The House That Jack Built

by Patrick Ford

  He turned on the water. Minutes later, the champagne arrived. They quietly toasted each other. “Jack Riordan,” she said, “How is it that you know how to make a girl so happy?”

  “I make you so happy because you make me so happy. Happiness grows exponentially if you open yourself up to it. We are living proof.”

  He moved to her and kissed her so gently she could hardly feel it. Oh God, she thought, it is just like that night at the lookout, nearly fourteen years ago. How I love him, how lucky we are.

  Then they took turns removing each other’s clothing between kisses that grew more passionate with each discarded garment and sip of champagne. Soon they were naked. They clung to each other, moulded together, as one. Jack once again drank in her scent, her soft skin, her perfect breasts, her liquid eyes. Susan pressed herself to his hard body, ran her fingers over the raised and puckered scars of his battle wounds. He got those saving Jimbo’s life, how can I ever thank him? She felt his strong arms and his soft touch. Her knees began to tremble; she was melting with desire. “Love me Jack, love me, love me…”

  After, in the restorative heat and gentle massage of the Jacuzzi, they played with each other’s feet, kissed many times, and finished the champagne. There was a knock on the door. Jack grabbed a towel, closed the bathroom door on Susan, and ushered in the waiter with the dinner tray. He tipped the young man generously.

  The waiter was not surprised. He had seen them arrive in the lobby. You should be in a good mood, buddy, he thought. If I had a woman like that, I would do anything for her!

  The steak was extraordinarily good. Australians were not yet accustomed to lot-fed beef. While this steak did not have the robust flavour they knew in their grass-fattened animals, it was so tender you could almost cut it with a fork. Sated, sleepy, wonderfully warm, they went to bed. The night had only just begun.

  In the morning, that naked woman was there again, kissing his eyes, wakening him from a delicious dream he now found to be true. “I have forgotten what we did last night,” she said, “show me again.”

  * * * *

  For almost two thousand miles the prairie stretched to the horizon, cloaked in white. There were no trees here except where the hand of man had intervened. Homesteads and barns dotted the snow. Grain elevators stood like sentinels along the black ribbon of the railroad.

  For thousands of years, this country had been a waving sea of grass in the spring, summer, and fall. Millions of American Bison had grazed here, in huge herds. Red men, on foot and later on swift horses, pursued them for meat, hides, hooves, sinews, bone. Then the railway came, followed by hunters with rifles. All over the prairies, stretching from the north of Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba, south to the Texas panhandle; from the Mississippi River to the Rocky Mountains, huge mounds of stinking bones and rotting, butchered carcasses befouled the landscape. The red men could not understand this. If the white men killed all the tu tonka, what would they eat next year, what would keep them warm in the winter, from where would come the bowstrings, the twine, the tools of bone, and the buffalo horn?

  The buffalo went, the red men went, and the white men came, from Sweden and Scotland, from Russia and Germany, from England and Ireland. They had cattle and they fenced the land. Soon they began to till the soil and plant wheat. For years, they grew wheat in the same fields, using harrows to work the soil as fine as powder. Some expert had proven this was the way to do it. Then the winds came, the Chinook that melted snow overnight, and the fierce Arctic winds from the north, blowing away the fine soil. Sometimes the winds would blow for days and days, whining through the eaves, banging doors and window frames, driving some men mad.

  Always the powdery topsoil blew with them. In the drought years of the 1930s, the prairies were reduced to dustbowls. Soil drifted like snow, covering buildings, and roads, and piling against fences like great sand dunes. There was a great exodus of ruined farmers, abandoning their now worthless land. Those left behind bowed their heads and somehow survived until the rains came and the soil stabilised.

  The dustbowl years had shown there must be a better way to grow wheat and preserve the soil. The harrows lay unused and rusting away. The land was roughly tilled, the crop residue retained to protect the fragile soil. Gradually, the farmers learned new techniques. Now they could grow high yielding crops in sandy loams where the annual rainfall was only 11 inches. This was where Jack and Susan came to learn how to do the same.

  They were warmly welcomed at the Morris factory. They spoke to Rob and Ross, the same engineers Jack had met before. Jack examined a prototype of their new chisel plow, now in its seventh incarnation and called the ‘Magnum”. It included an upgraded frame and hitch with larger and thicker RHS, the trip mechanisms on the ground engaging parts redesigned to give a stronger, simpler and better operating efficiency, and wheels and tyres increased in size to give better floatation.

  Jack was impressed.

  “You will be able to buy one of these in Australia in about six months,” Ross said.

  “I might just do that,” he said.

  * * * *

  Once more, there were tearful goodbyes, relieved in part by the knowledge that Sarah and the twins would be visiting soon. Marci was sad to see them all go, but nothing Susan had said could move her away from her decision never to visit Australia again.

  There was the compulsory stopover at Anaheim to visit Disneyland. This time there were three sets of wide eyes and much excitement. Jack and Susan shepherded them around the grounds. They looked so lovely and innocent. Jacqui adopted the position of mother hen, looking after the smaller ones. Genevieve fell in love with all things Disney. Patrick was a little more critical. “Those aren’t real guns the cowboys have.” He said scornfully. His experience with firearms and horses and Land Rovers and farm machinery had taken the childish fantasy from such things. Still, he enjoyed the many rides and the American hot dogs and ice cream.

  Chapter 23

  The Ship Comes In

  Duncan met them at the airport as usual. As they had done the last time, they tumbled into bed and slept for a good nine hours. Brunch was a leisurely affair on the deck the next morning, with conversations drifting on for hours. Denni had news from Helen. Ballinrobe had had some wonderful rain. It had been raining off and on for more than three weeks. Waterholes and dams were full, creeks were running, and the pasture was growing apace. The rain had been widespread. In fact, Emu Ridge had had more rain than Ballinrobe.

  “I don’t think you will get home for a week or so,” said Duncan. “All the roads are closed.”

  The children were disappointed they would not see Helen or the horses or the dogs or the chooks for a while, for they had missed all of these. However, they were pleased they would be able to have some time with their other cousins. Patrick was a little put out. “They are all girls,” he said scornfully. “All they think of is their dolls and clothes.”

  “One day you are going to change your mind about girls,” Jack said. “You’ll probably fall in love with one of them.”

  “I won’t,” said Patrick. “Not if I have to kiss them like you and Mummy do all the time. Yuk!”

  Jack smiled at him. “My dearest son…if you find a girl like your mother, you will have the happiest life a man could ever have.”

  “Okay, just as long as I don’t have to kiss her all the time.”

  Jack spent some time on the telephone. Helen was glad he was home. It was still raining at Ballinrobe and the creek was rushing by. “Everything is fine,” she said, “Ollie has it all under control. What a lovely start to the year. It is about time we got a good crop again, not to mention my garden.” He decided to give it a couple of days before making enquiries about road closures. The country had been so dry for so long the creeks would not run high for long. In the meantime, he had plenty to do in Brisbane. His wife and children needed a few days to rest after their long flight, and he had a little business of his own to conduct.

  * * * *

 
; Jack looked over his extended family. Helen’s special friends now numbered five. Jacqui, nearly thirteen, was ready for boarding school. She was tall and had her mother’s lovely dark eyes. She was intelligent, studious and loved her horses and dogs. Grace, just over ten, was slim and athletic, the fastest runner in her school. She was like her father, with Duncan’s sandy hair and freckles. She would have to be careful in the sun. Patrick, nine years old, already his father’s best mate, loved his dogs and horses, shooting, and was already driving the Land Rover. I hope he comes home to me, thought Jack, to take over the farm when the time is right. Roseanne was eight—pretty, engaging, loving. Who knows, thought Jack. Perhaps she’ll be a doctor like her father. Genevieve was seven, another little darling. She could be anything. Not a bad mob, he concluded, not bad at all.

  * * * *

  It took four days for the road to open. The children were played out, the women were shopped out and Jack had heard rumours of great importance for him and his business, so he could not wait to get home. The next day, they were able to set off for home.

  It was a slow trip because of the flood damage to the roads, making for a weary party of travelers that arrived at Ballinrobe late in the afternoon. The children fell into Helen’s welcoming arms.

  * * * *

  Jack and Ollie stood in the shadow of the escarpment at Emu Ridge. They had spent the day on horseback, riding the ten thousand acres, inspecting stock, fences, water and pasture. They had liked what they saw. The cattle, now three years old, were sleek and fat. Jack thought they would weigh at least fifteen hundred pounds each. The fresh grass had responded to the copious rain they had been receiving for almost two months now. Young Ken and Robyn had done a wonderful job with the property. Ken had straightened and repaired the internal fences. Now they had almost twenty smaller paddocks, and Jack had begun to graze the cattle in a rotation based on five days in a paddock and long spells of around ninety to one hundred days. This ensured the pasture would not be overgrazed and that the cattle would be on fresh pasture every five days. One look at the cattle had proved him right.

  The exciting news that Jack had gleaned in Brisbane a month ago was that some forecasters had published papers on the Australian cattle market. They believed prices would begin to move upwards this year, perhaps substantially. The information they had was not widely known, but during the last two years, following extensive efforts to find new markets for Australian beef, there was success in Korea, Indonesia, and several European markets. Now, the Japanese reopened their market. It was too late for them, because Australia now had a number of competing markets, and not enough cattle to fill them. The result was a gradual increase in beef prices. Soon, the world was after beef. Prices began to rise and would do so for at least twelve months, taking the price of export beef well past the level it had been before the market crash. They had won their gamble, thanks to Susan’s foresight and the favourable weather at Emu Ridge.

  As February ended, regular rain continued. Now that the crop fatteners would be able to grow a good oats crop, they were almost frantic to purchase stock to fatten. Prices began to accelerate. The weaner steer price had hovered around the $35.00 per head mark for more than two years. Now it began to move. Before the end of February, it was at $54.00. By December, it was $205.00.

  * * * *

  How rapidly the seasons can change. By April Fools’ Day, Ballinrobe had received more rain than in any one of the last three years. The $29.00 weaners that Jack had purchased were now worth three hundred collars and rising. He decided to take some of the profit now, and bought weaners to replace the ones he sold.

  The beginning of the school year was around February first. Duncan and Denni had made a magnanimous offer. Before they left Brisbane in January, they had asked Jack and Susan if they were up for a serious conversation. They proposed that Jacqui should not go to boarding school. Instead, she could attend the same school as Grace. They offered to act in loco parentis for her. She could stay with the McGregors and would have Grace for a constant companion. The girls were already best friends; why not make them de facto sisters? This way she could spend more time with Helen during her frequent visits.

  What’s more, if Jack and Susan wanted to spend more time in Brisbane then that would not be a problem. They had been considering adding self-contained guest quarters to the house for Helen and other guests. Duncan had many colleagues visiting from out of state and overseas as well. They would not accept a refusal. Therefore, Jacqui became a regular guest with them. Jack and Susan missed her terribly. She was their love child, their reason for being. At night, Susan was more passionate than ever. Jack recognised this for what it was.

  Jacqui has gone; please give me a replacement.

  Susan often went to the thinking place by herself. She enjoyed this time on her own as she reviewed her life and the amazing series of coincidences that had brought her and Jack together. She remembered the first time she had met him at dinner in Armidale. She had been late and almost decided not to go. She had kissed him boldly that night, wanting him so much it frightened her. He had been so proper! Then later, their first real kiss, the desire welling up in her, but he had been proper again! Then there was their first time; she had never felt euphoria like that before; and forever after she felt the same each time.

  She remembered their sadness, how he was nearly killed saving her brother in Vietnam, how he had found her after three long years, how they had come home to Ballinrobe. Now they had been here for more than ten years, surrounded by the love of three children and extended family. Surely, she thought, this is proof that you don’t have to die to go to heaven.

  The mynahs came to visit as usual. They squawked and chattered. She felt her spirit rise with them in their contentment. Tonight, she murmured to herself, tonight it will happen.

  Six weeks later, she emerged from the bathroom, pale-faced and so, so, happy. She slid back into bed and into Jack’s arms. He kissed her eyes, stroked what he claimed was the best bottom in the world. “How are you this morning, my darling wife?” She gave him that special smile again, the one she kept for only him. “We are fine,” she whispered, “Our baby and I are fine!”

  Later that night, they went to the thinking place to introduce the new spirit to the land. The birds gathered, once again chattering at the news. They made love there, as was their custom. The new baby’s spirit was at home.

  * * * *

  Planting the wheat crop was a hectic time, for they were planting nearly three thousand acres. The soil was full to capacity with moisture, an ideal start to the crop that responded with a near-perfect germination and rapid early growth. The yield potential was the best they had ever expected. Jack was to say in later years, ‘If there was one year when we could not have had better rain, even if we were able to order it, it was 1978.”

  From Emu Ridge, a steady stream of cattle moved to market, each consignment selling for more than the one before it. When the last animal sold just before Christmas, Jack calculated that his two thousand steers had generated a gross profit of more than $600,000. It paid for Emu Ridge almost ten times over.

  * * * *

  Susan was now about to enter her third trimester. Her little bulge began to show. Jack thought she looked so healthy, radiating wellbeing. She must come from good breeding stock, his farmer’s brain told him; she never seems to have problems with her babies. “We need two boys, now,” he had joked with her. “We have two properties to run.”

  “We should make this one a doctor or a lawyer,” she said, “someone who can keep us in our old age.”

  “Don’t be silly,” he said. “You won’t be allowed to grow old. You’re far too beautiful; it wouldn’t be fair.” He could not wait for this child. Somehow, he knew it would be their last.

  The wheat crop looked as good as Jack had ever seen. They now began to plan the harvest. Susan spent days on the phone organising contract harvesters, trucks and casual labour. The single quarters needed cleaning and preparation
for all the workers. This year Jack had refused to allow Susan to do much physical work. The baby would be due somewhere right in the middle of this busy period. He was contemplating how to engage a cook when the phone rang. It was Denni. She said, tongue in cheek, “There is a young woman here with twin boys. She claims that she is Susan’s sister. Jacqui has confirmed that. May she speak to Susan?”

  In all the busy preparations, Jack had completely forgotten that Sarah and the boys were coming. He handed the phone to Susan. After she finished her conversation, Jack said, “Am I going mad? I’m sure you said she wasn’t coming until September.”

  “I know you’re mad about me, but otherwise you are completely sane. She was offered some cancelled seats at a good discount, too good to refuse. She sent us a telegram, but it must have gone astray. Denni said she would look after her until next week when the school vacation starts. She and Duncan will bring them out then.”

  “But…” began Jack.

  “Your problem is solved. Sarah is very happy to stand in for me at harvest time. She’s a great cook. The boys are twelve years old now. I’m sure they will make themselves useful.”

  ‘You are a genius, Susan Riordan. You will be suitably rewarded tonight.”

  “I should hope so. But I don’t think I can wait that long!”

  * * * *

  Sarah arrived with Duncan and Denni towards the end of August. They had seven children in the house, and they all had a great time. Patrick finally had some reinforcements in his constant battle with the girls. Ballinrobe had no shortage of exciting places to explore. They loved every day to gather the eggs and feed the chooks. The best fun was to discover nests some hens tried to hide from them when they were broody. The farm buildings needed a thorough search. They loved driving around the farm in the Land Rovers. Jack would not allow them in the vehicles alone. Patrick and Jacqui, after a fashion, could drive, but he did not want them driving without an adult on board.