A HAZARD OF HEARTS (49 page)

J.G seemed to lose interest, falling asleep
within minutes.

He woke ravenous, and within two days began
tottering about the immediate vicinity of the cabin with the assistance of a
walking cane. A week after that he threw away the cane. He had been horrified
to hear about Pearl’s part in the uprising, attributing it to compassion for
the wounded. He also shared her sorrow at the loss of her brother. Despite her
belief in each person’s right to make his own decisions, and to bear with the
consequences, she still felt guilty; while the parting of her last family tie,
the lost opportunity to know Li Po, added to her burden.

In explaining her brother’s appearance at the
stockade, she said, ‘The same urge sent me there, to watch over –’ She stopped,
realising what she had been about to say.

J.G’s wits had not suffered from the blow on the
head. He looked at her sternly, ‘Go on. “To watch over...?”‘

‘I meant, to help the wounded.’

‘I can always tell when you’re lying, girl dear.
You followed me, didn’t you? Why? Did you think I couldn’t take care of myself?’

The blood rushed to Pearl’s head, then drained
away. She sat down suddenly on a rock, dropping the kindling she had gathered
on their walk. ‘Don’t interrogate me. I haven’t done anything wrong.’ She had
meant to snap at him, but sounded merely piteous. She was disgusted, and
terrified that she had revealed herself.

J.G. sat down beside her, threading her fingers
through his. ‘Look at me, Pearl.’

Never a coward, Pearl raised her face to find
herself only inches from his. The blue eyes, deep-set amidst laughter lines,
held hers.

‘You followed because you thought I might need
you, because you cared about me.’ His voice hardly rose above a whisper. ‘What
have I done to deserve this?’

Pearl thought about burnt boats and decided she
had no choice. ‘You’ve just been yourself, J.G. I could not wait back at Golden
Point not knowing what was happening to you, or if my being there could make a
difference to whether you lived or died. As it turned out, I might have saved
myself the trouble, and Li Po his life. But I could not have known. Nor could I
let you go, perhaps to your death, then wait for some stranger to tell me.’

‘You love me?’

‘Yes. But you need not do anything about it.’

‘The Hell I needn’t! Girl, haven’t I loved you
from the moment I set eyes on your cool little face so ready to suspect me of
nameless things, and so angry when I wrote the
expose
on the hospital? Haven’t I
turned myself inside out trying not to take you in my arms and kiss you when
you’re spitting fire at me? Glory, Hallelujah! I’ve come out first in life’s
lottery, after all.’ He hugged Pearl to him, covering her face with kisses
until she protested, freeing herself to fling her arms up around his neck and
plant her mouth firmly on his.

J.G.’s joyful shout echoed in her own heart,
which seemed to swell with gladness, filling her chest to bursting point. She
was the woman in the letter, the woman he’d called for in his delirium. She was
his beloved, and he hers for the rest of her life.

It took her all of half an hour to come back to
her senses. And then she remembered. Detaching herself from J.G’s arms she
stood up. ‘I forgot. I was so happy, I forgot.’

‘What did you forget, dear heart?’

‘Come back with me to the cabin. I will show
you.’ The light had gone from her face, and Pearl drooped as she led the way,
her spirits utterly cast down at the thought of what she must tell J.G., must reveal
to him.

Inside, she dropped the flour sack over the door
and lit the lamp, then faced him, a sheen of tears blurring her sight.

‘The man who tortured me did more than cut my
face.’ Pulling her jacket aside, she raised her shirt, exposing herself from
the waist up. At the same time she released the cord of her trousers, and as
they fell around her ankles she watched J.G’s expression change to horror.

Pearl said, evenly, ‘The scars are ugly, are
they not? And a woman without nipples is not a pretty sight. But what you
cannot see is worse. I have been damaged internally. I can still give a man
pleasure, but I cannot ever give him a child.’ Covering herself, she turned
away from him. ‘So you see, my dear, I will not hold you to your word. It would
be unfair to us both. Pity would destroy us in the end.’

J.G. stood utterly still. She hoped he would not
come to her. She couldn’t have born it.

Then he said in a broken voice, ‘I don’t feel
pity. I feel an unutterable rage at the destruction of beauty, and the deepest
respect for your honesty and courage. Pearl, you must know that love is based
on far more than physical attraction.’

‘It plays its part.’

‘So it does. But I will tell you another thing.
The act of love, the coming together of a man and woman whose hearts are
attuned means the giving of pleasure to both. Who taught you to please a man
and not think of yourself?’

She whirled on him. ‘What chance did I have to
learn of love between man and woman – used from the age of five as a bed toy, a
comfort pillow, a thing, an object? What do I know of pleasure for a woman?’

He moved then, taking her in his arms and
holding her while she fought him, furiously, hopelessly.

‘Let me go. Do not do this to me. You think I
have no heart to be broken.’

J.G. kissed her hair. ‘I think you have the
greatest heart I’ve ever known, my beauty, and I’m honoured above all men to
have your love. Now, let me show you what I mean.’

Having brought herself to the point of
exhaustion, Pearl could only let him lift her onto the bed and submit to the
gentle kissing and stroking that started a tingling response in her nerve ends.
Every hair felt sensitised as J.G. removed her clothes with loving attention to
each limb, to each fingertip and toe. Waves of pleasure rose and broke over
her, generated by his lips and hands as they travelled over her body, kissing
her scars, caressing her as she had never been caressed before, while he
murmured his love, telling her how infinitely precious she was to him, how much
more beautiful than any other woman he had known. And finally, on a crescendo
of passion, her throat opening in a delighted cry, Pearl believed him.

Sunlight glinted off the harbour waters
like splinters of glass, hurting the eyes. It was February’s tail end, a day of
blazing heat, yet Jo-Beth had chosen to walk through the Botanical Gardens once
more out to Mrs Macquarie’s Chair. She wore her coolest muslin with only two petticoats,
and a pretty, frilled sunshade and wide-brimmed straw hat protected her face. All
the same, she was glad to gain the shelter of the trees.

Looking out towards the twin headlands she was
thinking of Pearl, who would return any day now, with her husband, J.G. It was
so extraordinary, almost incredible, for those two to fall in love with one
another. There must be a story behind it. She could barely contain her
curiosity. Would Pearl want to go back on the wards, or would she settle down
to – No. Pearl and domesticity did not go together. She would find a cause,
something to take the place of her search for her brother who had died in the
recent rebellion on the goldfields. That was another odd thing. Pearl’s letter
had been so brief and unsatisfying, tantalising, in fact. Just a notification
of her marriage, her brother’s death and her imminent return. Infuriating.

There was a coastal steamer moving up harbour
now. It could easily have come from Melbourne, and Pearl and J.G. might be
aboard. If she had a spyglass she could read its name. Not that it would tell
her much, as Pearl had neglected to say what vessel she would be on.

She could be almost as aggravating as that
little wretch, Lucy, recently so evasive, so unresponsive. Hardly more than a
child, she gave herself the airs of an experienced woman, flaunting her handful
of youthful conquests and generally behaving like a hoyden. Paul spoilt her, of
course. He really should find someone capable of training the girl while
keeping her in line. Jo-Beth chuckled. It had done the minx good to find Paul
was not her personal property. Still, there was no real harm in her. Marriage
and responsibility would come soon enough.

She sighed, remembering that spring day when she
had cast aside her own chance of marriage and an established future. It had
been the right choice. Alan McAndrews was too good a man to be given second best.
But she could not help a small regretful thought for the life she had
dismissed. Nothing had changed for her. She still spent her days in what she
could only term drudgery, despite the undoubted reward of seeing a sick person
recover under her skilled attention. And working with children was a joy.

Children. She longed for her own. Working in the
wards she’d discovered this buried yearning which could not be smothered.
Sometimes she dreamed of golden-haired children with Ethan’s eyes – children of
the imagination who would never be born, but who had a strange reality for her.
It was what drew her to Lucy, so much a child still in her wilfulness and
naivety.

Thrusting aside these thoughts, she rose and
opened her parasol. It had been a mistake to come here, bringing back unhappy
memories. She would go down into the town and inspect the latest modes in Mr
David Jones’ windows. It was always cheering to admire a well-feathered
chapeau, even without any intention of buying it.

~*~

Autumn leaves were thick underfoot and the
influx of early winter ills had begun. Jo-Beth was barely able to spare time to
snatch a cup of afternoon tea on the day when a message came that she was
wanted in the lobby. Sighing at the interruption to her few minutes’ break, she
smoothed her dress and went downstairs. In the doorway a giant of a man was
outlined against the sunlit opening, his shadow reaching out to where she
stood.

‘Jo-Beth?’ The voice, deep, unforgettable,
trembled with emotion.

Her hand went to her throat. She stood paralysed,
staring up into brown eyes glittering with tears, into a familiar golden-bearded
face alight with love.

‘Don’t you know me? Have I changed so much?’ The
man’s voice cracked.

Jo-Beth’s lips moved soundlessly. Her frozen
throat muscles strove to move. ‘Ethan,’ she said, finally.

‘My dearest.’ The two words, so simple, held a
world of longing.

So many times she had envisaged this moment, in
her dreams, and in daylight reverie. This time she knew he was real. This was
Ethan, aged, changed, but it truly was her Ethan. Some miracle had happened to
bring her love back to her.

He held out his arms. Jo-Beth took one step
towards him and was swept up into a crushing embrace.

Long moments later she emerged from the
maelstrom of emotion to hear Elly urging her to take Captain Petherbridge to
the Matron’s Office, where they could be private. Still dazed, she led Ethan
upstairs, his arm clamped about her waist, her feet seeming to skim the boards
as she moved. The door closed behind them and she turned in Ethan’s hold.

 Now the first shock had passed, and there were
inevitable repercussions. Suddenly she felt oddly hollow, almost
panic-stricken. Where was the delight, the overwhelming joy that had swamped her
only moments ago?

‘Jo-Beth?’ His warm, familiar voice soothed her
momentarily. ‘I should have given you warning, sent a letter. But I couldn’t
wait, my love. I just couldn’t wait.’

Conflicting feelings surged in her. He
had
waited,
more than two years, while she had kept faith, refused to believe he’d been lost,
and suffered like the damned. Angry regret warred with an undercurrent of
excitement building slowly, filling that hollow space, bringing a flush to her
cheeks, a tingling in the finger-tips, a total vitality she hadn’t experienced for
so long. It was like being whirled on a child’s roundabout, exhilarating,
frightening.

My darling girl, I can’t believe it. To be with
you again after so long... To know I’ve not lost you.’ His cheek muscles worked
as he struggled for control.

Jo-Beth studied the lines of experience and
suffering in his face, noted the grey streaking his hair and beard. He wasn’t
the same man who had radiated such blithe confidence when striding the
quarter-deck of his small world; but then, she wasn’t the same flighty Jo-Beth.
How quickly fate changed people.

She moistened her lips and forced the words out.
‘Where have you been, Ethan? For so long I endured. I grieved for you.’ Her
voice shook.

His arm tightened around her. ‘Oh, God! I’m
sorry. If I could have spared you one moment’s pain...’

Gently detaching herself, Jo-Beth moved over to
Elly’s desk, giving herself space. ‘Tell me what happened to you.’

He waited, seeming to choose his words. ‘The
ship sank soon after you went overboard. I had time to shed my boots and grasp
a couple of barrel staves before she sucked me under. Afterwards, it was all
confusion.’ He shook his head, unable or unwilling to describe his experience
in the sea. ‘The currents carried me far up the coast where I was washed ashore
on a rocky islet. There I was eventually picked up by a whaler heading for the
southern ocean. I later learned that I was out of this world with fever for
some weeks, and when I recovered they pressed me to work as one of the crew. We
were gone for months, slaving in a brutal climate, living like animals –’ He
broke off, adding more calmly, ‘In port they took good care that I didn’t
escape ashore. They found me useful, you see.’