his prisoner? That was another dumb thought. He couldn’t keep her against her will, nor would he want to, but, even so, the thought was there. The last twenty-four hours had revealed his wife again. He knew she was still hurting. He knew that breaking down her armour required a miracle, and he also knew that once they were off the mountain, then that miracle couldn’t happen. She’d retreat again into her world of finance and pain.
‘She has to deal with it in her own time.’ The words of his shrink had been firm. ‘Rob, you’ve been wounded just as much as she has, but you’re working through it. For now it’s as much as you can do to heal yourself. You need to let Julie go.’
But what if they could heal together? These last hours had shown him Julie was still there—the Julie he’d loved, the Julie he’d married.
But he couldn’t lock her up. That wasn’t the way of healing and he knew it.
What was? Holding her close? She’d let him do that. They’d made love, they’d remembered how their bodies had reacted to each other, yet it had achieved...nothing.
Could he keep trying? Dare he? These last years he’d achieved a measure of peace and acceptance. Would taking Julie to him open the floodgates again? Would watching her pain drive him back to the abyss? Only he knew how hard it had been to pull himself back to a point where he felt more or less at peace.
He knew what his shrink would say. Move away and stay away. Leave the past in the past.
Only the past was in their shared bedroom, with hair that glistened under his hands, with eyes that smiled at him with...hope? If he could find the strength... If, somehow, he could drag her to the other side of the nightmare...
Enough of the introspection. The knocking continued and he’d reached the door. He tugged it open, Luka launched himself straight out—and into the arms of a guy standing on the doorstep.
The man was shorter than Rob, and leaner. He looked in his forties, dark-skinned and filthy. He looked...haggard. His eyes were bloodshot and he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. He was leaning against the door jamb, breathing heavily, but as Luka launched himself forward he grabbed him and held him as if he was drowning.
He met Rob’s eyes over Luka’s great head, and his look was anguished.
‘Amina?’ It was scarcely a croak.
‘Safe,’ Rob said quickly. ‘And Danny. They’re both here. They’re safe. You’re Henry?’ He had to be. No one but Amina’s husband could say her name with the same mix of love and terror.
‘Yes. I am. I went...next door. Oh, God, it’s...’
‘We got them here before the house went up,’ Rob said, speaking quickly, cutting through Henry’s obvious terror. ‘They’re tired but well. They’re asleep now but they’ve been as worried about you as you seem to be about them. They’re safe.’
The man’s knees sagged. Rob grabbed the dog and hauled him back, then took Henry’s elbows under his hands, holding him up. He looked beyond exhaustion.
‘They’re safe,’ he said again. ‘I promise. Happy Christmas, Henry. I know your house is burned and I’m sorry, but things can be replaced. People can’t. Everything else can wait. For now, come in and see your wife.’
And Henry burst into tears.
* * *
After that things seemed to happen in a blur.
There was a whimper behind him. Rob turned and Amina was there, staring in incredulity. And then somehow she was in Rob’s place, holding her husband, holding and holding. Weeping.
And then Danny, flying down the hall. ‘Papa...’ He was between them, a wriggling, excited bundle of joy. ‘My Papa’s come,’ he yelled to anyone who’d listen and then he was between them, sandwiched, muffled but still yelling. ‘Papa, our house burned and burned and Luka was lost and I was scared but Rob found me and then we hid in a little cave and we’ve been here for lots and lots and Santa came and we had turkey but we didn’t have chocolates. Mama had them for us but they’ve been burned as well, but Mama says we can get some more. Papa, come and see my presents.’
Rob backed away and then Julie was beside him, in her gorgeous crimson robe with her gorgeous crimson hair, and she was sniffing. He took her hand and held and it felt...right.
They finally found themselves in the kitchen, watching Henry eat leftover Christmas lunch like he hadn’t eaten for a week—but he still wasn’t concentrating on the food. He kept looking from Amina to Danny and back again, like he couldn’t get enough of them. Like he was seeing ghosts...
His plane last night, a later one than Rob’s, had been diverted—landing in Melbourne instead of Sydney because of the smoke. He’d spent the night trying to get any information he could, going crazy because he couldn’t contact anyone.
This morning he’d flown into Sydney at dawn, hired a car, hit the road blocks, left the car, dodged the road blocks and walked.
It didn’t take any more than seeing his smoke-stained face and his bloodshot eyes to tell them how fraught that walk had been. And how terror had stayed with him every inch of the way.
But he was home. He had his family back again. Julie watched them with hungry eyes, and Rob watched Julie and thought that going back was a dream. A fantasy. He couldn’t live with that empty hunger for ever.
‘We’ve plenty of water. Go and take a bath,’ he told Henry, and Danny brightened.
‘Luka and I will help,’ he announced and they disappeared towards the bathroom, with the sounds of splashing and laughter ensuing. Happy ever after...
‘I’ll go get dressed,’ Julie said, sounding subdued, and Amina touched her hair.
‘Beautiful.’
‘Yes. Thank you.’
‘Don’t waste it,’ Amina said sternly with a meaningful glance at Rob, and Julie flinched a little but managed a smile.
‘I promise I won’t wear a hat for months.’
Which wasn’t what Amina had meant and they all knew it but it was enough for Julie to escape.
Which left Amina with Rob.
‘You love her still,’ she said, almost as if she was talking of something mundane, chatting about the weather, and Rob had to rerun the words in his mind for a bit before he could find an answer.
‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘But our grief threatened to destroy us. It’s still destroying us.’
‘You want...to try again?’
‘I don’t think we can.’
‘It takes courage,’ she whispered. ‘So much courage. But you...you have courage to spare. You saved my son.’
‘It takes more than courage to wake up to grief every morning of your life.’
‘It’s better than walking away,’ she said softly. ‘Walking
