Seraphim stared at him, moved, saddened and deeply touched by this simple account. Her heart swelled with a fierce love and she moved slowly from the table toward him. Her hand reached out and feathered softly through the wavy dark hair. “I think you're the most beautiful man I've ever met - inside and out.”
His eyes searched hers for several seconds, and gradually the creases between his eyes melted away. Slowly his eyes closed as his arms slipped around her waist. He pulled her to him, and buried his face gently in her chest. As she looked down upon the dark head, a new emotion enveloped her. Determination. A fierce determination to fill this man with all the love that fate had so cruelly stolen. To be his lover, his companion and his family.
“Chad,” she said in a soft but surprisingly steady voice, “will you marry me?”
Immediately she felt the muscles in his broad shoulders stiffen and she held her breath.
He released her and sat back, the amber eyes wide with surprise. Slowly he traced the contours of her face with one finger. She felt as if he were a blind man, learning to read. But he spoke not a word and suddenly she felt as if someone were slowly dropping pebbles into her hollow insides.
“Seraphim,” he said, his voice gravelly with suppressed emotion, “I can't begin tell you what that means to me…”
“But?” she whispered.
For a moment he didn't reply and the pebbles began to form a pyramid. The finger rested softly on the nub of her chin. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she waited for the axe to fall.
“But we can't be married.”
Devastated, she shrugged him wildly away. “Why?”
“Your parents would never accept it.”
Despite her resolve, tears welled up, quivered on lower lashes and finally spilled down her cheeks. “I don't care.”
He smiled softly and caught a droplet of salty water on the tip of one long, strong finger. “Yes you do… and so do I.”
Twenty-one
To help release some of the inner rage that pounded at her head, Seraphim vacuumed and mopped the floor with a viciousness that left the mop practically bald. She wasn't cross with Chad; it was her parents. While she could understand her mother's attitude - just - she couldn't fathom her father's. She honestly believed her father held no prejudice towards Chad. But still, she kept coming back to the horrible conversation that Chad had overheard. There could be no other logical explanation. Did her mother really have such deep-seated racist beliefs? It was hard to believe. And even if she did, why would her father support her? Surely there must be some other explanation.
As she ruthlessly polished the furniture she tried to recall all the conversations she'd been witness to. But no matter how hard she racked her brains, nothing came to light. It seemed Chad was right. But finally it was no good. Throwing down her duster in disgust she grabbed her hat and headed out. The clock chimed eleven o'clock. She had to ask.
As she stepped out onto the verandah the heat engulfed her. Pizzas, she reflected, got off easy. The loud grumble of a large vehicle grabbed her attention. Sure enough, a truck of mammoth proportions rolled up the driveway. To her amazement it appeared to be a double-decker bus, for cows. Hundreds of coloured faces peered mournfully through the bars. Intrigued, she set off to investigate.
The driver navigated the massive vehicle around to the yards, reversing with unbelievable ease into a tiny gap in the metal railings. Seraphim spotted Chad, Chin and one other man at the far side of the truck. Chad appeared to be directing the truck driver.
Then the driver hopped out and scaled the sides of the truck, Chad meeting him halfway up. Together they unlatched various fastenings and Seraphim watched as a ramp descended until it hung a couple of metres from the ground. Then in a terrifying stampede the cattle slid and leapt out of the truck and took off to the back of the yards, lowing and raking up geysers of dust. But the men hadn't finished. Chad climbed onto the top of the trucks upper story and walked back toward the cabin. Seraphim watched a little anxiously.
After a few minutes the two separate trailers of the road train had been connected by panels and Chin, waiting at the other end, let down another ramp. Mouth agog with amazement, oblivious to the flies that swarmed, Seraphim watched as the cattle slippery dipped down the chute, and leapt the several metres to the ground, apparently unhurt. They too bolted away, milling around in agitation with their travel companions. The air filled with the pungent aroma of hot cattle and fresh manure.
As she approached the yards Chad spotted her and smiled. With his wide brimmed hat, faded jeans, dusty boots and brilliant smile he looked as if he'd escaped from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Seraphim felt a wave of longing that was not purely physical. For here, amidst the parched, hungry landscape, beneath the endless blue skies and the cruel baking sun, Chad seemed immeasurably large. An undaunted, determined and capable man. A man for all seasons.
Swallowing her emotion she wound her way carefully between the road train and the yards. Chad jumped down, landing at her feet, like a cat. Briefly he kissed her and her body tingled with uncontrollable anticipation. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he replied.
He left her then and she waited while he chatted briefly with the driver, who then hopped back into his high cabin and started up the engine. Speech being impossible, she waited until the noisy vehicle started off down the driveway.
For a few minutes she watched the three men sorting the cattle and penning them in three different yards. A couple of the dogs helped, nipping heels and swinging off tails. For several minutes she could barely see for dust. But the haze began to settle and Chad's tall form emerged.
“Are these yours?” she said, pointing to the cattle.
He nodded. “Yep. I've had them agisted out at Augathella, but they're going to market.”
She cast her gaze over the herd. “What, all of them?”
“Afraid so. I've got bills to pay. They've got to go.”
There was not a shred of self-pity in his tone; it was pure matter of fact. Respect for his resilience went up another notch.
He turned back and peered across the backs of the cattle next to them. “Chin,” he yelled, “check the troughs will you?”
Chin waved a brief acknowledgement and Chad turned his attention back to her. “You all right?”
She nodded, but couldn't quite meet his eyes. “I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure, ask away.”
“I wanted to know, how you knew. About my parents, that is.”
He sighed deeply and looked troubled. “Do you remember the conversation you had with your father?”
Seraphim felt her face fill with a colour that probably rivalled a setting sun. “Chad, please, I really didn't mean what I said. You know that. I just said it to keep the peace. I didn't mean…”
Chad cut her short. “I know you didn't mean it. But nevertheless, your father did.” Chad took off his hat and ran his hands around the brim, a habit she'd noted a couple of times when he'd been anxious or upset. “Breakfast?”
Seraphim nodded and trailed along beside Chad. She knew he was right but was still unwilling to accept it. “Chad,” she said a touch desperately, “that's not necessarily related to your family. Dad's never been colour prejudiced.”
“Perhaps not. But what about your mother?”
This last statement temporarily stymied her as it was uncomfortably close to her own conclusions. Reluctantly she had to acknowledge that while her mother was too well bred to make overtly racist comments, she was cut from similar cloth to Bloody Barry. She sighed. “I don't know about her, really,” she admitted reluctantly.
“So, you admit it's a possibility.”
Seraphim took his hand. “I guess,” she said, “but, not for sure.”
They climbed the steps and Chad paused, staring out over the landscape. She stood next to him, leaning against the timber rail. And suddenly the vista spread before her seemed comfortingly familiar. She realised that she no
longer felt as if she'd been kidnapped by aliens and dropped onto Mars. Everything, from the distant white sock, inflated with air on the landing strip, to the bubbling warble of magpies in the coolibah trees, held tangible connections to the man she loved. “I don't want to go,” she said, the words incredible even to her own ears.
And then she fell into his arms, his face pressed against hers, the slight rasp of his unshaved face brushing her cheek.
“I don't want you to go,” he said.
She pulled away and opened her mouth to plead her case, but he checked her with a finger on her lower lip.
“I've never really had a family Seraphim. In the beginning there was just mum and me, and then no one. I can't begin to tell you what it's like to be so alone. When I was young I would slip out at night and look into the windows of houses and watch the families inside. I lived for the times mum was well enough to visit. The last thing I want is to break up your family. It'd be all right for a while, but in the long term you will be unhappy and it will tear us apart.”
Words of denial rose up in her throat, but something in the whiskey tone of his eyes kept her silent. For in them she read the truth. And while she loved him the more for it, she felt the icy cold fingers of despair wrap around her heart. “I'll go back, for Christmas,” she said, “I'll talk to them, make them understand, and accept you. Then I'll come back.”
He hugged her tight and buried his face in her hair. She could not see his face, but somehow she knew that he was crying silently. She nestled into his strength and goodness. “It'll be fine Chad, I promise.”
One last time his arms tightened around her in a vice-like grip. “Sure it will,” he said, his voice hoarse. He stepped back and managed a weak smile. “Put your hat back on, I've got something to show you.”
Still a little tremulous with emotion, she managed a watery smile in return. Then with a deep shuddery intake of air she plopped her hat back on. “After you.”
They retraced their steps back out toward the yards, where the cattle stared at them with wide-eyed suspicion, and out into one of the vast paddocks. Seraphim looked up at him. “What are we looking for?”
He grinned, more like his usual self. “You'll see.”
For what seemed like miles, they traipsed through the bush, disturbing sleeping roos and big frill-necked lizards lounging on the dusty track. Suddenly Chad stopped and Seraphim bumped into him. He pointed to the west. “There,” he said triumphantly.
She peered through the brilliant, light filled space searching, and then she saw them. A huge emu grazed peaceably, and bustling at his three-toed feet were five stripy little chicks. They were absolutely the most adorable things she had ever seen. “Oh Chad, they are gorgeous!”
“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.”
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br /> “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.
A Man For All Seasons Page 14
