Marion Lennox - Bushfire Bride

‘And you have dying to face,’ Hugo whispered. ‘I’m sorry, mate, that you can’t live. I’m that damned sorry-and if giving up Rachel’s love would bring you back to us I’d do it in a minute. But the guys in consultant suits are telling me it won’t happen. So I’ll say goodbye. I’ll leave you to your parents and to Rachel. But know… Know, mate, that in our house-in any home that I’m lucky enough to build and share with your wife-you’ll be honoured and you’ll be loved for ever.’

It was five minutes before Hugo left the ward. When he came out into the corridor there was no one to be seen.

Just a mug of cold coffee lying abandoned on the polished floor.

ASHES to ashes. Dust to dust.

The wind blew gently across the mountain graveyard. Rachel stood silent as the coffin was lowered into the waiting ground. Lewis and Dottie stood on either side of her, holding her, united in a grief that had been agonised and raw eight years ago but was now muted-a soft and wondrous goodbye. These three who still loved Craig. Who would always love Craig.

In the end, it was good. This tiny graveyard… It was near to the place where Craig had been born-a tiny country cemetery where the wind keened around the mountains and a man could see for miles.

Where spirits could at last be free.

This was a good place for Craig to come to rest. His grandparents, his great-grandparents, a babe who would have been Craig’s brother if he’d been born at term…they were all here.

His body was where it belonged and Craig lived on in those who loved him.

Rachel hugged those holding her-this man and this woman who’d been by her side for so long.

‘It’s OK,’ she whispered, and Dottie smiled through her tears.

‘It surely is.’ Dottie blinked back tears and looked across at her husband-and Lewis released Rachel and came around to take his wife in his arms.

‘Well done, lass,’ Lewis said. He was a big gruff man who’d loved his son with an intensity that was even greater than his passion for the football he’d once played. He hugged his wife but he looked over her head at Rachel. ‘And now it’s time for you, girl, to move on.’

‘Move on…’

‘Your young man.’ Lewis kissed his wife gently on the top of her head and then Dottie and Lewis both turned and smiled at her. ‘Your Hugo.’

‘My Hugo?’

‘He’s here,’ Lewis said, and motioned out to the road where the track led down the mountain to the tiny township below. And there was Hugo. He was standing by his car. He didn’t approach the mourners. He simply stood. Waiting.

‘He’s here,’ Lewis said simply. ‘It’s time you went to him.’

Rachel closed her eyes, and when she opened them they were smiling at her. Dottie. And Lewis.

And Hugo.

There was nothing left to do here. Nothing at all. She gave her in-laws one last hug-one last smile-and then she crossed the graveyard and walked into the arms of her love.

AS WEDDINGS went, it was a pretty good wedding.

Toby knew about weddings. He knew the bride was supposed to look gorgeous. Well, Rachel looked gorgeous. Brides were supposed to be white and lacy and Rachel was lacy enough to be entirely satisfactory. Not too fussy, though, he decided. She had no veil or train. Her dress was made of white silk, Myra had told him. It was sort of bare around her shoulders with a floaty kind of skirt and bare feet. It was pretty nice, Toby decided-for a bride.

He wasn’t sure about her feet, though. Bare toes. Weren’t brides supposed to wear high heels? Still, that’d be pretty stupid on the beach where they’d decided to hold the ceremony. The ceremony was taking place on the exact spot where Rachel had taught him to drop-kick, the exact place where the townspeople had sheltered from the fire.

They were waiting for the ceremony to start. A couple of oldies from the nursing home were setting up a sound system. They were fiddling with knobs and Don was helping. It seemed like they were having a bit of trouble, but it didn’t matter. Everyone was smiling and waiting, as though they had all the time in the world.

Which was fine for them, but Toby’s football was up in the car. If he’d known he’d have to wait he could have brought it down for a quick kick.

He was a fantastic drop-kicker now. Rachel was all right at teaching him drop-kicking, he guessed-for a girl. She was better than his dad. But Lewis was… Well, Lewis was ace. He and Dottie, who refused to be called anything but Lewis and Dottie, seemed to spend a heap of time here now. They loved Cowral. They loved Toby.

Which was fine by Toby. He loved Lewis and Dottie right back.

Life had expanded considerably for Toby.

Everyone he knew was on this beach. Such a crowd…

That was part of the reason they’d decided not to have the ceremony in Cowral’s tiny church. There’d be people who wouldn’t fit and who could miss out?

Myra was standing beside him. Toby was holding the ring and Myra was a bit worried that he’d drop it. As if he would.

Myra was looking a bit distracted, Toby thought, looking at her with affectionate appraisal. She’d spent the morning grooming the dogs to within an inch of their lives. Penelope looked gorgeous-well, she always did, though not quite so gorgeous now that Hugo and Rachel and Toby spent so much time on the beach. But Digger had come up respectably, too.

Knickers was here as well, with a great red bow round his neck- Knickers, the cocker spaniel, whose fight seemed to have started this whole chain of events. The black and white spaniel had recovered completely. So had Kim.

The girl was sitting hugging her knees on the sand as they waited for the ceremony to begin. Her dog was snuggled beside her. They looked great.

Pudge looked great, too, Toby conceded, moving on to the next dog in the pack of assorted canine guests. Pudge was still spending time with them, even though Sue-Ellen had returned. She’d been back in town for a few weeks now, staying in the hospital while her feet slowly healed. The townsfolk were rebuilding her cottage.

And one of the firefighters was with her. Gary. Toby had overheard Dad telling Rachel that maybe this was the best thing that could have happened to Sue-Ellen. Rachel said Gary was big and kind and besotted. He’d carried Sue-Ellen out of the dam with her burnt feet, he’d visited her in Melbourne, he was pushing her wheelchair now and Rachel and Dad thought things were looking really interesting.

Dad said Gary even liked goats.

There were all sorts of interesting things happening in Cowral at the moment. Myra said the fire had started people thinking how transient life was-whatever that meant. Myra said it had something to do with being happy. Being happy now.

She said it also meant what was happening to Aunty Christine. She was here with that man. Michael.

Michael had come down one day soon after the fire to collect Penelope. He’d blustered in, really angry, saying there was no way Penelope could stay. And then he’d met Christine. Christine had been in their kitchen when he’d arrived. She’d been angry about Dottie and Rachel redecorating Toby’s bedroom, so she’d been in the mood to yell, too. Anyway, Michael had yelled at Rachel, and Christine had yelled at Dad and then Michael and Christine had gone somewhere to complain some more and Rachel and Dad had grinned and Dad had said, ‘Well, well, wonders will never cease.’

And it seemed Penelope could stay. Because of the mess at the dog show she hadn’t got enough championship points to keep her place in the state’s Afghan hound hierarchy, which meant Michael didn’t want to breed from her-which was just fine by Rachel and Dad. Dad said any puppies of Penelope’s would risk having a kangaroo loose in the top paddock and Rachel had giggled and agreed.

What was keeping them? They were taking so long. Gee, if there was just time to get his football…

But the oldies behind the sound system had finally succeeded. The sound system crackled into action and music blared out across the beach.

What was the song? Toby knew it. He knew it! It was a bouncing song! And everyone else in town knew it too, because in seconds the whole town was singing about great balls of fire at the top of their lungs.

Everyone was laughing as Rachel walked down the sandy beach. Lewis held her arm, as proud as any father, and Dottie fussed over her dress, but it was Hugo Rachel was watching. Hugo who was waiting, with so much love in his eyes that even Toby could see it.

It was very satisfactory, Toby decided. He liked his dad looking like that. Soppy but good.

Then the tune ended and another started. Softer. Lovely.

‘It’s Bach’s ‘‘Sheep May Softly Graze’’,’ Myra whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘Because they’ve come home to each other.’

Home. Here. Everyone was gazing at the shallows where once a township had sheltered to be safe and now a man and a woman were meeting each other, taking fingers in hands and turning together to make these, the most sacred of vows.

Toby even forgot his football.

With this ring, I thee wed.

With my body I thee worship.

From this day forth.

I now pronounce you…man and wife.

‘I love you,’ Hugo whispered, and Rachel looked into the eyes of her second and most precious love and she whispered them back.

‘I love you,’ she whispered. ‘Hugo McInnes, I love you for ever.’

Ace, thought Toby. It had gone off exactly as it should. Great vows! No one could wiggle out of this one.

Not that he thought they’d want to. Rachel and his dad were looking at each other with the goofiest grins. Matching grins. Any minute now… Yep, here it was. Yuck! The kiss.