He bent and brushed his lips against hers, soft as marshmallow, warm as sunshine. She kissed him back and pressed her body closer. A pounding rush from having him against her brought an involuntary gasp. She could not remember a time when she had ever felt such a pressing urgency to have a man inside her.
‘Spend the night with me,’ he murmured.
After he had locked the heavy door to his hotel room he kissed her again. Stepped towards her and pulled her into his arms, his kiss now more urgent. He tasted of fresh air and red wine. She pulled away slowly, kicked off her shoes and undid the buttons of his shirt, spreading it apart and running her hands either side of the dark line of hair starting from the waist of his pants up to his chest where it splayed across his pectoral muscles. ‘Your gym visits are paying dividends,’ she said. He smiled down at her and slowly stepped out of his black trousers. An erection strained inside his blue jocks. He pulled her close and placed his lips on hers while his arms stretched behind her and his fingers lowered the zipper on her dress.
As though fused at the torso, they fell together onto the black satin cover of the king-sized bed. His rock-hardness aroused her beyond belief, even through their underwear, and the pressure of his smooth skin against hers blew her mind. Slowly and rhythmically he moved against her. We are actually dry humping, she thought, euphorically astounded that someone else in this world found the shrouded thrusts as erotic as she did. Eventually, he tugged expertly at her black panties, kissing her knees then her ankles before he slipped them off her feet. She reached behind her to undo and drop her black bra to the floor.
He stood and gazed at her. ‘You are truly beautiful, Mia,’ he murmured, seemingly unconcerned that by removing his jocks he had revealed to her the most admirable of penises. She told him as much. Their suppressed peals of laughter broke the silence, allowed them a brief moment to slow down.
The feel of his naked body against hers caused tiny spasms. Their breaths came in rhythmic gasps. He moved slowly on top of her. Her legs opened as though with a mind of their own and his penis responded with teasing thrusts. Urged on by her moans, he slipped inside her. They moved together slowly, pleasantly faint aromas of soap and alcohol assailing her senses as their pace quickened and their movements gathered momentum. Her orgasm built slowly, but with undeniable momentum, finally exploding with an intensity she had never felt before. ‘Oh my god. I seriously saw stars,’ she whispered light-heartedly. He bent and kissed her, the smile never leaving his lips.
He kissed her again when they awoke at six the next morning. And again when they made slow, achingly mellow love. And finally again when they said goodbye at his hotel door. His words, ‘I’ll ring you later today,’ caused Mia to feel a desperate swirl of mixed emotions.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tim rolled out of bed. Pulled on jeans and his checked shirt from yesterday. The striped carpet felt good under his bare feet as he walked the length of the louvre windows along the wall of his room and flicked them open. His bedroom was once a sleepout, converted when Ben was born. Outside, the sun fought its way through grey clouds. ‘Some rain would be good,’ he muttered, wandering over and opening the door to the outside, his own personal entrance and exit. Standing on the slate stoop he noticed his feet were suddenly cold and breathed the crisp air deep into his lungs.
Their cattle peppered the distant hills under a sky of sun and cloud that could not make up its mind. His ute sat immediately outside his door; to the left, apricot, nectarine and peach trees stood bare with tiny brown nodules heralding spring. In sharp contrast were the lemon, lime and mandarin trees, bursting with green foliage and lush with bright fruits.
Still in bare feet he wandered out to the kitchen, which this morning lacked the usual warmth, noises and taunting aromas of toast, coffee, bacon and eggs. ‘Where’s Mum?’ Tim asked rubbing his stubble with his palm and deciding whether he had time to shave.
Peter had his elbows either side of the paper that lay open on the table, his head lowered in his hands as he read. ‘Still sleeping. She’ll be out for a while. Always is when she takes those bloody pills. I’ll have bacon and eggs, if you’re cooking, Tim,’ he said.
‘No time, Dad. I’m at Laurie’s today. I have to get going.’
He had hardly completed the sentence when Rachel dragged her feet into the room, her backpack hanging loosely from her shoulder, her uniform giving the impression it had just been pulled from under a heap of other clothes. ‘I wish I didn’t have to go to school today,’ she moaned.
‘Well, you do,’ Tim said, reaching up to open the door of one of the three green and beige painted overhead cupboards. ‘And Mum’s asleep.’ He pulled a large glass coffee jar down, the sort they don’t make anymore, and unscrewed the lid, fishing out some coins and handing them to her. ‘This is for your lunch today. There’s no time to make a sandwich.’ He lifted his chin as Rachel dropped the coins in the front of her backpack. ‘Ben,’ he called, secretly hoping it would wake Annie. ‘Come and grab some lunch money.’ Ben appeared seconds later as if by magic.
‘You think that stuff grows on trees?’ the old man rasped without looking up from his paper.
‘They have to eat, Dad. Do you have time to cut their lunch?’ he said, placing a few coins in Ben’s open palm.
‘Cool,’ Ben crooned.
Peter snorted, again without looking up from the paper.
‘Buy something healthy. No lollies or chips or soft drinks,’ Tim said to Ben who was running back to his room. ‘And get your bag. We have to leave.’
As Rachel and Ben climbed from Tim’s ute, it was as though they were taking all his tension with them. He watched as Ben ran and Rachel dawdled up the school stairs along with a few other latecomers, then turned the car towards town before taking off and sending a mild spray of quarry rubble into the air, noting that the sun had decided it would shine today after all, and the rain clouds had taken off to a more fortunate destination.
Other than being a productive morning in Laurie’s workshop, it was uneventful. Laurie had procured a contract with a builder who was new to town and who showed every sign of being blazingly successful, so Laurie was keen to impress.
They were both ready for morning tea by the time Laurie placed the basket with its checked cloth onto the table. ‘June sent lamingtons today,’ he said. ‘She made ’em this morning. I reckon she sends better stuff the days when you’re working here.’
‘You went to school with my parents, didn’t you, Laurie?’ Tim asked minutes later, slurping the surface of his hot coffee.
‘Your mum and I went to school together. Your dad grew up on the other side of the peninsula, as you know.’ He bit into a lamington, showing off his yellowing but strong teeth.
Tim made a face and scratched at the stubble on his chin. ‘No. I didn’t. I actually grew up thinking he went to school here.’
Laurie frowned. Slurped up a mouthful of tea.
Tim broke the awkward silence that followed. ‘Mum and Dad don’t talk much about his family. I found a box of photos last night. But I’m still trying to figure it all out. Like how his mother died. Do you know?’ Tim asked, turning directly to Laurie.
Laurie took a deep breath, blew out the side of his mouth. ‘Look, mate … I reckon everyone is entitled to know about their past. But it’s your dad’s job to tell you, not mine.’
‘I’ve tried, Laurie. Honest. The mystery is driving me psycho. Can’t you just tell me bloke to bloke?
Laurie’s face twisted as he scratched the back of his neck. ‘Weeeelll … I don’t know much, truth be told. I know Peter’s mum, your grandmother, that is, lost her first husband in a chaff-cutter accident. I was just a twinkle in me dad’s eye then, but I’ve heard it was a horrific accident. Left her all alone to run the farm and look after their three kids. They didn’t have pensions and health benefits in those days, you know.’
‘That bloke — the bloke who went through the chaff-cutter. He wasn’t related to my father, was he?’
Tim asked.
‘No, Peter’s dad came along later. He was a sort of drifter who moved in with your grandmother. They had your dad together and then the bludger shot through on her. Rumour has it she lost her marbles after that. Would go into town and shout at everyone. Used to belt into her kids as well.’ Laurie finished his lamington and rubbed his hands down the side of his pants. ‘By all accounts she was a real good mum before that.’ He slapped his knee. ‘Now … let’s get on with these window frames. I want Prime to be super-impressed with our work.’
Tim stood slowly and drained his mug.
‘Funny how patterns repeat themselves,’ Laurie said as they washed their cups at the sink. ‘Your dad met your mum the same way. Breezed in from out of town and swept her off her feet.’ He chuckled. ‘Everyone thought Jack would be the lucky one to nab her — she was a right doll your mum when she was younger — but he went off to play state footy and that was the end of that.’
Tim ran the tea towel around his mug, fighting to avoid fostering the vision of how his father might go about sweeping anyone off their feet. ‘Thanks, Laurie,’ he murmured, pushing the tea towel into the towel rail. ‘It’s really good to know the stuff you’ve told me.’
‘Well, I hope I’ve done the right thing in telling you, lad, but I guess you’re an adult now after all.’
At knock-off time, Tim was packing his rucksack when Laurie approached somewhat hesitantly, scratching his thin hair. ‘Listen, mate, I know it might be a bit of an imposition on your family ’cause I know they rely on you to help with the farm, but I wonder if you could come in again tomorrow? I’m really keen to impress Prime by getting his order in early and I can’t do it on my own. I wouldn’t ask but …’
‘Nah. That’s fine Laurie. I’d be happy to work again tomorrow.’ And stuff what the old man might think or say.
It was breezy enough to send leaves and small branches flying from the stringy-barks dotted around the school’s sloping front lawns. Tim arrived after the bell had sounded, but kids were still pouring out of the front doors, grabbing their hats as they ran down the stairs, their backpacks bouncing. The older kids were usually more physically sedate he noticed, walking rather than running, but often involved in energetic shouting or conversation. Most smiled or laughed.
A burst of laughter nearer to the ute drew Tim’s attention to the sight of Ben smiling roguishly, a small cluster of kids watching behind him, while he balanced and rocked on a strand of the wire fence running between the front lawns and the quarry-rubble car park. Mrs Pritchard, Ben’s least liked teacher, strode towards him, his mates spotting her approach and turning suddenly silent before Ben was aware of her presence. ‘Look out, Ben,’ Tim whispered as he watched events unfold. Mrs Pritchard pointed at the ground with a ferocious scowl, her jaws flapping. Ben jumped down from the fence suppressing a smile, his schoolmates giggling behind their hands. That’s when Ben spotted Tim, gave it up and ran towards the ute.
‘Mrs Pritchard’s a cow,’ Ben said, climbing into the front seat. ‘She stinks like smoke and she’s got a mo.’
‘Ben, don’t speak like that about other people, buddy. Mrs Pritchard is just doing her job. You know wire fences are not for standing on. Now where is Rachel?’ Tim craned his neck and finally spotted her some distance away on the school oval.
‘What the hell is she doing talking to Trevor Carson?’ he murmured, jumping from the car. Shanksie’s warning that Trevor was hanging out with Rachel the night of the party was ringing in his ears.
‘She always talks to him,’ Ben said as Tim took off towards the oval.
Tim knew Trevor had spotted him before Rachel did, because he suddenly commenced shuffling uncomfortably on the spot with occasional glances in Tim’s direction. Tim could not hear their conversation, but Rachel must have sensed something was up, or had been told by Trevor, because she immediately turned, and on seeing Tim picked up her backpack and left Trevor throwing his hands behind his head and pacing the grass in dire frustration.
‘What was that all about?’ Tim said as Rachel stormed past him on her way to the car. ‘I thought you and Trev were sweet.’
‘Are you serious?’ she said. ‘He’s a freaking arsehole.’
‘So, are you going to tell me what happened between you and Trevor, or not?’ Tim asked again during the drive home.
‘Not,’ Rachel said from the back seat. ‘It’s none of your freakin’ business.’
Tim decided to drop it. He knew from experience that making sense of anything Rachel said or did when she was in these moods was impossible. But he decided he would definitely follow it up with her later. Even though everyone knew Shanksie was the biggest shit-stirrer in town, his warning about Trevor seemed to have suddenly set alarm bells ringing.
Aromas of braised lamb and mashed potatoes floated from the house. Tim noticed the old man’s car was nowhere to be seen, so it was obvious to him that Annie was back on her feet. Ben ran ahead, allowing the screen door to slam behind him and Tim and Rachel sauntered to the door in silence. Rachel did not say a word, let alone express her gratitude as Tim held the screen open for her.
Ben and Rachel grunted hello to their mother and went directly to their rooms. ‘Where’s Dad?’ Tim asked, his mouth watering as he sat at the breakfast bar and watched Annie’s skills go into making lemon butter, which he knew would fill cakes and pastries in the not-too-distant future.
‘He’s giving Tom Bollen a hand with the fuel pump on his tractor. Tom’s going to help you and your dad with the fences tomorrow,’ Annie said, shooting Tim a look he could not fathom.
‘Good. I can’t help Dad tomorrow, after all. Laurie has asked me to work,’ He made his way to the sink and filled a glass with water.
‘Oh Tim,’ Annie said her head tilting with disappointment.
‘I have no choice, Mum. Laurie pays me.’ Tim threw his head back and swallowed the glass of water.
‘This is the family farm, love. It should be your first priority.’ She sighed and continued grating the zest from the pile of lemons at her side.
‘I’m going to feed Monnie,’ Rachel said as she sauntered past in her tracksuit and runners.
Tim watched her make her way to the back door, her body shape barely discernible under the tracksuit.
‘Take an apple, love,’ Annie called. ‘You must be starving.’
‘No, thanks.’ Rachel’s voice was all but drowned by the thwack of the screen door slamming behind her.
‘Did you make an appointment for her with the doc?’ Tim asked.
Karen shook her head. ‘No time.’
‘You know the welfare are likely to follow up don’t you, Mum? You know Rachel could end up in foster care if you give the impression of being negligent?’ Tim said, citing the information he had researched on the internet.
‘I don’t care, Tim. I’m her mother and I know better than anyone how to look after her. Besides, she’s terrified of the idea of old Dr Shepherd peering and prodding at her down there and I don’t blame her one little bit.’
‘She and Trevor Carson were talking on the school oval when I picked them up today,’ Tim said.
‘So?’ Annie frowned, scraping a pile of lemon zest into a bowl.
‘He doesn’t go to school, Mum,’ Tim said, totally frustrated. ‘He must have called by specifically to see her. It makes me wonder if he is the one who hurt her at the party.’
‘Tim, for goodness’ sake. No one hurt her at the party. We have dealt with that. She’s a 15 year old girl and he’s an 18 year old boy. Does there have to be anything sinister involved?’ She clucked and shook her head.
‘Tim. Monnie’s not there,’ Rachel’s voice screamed from outside the back door. ‘I’ve called her over a million times and walked across the entire top paddock and I can’t see her anywhere,’ she said, rushing into the family room, her hands splayed at her sides in a state of panic. ‘Could you help me find her — pleeease,’ she sobbed.
Tim grabbed their jackets as t
hey ran past the hooks on the wall of the porch. ‘Here, put this on,’ he said shoving Rachel’s navy parka at her and slipping into his checked reefer jacket. ‘We’ll be back soon, Mum,’ he called, lengthening his steps to catch up with Rachel.
Her babble as they hurried to Monnie’s stable yard was close to manic. He turned and grabbed her arms. ‘Rach. Stop, okay? We will find Monnie in the bottom paddock feeding on new grass. I can practically guarantee it.’
Rachel burst into tears. ‘We won’t. I can feel it. Oh Tim, if anything happens to her I … it will seriously be the end. Monnie, beautiful girl, please please be in the bottom paddock,’ she begged softly.
‘I was waiting for her to make that snicker … you know that low happy one she makes at feeding time … but she didn’t … she wasn’t even there,’ Rachel said passing through the wire strand Tim held up for her. ‘Something’s wrong. I can tell.’ She grabbed Monnie’s halter from the hook on the stable wall. ‘She’s probably wandered off because she’s bored. I haven’t been giving her enough attention.’ Her voice cracked and she walked ahead of Tim, faster now.
The yard seemed sad and eerily empty without Monnie. Wisps of dried lucerne blew along the sand. Hoofprints churned the strip Monnie usually paced at feedtime. A section of flattened grass signalled she had recently enjoyed a roll as she often did when she was in high spirits. Again, Tim took longer steps and when he caught up with Rachel they headed towards the southern side of the paddock, whistling and calling Monnie’s name.
They wordlessly followed the kilometre long southern star-dropper fence, their feet whooshing through the grass, the squawking and squabbling of birds at feedtime lending a semblance of peaceful normality. They had followed the star-dropper fence for about a kilometre when Tim noticed the fading light and the slowly sinking sun in a red sky along the western border, behind rows of ancient gums and pines. He looked to Rachel at his side. Her intense frown and the way she balled her hands deep in the pockets of her parka, as she anxiously scanned the landscape, convinced him not to say anything about making a contingency plan should they fail to find Monnie before darkness fell.
What Matters Most Page 11