This Golden Land (26 page)

     So, which will it be? she asked herself as she neared familiar surroundings—the Basset farm on one side of the road, the Arbin chicken run on the other—a letter from Neal, or no letter?

     A man on horseback appeared ahead in the lane, and as he drew near, he tipped his hat and said, "G'day, Miss Conroy."

     Richard Lindsey and his wife were drovers who moved great mobs of sheep from stations in the north down to the docks and the slaughter houses.
Whenever Hannah saw such men—rugged, tanned, fiercely independent—she was reminded of the outlaw Jamie O'Brien and her strange encounter with him in Lulu's garden. She wondered where he was. The wanted posters were still up, which meant he was still at large.

     "Good day to you, Mr. Lindsey," Hannah called back. She had delivered Judith Lindsey's fifth baby.

     Mary McKeeghan, true to her word, had spread Hannah's name around the district, and the calls had started coming in. Mostly it was to deliver babies, and while such endeavors were gratifying, Hannah continued to feel frustrated. There was so much more that she could do but wasn't being given the opportunity. In many cases, such as she had encountered in the influenza area, if a doctor wasn't available, people resorted to home remedies. When Hannah offered to help, they seemed baffled. She had gone to one house where she had heard that an entire family of twelve was down with influenza and struggling to take care of themselves. A harried neighbor had answered the door, and Hannah had handed the woman her card, offering to help. The woman had blinked at her and said, "Ain't nobody pregnant in here," and closed the door.

     I am more than a midwife, Hannah wanted to say. She continued to expand her knowledge and skills. Hannah marveled at all the things she had discovered that one could do with eucalyptus: as an inhalant for chest ailments, a chest rub for the lungs, a liniment for sprains and sore muscles, and the gum could even be made into lozenges for sore throats. She was encountering illnesses and injuries never seen in England: centipede bites (treat with tobacco directly on the wound), snake bites (make cuts in the wound, suck venom out, then pack wound with potassium permanganate), and flea infestations in bedding (place a lamb in the bed before retiring, fleas will hop on).

     She was just a few hundred yards from the Australia Hotel now, and every pore in her skin cried out for a bath. Hannah did not mind living in a hotel once again, as Liza Guinness's establishment was in the country and seemed more like home. However, she still wanted a place of her own and kept her eye out for properties for sale, hoping that she could save enough money at least to rent a little cottage. But every place she looked at paled in
comparison to Seven Oaks.

     Standing at the front desk of the Australia Hotel, Neal wrote: "My dear Hannah, I am sorry we missed. As I explained in my previous note, Sir Reginald could not find enough supplies and financial backers in Perth, and so he decided to come to Adelaide and launch an east-west expedition from here instead. I did not write to you as it was quicker to just come with Sir Reginald. My letter would have arrived the same time I did! I have spent the past three weeks gathering supplies and instruments, and hiring a wagon and an assistant, with frequent trips north to Sir Reginald's base camp. And now I must leave Adelaide today as the expedition departs in a few days and Sir Reginald will not wait for me. I expect to be back in less than a year, fate willing. Sir Reginald reckons that on good days we will make thirty miles, and on hard days maybe ten. And we'll be stopping to take photographs, explore the terrain, draw maps and record information. Perth is thirteen-hundred miles away, we can reach it in six months, maybe less, which means I will be back before Christmas. Take care of yourself, my dear Hannah. I carry you in my heart."

     As the handsome American in the white linen suit and Ecuador hat left the hotel, Liza Guinness called for her eldest daughter, Ruth, to watch the front desk, as she and Edna must hurry over to the feed store and bring Mrs. Gibney up to date on the latest events.

     In the outer yard, Neal paused to look around, frustrated at the workings of fate that seemed determine to keep him and Hannah apart. Seeing no sign of her buggy, and deciding she must still be in Barossa Valley, he mounted his horse and took to the road southward toward Adelaide.

     Hannah pulled into the side yard of the hotel, where a livery boy helped her with the rig. She was greeted in the lobby by young Ruth Guinness who
welcomed her back, giving Hannah her mail and a sealed envelope, saying, "Mum said this just came for you."

     Thanking her, Hannah wearily climbed the stairs to her room, trying to decide if she should boil water for the bath first, or for tea. Setting down her carpetbag, she removed her bonnet and short cape. The she loosened her hair and shook it out, so that her black tresses fell over her shoulders and down her back. As she started to undo the buttons of her bodice, she sifted through her mail.
Two
letters from Alice. A friendly note from Ida Gilhooley, with whom Hannah had kept in touch. A notice from Mr. Krüger, the chemist in Adelaide, informing her of new inventory. And two envelopes that were Liza's own stationery.

     Hannah frowned. No postmark or address on these two. Simply:
Miss Hannah Conroy.
When she realized whose handwriting it was, she tore open the second one—"
Mum said this just came for you
"—and as she read the first words, Hannah picked up her skirts and flew downstairs.

     "The gentleman who left this," she said breathlessly to a startled Ruth Guinness, "where did he go?"

     "I —"

     Hannah turned and ran from the lobby, out the front door, where she shocked two new arrivals, flying past them, her long back hair streaming behind.

     When she reached the road, she saw him up ahead, his horse going at a trot. "Neal!" she called.

     He did not react.

     Hannah took off at a run.

     "Neal!" she cried. "Neal,
stop!"

     The chestnut mare continued its lazy trot while Hannah summoned every drop of strength from her fatigued body, shouting Neal's name, drawing the attention of men in the blacksmith hut, a pedestrian on the side of the road, walking with a sheep dog.

     The distance between them was widening. And there was a bend in the road ahead. Neal would soon be around it and hidden by trees.

     Hannah kept going. Stumbled.
"Neal!"

     He turned, stared for a moment, and then, wheeling his horse around,
came back at a gallop, to jump down and sweep Hannah into his arms. "I thought—" she began.

     His mouth was on hers as he drew her into a deep kiss. Hannah's arms went around his neck. Neal pulled her tightly to him. She held onto him with all her strength. The trees and the road vanished. They were on the
Caprica
again, falling in love, consumed with a brand new desire that was as painful as it was sweet.

     Neal wanted to hold her forever and never stop. But he drew back. "Hannah, my God, Hannah."

     "You're here," she said, and their lips came together again, in the middle of a dusty red-earth road, as they clung to each other in the same fierce desperation that had driven them to embrace in a storm that threatened to send them to watery graves. But this time there was no darkness, no cold ocean, just the golden Australian sunlight and their own heat.

     Neal drew back again, this time taking a step away, to put Hannah at arm's length, and as he moved back, he saw that the top of her bodice was unbuttoned. He glimpsed the rise of creamy bosom and a hint of lace from her camisole—the top of her cleavage with dewy perspiration on the pale skin. He was rocked with desire. And then he saw something that made his face suddenly burn. The corner of a piece of linen with the initials N.S. embroidered there.

     His handkerchief!

     He fell back a step, stunned by the erotic power of such a discovery. She kept his handkerchief at her breast.

     "I read your note," Hannah said breathlessly, pushing hair from her face, filling her eyes with the sight of him. "You're leaving
today?"

     "I have to go," he said in a thick voice, so intoxicated by the moment that he was oblivious of the livery boys standing at the side of the road gawking at the young woman with her hair shamelessly undone, the top of her bodice lying open to expose hidden treasure.

     His handkerchief—

     Neal still had her glove, exchanged for the handkerchief when they dropped anchor at Perth. Every time he had taken it out of his case and clasped it, as if clasping her hand, he had wondered if she held onto his
handkerchief. Had he known at the time where she
kept
that little square of linen, he might have jumped ship and swum all the way to Adelaide.

     They fell silent, looking into each other's eyes as the world, and reality, came back. "You really are leaving today?" she whispered again.

     He saw the perspiration at her throat, on her high forehead, glittering on her upper lip and Neal thought: Sir Reginald be damned. "Maybe," he began. No. He had to go. "Hannah, I have an idea," he said suddenly, taking her by the shoulders so that the onlookers' jaws dropped. "I must go back into town and get the rest of my things. There's a wagon there that I've hired, and an assistant. But we will be coming back this way as we head north along Spencer Gulf. Come to Adelaide with me, and I will bring you back. It will give us an hour together, at least."

     Hannah needed no persuasion. They hurried back to the hotel, past the boys who were disappointed that the risqué show was over. Hannah rushed upstairs to change her clothes, and Neal asked the youths to hitch a fresh horse to Miss Conroy's buggy and tether his own mare to the back of it.

     While Neal paced impatiently in the lobby, with young Ruth Guinness staring dreamy-eyed at him, Liza and Edna returned, coming to a grinding halt when they saw Mr. Scott there. "We thought you had gone!"

     "Oh Mum," Ruth said giddily, "Hannah came back and they had the most
romantic
encounter in the road!"

     "Ruth Ophelia Guinness, what a thing to say!" Liza cried. But her eyes sparked with interest, and her grin broadened. "How nice that you didn't miss Hannah after all, Mr. Scott."

     Uncomfortable beneath the scrutiny of the three females, Neal was relieved to hear a door open and close on the floor above, and footsteps follow the upper hall, drawing near to the head of the stairs. He went to the bottom to greet her, and when he saw Hannah at the top, his heart rose in his throat.

     She wore a pale pink gown with white lace cuffs and collar, a row of white buttons from throat to narrow waist. She had chosen not to wear the crinoline that gave women an unnatural bell shape, and Neal stared in awe. Although Hannah's long skirt was draped over many petticoats, the dress still gave her a more natural, womanly shape.

     He recognized the exotic blue carpetbag from the
Caprica
, and recalled
that she said it held her most prized possessions. Had his handkerchief been moved to the bag, or was it still pressed against her breast, hidden beneath pale pink cotton, white buttons and a prim little lace collar? Desire flooded him. She was completely covered from head to foot to wrist, her hair tied up once again beneath a prim bonnet, and it was more erotic than if she stood naked at the top of the stairs.

     Bidding good-bye to the ladies in the lobby, the couple departed in silence and, still not speaking, climbed into the little carriage with Neal taking the reins and spurring the horse to a trot.

     Out on the country lane, the small, two-wheeled buggy with its protective leather hood and seat wide enough for only two people felt intimate. The sunlight created a somnolent heat while the hum of insects filled the air, joining the smell of the red dust and late-summer flowers. Hannah found the steady rhythmic rocking of the buggy to be arousing, especially with Neal at her side, his arm pressed against hers as he handled the reins. She couldn't speak. Her desire for him, the sweet aching that now consumed her, stopped the breath in her lungs. Neal looked so fetching in the white linen suit and white straw hat that nicely set off his new tan. She looked at the hands holding the reins, finely shaped with a dusting of brown hairs on the knuckles.
Masculine
hands.