A Man For All Seasons (16 page)

Seraphim was fascinated. “How deep in the ground is it?”

“This bore is eighteen-hundred feet deep. These days, with the dry, most are much deeper. It's only been capped like this,” he continued, pointing at the metal casing, “for a few years. Before that, it ran freely down a series of bore drains. The loss through evaporation was massive.”

She smiled. “That I can believe. I think I'm about evaporated myself.”

His eyebrows rushed together in a frown of concern. “I'm sorry. We'd better go in and get a drink. Don't want you to get heat stroke.”

Touched by his obvious concern for her wellbeing, she hastened to reassure him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she reached up and kissed him. The enthusiasm of his response told him that his anxieties had been allayed. Reluctantly she pulled away and looked up into the deep amber of his eyes. “You don't have to worry about me. I'll tell you when I've had enough.”

He hugged her briefly to him and his eyes locked into hers. “I don't think I'll ever have enough.” His voice had deepened, as if it had become dipped with treacle, laced with emotion.

Inside, her heart fluttered and jittered. It wasn't a declaration of love exactly, but her female intuition sensed the depth of feeling that emanated from the statement. Slowly she traced a damp finger down his brow, his nose, softly over the kissable lips, finally feathering the dimple in his chin. “Is that a challenge?” she whispered.

He smiled softly. “Wait and see.”

Content, she leaned into the strong comfort of his body, and arm in arm they traipsed back to the house.

Inside the air slid over her like a cool, satin sheet. She sank down on a kitchen chair, suddenly tired. Not surprising really when it was one in the morning back home.

There were so many questions buzzing in her head that she found it hard to catch any single one by the tail. Chad placed a tall glass of lemonade before her and she gulped it down gratefully. Without being asked he refilled it with water.

“Is this the bore water?” she said, sipping tentatively. It had a mildly alkaline flavor, but not unpleasantly so.

He sat down opposite her. “Yep.”

“Why do you think The Huntsman won't perform?”

The small lines around his eyes tightened a little. Tiredly he ran a hand through his hair. He shook his head. “Truth is, I don't know. By rights he should be brilliant. His bloodlines are amazing, winners in every direction. He's sound as a bell, fit as a mallee bull, and built for speed. But he just won't run.”

One of the many observations that she had subconsciously made finally surfaced. For a moment it thrashed around in her head, blurred and smudgy, but finally, it coalesced into a recognisable entity. Trouble was, she wasn't sure how to put it. Despite the growing strength of their relationship, Seraphim knew that Chad's underlying prejudice against her sport would not have been diluted.

Should she say anything? She opened her mouth, but closed it again. Better to wait, see the horse in action before she made her suggestion.

Chad, in that way that he had, must have caught something of her inner cogitations. “What?” he said.

“Chin offered to take me out to do a grocery shop later.”

“Good.” He twirled his glass between his strong fingers. “So, what do you think?”

“What do I think?” she echoed. For a minute she was silent as she gathered her thoughts. “I think it's so different I scarcely know what to think. I guess I want to like it. Because it's yours and part of what makes you, you.” She stopped and looked at him anxiously, worried she wasn't telling it right. But he nodded reassuringly and she carried on with more confidence. “I feel a bit overwhelmed, I guess, but at the same time excited. I feel different too. Braver, somehow. Although,” and she grinned, “if I catch sight of one of those monster spiders, that may change.” Then she recalled the other question she had in mind. “Tell me, where did you meet Chin?”

He reached across the table and took her hand, turning it palm upwards, stroking it gently. There was something infinitively tender in the act. For the first time she sensed vulnerability, and realised that perhaps he wasn't quite the self-assured person she had assumed him to be. And then she understood that he'd deliberately shut her out. Perhaps he shut out everyone. Why, she couldn't even begin to guess. But what was obvious was that he was about to let her in.

Breathless with anticipation, and not a little scared, she waited.

The only sounds were the drone of the air conditioners. Then he picked up a glass and placed a finger hard onto the rim and ran it fluidly around until a ghostly hum began. Then the finger stopped abruptly and the musical hum ceased. The glass tipped abruptly onto its base. Seraphim jumped a little, the loud clink of glass on timber taking her off guard.

He met her stare full on, a small muscle twitched in his jaw. “I met Chin sixteen years ago, when I was ten. He was in the same ward as my mum.”

And then it hit her. In the short space of time they'd been together Chad had never once discussed his family. Worse, she had never asked why. She felt incredibly foolish and self-absorbed. There were no family photos anywhere in the house. How could she have missed it? But, he had a mother. Well, he did sixteen years ago. A question formed. “Was she very sick?”

Slowly his eyes closed and Seraphim felt a wave of horror overcome her. Instinctively she knew that the poor woman was dead. Horrified by her gaff she scrambled around to find some way to recover. But she just sat, like a stuffed duck, and waited, afraid of what she'd hear.

Finally he unfroze and his eyes opened and cleared. “Yes, she was very sick. She suffered from schizophrenia. Visual and auditory hallucinations. When I was fourteen she was killed by a truck. She believed there was a giant spider in the hospital grounds. She knew I was coming to visit and went out to save me. She never even saw what hit her.”

What could she say? It was a scenario so far from her own concept of reality that she floundered. Dear God. Did such things really happen? It was unimaginable. Incomprehensible. Suddenly she felt flattened by the vast differences between herself and the young man who sat as still as stone before her. Would she have survived such a blow?

She thought back to her own privileged, pampered childhood, filled with love. Would she have made it without her parents? Probably not.

“I'm so sorry Chad.” The words sounded lame. But what else was there left to say? Her heart filled with a burst of admiration for the man. Without being told she realised there had been no father on the scene. She recalled with tenderness the week before when he'd saved her from the tiny spider in the stable yard. Even now she could recall his words. “My mother was scared of spiders.”

His achievements were astonishing. All alone he'd carved a place for himself in the world. And she was worried about a bit of dust and heat!

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

She looked at him in surprise. What did he mean? Did it bother him that his mother was dead? Or that she'd been sick? She wasn't sure how to respond. Mental illness was not a part of her knowledge pool. Of course there had been Uncle Dick, who'd lived in the lodge house when she was young. He'd believed he was a Knight of the Round Table and they'd spent many a happy hour hunting for dragons around the lakes and woods. Had he been mad?

From somewhere outside a dog barked. She looked at Chad who observed her intently. Misery was etched in every tendon, every muscle and every sinew of his body. She stretched across the table and clutched his hands. “Yes, it bothers me,” she said.

His head sank down and he refused to look at her. She gripped his hands tightly, and fought to hold back the sadness that pushed against her throat.

“It bothers me that you would even ask. Don't you know by now that I admire you and respect you?” She paused and took a mental deep breath. “And that I love you.”

Silently he returned the grip on hands. He brought her hands to his face and kissed the knuckles. She cupped his jaw line tenderly and raised his head up until she found his eyes. The dark amber depths swam with unshed tears. She released her hold and pushed her chair away with a violence that sent it crashing over backwards. When she reached him she knelt down at his feet.

He spoke not a word but placed his fingertips firmly on either side of her head and stared down into her face. She felt that he devoured her in that moment. Her hands wrapped around his wrists, and his head bent to hers; her tears mingled with his and their kiss tasted both salty and sweet. It was the merest whispered breath in her ear but she knew she could not be mistaken.

“I love you too,” he said.

Eighteen

That afternoon, after a heated discussion, Seraphim accompanied Chad into town. Chin had been caught up with the horses.

As she settled into her seat Chad tried again. “You don't have to worry about this stuff yet. You can take a couple of days to catch up a bit.”

But she did have to worry. It had become very important that she pull her weight. She wanted to feel that he admired her in the same way she did him. The more she learned about him the greater became her desire to prove her own worth. “I'm fine,” she said.

He shook his head and then smiled, leant across and his lips brushed hers briefly. “Good on you.”

Seraphim basked in his warm approval. Tiredness fell away and she hugged herself happily.

The car lurched away, bumping down the long red driveway. Silently she observed the landscape, fascinated by the endless stretches of empty land and then the miles and miles of trees.

Chad nearly crashed the car when she leapt up and squeaked in excitement.

“Oh my God! Look at that.”

“What! What?” said Chad, swinging the car erratically off the verge and back onto the thin strip of bitumen.

“A kangaroo! I saw a kangaroo!”

He laughed. “Well, that'll be the first of many.”

When she spotted the emus he grinned and pulled off the road to let her have a better look. Seraphim decided they were adorable, with feather skirts floating up and down like tutus and impossibly long legs. “I love emus,” she said. I love you, she said silently.

“There's a male with a bunch of chicks at home,” Chad said as they set off again, “I'll show you when we get back.”

“A male?” Seraphim was surprised.

“Yep. The females lay the eggs and skip out leaving the males to hatch and rear the chicks.”

Suddenly they were in town. Saffron slumbered beneath the mid-afternoon sun. The wide streets, with their single-storey buildings and covered fronts, looked deserted. However, the small store was open and blessedly air-conditioned. Despite its size, the general shop sold a dizzying array of goods; some, like eggs, were familiar but most were not. Even the milk had been cunningly disguised, packed in clear plastic bottles.

Finally satisfied that she'd covered the essentials and few extras she pushed the trolley to the counter. The trolley appeared to be drunk and kept trying to get away. Chad kept attempting to prize it out of her grip but she pretended not to notice and staggered along, determined to be independent.

When she paid, out of a wad of cash Chad had given her, she felt a wave of triumph as she managed to make up the right amount with the small, plastic notes. Chad took off with the trolley whilst she waited for the change. Amused, she set off after him. As she burst out of the door she collided with a little girl.

She was an elf of child, all slender limbs, cappuccino skin and soft black curls.

Seraphim stepped back. “I'm sorry,” she said, and offered an apologetic smile. To her surprise the child did not smile back, but stared at her with a pair of huge, black-lashed, brown eyes.

Without a word the girl sidled through the door and slipped away into the cool depths of the shop. For some reason that she couldn't fully understand, Seraphim felt hurt. Had she done something she shouldn't? But she tried to shrug the feeling off. She was being silly. She was just being overly-sensitive, probably due to jet lag.

For a while the novelty of finding that the four-wheel drive held a metal chest fridge in its rear for the cold goods diverted her. But as they set off for home the small interchange continued to trouble her.

“Wasn't that little girl gorgeous?” she said. Chad shot her a sudden hard stare, and Seraphim felt a strange quiver of unease. She had hoped that bringing up the subject may put her at ease, but instead she felt even more uncomfortable.

“You think?”

Seraphim observed Chad cautiously. A six sense told her she was on wafer-thin ice. A horrible thought popped into her head. What if he hated kids? Some people did. Not that she wanted to pop one out every year for the next six years, but she'd always held a vague plan of one or two, at some stage. Disconcerted she searched around to find any other clues that might help decipher Chad's mindset. She came up blank.

An uncomfortable silence filled the interior of the car. Suddenly Seraphim felt a surge of exhaustion envelope her. She slumped against the door, her cheek pressed against the cold surface of the window. The flat countryside peeled by, unchanging, until she had the odd sensation that the car wasn't moving at all, rather it was the alien landscape that had taken wing instead.