Drowning in Her Eyes

by Patrick Ford

  “What if we were to get married?” asked Jack.

  “You are both only eighteen. You cannot legally marry unless your parents agree. There is no way Mrs. Baker would do that.”

  * * * *

  All day Susan thought of Jack, all night she yearned for him. When she saw him on the campus, she just had to touch him and her knees went weak at his touch. She must have more freedom. She must be with him! She talked to Sarah, as sisters do. Sarah was feeling the same about John, but still hedging her bets by wondering how many other men were out there from which she could choose. She wanted to make love to John, but was afraid of her mother and did not want to lose the few privileges she had won from Marci.

  “Susan,” she said, “do you really love Jack that much?”

  “I know I can’t live without him. I love him more and more each day. I need him as a flower needs water. I want to marry him and be with him forever.”

  “Mom will never agree to that. Believe me, I know. I heard her talking to Daddy. She is worried about what you want and is determined it will not happen.”

  “What did Daddy say?”

  “He wants you to be free. I am so worried for him. I think he will die soon.” She began to cry. They hugged each other and mourned their father. Susan knew Sarah was right.

  Saturday Night

  There was to be a social dance in the Student Union on Saturday night. Now that the students of legal age were in residence, the bar served alcohol. It had been a while since Jack had tasted a nice cold beer, but he thought he should wait until he had collected Susan before he did that.

  Susan was waiting for him. She had chosen a figure hugging green jersey dress for the evening. The dress was short, displaying her beautiful legs and she wore her hair up in the now familiar style. She wore an Indian silver necklace with a turquoise stone. As usual, Jack felt his heart lurch when he saw her. He knew that from now on, green would be his favourite colour.

  Both could sense that tonight would be extraordinary. Electricity hung like a halo around them, their thoughts completely intertwined.

  Jack had plotted for the supervising tutor on his block to be at the social tonight, as were most of the residents of Robb College. Bob O’Connor had arranged with Margie to get a girlfriend to ask the tutor to the social. Margie’s friend was a stunner and the tutor could not believe his luck. He was in for a disappointing night.

  They danced; they drank, but not much. When Frank Sinatra began to pour from the speakers, and the lights began to dim, they glided across the dance floor locked together as one. Neither could wait any longer. Bob and Mike saw them leave and raised a surreptitious glass. Bob spotted their tutor across the hall having an earnest discussion with a pretty girl. He looked as if he was having a most unrewarding conversation.

  They drove to the College in silence. Neither wanted to break the spell of this night. In the car park, Jack looked around. The coast was clear. They hustled across the quadrangle, and entered the block. In seconds, they were in Jack’s room. Jack locked the door and turned to meet Susan’s gaze. He was speechless. So was she. For a long moment, they stared at each other. Then Susan held out her hands. Jack took them and they moved together touching from shoulder to hip. Jack gazed into those eyes. They sparkled with love and their tawny depths invited him in. He knew he would want this moment to last forever, for those eyes to draw him into their limpid pools and never release him. He was hers. Forever.

  Susan looked at the young man she had chosen to be her lifelong soul mate and lover. He was so handsome—no, beautiful—with his green eyes, his taut body and his loving smile. She put her arms around his neck and began to kiss him as though this kiss would be the last in the world. He responded. Their tongues explored each other. Jack absorbed her taste and scent until no trace of the outside world remained. Susan felt her body become so lissome, weightless, moulding to him as though they were two pieces of soft plasticine.

  They broke the embrace. “I have yearned for this moment,” he said.

  “Love me.” She moved closer again, raising both arms above her head. “Unzip me,” she breathed. Jack put his arms around her and found the long zip. He gently drew it down, until it ended at her waist. The dress fell away revealing those long legs, and underwear of a soft ivory colour, trimmed with lace. Jack gently kissed the tops of her breasts, reached around to unfasten her bra and free them. He kissed her nipples, pink with dark brown areolas. Immediately, they became erect. Susan held his head to her breasts and began to moan softly. “My love, my love.”

  He moved back and she began to unbutton his shirt, moving down towards his waist, kissing him all the way. Seconds later they were on the bed, entwined, kissing, stroking, loving. Jack moved his hand across the silken skin of her inner thighs, moving upwards until he found her sweet private places.

  She groaned and began to whisper, “Oh Jack, Jack, don’t stop. Oh I need you so, please, take me, take me.” They came together in a breathless silence. As he entered her, she raised her legs and wrapped them around him. They began to move together, their lips fused, their bodies as one, until both came in a cataclysmic explosion that left them speechless. They lay together. “We are one now,” he said, “I will love you forever with every fibre of my body.”

  Susan could still feel the spasms running through her body. “I have never felt like this,” she said, “now I am complete, and I am yours forever.” They made love again, and then again. Jack felt so grateful to the almost forgotten Amy O’Neil who had given him such a comprehensive introduction to loving. He brought Susan to climax after climax. She responded in kind, ever innovative and willing to learn, as they examined each other in minute detail. Finally, well past midnight, they reluctantly set off for her home.

  Meanwhile, in a small country in Indochina, small men and women, dressed in black, and carrying AK47s continued to subjugate village after village. The task had become easier. Enlistment terms were now well known.

  Armidale, New South Wales, Australia—1964

  Susan closed the door quietly and moved through the house to the kitchen. Marci was waiting for her. “Where have you been, child? You should have been home hours ago.” There was no anger any more, just resignation. “Susan, have you been with Jack all this time?”

  “Yes Mom, I have.”

  “What have you been doing with him? You look different. You have been making love with him, haven’t you?”

  “Momma, what Jack and I have been doing is our business. I love him beyond understanding as he does me. Our lives are our own and we are very happy. Can’t you be happy for me, Momma?” Her eyes glistened with tears.

  “Susan, I warned you about this, give him up, child. We will be going home soon. He cannot come. You cannot stay.”

  “Momma, he is mine. I am his. I do not want to hurt you, but wherever he is, that’s where I will be. Momma, you love Daddy, would you leave him and go away?”

  “Susan, Daddy will be leaving us soon. Then what can I do without my family?” She started to sob. “I won’t have you and soon I won’t have Sarah. I have seen the way she looks at that boy. It will be only a matter of time before she’s corrupted too!”

  “Love does not corrupt, Momma, love makes us strong. I am going to bed now. Next Friday I am going with Jack to meet his parents. I want you to be happy for me; if you cannot be happy, then I will be sad about that, but I must live my own life.” She kissed her mother’s tear stained face and went to bed. It was a long time before she slept. She had reached a fork in the road of life. She must follow her heart. She was numb from her lovemaking, filled with a serenity she had never felt before. Tomorrow, she would talk everything over with her father. He would understand.

  Some commotion in the house awoke her. There was a hubbub of conversation. Through her window, she could see reflected the flashing red strobe lights of an ambulance. She glanced at her bedside clock. It was 4:30am. She hurriedly pulled on a robe and left the room. Her father was on an ambulance gurney,
pale as a bed sheet. There was blood on his mouth and chin. Marci looked up at her. “Look what you’ve done. He has had a bad hemorrhage and must go to the hospital. God help us all.”

  Goondiwindi, Queensland, Australia—1964

  They left for Goondiwindi on a cool April day. Finally they were together, alone. The last week had been a difficult one for them all. Jimmy was still in the hospital. He needed a permanent oxygen supply and intravenous painkillers. He was barely conscious, and he would be there for some time. At the hospital, Marci had comforted Susan. “I’m sorry, child,” she said, “I had no right to blame you for this. He has been getting worse for a while now. He wanted to talk to you last night. He asked where you were. I told him.”

  Susan stared at her: Why is she telling me this?

  “He was glad. He smiled and said, ‘She has found her way, Marci, and love will lead her to her destiny. Be glad for my Princess. That little boy from the bush loves her so’.”

  Susan had wept. Her father had understood.

  Now they were approaching Jack’s home. They had spent a little time driving about the town. Susan was pleased with it. It was very like some of the small towns they had seen in Kansas. She noted the wide streets and the plentiful trees, the stores and the five pubs. “Darling,” she said, “there are a lot of pubs for such a small town. Do the people here drink a lot?”

  Jack smiled. “There’s a golf club and the RSL as well. It gets hot out here in the summer. Cold beer is in great demand.”

  Susan had noticed that Australians preferred beer, in contrast to her compatriots, who usually drank liquor such as Bourbon. The drive to Ballinrobe passed through grazing country. Here, near the town, the soils were poorer and could not support intensive cropping. Finally, Jack turned into a gravel driveway and over a steel cattle grid to the homestead. The neat buildings and the condition of the fences and stockyards impressed Susan. Ballinrobe looked lovingly maintained.

  Paddy and Helen were there to greet them at the front steps. Paddy had a grin a mile wide on his face. As soon as Jack left the car, Paddy enveloped him in a great bear hug. “Don’t do that to Susan,” cried Helen, “you’ll squeeze the life out of her.” Paddy, more restrained with her, gave her a gentle hug, then stood back with his hands on her shoulders, looking her up and down. “Struth,” he said, “you’ve snagged a good’un here, mate. She’s bloody beautiful!”

  Helen looked at Susan, at her trim figure and her bottomless eyes. She saw how she looked at Jack, and with a mother’s instinct, she knew they were lovers, more than lovers, two people very much in love. Well, she thought, trust Jack to turn up someone like this lovely creature. When she heard Susan’s soft accent, she, like Jack, was lost.

  “Well, come in,” said Paddy, “lunch is ready. Helen will show you to your room and the bathroom. No doubt you will appreciate a clean up after your travels.”

  Lunch was a light-hearted affair. Corned beef, salad and Helen’s lemon meringue pie. The talk was about Ballinrobe at first, then about the Bakers’ long journey. Paddy was interested in the American West and asked many questions about cattle ranching, gunslingers and cowboys. After a while, Helen intervened. “Paddy, I think you and Jack better have a talk about what’s happening with the station. Susan and I are going to have a little heart-to-heart. Come on dear, I’ll show you the garden.” Helen walked with Susan through the lovely garden to a bench under the shade of a large silky oak tree.

  Susan thanked her for the small gift and the welcoming note she had found in the bedroom. “You have such beautiful hand writing, Mrs. Riordan.”

  “You must call me Helen. We both love the same young man, you know, but we are not rivals for his affection. Yes, my handwriting is the last vanity I have. I used to win prizes for it at school, when such a skill was valued. Now, it is all typewriters; those I refuse to use under any circumstances. However, enough about me, we must talk of our young man. I can see that I will have to share him from now on.”

  Paddy and Jack settled into a couple of easy chairs on the veranda. The weather was cool and there was a slight chill on the breeze. Here there were no deciduous trees, but the breeze, from the south, was a subtle reminder that winter would soon be upon them. Paddy opened the conversation. “Well, mate, it will be planting time in another month. There will be two thousand acres of wheat this year if we can get a fall of rain. The sub-soil moisture will be good. I must show you the new tractor later. The other thing is that I have decided to get rid of all the sheep. I listen regularly on the wireless to a bloke who is a long-range weather forecaster and he reckons 1965 is going to be a drought year, maybe the driest ever. It might be a good idea to go into next year lightly stocked.”

  “When will you do that?”

  “I thought after shearing in August. We might as well get a final wool cut from the buggers. After all, we have been wiping their arses for them for five bloody years. How have you been doing with your studies?”

  “Not so bad. It’s all theory now, and I’m finding chemistry a bit of a struggle. Next year should be better, when we get into agronomy and livestock.”

  “How are Lil and the kids?”

  “They are really nice, Dad. They have taken me under their wing. I usually have dinner with them once a week. Maree is not there; she’s away at Teachers College in Sydney. Bernadette has been marvelous. If she wasn’t my cousin, I might be romantically inclined.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time that happened. What’s the situation with your little Yank?"

  “It’s pretty serious, Dad. Do you think she could be the new mistress of Ballinrobe, or should I marry my cousin?” he joked.

  “It depends on your mother. She’s the brains around here. If they hit it off it might be a goer.”

  They left the veranda and began an inspection of the farm buildings. Parked in the barn was a new John Deere Tractor. “I bought it because your Mother liked the colour scheme,” joked Paddy, “but I can’t get her to drive it!” This machine was the first of a long line of green machines that would dominate the machinery pool on Ballinrobe, but they did not know that at the time. They returned to the garden to find Helen and Susan laughing together.

  “I’m going to take Susan on the grand tour,” Jack said. “We’ll be back for afternoon tea. Is my Land Rover right to go, Dad?”

  “The boys gave it a service yesterday. New plugs, oil change, and a good clean out, but why don’t you take mine? It’d be more comfortable.”

  Nevertheless, Jack preferred the old familiar vehicle. They set off for the paddocks, along with Sam. All the cropping fields lay fallow, waiting for the new crop planting. Jack drove around the watering points. At one, sheep gathered around a water trough. Jack was pleased to note their good condition.

  “Where does the water come from?” asked Susan.

  “From way below ground,” said Jack. “We are situated over huge underground water reserves called the Great Artesian Basin. The water flows up under its own pressure. This bore, that we call the ‘Last Drink’ is about eleven hundred feet deep. The water is not good for irrigation, but it is just fine for stock water.”

  “Oh, look,” cried Susan. Away in the distance, she had spotted a mob of kangaroos. She had not seen them in the wild before. She was fascinated to see them flee at great speed for the cover of the trees. “Wow!” she said. “They can really jump.”

  They continued their tour until Jack finally came to a halt at his favourite spot near another bore, surrounded by belah trees and cypress pine. He cut the motor and placed a hand on Susan’s arm. “Hush, just listen.” The breeze stirred the trees and their soft whispers floated across their senses. The silence was undisturbed until Jack said, “This is where I come to reconnect with the spirit of the land, to revitalise my spirit. This is my thinking place. Just like the Aboriginal people, I have an unbreakable attachment to this land.”

  Susan could not speak for a moment. His obvious love of the land moved her. She said. “Our native India
ns feel the same way. Everywhere there are spirits they commune with, in animals, in bushes, in rocks, in canyons and especially in rivers and streams. I guess they’re not so different to you.”

  “I love you like that too, always and everywhere.”

  Susan moved towards him, embraced him and kissed his mouth. The familiar tingle stirred within her. She kissed him again, fiercely. “I so love you my little bush kid. Make love to me here in this spiritual place, your thinking place; then you’ll always think of me when you’re here.”

  There on the picnic blanket, beside the Land Rover, they made love, not with the frantic haste of their first time, but slowly, tenderly. Afterwards, they lay in the silence, minds and bodies entwined. A chattering flight of noisy miner birds interrupted their reverie. “It looks like others have a claim on this place too,” said Jack, “We’d better be going.” They dressed and stood beside the Land Rover, hugging tightly. Sam came to Susan and nuzzled her arm. “Look,” said Jack, “she loves you too.” One last kiss and they were on their way.

  * * * *

  They tumbled onto the homestead veranda, flushed from their adventure. “I could kill for a cup of tea,” said Jack. “I don’t suppose you have some of your A grade gingerbread, Mum?” Helen looked at the two of them, so happy, and was glad for them. They are so young, she thought, but so was I, and I could not have had a better life. Please, God, look after them. Later, after dinner, in their bedroom, she said to Paddy, “She seems a lovely girl, and she is very fond of him. What do you think, Paddy?”

  “They’re like a pair of kids playing together, no inhibitions at all.”