When I awoke on Sunday, Jill was still lying on my chest. I had both of my arms around her, holding her as if to protect her. Her body felt almost hot...against me, her breath warm as it played against my chest. It felt so right to have her snuggled up to me. She smelled of Jill, not soap and shampoo. It was a good smell. Her hair tickled my nose.I leaned down and kissed the top of her head."Uuuhmm." Her right arm tightened around my side."Hey. Are you awake?" I guess." You feel good here.". " He was very solemn."Will they have a problem with Martha's colour?" No, I've told them. I prefer to say 'mixed-race.' But no. It's not that unusual anymore. I read a survey by someone at Monash that last year 55 per cent of partnered indigenous women were married to or living with non-indigenous partners. I know what you're thinking, but I don't think it'll be a problem."Martha sighed."I understand," I said. "While I was in Darwin, I saw it wasn't about the colour of your skin or your ethnic. More

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