for her.

‘You can tell me anything, Ed.’

His throat worked. ‘But I can’t make any promises. Not when I’m like this.’

She wanted to protest. It doesn’t matter, she wanted to assure him, and her throat burned with everything she needed to say. She would still love Ed if he was permanently blind. She would see for both of them.

And yet . . . unbearable as it was, she understood his silence.

He was worried about saddling her with his blindness . . . just as she was worried about saddling him with their baby.

Now she shivered as cold certainty descended like a shroud. Ed was going home and the baby would be her burden. Hers alone. Ed had enough problems. She couldn’t load him with another.

The tears she’d been fighting spilled now and she had to blink madly. She’d come here today with so much hope. She’d planned to declare her love for Ed, but now the doubts crowded in. Did she have the right to talk of love? Was she entitled, after such a brief courtship, to lay claim to Captain Ed Langley?

Once again, he tightened his grasp on her hand. ‘I want you to know that whatever happens, I’ll never forget you, Kitty.’

The finality of this drove ice splinters through her heart. ‘Don’t talk like that.’

He lifted his hand to her face, traced the shape of her cheek. His fingers found her tears and he gave a soft groan, but he didn’t offer the words she longed to hear. Instead, he sat with his lips pressed tightly together, as if he was afraid to speak.

Was he afraid of letting his emotions escape?

A horrible silence crawled by and Kitty was sure she could hear her heart beating in her ears. She thought again about the baby, Ed’s baby,
their baby
, curled like a new fern frond deep within her womb.

She tried to picture Ed back in Boston, but the images were hazy. She had no real idea what it was like over there.

She thought about the long, difficult months ahead and the scorn and gossip she would face from certain quarters, as well as her grandfather’s wrath.

When Ed’s voice broke into her morbid thoughts she jumped.

‘Thanks so much for coming,’ he said quietly. ‘I would have hated to leave without saying goodbye to you.’

So this was it. Goodbye.
The end
.

‘Just get better,’ she urged in a tight, choked voice.

‘I’ll do my best.’

Kitty waited for him to add an extra reassurance. When he was better, or when the war was over, he’d come back to find her.

Instead, he put his arms around her and kissed her. To her surprise, instead of clinging to him, she was glad they were sitting and not pressing close. It meant there was no risk of his feeling the little bump.

The important words were left unsaid.

Outside, the sunlight was too bright after the shade on the verandah. Kitty stood on the front steps and found a handkerchief to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. She would fall to pieces when she got back to Mitchell Street, but for now, with Frank Harvey, she had to keep up a brave face.

Frank was waiting by his jeep as promised. ‘All good to go?’ he asked her kindly.

Kitty nodded. ‘Yes, thanks.’

She was glad he didn’t try to make conversation as he drove her back to North Ward. No doubt she looked all pale and blotchy and he wasn’t sure what to say.

Once again, he parked at the end of Mitchell Street.

‘Thanks so much,’ Kitty told him. ‘It was very kind of you to give up your morning.’

‘My pleasure, ma’am. Would you like me to escort you to your door? I’d be only too happy.’

Kitty remembered the eyes spying on them earlier. Frank had probably noticed them too. ‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘but I’ll be fine.’

Ever polite, he hurried to open the jeep’s door for her.

Kitty held out her hand. ‘Thanks again. It was nice to meet you, Frank.’ And then, as she stepped away to the kerb, ‘I never asked you: is Ed a friend of yours?’

‘Well, ma’am, I’m just a corporal and he’s a captain, my superior officer, but he’s a good’un. I suppose we’re about as friendly as our ranks permit.’ His mouth tilted in a lopsided grin. ‘We call him the prince behind his back.’

Yes, I know, she wanted to say. Bobby Kowalski told me that. She couldn’t return his smile. This last revelation only made the gap between her and Ed feel wider than ever. ‘What part of America are you from?’ she asked.

‘I’m from Georgia, ma’am. Clayton County, Georgia.’

‘That’s not near Boston, is it?’

Frank chuckled. ‘Not at all. Georgia’s in the south, a long ways south. Have you seen the movie
Gone with the Wind
?’

‘Yes, of course. I
loved
it.’ After a beat, she frowned. ‘It’s hotter in the south, isn’t it? The climate’s more like it is here in North Queensland?’

Frank gave a slow nod. ‘Georgia’s more like these parts than Boston is, that’s for sure.’

Kitty almost wished she hadn’t asked. Again she was remembering the conversation with Ed on the island.

What are you thinking about now?

About you. About how wrong it would be to take you away from all this.

Moonlight Plains, 2013

I shouldn’t have come here. I knew it was a mistake.

The possibility that her trip to Australia could end badly had been gnawing at Laura ever since she’d left Boston, and now that she’d seen Kitty Mathieson’s eldest son, she was damn sure she should have stayed safely at home.

As soon as the man unfolded his lanky frame from his vehicle, she was chilled by a sense of foreboding. And that was before she’d taken in details like his silver-flecked dark hair, his handsome face and intelligent dark eyes that were uncannily familiar.

Her first instinct was denial. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. She was on edge, too tense, too invested after trying to read between the lines in her father’s letters. This was nothing more than a strange coincidence.

She had to get a grip. And yet . . .

And yet, those eyes, that distinctive profile, the way he held his shoulders . . .

The likeness was so close.

Too
close?

Laura was trembling like jello as she watched Kitty’s son kiss his mother and his sister, and then several nieces. He could have been close on seventy, although he didn’t really seem that old. His manner was very easy and relaxed as he chatted with his brothers and their wives. After what felt like several ice ages, he turned ever so casually to Laura.

This time, Luke didn’t rush to introduce her, as he had with other family members.

The man introduced himself. ‘Hi, I’m Jim Mathieson. And you must be our special guest from America.’

He politely waited for Laura to offer her hand, and when she did his grasp was warm.

‘Laura Langley Fox,’ she said in little more than a whisper.

Jim Mathieson nodded. ‘I understand you’re Ed Langley’s daughter?’

‘Th-that’s right. And I have t-two brothers.’ Why on earth had she mentioned her brothers first up? It must have sounded so weird. But it had been a defensive impulse. Now that she was this close there could be no doubt. This man
had
to be
her
father’s son.

Oh, Dad, what have I done? I’m so sorry . . .

If she wasn’t careful she would blurt out something totally inappropriate. It would be unforgivable to upset this close-knit family when she was their guest.

Jim’s dark-eyed gaze held hers for a shade too long, cautiously reckoning . . .

He knows. Oh, God, he knows.
Laura’s heart leapt into her throat.

Fearfully, she turned to see how Kitty was reacting to this awkward meeting and she discovered that Luke was already shepherding his grandmother out of the way. With a strong arm around her, his shoulders hunched protectively, he was shielding the tiny old lady as he helped her up the steps and into the homestead.

Does Luke know too? Does everyone here know?

They couldn’t. Surely someone would have mentioned it before now.

Jim was also watching his mother’s departure and he gave a thoughtful frown, before quickly switching his gaze to Laura again and smiling.

‘I’d like to speak to you about Ed Langley,’ he said quietly. ‘Would you mind?’

The trembling started again and at first Laura couldn’t squeeze a reply past the painful tightness in her throat.

‘I wonder if anyone has shown you where his plane crashed,’ Jim said.

‘No, not yet.’

She wondered if he was planning to take her aside and clear the air with her. Tell her the truth. Although the thought still scared her –
terrified
her – she desperately needed answers . . .

Laura straightened her shoulders. She sensed an inner strength in this man that she wanted to match. ‘I’d really like to see the crash site.’

Jim touched her ever so lightly on the elbow and smiled. It was a charming smile, a little like her brother Charlie’s. ‘I guess I shouldn’t rush straight off,’ he said. ‘I need to say g’day to a few of the other folk here and you probably haven’t met them all yet, but if there’s a bit of free time while everyone’s still arriving, we could mosey over to the site. It isn’t far away.’

‘This is just lovely,’ Kitty said as she made herself comfortable on the bed with the pretty floral quilt that Sally had ordered online. ‘Perfect. Thank you, Luke.’

Luke, setting her pills and a glass of water beside her, felt a surge of relief, until he saw a telling look in his grandmother’s eyes that suggested she might have guessed what lay behind his unseemly interest in hurrying her in here to rest.

He swallowed uneasily. He hadn’t known what to make of Laura’s reaction to Jim’s arrival. If he hadn’t been standing next to her, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the sudden tension that engulfed her, but it was almost as if she’d recognised Jim. Or at least she thought she had. And that could only mean . . .

Luke couldn’t let his mind go there, not now, on the brink of hosting his big party. He didn’t want to delve into what her reaction might mean, or how it implicated his grandmother.

And yet he couldn’t help remembering how tense his grandmother had been whenever the World War II connection came up. He still had no idea why it bothered her, but today, when he’d heard Laura’s shocked gasp and had seen where her tense reaction was directed, his first instinct had been to whisk his grandmother away from a scene that was potentially awkward and, quite possibly, disastrous.

‘This room is beautiful,’ his grandmother said now, looking around at the pale-lemon walls and the white trim in the bay window, the subtle blend of white and cream in the curtains and cushions. ‘So fresh and pretty.’ Her smile was almost coy. ‘Did Sally come up with the colour scheme?’

Luke felt his ears go red. He cleared his throat. ‘She – ah – made a few suggestions.’

His grandmother’s smile broadened. ‘You’ve done an amazing job, darling. I think the homestead is lovelier now than it ever was. You’ve brought it up to date and made it very liveable, but you haven’t messed with its original character.’ She looked around her again, at the ornate ceiling rosette, the carefully restored window seat, the intricate timber carving of the breezeway above the door and her blue eyes sparkled extra brightly. ‘Andy would have been so proud of you, Luke.’

At the mention of his grandfather, Luke’s throat constricted. Had she any idea how much those words meant to him?

‘I – ah – had to put Granddad’s tools to good use,’ he said gruffly, backing towards the door. ‘You get some rest now, okay? I hope there won’t be too much noise outside.’

‘I’ll be fine, thanks.’ Already she was settling into the pillows, stretching her stockinged feet. ‘This is lovely.’

Luke was gently closing the door when footsteps sounded in the hallway. He turned to find Sally carrying a basket of cutlery.

He was glad that she had been mixing in well with his family and getting on famously with each and every one of them. His bright idea to pretend they were mere acquaintances seemed to be working. But it was hard,
damned
hard to carry on calmly, as if Sally’s auburn-haired, brown-eyed loveliness wasn’t driving him wild.

He was continuously conscious of her. All day, his antenna had been constantly tuned to her frequency, and it didn’t help that Sally seemed as thrown by his sudden appearance now as he was by hers.

‘Hi,’ she said almost shyly. Pink stained her cheeks as she held out the basket. ‘I was just taking these outside.’ Then she gave a shy little laugh. ‘As if you couldn’t guess.’

‘You’ve been a great help.’ Such a lame thing to say.

Neither of them moved and the air between them seemed to thicken and sizzle.

‘Is Kitty in there?’ Sally lowered her voice as she nodded towards the bedroom door.

‘Yeah, she’s resting.’ Luke swallowed. ‘She loves the colour scheme you chose, by the way.’

The pink in Sally’s cheeks deepened. ‘That’s great.’

He wanted to kiss her. Here. Right now. He wanted to grab the cutlery basket and dump it on a bookcase, the floor, anywhere. Wanted to back Sally against the wall, trapping her with his hands as he kissed her . . . tasted her, sucked, nibbled and sipped . . . as he lost himself in her devastating sweetness . . .

She was, apparently, saying something.

Luke blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

Sally was watching him closely now and a puzzled frown made a crease between her brows. ‘Is everything okay, Luke?’

‘Of course. Why?’

‘You seem distracted.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘I was just saying that the plans for the party seem to be going smoothly. As far as the kitchen’s concerned, at least, everything’s on track.’

‘That’s great.’ With a supreme effort, he collected his wits. ‘As I said, you’re doing an ace job.’

‘Zoe’s a cooking sensation. You’re going to love the food.’

Stuff the food
. Luke needed Sally. Now. In his arms. He took a step towards her.

‘Oh, that’s where you’ve got to,’ cried a voice behind them. ‘I’ve been looking for you, Luke.’

He spun around to find Bella in the front doorway.

‘I think you’d better come,’ she called. ‘There’s been a problem with the band.’

In the year before her divorce, Laura had taken up yoga, hoping that the deep breathing and guided meditations would help her to weather the emotional storms of those tempestuous months. Now, as she walked with Jim Mathieson across a paddock towards her father’s crash site on Moonlight Plains, she tried to regenerate those deep and steadying breaths.

‘It’s not too surprising that Ed and his buddy crashed here,’ Jim was telling her. ‘We know now that around three hundred Allied planes crashed in North Queensland during the war.’

‘Three hundred? I had no idea. What happened? Were they shot down?’

‘No, they were straightforward crashes.’

‘But that seems incredible. Why were there so many?’

‘Take your pick of reasons. This is a big state, so there were vast distances to cover. Throw in bad weather, inexperienced pilots, planes damaged in combat and inadequate radio systems, and there were bound to be casualties.’

They’d reached a barbed-wire fence and beyond it stretched another paddock bordered by a stand of gum trees. Jim used a booted foot to hold down the lowest wire while he lifted the higher ones to make a gap for Laura. ‘Can you get through here?’

‘Thank you.’ She was glad she wasn’t wearing a dress as she stooped and climbed gingerly through. ‘Can I hold it for you?’

‘No need, thanks.’ Jim’s legs were so long he was able to hold down the top wire and swing over the fence easily.

Laura imagined her father doing that when he was here all those years ago. He and Kitty must have come across this very paddock, carrying Bobby Kowalski.

Her father and Kitty . . .

Laura still wasn’t sure she could cope with this.

‘This is where your father landed,’ Jim said, pointing to a patch of open grassy ground that was dotted with yellow wildflowers and cowpats. ‘And Kowalski crashed over there,’ he added, indicating the trees.

Laura thought of her father’s letters and the terrible guilt he’d carried for years after Bobby Kowalski’s death.

I was pig-headed. I decided to push on. I thought I had just enough fuel to reach Townsville.

She tried to picture her father, barely twenty-one, flying his tiny plane back from New Guinea and being blown off course. She could see him landing at dusk in this alien corner of the outback, so far from the base, while his buddy crashed and was mortally wounded and a brave young slip of a girl carried a lantern as she hurried towards them through the darkness . . .

The description from the letters had been like something out of a movie.

‘Are you okay, Laura?’

She looked up into Jim Mathieson’s handsome face.
So hauntingly familiar . . .

‘I’m worried that I’ve made a mistake coming here.’ She felt as if she was intruding into something very private. Had she the right to pry into seventy-year-old secrets? And yet she felt compelled to speak up. ‘I suspect there’s more to my father’s history than I’d ever dreamed, but I – I don’t know if –’

She couldn’t finish the sentence. She could very well spoil a happy family occasion with her pesky curiosity.

‘I was wondering how much your father told you,’ Jim said quietly.

‘That’s the trouble. He told us nothing. It was almost as if he was never in the war.’

She wouldn’t tell Jim about the letters, certainly not yet. But she was shaking now, shaking with emotion, with fear and tension. She pressed three fingers to her trembling lips and drew a deep breath.

Jim was watching her carefully and she thought she caught a flash of sympathy in his eyes.

She felt emboldened to ask, ‘Am I right in guessing that you have a story to tell?’

He gave a faint nod. ‘I do . . . but I’d only speak up if I thought you wanted to hear it.’

‘I – I think I need to hear the truth.’
Even though I might not like it.

Now Jim smiled, reminding her again of her brother Charlie. Even his choice of dress, a blue shirt with the long sleeves rolled back, combined with pale-cream jeans and well-polished riding boots, reminded her of Charlie’s roving reporter garb – a clever mix of casual and smart, ready for action.

‘We may as well take a seat.’ Already Jim was crossing to a fallen log, giving it a kick, and then breaking off a small branch from a sapling and using its leaves to flick away ants and loose pieces of bark.

He was quite the gentleman. Laura might have smiled if she wasn’t so nervous. As they sat together, side by side, Jim leaned forward with his hands loosely clasped and his elbows resting on his knees.

Around them, the grass and the bush buzzed with insects, and Laura reminded herself that she must remember to breathe. It helped that Jim’s rather penetrating gaze was now focused on a clump of grass a few feet away.

‘My dad – that’s Kitty’s husband, Andy Mathieson – told me the truth in 1964, on my twenty-first birthday.’

The truth
. Laura’s stomach churned uncomfortably.

‘As you know, in the sixties we weren’t considered adults until we hit twenty-one, so in my dad’s eyes, that was the day I became a man. He was like the rest of his generation – very conservative, not someone to be challenged by his kids – but around that time, we were having our first real disagreement. I’d done well at school and I’d spent a few years working on the property, but I was keen to go off to Brisbane to university, to study law. He wasn’t happy.’