shrubs and stunted mallee, the branches of which were bent into weird scarecrow shapes.
Desert birds flew with them—the lovely swirls of budgerigar in flocks of thousands, trailing bolts of emerald silk across the sky, the countless little finches and honeyeaters, the pink and gray galahs, the brilliant mulga parrots and the snow-white sulfur-crested corellas that congregated in great numbers in the vicinity of permanent water holes. Apart from early morning, welcoming the sunrise, this was the time of day the birds were most active. In the noontime heat they preferred to preen or doze in the trees to escape the blinding intensity of the sun.
Sarah crossed Koomera Creek at a point where the iridescent green waters had subsided to a shallow, tranquil pool that, up until their approach, reflected the fresh, light green foliage of the river red gums. The brassy glare of the sun was now giving way to a sunset that spread its glory across the sky, innumerable shades of pink, rose and scarlet streaked with yellow and mauve, the whole brushed with deepest gold.
Sarah knew where she was headed. A solitary white-trunked ghost gum that grew out of a rocky outcrop some quarter of a mile on. It was a marker for anyone who got temporarily lost or disoriented in the dizzying wilderness, with its head-spinning, extravagant colors. Burned umber, fiery reds, glowing rust and yellow ochres, pitch-black and a white that glared in the sun.
“We’re here.” Sarah spoke quietly, looking up at the stark white bole and delicate gray-green canopy of the ghost gum, which stood like a sculpture against the incandescent sky.
All three were silent as they approached the curious stony outcrop, its surface so polished by the windblown sands that it reflected all the colors of the setting sun.
When it was time to release her mother’s ashes, Sarah walked alone to the base of the ghost gum, while Harriet and Cheryl stood side by side, quietly saying a prayer for their friend.
“No more heartache, Mamma,” Sarah told her mother silently. “What I did cost you dearly. Forgive me. The Lord will protect and look after you now. You’ll never be alone. Dad will come for you now. Life wouldn’t have been so hard for you had Dad lived. But that’s all past for you, Mamma. Go with God.”
WHEN THEY ARRIVED back in town, Sarah dropped Cheryl off first, both women hugging silently and swiftly. But Harriet’s thick dark brows knit when Sarah drew up at her old colonial, the front door guarded by an eight-foot-high Maori totem pole.
“How do you feel, my dear?” Harriet asked.
Sarah let her head fall back. “Empty. I think that’s the word, Harriet. My mother didn’t have a happy life or an easy life. I wanted her to come to me, but she wouldn’t.”
Harriet thrust out her strong chin. “Listen, my dear, don’t blame yourself for anything there. You were a fine daughter to your mother. I remember very clearly how Muriel’s face lit up every time we talked about you. You realized your ambitions. She was proud of that.”
“They came at a cost.” The words left Sarah’s lips before she could draw them back.
Harriet, too, sat back, still frowning. “I’ve always thought that, Sarah, although you’ve maintained a poised and dignified facade.”
“I learned that from you.” Sarah turned her head to smile.
Harriet’s thin cheeks crinkled into an answering smile. “Ah, my dear, with a face like mine, dignity’s all you’ve got,” she announced mock mournfully. “You were the best pupil I ever had and I’ve had a few that have gone on to make names for themselves, like Charlie Garbutt.”
“I was never as brilliant as Charlie,” Sarah gently scoffed.
“Charlie was and is entirely focused on other planets. He’s brilliant and respected worldwide as an astronomer, but you were more of an all-rounder. Interested in earth-lings, mostly. I don’t think I could’ve wished for three better pupils than you, Charlie and Kyall, who found passing exams with flying colors a piece of cake. Even when you didn’t study. Incredible, the bond between you and Kyall,” Harriet mused, touching the lace on her rather grand, faded gray dress. “Then it was all over.”
“It had to be, Harriet. You know that.” Sarah sighed uncomfortably.
“I know no such thing!” Harriet ripped off her glasses and rubbed furiously at her aristocratic high-bridged nose. “There’s so much I didn’t understand, Sarah.”
“Yes,” was all Sarah could muster.
“Are you coming in with me, my dear?” Harriet heard the exhaustion in Sarah’s voice. “I’ve got a bed made up for you. I don’t like the idea of your going back to the shop.”
Sarah shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about me, Harriet, but thanks all the same. There are things I have to do. Pack Mum’s clothes—” She broke off.
“Cheryl and I can help you do that,” Harriet answered crisply. “You look done in.”
“I’m not a girl any longer, Harriet. I’m not even particularly young. I’ll be thirty-one this year.”
“That’s hardly old! You’ve never looked more beautiful. You have the sort of bone structure that will last. You know, Sarah, if something’s wrong I’d want you to tell me what it is.”
“Plenty is wrong, Harriet,” Sarah found herself saying, staring fixedly at the street lamp and beyond that, the evening star. Was there a place called heaven? Was her mother there? She made a distraught movement of her hand. A hand that Harriet, thin face pinched, caught and held.
“Can’t you trust me, Sarah? You know that anything you tell me in confidence I would never tell anyone else.”
Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know that, Harriet. I’d trust you with my life. But there are some things we can’t unload on others. I’m fine, really.”
“That’s what your mother used to say when she was in the doldrums. ‘I’m fine, Harriet. Don’t you worry about me, Harriet.’ Of course I did.” Harriet paused briefly. “I couldn’t help noticing you and Kyall this afternoon. Neither of you is happy. You’re not married. Kyall’s not married.”
“Surely Ruth will get her way,” Sarah burst out scornfully. “God knows, she always does. I spoke to India briefly. She came up to me to say a few words. For appearance’s sake, only.”
“That’s right!” Harriet agreed. “She’s so different from Mitchell. But Ruth doesn’t run Kyall’s life, my dear. Pay attention, Sarah, because I’m right. Kyall is his own man. He has a different strength from Ruth’s. A better, brighter strength. So much time has passed, but I don’t think either of you has forgotten the other.”
“Isn’t that strange!” Sarah gave an odd little laugh. “Whenever I read an article about obsession I think of Kyall and me. And I think of a long-ago day when I made the decision to seek a new life. You have no idea how powerless I felt then.”
“I think I do. In fact, I swear I do.” Harriet sighed. “Am I right in thinking you still love Kyall?”
“Harriet, Kyall is a sickness. Nothing more.”
“That splendid young man a sickness?” Harriet snorted disgustedly. “I ain’t stupid, as the bad guy invariably says
