No Ocean Deep

by Cate Swannell

  “Only way to travel,” her lover purred around a feral, wildcat grin.

  Maggie stood, hands on hips, at the threshold of what used to be her daughter’s bedroom. For several years they had kept it exactly as Jo had left it. But as time had gone by and they needed it, the room had gradually become a storage space. Over the past few days Maggie had been emptying it out and restoring Jo’s belongings to their proper place. As she stood at the door a flood of memories washed over her and she sighed, wondering if she would ever be able to think of that time without the hurt.

  Posters of pop stars and athletes lined the walls, faces from 15 years ago lined up like a museum display. Teenage knickknacks were scattered around – models her detail-driven daughter had put together from kits – planes mostly, but some yachts. There were schoolbooks and in one corner, an enormous pile of albums and singles, all on vinyl, and an old portable record player. Books packed the shelves along the walls.

  Maggie had to smile. When Jo wasn’t helping her father out in one of the far flung paddocks, she was most often to be found in here, playing music, reading or tinkering with whatever gadget had caught her attention.

  “She always did live inside her head,” Maggie muttered to herself as she walked into the room for one last look before Jo’s arrival. She glanced at the bed. It was a double, Jo’s tall frame having outgrown the confines of a single bed before she was 15. “I hope there’s enough room for the two of them in here.” Maggie placed her fingers against her right temple in a bid to chase away the headache that was gnawing away at her last nerve. Don’t want to think about that too much, do you, girl?

  She’d spent most of the last week in the dual task of placating her husband and trying to get her own head around the reappearance of her daughter with girlfriend in tow. David Madison had been shocked into silence by the news that Jo was gay, involved and about to land on their doorstep. Maggie knew it had stirred up a lot of long-buried hurts for her husband, but there had been no way around telling him the news.

  I wasn’t going to let this chance to reconnect with Josie go by, she thought as she straightened the quilt cover on the bed. David had spent most of the last few days as far away from the house as he could get, starting his days early and not coming home till after dark. Doing his own thinking, I expect. Living in his head, just like his daughter. She smiled quietly to herself. I wonder if they realize how alike they are. I wish he would talk more.

  She'd tried to persuade her husband to stay close by the house today, but he was determined to carry on as if there was nothing special about the day.

  Our daughter's coming home. The thought still brought Maggie up short. Slowly she eased herself down onto the edge of the bed. The butterflies in her stomach were more like hummingbirds. Why am I nervous? she wondered. She's my own flesh and blood. She flicked at a speck of fluff on the cover.

  Maggie sighed.

  The truth is it's not me or her I'm worried about. It's David.

  The first year after Jo's disappearance had been a terrifying mix of uncertainty and stress that had taken a tremendous toll on them both. With no word from their daughter their lives had become an endless stream of phone calls to police, hospitals and government officials. Not knowing if Jossandra was alive or dead had been a nightmare neither of them could escape.

  Maggie stood up and walked out into her kitchen. Three steps took her to the sink and its big window overlooking the garden and the track up to the house from the road.

  We dealt with it so differently, she remembered. I threw myself into finding Josie and David… She swallowed. David didn’t seem to change much on the outside, but inside the stress was eating him alive. The heart attack had hit him while he was out on the far north boundary of the property. Pure luck and blind cussedness had kept him alive until the Royal Flying Doctors Service had been able to reach him.

  “Everything changed after that,” Maggie murmured, her eyes still on the dirt road that would soon bring her daughter home. David had needed bypass surgery and a long recuperation. They’d had to employ more men and a temporary station manager until he was back on his feet and ready to work again. It had almost cost them the farm, with only an understanding bank manager, a rare member of his species, between them and going under.

  And just as things had started to improve, Josie had called them out of the blue one Sunday afternoon. Relief and shock had quickly been followed by anger, at least from David. She had never seen him so pale and shaky. It had crossed her mind that he was close to another coronary.

  A lot of years have passed since then, Maggie thought. We’ve all changed, and no doubt Josie has, more than anyone. She turned away from the window and leaned back against the counter. I just hope we can all handle the consequences.

  Chapter Five

  “That’s the one,” Jo said quietly as they approached the next mailbox.

  Cadie pulled the truck over, sliding to a halt about 10 feet from the battered green object.

  “No offence, sweetheart, but how do you know? It looks like all the others we’ve passed.”

  Jo didn’t answer. Instead she opened the passenger side door and dropped to the ground, her boots kicking up a puff of dust. She walked slowly over to the mailbox and placed one hand on top of its metallic surface as she gazed up the track to the unseen homestead.

  Cadie wasn’t surprised by her lover’s silence. Jo had been quiet since they’d turned off the main road to Wilcannia onto the dirt track that had brought them to this point. They’d passed three or four other mailboxes without a word from the tall skipper, but this one had brought her up short. Cadie switched off the engine and climbed down. Slowly she walked over to Jo, placing a comforting hand on the dark-haired woman’s back.

  “That’s how I know,” Jo murmured, nodding at the side of the mailbox. ‘Madison’ was neatly printed in uniform white letters. But underneath, in a sprawling, childish hand was written ‘and Jo’.

  “Ohhh,” Cadie gasped, noticing the words for the first time. She grinned up at her lover. “I’m guessing you were about 10 when you did that.”

  “Eight and a half,” Jo replied, mustering a small smile of her own. “Phil was with me when I did that.” Cadie wrapped her arm around her waist and Jo settled her own arm across the blonde’s shoulders. “We were out for a ride and I brought a little pot of whitewash with me. I think I was trying to tell the world I existed.”

  “Ride – as in horses?”

  “Yep. We’ve got quarter horses. Or at least we did then.” She turned to look up the track leading to the homestead. “I can’t believe how dry it is,” she muttered. “I don’t ever remember it being like this.” They gazed around at the landscape, its harsh lines and dry colors shimmering in the oppressive heat.

  “I don’t know how anyone can make a living out of this land,” Cadie said quietly, impressed by the stark beauty of it all.

  “You don’t make a living out of this land,” Jo replied grimly. “You just survive off it. And wait for the next rain and the wool prices to go up.”

  Cadie looked up into Jo’s face, watching the tensions and anxiety flickering across the uniquely angular features. She patted the taut stomach under her hand gently.

  “Come on skipper,” she said. “Let’s go get the most nerve-wracking bit over and done with, eh?”

  Jo looked down at the blonde, her expression softening as she met the love in Cadie’s eyes.

  “Okay,” she replied softly. “I think I can do that.”

  Cadie’s face broke out into an affectionate smile, full of confidence. “I know you can, sweetheart.”

  Jo kissed her then, immeasurably glad to have Cadie along for the ride. “I would never have had the guts to do this without you. You know that, right?” she whispered as they broke the kiss.

  “I’m glad I can help,” Cadie replied, reaching up to hug Jo close.

  “You do.”

  They separated, Cadie heading back to the driver’s side. Jo began to walk t
o the truck but hesitated when the memory of another family ritual resurfaced. She turned back to the mailbox, returning to it and gingerly lifting the lid. Memories of close encounters with redback spiders tickled her senses and she looked inside before carefully reaching in. As expected there were at least two of the nasty bities in residence.

  “Good to know some things haven’t changed,” Jo chuckled. She plucked out the small pile of letters and closed the lid again, leaving the spiders to their dark, hot little world.

  Jo settled back into her seat and closed the car door.

  “Family rule,” she said in answer to Cadie’s quizzical look. “If anyone’s close to the mailbox, bring in the mail. Otherwise it can sit in there for weeks.” She smiled faintly. Cadie patted her thigh and turned over the ignition, directing the truck onto the rough dirt track.

  “How far from the homestead are we?” she asked as she carefully negotiated around a fallen log.

  “About 15 minutes.”

  David Madison sat back on his haunches and wiped the sweat from his tanned forehead with the back of his hand, the rough work glove scraping against his skin. He looked up into the cloudless sky and tried to judge the position of the sun.

  Just after noon, he decided. Scattered around him were the pieces of the bore pump he’d spent the morning disassembling. So far, he’d found not a damn thing wrong with it, but that was all right. He’d come out here because it was about as far as he could get from the homestead and still be able to get back just after dark. Jack and Hughie, he’d sent in the other direction, knowing there were some boundary fences that needed four hands to fix.

  David’s mouth was parched and he could feel his sweat-soaked work shirt sticking to his back. Slowly he pushed himself up off his knees and walked back to his four-wheeled ATV. Clipped onto its back tray were a large water cooler and a thermos bag full of cold roast lamb sandwiches. David pulled his gloves off and stuffed them in the back pocket of his jeans then he dropped his Akubra onto the tray.

  Coward. He poured himself a cupful of ice-cold water, downing it three big gulps before filling the cup again. Stubborn, useless coward. David drank deeply again. Leaving Maggie to do the meeting and greeting on her own. He pulled a handful of sandwiches out of the bag and sat down on the ground, leaning back against the ATV’s big grooved wheel. The bread was fresh and the cold meat tender and juicy. She’s a good old girl. I don’t deserve her, honest to God I don’t.

  All week long he’d been dreading this day. And when push came to shove he preferred to put off the inevitable for as long as possible. So he’d come out here on the pretext of needing to do some repairs. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Josie.

  God knows, I’ve been dreaming of this day for 15 years, he admitted to himself, picking up another sandwich. My baby’s coming home. He bit down on the sandwich, viciously ripping away a mouthful. Except she’s not my baby anymore. She’s … He chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes. I don’t know what she is. Not anybody I know anymore. Not normal, that’s for sure.

  He and Maggie had argued just last night about it. The sleeping arrangements. David could not for the life of him see how they could allow Josie and her … her … “Jesus, I don’t even know the word for it,” he muttered aloud. Anyway. He wasn’t happy about them sleeping together in his home. But Maggie had insisted.

  “We’re going to make them both welcome, David,” she’d argued. “And I don’t care what you have to say about it. Josie is what she is, and I don’t care what that is anymore. This other woman seems very nice. If she’s a part of Josie’s life, and makes her happy, then so be it.”

  So be it. Maggie had spoken and that was that. David stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. He gazed out at the mess he’d made of the water pump. Whole thing’s a mess, he thought morosely. I guess I should be like Maggie. But I just can’t get my head around … around any of it.

  He’d long ago let go of the anger in his life. The drawn-out recuperation from the heart attack had taken care of that. Anger at Jossandra for the way she’d left. Anger at the banks. Anger at the Americans for their lamb tariff. Anger at the goddamned weather. None of it mattered anymore, he knew that. All that matters is putting food on the table for Maggie and I and paying the bills, he thought. It had become his mantra.

  What did we do wrong? he wondered. She couldn’t wait to get away from us. She had no problem staying away from us. And now she’s… she’s… Quickly he pushed himself up off the ground, tired of the circular debate going on in his head. Fix the damn pump. Just fix the damn pump.

  The object of David’s frustration felt like her stomach had turned itself inside out and switched places with her lung. Jo fidgeted in the seat while Cadie drove.

  “There it is,” Jo pointed out. Cadie lifted an eyebrow. It was rather difficult to miss the homestead, it being the only thing over about four feet tall as far as the eye could see. She didn’t comment, however, recognizing that her partner was wound tighter than the wire fence that ran alongside the track. Instead she patted Jo’s thigh and turned the truck into the gap in the fence. They rattled over the cattle grill and across the bare patch of dusty ground between them and the neat white one-storey home. Cadie pulled up and applied the parking brake. She looked around, taking in her lover’s childhood home.

  Apart from the main house, set 50 yards to the left, near a stand of forlorn gum trees, was a smaller cottage that Cadie guessed was for the workers. Behind that again was a collection of ramshackle buildings, including a large shed and what she guessed were stables. Around the main house was a white fence and beyond it a garden.

  Cadie brought her gaze back to her lover. Wide blue eyes blinked at the scenery, focused on the dark and open doorway in the middle of the homestead’s wall.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” Cadie murmured, squeezing the dark-haired woman’s knee reassuringly.

  “Scared shitless,” came the curt reply.

  Maggie Madison gripped the edge of the kitchen sink so hard her knuckles turned white. She had watched the four-wheel drive approach from the northeast and now she knew the moment had arrived. A blonde sat behind the wheel of the stationery vehicle and the tall figure next to her could only be …

  My daughter.

  Maggie’s heart just about tripped over itself in the effort to escape her chest. For long seconds she just watched. The two women were talking, Josie’s gaze swinging from the blonde to the house.

  “Get out there, Maggie,” she told herself. She dropped the tea towel onto the draining board and smoothed her hands down over her denim-covered thighs. Damn, I’m nervous, she realized, looking down at fingers that were visibly shaking. With a deep breath she steadied herself and stepped out into the brilliant sunshine.

  “It’s going to be just fine sweetheart,” Cadie said soothingly.

  “I don’t know how this is going to turn out, Cadie,” Jo replied, looking at her lover with honestly scared eyes.

  “Whatever happens we’ll get through it together. Just be yourself. That’s all they’re going to want from you.”

  Jo’s eyes softened.

  “How did you get to be so wise, kid?” she asked, managing to find a grin from somewhere.

  “About 15 years’ more experience with parents than you, Grandma,” Cadie replied. “I’d kiss you now, but I think that might truly freak your mother out at this point.” She nodded in the direction of the house, where she had noticed a tall figure walking towards them.

  Jo’s head snapped forward.

  “Oh god,” she said faintly.

  Cadie gave her one last pat before Jo opened the door and climbed out of the truck. Her palms were damp as she clenched and unclenched her hands. Tentatively, she stepped forward, disconcerted to find her legs unsteady. Her only consolation was that the woman coming towards her looked equally unsure of herself. Please god, don’t let me throw up on her.

  Maggie drank in the sight of the tall woman approaching her. She grew up beaut
iful, she thought. My gangly, clumsy teenager grew up into a beauty. Brilliant blue eyes gazed back at her as they came to a halt just outside arm’s reach of each other.

  For a few endless seconds neither knew what to say. Jo tried to match the elegant, gray-haired woman who shared her facial features with the memories of her youth. The face was the same – more tanned and more lined, certainly – but unquestionably it was her mother. A surge of something very familiar and warm caught Jo by surprise.

  “H-hello Mum,” she said hesitantly, a smile playing across her lips. Then just as quickly, it was chased away by her uncertainty.

  Maggie’s hands flew to her mouth as the emotions rose up and engulfed her. She had seen the fleeting smile, the youthful insecurity that swept over her daughter’s face and it brought a sharp sense of recognition. She couldn’t form coherent words, the ache in her throat too tight and jagged.

  Jo raised a hand, half-reaching for her mother, knowing that the older woman was close to tears. But she felt awkward, unsure of what her parent wanted or needed.

  “Mum, it’s o-okay,” she said instead, startled to find her own voice strangled.

  “Oh Josie.” Maggie stepped forward quickly, wrapping her arms around her daughter’s shoulders and pulling her close. Tears came hot and fast as she held the warm and well-known body against herself. “Oh Josie, baby, welcome home.”

  Jo stiffened and gasped, the words curling around her heart like a soothing balm. She hadn’t been held by her mother in … so long. Gradually she relaxed into the hug, returning it gingerly even as she absorbed her mother’s scent – clean and sun-warmed, with a trace of the lavender soap she’d always used. Jo felt her own tears now as they drifted down her cheeks.

  “M-mum, I’m s-so s-sorry,” she managed around hitching breaths. Immediately she felt her mother’s hands changing to a soothing movement on her hair.