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epilogue
Sam – A year later
The days preparing the station were going to be worth it. High winds and strong rains were predicted, but none of us were holding our breaths. The station was bone dry. The ecosystems were hanging on by barely a thread. We hadn’t seen the wet stuff for years. Just like twenty years earlier as a teenager waiting for the rain at our farm, we were back here, waiting for it. And like then, I wasn’t even sure if I remembered the sound of it hitting a tin roof.
Change was eternal though, and we knew the drought would, one day, come to an end. It seemed like a lifetime ago since we’d been able to run more than a litre or two of water for a wash. I could barely remember the feel of fresh water surrounding me as I swam in it. When we’d made the trip to Sydney to meet Ally’s dad, it’d been utterly foreign having the waves crash around us at Bondi Beach.
We were relaxed, finally slowing down after days of non-stop work. Roofs had been checked, every nail hammered down again, every gate latch secured, and the animals tended to. We’d staked and tied all the plants in the veggie patch and shifted furniture out of the way so we could quickly move the chairs and swing inside if the winds picked up as predicted. Cyclones didn’t hit this far inland, but we did get a taste of the winds that went with them.
But for now, we waited.
Macca and Scottie sat curled up on the swing under the veranda and Nan and Ma rocked on the rocking chairs, Jono never far from the love of his life. He’d finally confessed his feelings to Ma and they’d stopped dancing around each other. When Scottie had asked Jono about retiring, he thought he was being asked to move on. Devastation had clouded his features. But Scottie hadn’t meant that. He’d asked him to slow down, enjoy his home—which he’d never be ejected from—and Ma. Scottie and Jono were training me up as lead stockman.
It was the push Jono and Ma had needed. Now we saw them holding hands or smiling softly at each other over a cuppa in the afternoons and he’d not long ago vacated his cottage in favour of the main homestead.
We’d shifted too, taking up the family’s offer of the guest house. Ally had been reluctant at first, not wanting to reduce the station’s income, but Ma was insistent. Scottie gave us the opportunity to do things right, so our next job was to begin renovating the two old staff cabins into guest accommodations.
I scratched my blunt fingers over Craig’s buzzed hair as he sat between my legs on the stair below, his back to my chest. Ally was perched on his lap, cuddled in close.
We watched the angry clouds roll over the horizon in the distance, jagged flashes of lightning illuminating the darkening skies. Thunder boomed long seconds later, like the crack of a whip and a low rumble. The storm was still too far away to do anything except provide us with an afternoon’s entertainment as we sweated it out. Waru and Yindi had prayed to the spirits of the land to ask for the storm to reach us and all the other stations in the dry red interior. I prayed that their ways would work.
Time ticked slowly by and we watched quietly as the storm rolled closer and closer. This year had been one to forget. We’d experienced so much heartache as a nation, but in some ways, we were so incredibly lucky too. Now all we needed was rain.
The cool breeze reached us first and Ally sat up straighter. My heart rate notched up and I felt Craig breathe in deeply under my hands. I could smell the rain in the air. The storm churning in the metallic grey-blue clouds above us was close. The air was heavy, and shadows stretched across the land. It was dark and ominous to the inexperienced, but to us those clouds meant hope. Life. I held my breath waiting for Mother Nature to give us her greatest gift.
Another gust of wind brought the smell of damp soil to my nose. My breath caught in my throat and Ally stood, taking Craig’s hand, then mine. She smiled at us, her gaze full of excitement. Love.
The first drops on the iron roof were like an orchestra in a Disney movie, when the hero defeats the villains. It was the sound of hope. The drops sped up as the rain washed over us, beginning in earnest. I lifted my face, letting the cool drops kiss my skin. Not one of us spoke. Instead we held each other close.
Laughter sounded and we saw Scottie and Macca kissing in the rain. Their hats lay discarded on the ground and they whooped, happiness radiating off them. All around us, our family danced and cheered as the water soaked through our dusty clothes. Tears of joy fell, and our spirits soared. We were one with this land, and the two people in my arms gave me more love than I’d ever thought possible.
I’d been blessed in this life. My rocky path had finally calmed, and before me were cool, clear waters.
I had it all. Or I would in about six months.
Puddles formed around us, the rain falling in sheets as I dropped to my knees and pushed up Ally’s shirt, kissing her belly. A bump had started to appear, but we were yet to tell anyone except Ma and Nan, who’d helped Ally with the never-ending morning sickness.
I grasped Craig’s hand as he kissed our lady and I nuzzled her belly again, whispering to our plum-sized baby how much they were already loved.
“Ally,” Scottie called, his voice pitched high with barely contained excitement. I looked up to see her nod at him and rest a hand protectively on her tummy. Scottie was pointing, open-mouthed. She lifted a hand to her mouth and nodded again, tears tracking down her cheeks and her wet hair plastered to her head. She’d never looked more beautiful than in that moment. Scottie charged forward, slowing only to scoop her up in his arms, lifting her and spinning her around. “Oh my God, you’re gonna be a mum?” She nodded again as he put her down and he hugged her tight again. “And you guys are gonna be dads!”
“Yeah, mate.” Craig helped me up off the ground, every part of me soaked to the bone. He wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned down to kiss him softly.
Grinning, we reached for Ally, but Macca was on us, hugging us tight. “I’m gonna be an uncle?” He was practically jumping in the puddles in excitement. “Oh, man, I can’t wait to spoil this kid.”
All around us there were hugs and congratulations and animated conversations about babies and due dates and excitement on whether we’d have a boy or a girl. It didn’t matter to us—we just wanted a healthy baby.
With Craig’s arms wrapped around me, I watched as our lady moved back towards us and we enveloped her in our embrace. I savoured the security of having the two people who I loved more than life itself in my arms. Our baby was already adored just as much.
Little bean was a celebration of our love. Our baby would grow up with a family who loved them unconditionally, and supported whatever life threw at them. We would protect them with our lives. We’d guide them and watch them grow up to be as strong as their mum, as loyal as their dad, and as loving as me—Daddy.
We’d found each other a long time ago. It may have taken us decades to move past our friendship into something more—something unbreakable—but we were finally there.
None of us had any idea what happiness was until we accepted ourselves and understood that we were simply meant to be. The three of us together, forever. Craig still blamed himself for taking so long to see things clearly, but I wouldn’t change a thing about our lives or our love story. All the hardship, the decades of wandering rudderless across the land. It led us here, to this very moment. To each other’s arms and to this life that had given us so much. To the land of red dirt and big blue skies. To droughts and sacrifice and now, pouring rain. To hope and life and love.
To Pearce Station.
To home.
The end.
