"Rosie."
"Get out of my way."
"Rosie, please. We can't keep living like this!"
"Sure we can. After next week, the court will let you know where you stand, and then you won't ever have to see me again!"
I pushed past him.
Adam grabbed me. "Rosie, please!"
I tried to pull away but he pulled me into his arms.
"Let me go!" I cried out. "You have to let me go!"
Adam pinned me to his chest and buried his nose into my hair.
"I'm sorry, Rosie, I'm sorry. Please! You have to believe that I'm sorry!" He held me so tightly I couldn't escape, and it felt so warm, so right to be in his arms.
My voice broke as I burst into tears.
"You threw me out before I could even explain!"
"I know," Adam said. "I was angry at her, and I took it out on you."
"Then why did you almost go back with her at Christmas?"
Adam led me over to the couch and sat me down, positioning himself between me and the hallway so I couldn't make a run for my bedroom. He flipped open the photo album, pulled out a picture and set it on the table in front of me. I leaned forward and picked it up.
"It's your wedding picture."
A statuesque brown-haired woman stood at Adam's side wearing a magnificent white dress. She wore a vacant, grief-stricken expression, not the Black Widow that had made Adam's life a living hell, but a much more vulnerable-looking version of Eva Jackson before she'd started dying her hair to match her daughter's. To her left a younger version of Adam wore an ecstatic grin. I traced my finger down the picture and paused at where Adam's palm splayed over a bulge in the bride's belly.
"You married her because she was pregnant?"
Adam leaned back and shut his eyes.
"I loved her with every ounce of my being," Adam said. "When she told me she was pregnant, her father said I was good for her, and if I did the right thing, he would make sure I got a job in the oil industry. I didn't find out until Pippa was born that Eva suffers from bipolar affective disorder."
Pippa's yellow pill…
"Why didn't you divorce her?"
Adam caressed the photograph where Eva's baby bump bulged out, a good five or six months along.
"Even before Pippa was born, I was crazy for that kid," Adam said. "I read to her in the womb and told her stories. And then, when she was born too early…"
His shoulders stiffened and he looked away. He grew silent for a moment, and then he resumed his tale.
"Eva developed post-partum depression and had to be hospitalized for seven months. Maynor Jackson sent me home to take care of Pippa. She was…" He bent his forehead down into his hands. "She was so little and helpless, and she didn't have anyone who cared about her but me." A plethora of emotions danced across his face as he caressed the baby bump in his wedding picture. "Mrs. Richardson was originally Eva's psychiatric nurse, but Maynor made her an offer to take care of the both of them under the guise of being Pippa's nanny, so after Eva stabilized, I was able to go back to work."
"When did things start to go bad?"
"My job took me away a lot," Adam said. "Eva got lonely, so she had an affair." He ran his fingers through his hair. It stuck up, golden brown and shaggy, like the mane of a horse who'd just been out for a run.
"What did you do?"
"I forgave her," Adam said. "What else was I supposed to do? Walk away from my wife and child?"
Those portions of my body which touched his body tingled with awareness, and the scent of aftershave and musk struck an odd note of longing. I could feel my defenses weaken as Adam begged me, not with words, but with his touch, to forgive him as he told me why.
"How many times?" I asked. "How many times did she do it before you'd had enough?"
"I don't know." Adam's voice lilted with emotion. "We went to marriage counseling and she swore everything was better. After a while you just start to withdraw. You see betrayal everywhere you look, and then when people say you're paranoid, you just muddle through it, too afraid to become intimate with your own wife."
His shoulders shuddered, but Adam refused to let me see him cry again. His voice grew hoarse. "That's pretty pathetic, isn't it? To love a woman so much you'd do anything to keep her? Even look the other way?"
A single tear fell. Just one. It trailed down the valley of his nose and lingered at the corner of his lip like a tiny, perfect diamond. "Have you ever reached that point where you'd rather rip out your own heart than have it be broken again?"
My lips trembled.
"Yes."
Adam reached over and touched my face.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm sorry I hurt you that badly."
He flattened his palm against my cheek and stared at my lips. An eternity passed where I stared into his troubled blue-green eyes. I thought he might kiss me, but then he pulled me against him and sank into the couch, his arm locked around my shoulder like an old married couple watching television. I rested my cheek upon his chest. We sat in silence, the only sound the ticking of the clock and the gentle thump of Adam's heartbeat. Three dreadful weeks of intrigue, misunderstanding and lack of sleep all melted away until my eyes grew heavy. The only thing that mattered was I slept in Adam's arms.
We lay on the beach, alongside the Condamine River, while the Mimi's danced, and Pippa's white pony took her away for a joyous run. Adam picked me up and carried me into the warm, gentle water, and then he kissed me on the lips and told me that he loved me.
I woke up Sunday morning, alone in my own bed. On my wrist, Adam had retied the black Aboriginal bracelet so tightly it would never come off unless I cut it again. I sat up; disoriented, still wearing the clothing I'd worn yesterday. I touched my lips, which still tingled from the dream-kiss. I felt warm, and loved, and that terrible emptiness which had gnawed at me forever had suddenly disappeared.
I glanced at the photograph of the girl on the white pony.
"Did Adam really kiss me goodnight? Or was that just part of the dream?"
The girl on the white pony gazed down with her enigmatic smile. Even in the dream world, she never spoke. All I knew was that somehow I'd gotten from the couch to the bed. As for the bracelet, it hadn't tied itself.
"Okay, don't tell me," I told the girl.
I caressed the double wedding ring quilt which still lay on the bed, crisp and cotton, with hand-stitched threads. Adam hadn't taken if off when he'd carried me in. I threw back the covers and smiled as I rummaged for my slippers, dug out some clean clothes and stumbled into the shower. My face still looked gaunt and sallow as I brushed my teeth, but my eyes now had a hopeful sparkle they hadn't possessed for weeks. I strode into the kitchen to join Adam and Pippa for breakfast.
"But I don't want to take it," Pippa said.
"The doctor said if you don't, you might have a relapse."
"I don't need it. It makes me sleepy."
"The doctor says you do."
"I lied."
I walked past them to pour myself a cup of coffee from the peculiar little carafe which followed Adam everywhere he went.
"Rosie?" Adam looked to me for help.
I dumped two small blue packets of carcinogens into my coffee, followed up by a healthy chaser of creamy white cholesterol, and sat down at the table where two pairs of eyes, one pair silver, the other aquamarine, stared at me as though I was the Oracle of Delphi. Between them sat the bottle which contained the little yellow pills.
"Tell your father what you told me?"
Pippa jutted out her lip.
"He can't help you if you don't tell him the truth."
Pippa crossed her arms.
"The Fairy Queen isn't real. I made her up so you'd stop going away and leaving me alone with Mommy."
Adam looked at me, his expression wounded.
"You mean … I…"
"Had a kid who was depressed. And now you don't. So call the doctor and tell him you want to start weaning her off of the stuf
f and see what happens."
"But what if…"
"You can always put her back on again," I said. "Though, from what I've read, Risperdal has some pretty nasty side-effects. If she's not hallucinating and not putting herself in danger, there are much more suitable medications for just anxiety."
I took a sip of my coffee and inhaled the luxurious, caffeinated vapors which enhanced the brown trickle of heaven which slid across my tongue. I wondered if that's what the Greeks had brewed to get their Oracle to spout the wisdom of the gods.
"Okay," Adam said. "We'll put it aside and see what happens."
Happy to have won that small victory, Pippa immediately proceeded to try the next roughshod battle over her father, to slip her slightly-green overcooked scrambled eggs under the table to feed Thunderlane.
"Pippa…" Adam's voice rumbled.
Pippa looked to me.
"Sorry, kid. The Oracle only gives out one prophecy per cup of coffee."
Adam gave me a raised eyebrow.
I gave him a fetching grin.
I could swear there was a bit of brightness to his eyes that hadn't been there a moment before.
Yes Adam, I've decided to forgive you…
Chapter 51
A dark shadow moved in front of my bedroom window.
"Go away," I grumbled. "Can't a girl get a decent night's sleep?"
I sat up and stared through the missing wall to where the man sat upon his painted stallion.
"Pippa is in bed, so you'd better have a good reason for being here, or I swear to God I'll lob something at your head."
The dark rider assumed a bemused expression, and just for a moment I saw the echo of his son. His enormous stallion chewed on its bit and pawed the ground, anxious to get moving.
"Next time you barge in," I grumbled, "could you at least bring Harvey for me to ride?"
The man tugged at his reins and the stallion turned. I hurried after him. I wasn't surprised when he led me back to the secret Aboriginal well. He rode down the embankment past the brambles. Even in the dream world, the blackthorn tore at my flesh, but it felt far less substantial than a real scratch. Around the center, several Mimi's danced anxiously around the small, dun-beige calf who swam in the spot where the bottom dropped out, crying for somebody to help her get to shore.
"Listen, mate," I jabbed my finger up at the man on the painted stallion. "If you're not going to help her, then why do you keep bringing me here?"
The man unwound a rope from his saddlebag, twisted it into a lasso, and then spun it around his head in the smooth, practiced motion of a jackaroo who'd spent his entire life out on the range before releasing it to land around the little dun-beige calf's neck. He tightened the rope, and then stared past me into the darkness. A small white pony came out of the shadows wearing a western-style saddle and bridle.
No. Not the white pony. Pippa's pony. While Luna's dream-self had fattened up and grown back most of her fur, she still bore the terrible scar which marred the center of her forehead.
The man handed down the lasso and pointed at Luna's saddle. While I'd never cut cattle western-style before, I'd seen it done enough times to understand what I was supposed to do. I wrapped the rope around the saddle horn and clucked for Luna to back up. The dun-beige calf slid out of the deeper part of the well to where it was shallow enough to wade in and get her. I threw my hands around her neck.
"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got you."
The calf stiffened, and then she cried out in pain. I glanced up at the humorless specter who stood over her wielding a red-hot branding iron. Just above the brand that looked like a fairy and a unicorn holding up a crown a new brand glowed, the CRR of the Condamine River Ranch. Aggravation surged through my veins.
"Why in hell did you just do that?"
The grim man shoved the hot end of his brand into the water until steam hissed out of the cold river water, and then he tucked it back into his saddlebag. Without reclaiming his lasso which now bound the calf to Luna, he got back up onto his enormous painted stallion, touched the brim of his drover's hat, and disappeared up the embankment.
I stared at the burnt CRR which meant Adam's father had just accepted the dun-beige calf as his…
"I'll make sure Adam understands," I called after the dark rider, even though I knew Adam would never believe me.
I led dream-Luna and the calf back to the barn, put them in the stall together, and went back to bed. Just in case, I peeked underneath the bed to make sure my slippers were still there. Ah-yup. No slippers. It was all just a dream.
*
Adam's divorce trial dragged on for days, and while he spoke little about what went on there each night when he called Pippa, all I had to do was turn on the news to watch the media circus which was allowed into the courtroom to videotape the two adversaries throw each other to the lions. I watched the news-excerpts of people testifying about Eva's infidelities, her mental illness and periodic hospitalizations, the vast sum of money in Eva's daddy's trust fund, and some less-than-flattering warts about Adam, including how much he'd been A.W.O.L. chasing after Maynor Jackson's oil wells. I learned more about Adam's past on the eleven o'clock news than the entire three months I'd lived here.
I shielded Pippa by keeping her as busy as possible, attending to Luna, and following her usual routine. Thursday mornings meant volunteering at the library with Emily. My heart swelled with pride as Pippa taught a little boy how to sound out the words in a book he was reading until he got to the very end. Story time broke up. The little kids all scattered into their parents' arms.
"Bye, Emily!" Pippa called.
"Bye, Pippa," Emily said. "I'll see you Saturday at Pony Club."
Pippa hurried over and threw her arms around my waist.
"Emily said she'd let me ride Polkadot before the lesson." Pippa frowned. "Do you think Luna will get jealous?"
"She will," I laughed. "She will pout terribly until you make it up to her by brushing out her coat and giving her cuddles."
We strolled out of the library, our arms loaded with books.
"Can we stop in and say hi to Mrs. Hastings?" Pippa asked.
"Not right now," I said. "Luna has an appointment with the farrier. Maybe after lunch?"
"Okay."
We drove back to the station, over the cattle guard, and down the long, winding dirt road which went on forever before we caught our first glimpse of the barn. An expansive warmth spread into my chest until it grew so warm my feet tingled on the gas pedal. Home... Any moment now, Eva would finish ripping Adam to shreds, the judge would announce he was a free man, and then we'd find out if he could keep his parent's cattle station. I pulled through the inner gate and stepped on the brake as I realized a big black Audi lurked in the driveway like a brown snake.
"Is that the farrier?" Pippa asked.
I stared at the big, black luxury car. That Gitano sense of knowing set off a warning alarm in the pit of my stomach.
Turn around. Turn the car around. Get out of here and don't come back until they're gone.
"Not unless a farrier gets paid really well."
The two well-dressed men wearing suits stood, waiting in the courtyard. They both looked up. I gripped the steering wheel. Who were these men? More of Maynor Jackson's goons?
"Rosie?"
"It's alright, nipper. I've got it."
I reached into my purse and grabbed my camera phone, just in case I needed to take more incriminating videos. I checked for reception, but unless I climbed up into the hayloft, I didn't have enough bars to call the police station and ask for Harold. I glanced over at the barn. Just inside the door was an entire wall full of farm implements, including a pitchfork. I drove past the men and parked close enough to the barn to herd Pippa inside and slam the door. If need be, I'd gladly wrack up a second assault and battery charge.
I stepped out of the car, my heart pounding in my ears. The men started walking towards me, a piece of paper held out in front of them.
"
Pippa, go check on Luna."
"But…"
My voice turned sharp. "Just do as I say!"
Pippa's eyes grew fearful. She left the car door open and scurried into the barn. I clenched my car key between my second and third fingers, a trick I'd learned at college in case you were ever mugged, and moved so that I stood between the men and the door where Pippa had just disappeared. The men drew closer, tall, slender, and handsome in the same way that Gregory Schluter had been. They looked like sandy-haired bookends in their designer, pinstripe charcoal suits.
"Miss Xalbadora?" one of the men asked.
I gave them my blackest stare. "Who wants to know?"
"Are you Rosamond Xalbadora?"
"Yes."
The man handed me the piece of paper.
"You've been served. You've just been subpoenaed to testify in the case of Bristow vs. Bristow-Jackson."
I stared at the paper, momentarily confused.
"Why didn't Adam just call me?"
"You're not testifying for the plaintiff, Ma'am. You've been subpoenaed to testify on behalf of Eva Jackson."
Chapter 52
When thou goest out to battle against thine enemies,
And seest horses, and chariots, and a people more than thou,
Be not afraid of them: for the Lord thy God is with thee,
Which brought thee up out of the land of Egypt.
.
Deuteronomy 20:1-4
.
During the four years I'd attended the University of Queensland in Brisbane, I had interned as a student teacher at various schools, made a few friends and lived in an apartment there with Gregory. But as the solicitors' Audi approached the urban skyline, all I could think was how this city had never felt like home.
We pulled around to the back of the enormous, twelve-story concrete and glass edifice which lurked just off the Pacific Motorway. Instead of horse trailers, the front of the courthouse sat littered by police cars and divvy vans, but when you work for a man as powerful as Maynor Jackson, the auctioneer holds open a special spot for the handlers to unload the stock up for bid. The guard at the metal detector reminded me eerily of the gatekeeper at Lockyer Horse Sales. While a second guard upended the contents of my purse and rummaged through the lint, the first guard greeted the solicitors and gave them a card with their courtroom assignment.
The Auction a Romance by Anna Erishkigal Page 47