AT 29 (35 page)

He slept little on the journey. His conversations with Melissa enabled him to paint a picture of Rolf. He was a big man though not so large as Aaron. He was muscular with thick black hair. He had a tattoo of a woman on his right forearm. His pride in the tattoo, as well as his swollen biceps, caused him to roll the sleeves of his shirt high so that all could see. He frequented a pub on Currie Street, most likely still living nearby in the flat he once shared with Melissa. Aaron recalled Melissa's words.

“His favorite place is Mickey's.”

After eighteen hours, Aaron disembarked at the Adelaide station and made his way to Currie Street. At four p.m. he entered Mickey's. He ordered a beer and settled at a table with a view of the door. He could not know if Rolf would come into the pub, but he had faith in Melissa's description. He waited and watched.

Two hours passed. By six the pub was busy with a dozen patrons. None of those who entered looked like Melissa's description of Rolf. Aaron began to fear that the wife beater might not show. He had no backup plan. He knew the man lived in the vicinity, but he had been careful to avoid asking Melissa for the address, fearing it might reveal his intent. It was easier to keep her innocent. Rolf frightened her too much.

At seven, when he was beginning to lose hope, he spotted his target through the window on the sidewalk. He sat up, concentrating. Rolf looked exactly as Melissa described right down to the rolled up sleeves and thick black hair. He entered and strode directly to the bar, an easy smile on his face, reflecting his familiarity with the place. The bartender placed a schooner of beer on the counter as Rolf slid onto a stool. Mickey's pub was his second home.

The time passed swiftly. Aaron raised his empty glass to get the barmaid's attention. Soon she came to his table with another beer. He took one sip then set the glass down. He needed the prop, but he would drink no more that evening. When Rolf left the pub he would follow.

Three hours later Rolf staggered onto the sidewalk. Aaron paid his bill and followed, keeping a safe distance as the drunken man crookedly walked the route to his flat. When he came to an intersection Aaron quickened his pace, drawing closer. He reached under his long dustcoat, feeling for the iron bar he carried with him from Apollo Bay. Satisfied that it was secure, he leaned in and spoke.

“Rolf?” he queried, making sure one last time.

Rolf turned his head, surprised. Then stopped to face Aaron. “Who wants to know?” he demanded, suspiciously.

“I have a message from Melissa.” Rolf's eyes grew wide, but he didn't immediately respond. Aaron looked around the empty street. He kept his hand on the iron bar, but he could not risk doing what he intended there in the open. “She wants you to know something.”

Rolf found his voice. “She ran off.” He spat on the concrete at Aaron's feet. Then he took a step closer and peered into Aaron's face. “Who are you?” he asked, again. “What do you know of her?”

“She wants to come back to you.”

Rolf considered this for a moment as if gauging Aaron's true intention. “Someone got her pregnant.”

“I can explain everything in your flat.”

Rolf hesitated for a moment, considering. Then he turned and walked. “Come with me.”

Aaron followed him for another block. Then Rolf turned down an alley and shuffled to a set of wrought iron stairs at its end. At the third floor landing he turned a heavy latch and opened a door leading into a one room flat. Once inside, he crossed to the far side of the room and flipped a switch, illuminating a sparse interior with two chairs pushed under a small table in the center. He pulled at one of the chairs and gestured toward the table, inviting Aaron to join him as he bent down to seat himself.

Aaron ignored the gesture as he securely closed the door. Then he calmly pulled the two-foot long iron bar from his coat. He turned back to face Rolf and quickly made his way to the table. When he raised the heavy weapon Rolf realized what was happening and gave a shout He tried to scramble out of the way but, too late, as the bar came down across his knees. At the ferocity of the blow Rolf's chair fell back, splaying the howling man on the floor, writhing in pain. The volume of his screams compelled Aaron to place his foot on the stricken man's throat, pressing down hard. He lifted the bar in threat.

“Be quiet or I will hit you again.”

After a few seconds and with tears of pain streaming down his reddened cheeks, Rolf stopped struggling. Aaron cautiously lifted his foot, knelt down and brought his lips close to the injured man's ear.

“If you come near Melissa or my child again I will kill you!” Rolf wildly shook his head without speaking. Aaron stood and turned to the door. He spoke again over his shoulder. “Heed my words. I mean what I say.” Then he left the flat and went directly to the central station where he boarded a train back to Melbourne and eventually Apollo Bay.

***

Over the next two years joy returned to the farm at Apollo Bay. With the tireless devotion of his parents, the infant thrived. Ailments that the doctor told them might appear never materialized, no doubt because Melissa held vigil over her baby's every need while Aaron did the same over her. When the happy child diverged, even slightly, from his pattern of wondrous delight, his mother probed for every reason why and quickly remedied the problem. When she became exhausted tending to his nighttime cries Aaron took the tiny life into his one arm so she could rest. He walked the cottage until dawn, holding the boy to his chest while nuzzling his fragile body. To say that the happy
couple sought to spoil their child would be inaccurate. They had simply found new purpose to their lives. They pursued that purpose with their whole being.

During the day Aaron worked the fields with gusto, finding pleasure in every task. Most days, Melissa brought him lunch, carrying a basket in one arm and the child in the other so that the small family could bask together in the sunlight. From the beginning, Melissa could make the baby giggle and coo just by smiling and talking, but Aaron found that only zany acts of animation could bring forth a reaction. However, when he sang his father's soft songs the little boy showed signs of recognition, distinguishing between mother and father. The loving voice that carried the songs of his own childhood sealed the bond between the new father and his son.

In the fall, the combination of good weather and Aaron's skill brought in the finest yield ever delivered from the Whitehurst farm. During the month long harvest the truck made non-stop treks from field to holding shed and finally to the re-opened farmstand at Apollo Bay. With this surplus, Aaron was able to buy and trade for things he had never before thought necessary. Clothes for Melissa and his son, new furniture, updated plumbing and modern appliances. In winter, he spent more of the extra money, taking his family on an extravagant trip to Sydney, ostensibly to have the baby examined at its more modern medical facilities, but really to celebrate the joy of being together, happy, safe and whole. They stayed in a fine hotel and ate wherever a baby was welcome, which were most places because Australia revered nothing more than family.

When spring arrived Aaron returned to his beloved fields. Melissa announced that it was time for the cottage to have its own garden of flowers. Each morning she perched the baby in a basket at her side as she tilled the hardened ground. Then she fertilized, planted and watered until miniscule shoots rose from the soil. Aaron took no part in this project. He knew it was her contribution to their home, a creative gesture meant to bring beauty to their surroundings, verifying the family they had become. He liked to watch her though. Profound happiness possessed his heart at the sight of the carefree delight on her face. Often, she lifted her hands filled with rich soil, high in the air above her head, eyes raised to the sky as if making an offering to the Gods. Then she would let the dirt slip between her fingers back to the ground. Whenever she did this the baby giggled, so she did it often. The true measure of her creative efforts burst forth in November when color surrounded the cottage. Magnificent hues of yellow, blue, pink, lavender and red shimmered in the breeze. She made sure the flowers renewed and remained throughout the heat of the summer while Aaron ushered in another bumper crop.

In the midst of all that fostered the family's good fortune, the unexpected absence of one longstanding challenge made Aaron's life complete. He still had not been visited by the seizures that had plagued him since Gallipoli. By far, this wonderful reprieve engendered the most contentment. The violent episodes that so often frightened people from his presence, had also, in his advancing age, sapped his strength. Now, free of these debilitating fits, he found the vigor to take on tasks long ago abandoned. He single-handedly built a small barn in which he deposited the truck and most of his tools as well as the choicest fruits and vegetables, held back from the farmstand for his family. He also dug a deeper well, installing the heavy pump on his own. Occasionally, during the summer, he felt the urge to swim as he had done with such enjoyment in his youth. On particularly fine days he packed the truck with food and drove the family down the coast to Aireys Inlet where they picnicked on the beach beneath the Split Point Lighthouse.
There, he dove into the cold waters of the Southern Ocean, swimming for hours, unimpeded, despite his lone arm. Melissa, too, beamed with contentment, though she stood at the water's edge, baby in hand, making sure that Aaron did not stray too far into the waves. He was her savior.

The inevitable tragedy that seemed to stalk his life came on a cold gray day in July. Aaron had left Melissa at the farm while he drove into Apollo Bay to run some errands. In secret, he had his eye on a car for her, a red sedan. When he finished taking a test drive he made an offer, retiring to the restaurant down the street while the seller thought it over. Aaron was excited as he made his way to his customary table. Even if the car's owner wanted more money, he would pay it. The anticipation of Melissa's surprised delight was too great.

When the waitress came over she casually mentioned, “Your mate was here.” Aaron looked up at the young girl. “He said he knew you from Adelaide. Wanted to know how to get to your place.”

Instantly alarmed, Aaron sought confirmation of his suspicion. “Black hair, sleeves rolled up, tattoo?”

“Yes, that's him.”

“What did you tell him?”

“How to find your farm. Figured you'd want to see him.”

“When did he leave?”

“An hour ago. He walked with a limp.”

Aaron knew it was Rolf. He jumped from his seat and made quickly for the sidewalk, breaking into a run to his truck. As he accelerated away from the curb, he tried to fathom how Rolf found him. He knew from Melissa's description that her husband was vengeful. Aaron had been careful not to identify himself when they met in Adelaide lest this very thing should happen. He had a limp, she said. Aaron knew his blow had done permanent damage. If Rolf found the farm he feared for the effect it would have on Melissa. All his efforts to placate her anxieties might be lost. He had to head him off. As he pushed the accelerator to the floor, coaxing every last measure of speed from the truck's engine, he decided that Rolf's potential to do harm must end. He would fulfill the promise he'd made.

When he came to a halt in front of the cottage he struggled to contain his nerves. Had Rolf arrived ahead of him? Before exiting he scanned the area, hoping to spot him. Seeing no signs, he opened the truck's door and stepped down. He called out to Melissa, growing more anxious when she failed to reply. He rapidly climbed the steps to the porch, hoping she would open the door, but the silence continued.

Upon entering, all of his fears were there before him. Shock and nausea took hold. Melissa lay on the floor beaten and bloodied. He knelt at her side, tears beginning to fill his eyes because he sensed the worst. He took her limp hand only to feel the shocking coldness of death in her fingertips. The skin of her face hands and arms had gone white, her chest did not heave with the struggle for breath. She was gone.

Suddenly, in the next room he heard movement. The thought of his two-year-old son slammed into his mind as he rose to his feet in terror. He rushed across the room like a madman, grabbing a knife from the kitchen counter as he moved. The vision of Rolf threatening the life of his child consumed him with rage as he burst through the door
ready to do battle. But the child was alone on the floor, toys all around, seemingly unaware of the violence that had befallen his mother only steps away.

Over the next six months the police investigation went nowhere. Aaron was deemed the initial suspect, but eyewitness accounts of his presence in town at the time of Melissa's death cleared him. Attention was turned to Rolf, but, as Aaron expected, the killer wasn't found in Adelaide. He could be anywhere from Sydney to Perth. Perhaps he left Australia altogether. Aaron despaired of any resolution from the authorities.

Life at the cottage went cold. When spring came Aaron could not bring himself to return to the fields. He spent his days caring for his son as best he could, but Melissa's spirit, which had been the guide that lit his path, had been extinguished. The baby could walk and talk. He was not immune to the pall over the farm. In the weeks immediately following Melissa's murder, he called out for his mother, sometimes climbing upon his father's lap and raising his tiny hands to Aaron's wrinkled face, imploring him for an answer.

“She went away.” It was the only explanation Aaron could muster. In time, the little boy ended his entreaties.

At night, unable to sleep, Aaron walked the cottage, trying to rationalize his lover's death. He blamed himself. He knew he was responsible. If he had not gone to Adelaide and confronted Rolf the killer might never have looked for Melissa again. If he had stayed in Apollo Bay there would have been no trail for her husband to follow. Better, if he had simply killed him that evening, Melissa would have been safe, free and by his side forever. How did Rolf find her? The question burned in Aaron's mind. Had he not taken every precaution to hide his identity? There was no answer.