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.”
Nanny broke in again and Seraphim frowned. “What do you mean?” she said. “Hello! Hello!” Then she took the phone from her ear and glared at it. “It's died.”
The room filled with white light and thunder cracked. Chad took the phone. Sure enough it was out of order. He shrugged. “Probably the storm,” he said.
But Seraphim didn't seem to be listening. She stood up and paced over to the window, but he could see she wasn't really aware of the spectacular light show in the bruised sky. “Nanny said the strangest thing. She said I shouldn't go home, not until I knew all the facts. Then we got cut off.” She turned around then, a dark silhouette against the sheet lightening. “What on earth do you think she meant Chad?”
In all honesty he had no idea. Most probably the poor old girl had been overindulging in herbal remedies.
He opened his mouth to reply but any sound was drowned out as the sky burst and dropped its precious cargo on the old tin roof.
Twenty-three
It rained, and it rained and it r
ained. Through the night neither slept. The unfamiliar noise of the water pounding on the roof, gurgling down the drainpipes and roaring into the water tanks kept Seraphim awake. Chad was like a kid, agog with an excitement that was contagious.
After a while they gave up all pretense of sleep and made their way down to the kitchen where Seraphim made cups of cocoa. They played cards, giggling and bickering like kids.
Finally Chad put down the cards and stood. “Come on,” he said.
Seraphim stacked the cards neatly together. “Where to?”
He grinned and opened the front door. Outside the rain lashed the old house and scudded across windows. “Out.”
Incredulous, she gaped at him. Obviously he'd lost his mind, hopefully temporarily. “I'm not going out there!”
He grabbed her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Trust me.”
Grumbling a little, she stood and followed him to the door. Close up, the black depths of the night did not seem any more inviting. Then her breath rushed out of her body as Chad swept her into his arms and bounced out of the door and down the front steps of the verandah.
Icy cold drops of water soon plastered her nightie to her body, and goose bumps the size of golf balls broke out over her skin. Wiggling furiously she tried to escape but Chad merely laughed down at her, white teeth barely visible. She slapped him ineffectually. “Put me down!”
Then he stopped abruptly. “If Madam insists.”
One moment she was free falling and the next suffused in a delicious oasis of heat. She gasped as hot water enveloped her body. It was the oddest sensation, with the stinging cold of rain falling on her face and the rest of her body practically cooking. All she could hear over the rain was an odd rasping sound that resonated all around.
The water stirred as Chad slid in beside her, small wavelets lapping softly. It was so dark that he appeared as a filmy shadow. Her nightie floated up around her waist, bubbles tickling delicately up her thighs, as she absent-mindedly pushed the flimsy material down. A small gasp of surprise escaped her when a pair of cold hands gently touched her face, ran down her neck and into the water, cupping the soft globe of one breast.
Suddenly a wild rush of emotion clutched at her heart, as the agony of her imminent departure overwhelmed her. Fear, love and passion fused, and she opened to him like a peach blossom warmed by the sun. The sound of their voices echoed off the water mixing with the lovelorn cries of the frogs. Oblivious to all but each other while Mother Nature raged on unabated.
When Chad finally floated away, Seraphim simply lay still, absorbing the moment. He wove his fingers through hers and she smiled softly to herself, simply glad in that moment to be alive. “We'd better be getting back. Try and get some shut eye,” Chad said eventually.
Reluctantly she opened her eyes. “I guess.” The thought of getting out of the hot pool and into the rain did not appeal. But there was nothing else for it.
On the count of three they hauled themselves out and hand-in-hand dashed back to the house, guided by the yellow light of the kitchen window. Inside, they paddled their way to the bathroom and leapt in the shower, teeth chattering and flesh quivering like jellies.
Finally, warm and dry, they flopped into bed, snuggled up like spoons, and sank into sleep.
When she awoke several hours later, rain still thundered down. Beside her the bed was empty. It was nearly six, although the room remained quite dim. A quick peek out of the window revealed a slate grey sky; small rivulets ran along the ground forming huge puddles, a waterfall spouted from the overflow pipe of the water tank.
Without further ado she threw on jeans, pulled on her waxed waterproofs and headed out. Out on the verandah stood a pair of rubber boots, which Chad must have left for her. Warmed by his thoughtfulness she pulled them on and proceeded over to the barn. Progress was somewhat retarded as mud clung and packed beneath her rubber feet. Several times she stopped to try and shake it off, but only succeeded in flinging up clods of cold mud that attached itself to her face and clothes instead.
Inside the barn the men bustled around mucking out horses. As she staggered up the aisle she ignored the amused smiles from the staff, who, she noticed, sported bare feet. Halfway down the block she gave up and pulled the boots off. Boots in hand she carried on until she found Chad in the feed room, a black marker pen in hand.
“Morning,” he said.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, I'm just adjusting the feed regime. The horses will be able to be turned out for an hour or two today with their rugs on, but if this keeps up, the paddocks will be over by tomorrow.”
She blinked. “What do you mean, over?”
“Flooded.”
For a moment her brain froze. “But… what about my flight?”
Chad turned and gave her his full attention. “Don't worry; it'll probably stop in the next hour or so. I'm just being cautious.”
But she persisted. “What if it doesn't stop?”
He laughed softly. “Well, if you insist on leaving you'd better put on your water wings. It's a long swim to the airport.”
She tried to suppress the wave of exhilaration that swept through her. Suddenly the possibility of a reprieve seemed a reality. “What's the longest you've been flooded in?” she asked, irritated that her voice came out squeaky and high.
“A fortnight.”
A fortnight! Why, by the time she managed to get another flight in the holiday season it'd be nearly a month. Happiness flooded through her. Although she could still hear the rain pounding on the roof, she stared anxiously out of the window. Rain fell steadily. Unable to contain her excitement she went to Chad and hugged him tight. “I love the rain, don't you?”
He laughed down at her, his eyes glowing as if with fever. “Bloody oath.”
All that day it seemed to Seraphim that they just went through the motions, neither of them mentioned the weather again, but she sensed that Chad listened and watched with equal, if not more, intensity than she did. Although common sense told her that she was only putting off the inevitable, her heart couldn't help looping the loop with joy at the prospect of a little more time.
Her nerves were twisted to fever pitch by evening. She found herself silently praying. Please don't stop, please don't stop. She tried to justify her selfish plea by telling herself that after years of drought the ravaged landscape needed a flood. Outside the small rivulets had become steady streams, winding down to join the shallow creek beds that raged and frothed through the trees. The wind had dropped and it seemed very quiet.
Dinner was a subdued affair, both reluctant to speak. Superstitious dread held her tongue. Ridiculous though it was, she couldn't shake off the feeling that if she celebrated prematurely, she'd put the kybosh on the weather and it would be dry by morning. Sometimes she caught Chad watching her, his face filled with anguish and sadness. In her mouth the succulent steak turned to shavings. She couldn't bear to think about his pain, and how he'd cope when she was gone. At this stage she could barely cope with herself.
Before washing up she nipped to the loo. But she had no sooner perched her butt on the timber seat when she leapt off screaming.
Chad thundered down the corridor. He ripped open the door. “What's wrong?”
She pointed a trembling finger at the toilet. “Something's in there!”
Chad peered into the bowl. “It's all right; it's just a green frog.”
Horrified she looked at him. “Oh no!”
He took her in his arms and patted her sympathetically. “It's okay, they won't hurt you.”
She felt blood rush to her face. “It's not that,” she mumbled, acutely embarrassed, “It's just that I think I peed on it. Do you think it's going to die?”
By way of an answer a small green face peeked out. “Seems like he's going to make it,” said Chad.
The ridiculousness of the situation tickled her funny bone. Some of the accumulated tension of the day released, she began to giggle. Then the giggle melted down into
serious hysteria. The frog jumped neatly up onto the window ledge and began to call. Chad's lips twitched, and then he too cracked up.
“Oh, please stop,” she begged. “I really need to finish that pee.”
Still chuckling Chad bowed out gracefully.
Seraphim peered anxiously into the loo. All seemed well. Cheerfully, hiccupping softly, she finished her ablutions and set off to wash her hands. But at the sink she froze, the laughter forgotten. An unearthly peace had settled around the homestead. Her hands clutched the sink and she brushed her hair behind her ears. She held her breath. Then she gave a small moan of despair. There was no doubt about it. The rain had stopped.
Her hands trembled slightly as she washed up. Deep in her chest her heart seemed to slow and the blood ceased to flow. Chad had said that the water table dropped as quickly as it rose and that much of the rain would settle into the dry ground. By her reckoning if the rain stopped, there would be no problem getting over the nearby river and into Brisbane in a couple days.
Her reflection looked at her, pale and afraid. She fixed her lips together firmly and squared her shoulders, no way was this going to be how Chad remembered her. They had so little time left, she was going to make every minute count. A tear ran down her cheek and she brushed it away firmly. “Get a grip girl,” she told the girl in the mirror. The girl nodded back.
Back in the lounge she sat down with Chad on the squashy old settee. They watched the news silently. Neither spoke. As the day's events unfolded, Seraphim felt the salt ebbing into her wounds as excited broadcasters showed footage of major floods, to the west and south of them. Tense and still half hopeful she waited, but then attention returned to international affairs and it was clear that the roads to Brisbane were passable.
Time began to fast forward. When they went out to check on the horses later that night the sound of rushing water had already reduced to a soft musical tinkle. Barefoot they sloshed across the yard. Inside the barn it was warm and dry. Several curious equine faces turned simultaneously. A deep whicker echoed around the cavernous building.
Chad finally spoke. “He only does that for you.”
A Man For All Seasons Page 15
