A Man For All Seasons (20 page)

“I must admit they are cute,” he agreed.

They spent fifteen minutes following the little flock. Despite, or perhaps because of the spectra of her looming departure, it was a precious time.

And as the days progressed, time became their most valued asset. Whether she was helping with the horses, arguing over The Huntsman's dietary needs, or wrapped in his arms in bed, she tried to store the moments in her heart to help her through the difficult times ahead.

Two weeks later she booked her flight. She told him over dinner. “I've got a booking for December twenty third.”

His fork full of roast lamb hovered in the air. “About three weeks then.”

She nodded, dumb with misery.

He continued. “Jimmy's entered The Huntsman for a race in Toowoomba at the end of January. With a bit of luck you'll be back to see it.”

Overwhelmed she nodded. She loved him for his attempt to include her in future plans but she was stunned by his statement regarding the big thoroughbred. Over the last week The Huntsman had started to really come into his own, but neither Jimmy nor Chad had made any indication that they'd so much as noticed. She was completely side-swiped. “Really?”

He pulled a wry face and then smiled. “Really.”

She took a sip of water to hide her own triumphant smile. “In the words of
The Terminator
,” she told him, “I'll be back.”

And with every fibre of her being, she hoped it that it would be so.

Twenty-two

Chad tried to resist the inevitable sweep of the clock's hands, but time trickled away like water through cupped hands. Only four days remained. It was barely four thirty in the morning but already Seraphim had worked her horse up into a sweat that had turned his brown coat to a burnished mahogany. The forecast was for a stinking hot forty-two Celsius, or in Seraphim's language, a hundred and seven Fahrenheit.

As the pair circled past he couldn't help but admire The Huntsman, who'd filled out through his crested neck and developed massive thighs and quarters. Secretly he couldn't wait until the next day when he planned to take him out for a gallop. He held his breath as the horse threw in a sneaky pig root, but he need not have worried. Seraphim's slender figure barely shifted in the saddle, merely giving the horse a hefty boot in the ribs to remind him of his manners.

Although it pained him to admit it, there was no longer any doubt in his mind that there just might be something in this dressage lark. His mind skipped over the other residents in the stables as he began to evaluate the possibilities. But then his heart crashed into his stomach and a lump lodged in his throat. She was leaving. And although he usually forced himself to be upbeat and positive, a wave of desolation swept through him. Deep, deep down, he couldn't convince himself that she was coming back.

The distinct slowing of hoof beats sifted through his preoccupation, and by the time the horse had returned to a walk, Chad had plastered what he hoped was an expression of relaxed happiness onto his face. “Warm enough for you?” he asked.

He watched as she dropped the reins and the horse's head stretched idly to his knees. Dust clung to the perspiration on her pink face, and a damp lock of black hair stuck to the corner of her lip. Damp patches showed through her shirt and she rubbed a gloved hand across her cheek, leaving a grubby smear. To him, she had never looked lovelier.

She grinned, a picture of contentment. “I think a cold shower is in order. I think I'll need someone to scrub my back.”

He lifted an eyebrow quizzically. “I might oblige… but what's in it for me?”

She swung one long leg over the saddle and dropped lightly into the dust and gave him a long appraising look. “How about steak and eggs for breakfast?”

He laughed. “Deal.”

As they headed back to the hose bay Seraphim looked to the west. “Look,” she said, “clouds.”

Surprised, he followed her gaze. Sure enough, a large bank of cloud stretched along the distant horizon. But he shrugged. He'd seen it before, a slow accumulation of deep, gunmetal cloud lingering tantalisingly for days, and then sliding away. Occasionally they could actually catch the sharp metallic fragrance of rain in the wind. But that was all. “Someone might get a storm,” he said.

Chin strode back, radio pressed to his ear; he paused and glared at Chad. “If you'd take down the bloody contraption, we'd get the rain.”

Chad closed his eyes and prayed for deliverance. “Chin, I'm not dismantling the solar power. Give it up.”

Chin pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You just don't want me to go home.”

Seraphim looked at Chin and then at Chad, eyes brimming with curiosity. Squashing down a sudden impulse to laugh Chad ran a hand over his face. “Chin,” he said, in a studied fashion, “you are not an alien.”

By way of reply Chin shook his head, pulled out his radio's antenna and stalked off.

By now Seraphim had ceased trying to hide her surprise. “What do you mean, 'an alien'?”

“Well, Chin believes that his people left him behind on earth by mistake. He thinks he can communicate with the mother ship via the radio. But he blames the radio waves from the solar system for their lack of communication, for the lack of rain, for the greenhouse effect and any other number of unexplained phenomena.”

“Should he be on medication?”

Chad grinned. “Probably. But to be honest, he's been medicated in the past, and it doesn't seem to make much difference. And his delusions are harmless really. I mean, lots of people believe in UFOs, don't they?”

Seraphim was quiet for a minute. “I suppose they do.”

Chad glanced at his watch. “I'm going out to do some fencing after breakfast, do you want to come?”

“I'd love to, but I'd better get changed first.” She gave a tug on The Huntsman's reins and Chad fell in by her side as they set off again. Without words they fell into the easy routine which had established itself - unsaddling, hosing and feeding up. He mixing the feeds, she doling out the hay. Finally, after checking the waters, they headed back in.

“Better be quick,” he said, “or it'll be too hot.”

But the sound of water running in the shower undermined his good intentions. When he slipped into the cool water, she backed up to him, the supple, slippery length of her body moulding to his. With practiced ease he found her pleasure places and she moaned; back arched, breasts high, long black hair caressing her buttocks like seaweed. As they came together, shuddering and sobbing with release, he held her close, wishing he could absorb her through his skin, and keep her there forever.

Afterwards he lathered her body from tip to toe, his fingers moving softly, infinitely slowly, but with precision over the now familiar planes and valleys of her body. He watched her face wordlessly, and tried to pretend he didn't see the tears that mingled with the falling water upon her face. He didn't have the words to tell her how he felt. This was his way of telling her how much he loved her and how hard it was to let her go. He hoped she understood.

Finally he stood back and watched the bubbles slide away. She reached out and touched his chest with the tip of her fingers, her eyelashes fanned out like starfish, water cascading down her shoulders. “I know,” she said. “I know.”

He held her briefly, forcing himself to do it lightly, to resist the urge to crush her to him. Softly he kissed the top of her head, the parting incredibly pale against the saturated black of her hair. But still, he could find no words.

Neither of them referred back to the incident, but it seemed to Chad that an odd sense of peace had descended upon them. Perhaps it was acceptance, or perhaps it was the simple acknowledgement of the depth of emotion that they shared. Something that could never be taken away from them, no matter what the future might bring.

Afterwards, the house filled with succulent smells when, true to her word, Seraphim cooked up a mammoth breakfast of steak, eggs, fried bread and mushrooms.

When they set off in the four-wheel drive, the heat had begun to escalate. As clouds began to build grey and white castles in the air, the atmosphere closed in, moist and heavy. Chad scanned the vast paddock, keeping half an eye out for roos and lizards on the red dirt road. Then he spotted a dingo and pulled up in the convenient shade of the coolibahs that flanked the shallow path of the dry creek bed.

“Look, over there,” he said pointing.

Seraphim craned forward peering through his open window. “He's beautiful.”

Chad chuckled. “Well, you'd be in a minority of one with that opinion around here.”

At the sound of their voices the russet red dog turned and stared, tongue panting, almond shaped eyes wary in his handsome, intelligent face.

Suddenly Seraphim clicked her fingers together and sat bolt upright. “National Geographic,” she declared.

The sudden movement startled the dingo and he turned abruptly and disappeared, invisible against the arid landscape.

“What about it?” he asked, intrigued.

“Well, when I met you I remember thinking how unusual your eyes were. I felt I'd seen them somewhere before, but I just couldn't remember where - until today. But it just came to me. Nanny has a calendar down in the kitchen and one of the months has photo of a dingo on a beach. Its eyes are the exact same colour as yours. Just like this one.”

He smiled, unable to resist her excitement and pleasure in the innocent discovery. He put the car into gear and they set off. Only too soon he was forced to stop again. This time he turned off his engine and reached into the back for his gun.

Seraphim observed him silently.

He opened the door. “Wait here, I won't be long.”

She placed a restraining hand on his arm. “What are you doing?”

He sighed and pointed a little way to their right. Beneath a small tree a large kangaroo sat, its head hanging weakly, flies swarming around the gentle eyes. “I have to shoot it.”

Inevitably her face blanched. “Why?”

“It's starving; it's going to die anyway. Over the last few years I've had to destroy hundreds. I'm sorry.”

She nodded weakly and turned her head away. One shot and the emaciated creature slumped unmoving to the ground. Silently Chad cursed the dry.

Back in the car Seraphim was trying to hide her tearful face. He reached out and hugged her. It distressed him; he could barely imagine how upset she'd feel. After a few minutes she blew her nose and dried her eyes. “I'm such a baby,” she said.

“No,” he said, “it's rotten. It's this bloody drought.”

Finally they reached the long stretch of the far boundary. Together they cut away the old sheep wire, rusted and twisted out of shape. “The roos push underneath; wrecks it,” Chad explained.

Carefully they unrolled the new mesh and tied it with wire strands along several kilometres of fence. Despite the intense heat, Seraphim worked quietly beside him, back bent and tongue clamped determinedly between her even white teeth.

By eleven o'clock he called it quits despite her protests that she “was fine”. Ignoring her protests he thrust a water bottle into her hands. She drank long and deep, even though the water was now quite warm.

He wondered what her family and friends would think of her now, out here, beside him.

She stood up and smiled, stretched and massaged the small of her back. She took off her hat and loosened her damp hair. “I'd better phone home later. Make sure someone can pick me up from the airport.”

He turned away and picked up some tools to hide the sudden pang of panic that surged through him. “Good idea.”

The drive home was uneventful. Seraphim dozed off for a little while, her dark head resting on his shoulder. Although barely ten weeks had passed since he'd first laid eyes on her, it was impossible to imagine a future without her.

At the homestead he shook her gently. “Come on, sleepy head.”

She sat up, blinked and smiled sleepily. “What a lazy bones,” she said wryly.

“Hardly.”

After a shower and lunch Chad went out with Chin to finish the boundary fence, leaving Seraphim mixing a Christmas pudding. Christmas loomed lonelier than ever, but he pushed it aside and immersed himself in work.

By the time they finished it was nearly five and the sun had waned behind the clouds. Despite the lateness of the hour, it remained oppressively hot. The dome of Chin's bald head glistened with perspiration. A cool shower and a cold beer called out to him like manna from heaven.

Inside he found Seraphim clutching the phone and carefully pressing buttons on the pad. He kissed her on the nose and left her to it. When he returned, showered, shaved and refreshed, she was chatting away.

Beer in hand he sunk down onto the old leather lounge and shifted obligingly to let her perch on his knee, half an ear on her conversation.

“Nanny, I told you, I've got a flight out in a few days. It gets into Heathrow at four in the afternoon on the twenty-third your time.”

A sudden rumble of thunder vibrated through the air. Several seconds later a loud crack made the old house tremble and Chad flinch in surprise.

Seraphim had one finger in one ear, the phone pressed hard against the other, she was yelling. “No Nanny, I have to come home and talk to Mum and Dad.” She listened hard for a couple of moments. “No, Chad and I are fine.” Again, a long silence. “No, we haven't had a tiff. I have to talk to them about his being an Aboriginal.” She looked at him then grinned and rolled her eyes. “No Nanny, not 'an original', an AB-OR-IG-INAL… a native Australian... you know, like the American Red Indians.”