shoulders and she pushed him sideways, so hard he staggered. She grinned, for her way was clear now. There were no barriers between herself and the blackened hearth.
‘If you don’t mind,’ she said softly, wondrously, even finding room for laughter. ‘You’re getting in the way of my heart’s desire.’
And she stepped forwards and retrieved the box, and she slid the ring on her finger before Jake could produce any more dumb arguments about too soon and wait and which path would she go.
For she knew her own path. With Jake’s ring on her finger she turned to her man, and she stepped into the arms of her heart’s desire.
A gleaming new family wagon, bright red, big enough to hold dogs, cats and kids, turned into the gate of the homestead up on the ridge-Old Doc’s Place, according to the locals-and drew to a halt.
Jake climbed out, went round to the passenger side to help his wife out of the car and then together they lifted the baby capsule from the back seat.
Charlotte Elizabeth Hunter gazed up at her parents, wide-eyed and wondering. They smiled down at her, they smiled at each other and together they carried their brand-new baby into her home.
The dogs were waiting to meet them. Itsy and Bitsy and the boss of the pack, Rusty, were quivering with excitement, but the pecking order had been established months ago. Ferdy and Freddy came first, prancing down the steps in stately dignity to investigate this new little member of their family. When the cats conceded their places-after cautious approval-the dogs wriggled and bounced and shivered their pleasure until Jake ordered control.
‘Back,’ Jake said and the dogs backed, just like that. They were beautifully trained. They’d been trained by Jake, under instruction from Tori. A team effort.
This whole place was a team effort, Jake thought in satisfaction. There were delicious smells coming from the kitchen. Doreen and Glenda had been here this morning, to make sure everything was perfect, then slipping away before they arrived, to give them some privacy.
There was team effort everywhere. Through the regenerating bushland, Jake could just see signs of activity next door. The new Mutsy and Pogo and Bandit’s Animal Care Centre was up and running, in the place where Tori’s house had once stood.
‘I don’t mind moving,’ she’d said, choosing Option One with alacrity. ‘Home is where the heart is, after all.’
Home.
He knew what it was now, he thought, as he ushered his new wife inside, as he carried his new child into her new home.
Home.
It didn’t go with the concept of alone.
Home was dogs, he thought, and cats, and a goldfish called Jake. Home was friends, neighbours, community.
Home was colour and comfort and a fire, and toast on Sunday morning, and great coffee, or no coffee at all because someone had forgotten to buy it. So home might also be hot chocolate, and cleaning up after the dogs and yelling at the cockatoos who were intent on stripping the paintwork off the verandah.
Home was patients dropping in, and friends.
Home was life.
‘So now we get to live happily every after?’ he said to Tori, settling Charlotte Elizabeth on the settee and wondering vaguely what they were going to do with her. Parents coped with newborns all the time, he thought. It couldn’t be that hard.
Then there was a knock on the door, and frenzied barking. He and Tori looked at each other and sighed, and Jake opened the door.
A little girl was there, twelve maybe, and behind her was a horse, about three times the size of her. The horse was being held by a guy who looked like a farmer.
‘Please…’ the little girl whispered and looked past Jake to Tori.
‘Yes?’ Tori said. She’d scooped Charlotte up and was cradling her. She looked beautiful, Jake thought. His Tori.
‘My horse stood on a nail,’ the little girl said. ‘It’s really deep. Dad said…Dad said he knew you had a little baby and cats, and the odd wombat with an injured paw-but if we brought Prince to you, maybe you could just see…’
‘I’m real sorry,’ the man called out. ‘It’s just…having New Doc’s Place so close now… It’d save us trailering her down to the city, and it’d be simple, I think. If it’s okay. And the wife’s sent a sponge cake.’
And to Jake’s astonishment-or maybe not, because he should be used to it by now-Tori was smiling. Smiling and smiling.
‘It’s fine,’ she said, and before Jake knew what she intended, Charlotte was in his arms. ‘My husband can take care of our baby,’ she told the farmer. ‘I’ll just get my bag.’
So Jake was left, holding his baby-who was starting to feel wet-and a plate of chocolate sponge cake. He stood on the verandah of their new home, while Tori did her vet thing, while the community went on around them, while his dogs slept at his feet.
And he smiled, too.
Home is where the heart is.
Home is here.
Marion Lennox
