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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
DAISY LOOKED RESPLENDENT in her cream wedding dress. The simple V-neck bodice clung to her curves, while layers of pleated chiffon fell from a high waistline to the floor, swishing gracefully, as Daisy walked down the aisle. The olive green of gum leaves in her bouquet, studded with simple white flannel flowers—they’d arrived on time after all—and cream grevilleas, were crowned with a single, rare white Waratah bloom. Accompanied by the haunting sound of a single didgeridoo being played by an Elder from the Kuku station, Bindi thought the scene was dreamlike.
Daisy’s father looked about ready to burst as he took her arm and lead her toward the flower-festooned bower in front of the first rows of seats. Bindi had the best view of the whole proceedings from her chosen spot, standing at the rear of all the chairs. It gave her the perfect prospect over the top of the heads of the crowd of seated family and friends, directly down to where Dale was waiting at the makeshift altar.
The billabong sparkled like a diamond behind the arbor, such an amazing backdrop for this amazing event. A few cotton-ball clouds studded the teal-blue sky, but the rain had held off, at least until tomorrow. And the Stormcloud crew had managed to hold off the bushfire until the local fire services had arrived, and together they’d stopped it well before the flames threatened the lodge or any of the smaller cabins. So, thankfully, the guests didn’t have to look at charred, blackened bushland as a detraction to the wedding Daisy had planned so carefully. The fire had burned a large chunk of country between the mine site and Stormcloud, however, so they might have to find another route for when the guests came back in February, until the regrowth was back up and it was considered safe from falling tree trunks or burned branches.
Skylar was up at the altar with Julie, standing off to the side, waiting for Daisy to join them. Skylar surreptitiously brushed away an errant tear, and Julie just beamed at Daisy like a brilliant, one-hundred-watt lightbulb. They both looked spectacular in their dove-gray dresses, as simple and elegant as Daisy’s, hair caught up in soft chignons that showed off both women’s faces. Aaron and Nash stood next to Dale, also looking elegant—if a tad uncomfortable—in their dark-gray tuxedos, with smoke-colored ties that matched the bridesmaids’ dresses to perfection. But both men couldn’t hide how their eyes devoured the two women standing opposite. Nash’s blue gaze was as bright as the sky as he stared at Skylar, and only at her. And Aaron’s broad shoulders twitched in an effort to keep his hands calmly behind his back as one corner of his mouth lifted in a grin meant only for Julie.
Who would be next to tie the knot? Her money was on Skylar and Nash. Those two were just so good for each other.
A lump formed in Bindi’s throat, which surprised her immensely. She wasn’t the sentimental type. But seeing Daisy and her dad so close made Bindi think about her own parents. She hadn’t talked to anyone in her own family for seven years. She’d thought it best at the time when she’d left, and she’d never even let her dad know where she was, or how she was doing. Even though he’d said he was on her side, it was too painful, and she didn’t want to rehash the past over and over, so she’d decided a clean break was best for all.
But that’d all changed when she’d spoken on the phone to her father, Henri, last night, after Daniella had finally persuaded her to get in touch. At first, Bindi had completely disagreed with Daniella, ignoring her protestations that her father was her flesh and blood and he deserved a second chance. But Daniella was very persuasive; when she wanted something, it was very hard to say no. Daniella said that if a near-death experience wasn’t enough to put aside old quarrels, then nothing was. So, Bindi decided to give him five minutes, and if he said anything disparaging or abusive or tried to make her feel guilty in any way, that’d be the end of it. But Henri had sounded so…broken, so desperate, that she’d given him five minutes, then ten, and surprisingly by the end of an hour she was feeling almost jubilant. Her father had never stopped loving her, had been shattered when she’d taken off without a word, he’d tried to find her many times, but Australia was a big country, and he had no idea where to start looking.
A fragile connection had re-formed between herself and Henri over the course of their hour-long phone conversation. It was too late to go home to New Zealand this Christmas, but perhaps next year. Her mother was a different matter; Bindi wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive her daughter for what happened to Kai. Which was a shame. But Bindi was finally over taking the blame for his death. If Uma wanted to wallow in her grief and accusations, then Bindi wouldn’t allow herself to be dragged down to her level any longer. It was Kai who’d destroyed her innocence. Who’d destroyed their family. Not her. She needed to lose the mantle of guilt that’d been weighing her down for so long. And Mack had been partly responsible for her seeing through the darkness into the possibilities of the light.
She reached for Mack’s good hand and his warm fingers closed around hers. Mack had chosen to stand at the back as his single crutch and bandaged hand made it hard to maneuver down the aisle, and it was easier not to have to make excuses to everyone he knocked on his way past. So, she’d chosen to stand with him. Of course. As if there were any choice at all. Bindi dared not look at him, because if she did, she’d be a goner. The waterworks would come then, she just knew it. And she had a lot of work to do yet. She, Skylar, and Sasha would be run off their feet putting together the meal for the reception later, which was to be held in the large marquees, erected farther around the edge of the billabong.
Bindi spied Wazza and Kee sitting a few rows in front of her, Kee’s daughter Benni, wriggling on a seat between them. Bindi had been so glad to see Wazza when they’d arrived at the station yesterday.
A hush fell over the congregation as Daisy arrived at the altar. Her father leaned in and kissed her cheek, unable to hide his pride in his wonderful daughter, then took his seat in the front row.
The celebrant looked up from her notes and surveyed the silent crowd. Dressed in a simple black sheath dress, her long, gray hair tied back in a neat bun, the celebrant then turned her direct gaze onto the couple now standing in front of her.
She cleared her throat. “Hello, everyone.” The aura of the crowd was filled with anticipation, and Bindi squeezed Mack’s hand even tighter. “First, Dale and Daisy would like to acknowledge the traditional custodians of the land of the Kuku-yalanji tribe on which we meet today and pay their respect to Elders, past and present.”
There were murmurs of acknowledgement from the crowd, then the celebrant motioned for Dale and Daisy to face each other and hold hands in front of her, then began the ceremony in earnest.
Mack stirred slightly beside her, and she turned her sharp gaze on him. “Are you okay?” she mouthed. It was less than two days since their clash with Whip, and Bindi was worried about Mack. He’d only been discharged from the hospital this morning, and that was only because he said he was going to be at the wedding come hell or high-water, and he’d discharge himself and walk all the way to Stormcloud if need be. So, Aaron had flown to Cairns specially to pick him up.
“All good,” he whispered back.
The little Stormcloud helicopter had made quite a few trips back and forth to Cairns in the past few days, keeping Aaron busy.
When rescue had finally come in the form of Steve and Dale roaring into the mine site in one of the station’s Land Cruisers, she and Mack had immediately been airlifted straight to the Cairns hospital, where Mack had undergone surgery on his damaged hand, and had his fractured ankle set in a cast. At least it wasn’t badly broken, much as Bindi had already guessed, but Mack would still be out of action for the next four-to-six weeks. Bindi’s injuries had been much less severe, mainly scratches and bruising, but the paramedics had wanted her checked out thoroughly, anyway. And then she’d demanded she be allowed to stay until she could see Mack was fine. When he finally came out of surgery and woke up, gifting her with one of his stunning smiles, it’d taken her breath away, and she’d clung to him, not wanting to leave him ever again. She’d spent that first night in the hospital, sitting in a chair by his bedside all night. It took a lot of convincing by the doctors, Steve, Daniella, and Mack himself, that he was in safe hands, and she really should return to Stormcloud to help with the wedding preparations.
Madonna and Melody were ensconced safely back in the stables—with a new tamper-proof lock attached—enjoying the extra attention from the Stormcloud crew. Steve had been eternally grateful to get his prize mare back, but even more grateful that she’d been instrumental in helping to save Mack from the shaft. Every time he popped up to the stables to check on his beloved horses, there were always a few extra carrots in his pocket, a delicacy that Madonna would crunch up with sheer delight, basking in the glow of everyone’s appreciation. That horse really was every bit of a princess—or perhaps diva might be a better description. Bindi was never happier to pamper a horse in all her life, and she, too, had been up to the stables more than once to offer her never-ending gratitude to her.
And best of all, Picasso and Sahara had been found by the owner of an adjoining property a day after the fire. They’d been terribly thirsty after their flight from Whip and the fire, but otherwise unhurt. Bindi was so grateful the two horses had stuck together and survived the terrible events together. Bindi had spent a good hour at the stables yesterday grooming and fussing over the pair.
“Did I tell you just how breathtaking you look in that dress?” he whispered, gaze traveling appreciably down to her bare legs beneath the short, flirty hemline, then back up to meet her gaze, tawny eyes alight with mischief. And something more. Hunger. Deep, and ever so slightly savage.
She shivered at his look, but answered as flippantly as she could, “At least ten times already today.” They both still looked worse for wear. Mostly hidden by her dress, dark bruises covered her hip, thigh, and shoulder where she’d landed at the bottom of the shaft. And they both had grazes and bruises on their faces and arms. Those injuries would fade soon, and right now, Bindi didn’t mind that they reminded her they’d both come through a terrible event, and lived to tell the tale.
Then there were the internal scars. Maybe the best part of the whole sordid episode was the way Mack had helped her to battle her way out of her self-imposed mental constraints that Kai’s mistreatment had forced upon her. She still remembered, with vivid detail, how the fat guy had threatened to rape her and her whole world had shut down, just like it had when Kai raped her. But then she’d heard Mack’s sweet voice. Urging her to get up; to resist her tormentor. He’d awoken her from her torpor, helped to banish all her demons. Reminded her she was a strong, independent woman, and she had the right to fight back. And fight back, she had. She’d done it as much for Mack, as she had for herself. Nothing had ever felt quite so good as when she knocked that bastard to the ground.
“Yeah, well, I meant it every single time,” he whispered in her ear pulling her back from her musings, and she couldn’t hide her delight at the effect her new dress was having on him.
It’d arrived in the mail a few days ago, a spontaneous purchase online, a baby-pink, A-line style, with a plain, chiffon skirt and scattered rhinestones and embroidery as decoration on the bodice. It looked perfect with her buffed-up cowboy boots—no stilettos for her today—and she wasn’t sure if it was the dress or the boots Mack was appreciating the most.
“And I’m probably going to say it at least ten more times,” he warned.
Someone in the back row shot them a frown and Bindi smothered her smile, clutching his hand tightly, before turning back to the ceremony. She needed to concentrate. But it was damn hard when she could feel the heat of Mack’s purely masculine body burning into her skin, even through his suit jacket and shirt. The second Bindi had seen Mack alight from the helicopter this morning, she’d rushed to hug him, not able to get enough of him. The day and a half she’d spent without him had been like a slow form of torture. But as soon as he’d taken her into his arms, dropping his crutch on the ground and pulling her into his chest, she knew. Knew that she hadn’t imagined her feelings for him. Or his feelings for her. They still needed to talk about it. Where they saw their relationship going. But she was in no doubt they would have a relationship, that they had a future together. It was something unwritten between them. Ever since they’d been thrown down the shaft, their bond had become like glue. She’d felt a seismic shift in him. He’d been prepared to give his life so that she might go free. No words were needed after a gift such as that.
Bindi tried to tune into the words, as Dale repeated his vows after the celebrant, and watched as Daisy stared into his eyes, a love so pure and strong evident in her face. Then she repeated her vows, holding the gathering in a hushed awe at the beauty of her words. Bindi had to brush away a tear, so intense was the moment when Dale finally lifted the veil and kissed his new bride.
Then the Kuku Elder stepped forward. Wearing only a traditional loincloth, his body and face were decorated in the lines, patterns, and motifs specific to his tribe. Holding a piece of flattened bark, on which a pile of herbs and leaves smoldered, he wafted the smoke over the newlywed couple, speaking the traditional words of praise and fidelity.
