Elias's Fence

by Steinberg, Anne

  "I won't," he promised.

  The nearest hospital was small and Catholic. Religion still flourished here.

  Anderson left Matthew to stay with Rachael and took Luke with him, for he was expected in Adelaide the next day.

  Chapter 30

  The hospital hummed with religion; statues and crucifixes adorned the walls. And the nuns were gentle.

  "No, it's not to be worn," the nun told her as they lifted the rosary from around her neck. "It's to pray with. Each bead is another prayer."

  And the old nun, in communion with the beads, said her "Hail Marys" as her fingers slipped along the rosary. Handing it back to Rachael, she said, "It might help with the pain."

  And Rachael, not knowing the words, took the beads back and it did help to touch their round coldness and squeeze them between her fingers.

  She lost the baby at midnight on the second day. They tried to shield it from her, but she cried softly and pleaded, so the doctor handed her the bundle. How perfect it was, this minute thing. Hands curled tightly, legs drawn up to its rounded belly, the tiny unfinished face with its perfect mouth that would never know its mother's milk, and blond lashes closed over eyes that would never see.

  Rachael drew the cold baby to her and whispered to the daughter she would never know, "I wish you had lived."

  She heard them above and around her. "She's hysterical, take it away."

  Firm hands pulled it away and she felt an incredible emptiness as she sobbed into her trembling hands. The face, that tiny face, was indelibly etched into her memory. Her child, her daughter that never lived.

  She tossed and turned on the bed, whose child was it, she didn’t remember losing her innocence. She searched her mind for a forgotten boyfriend but could not find one. At seventeen she did not recall nights or days for that matter, of wild lovemaking with somebody, although an unpleasant scene of s sun catcher on the window ledge seemed to haunt her.

  When Matthew came – she clutched at his shirt – “I have been thinking, trying to remember, but in that fog of yesterday, I can’t – did I have a boyfriend?”

  He was worried at how frantic she seemed. “I don’t think so,” he stuttered.

  “But then -- ” and she paused, “could it have been Dad – or you – or Luke?”

  “No!” He tore himself away from her clutching hands. “Of course not – you’re my sister,” he protested.

  She lay back with the awful knowledge that indeed the past had consisted of ‘Everything is okay’.

  Matthew turned and tossed, pacing the halls for many hours. By phone he had made the arrangements his father ordered. The child was to be buried here. When Rachael recovered, they were to go on to the new property in Adelaide and then, after Rachael was rested, continue on to the other home, the ranch purchased as a site for the chemical plant in Alice Springs.

  Matthew stayed with her in the hospital, wondering what was happening to her. She had become so strange - but then so had he.

  The nurse knew what was wrong. "You've been on drugs, haven't you."

  Rachael nodded.

  "I'll get you something. Take it regular and hang in there. You can beat it - you can."

  She brought the prescription from the pharmacy. "It will work, I promise you that. But take them faithfully, don't miss a day."

  She shared the pills with Matthew and they helped him.

  "It's wrong. Something's very wrong," Rachael said over and over.

  "What do you mean, Rachael? This place?"

  "No, not only this place - us - Dad - something's very wrong with us."

  "It'll be okay," he reassured her, but he wasn't so sure himself. She seemed more like their mother now, anxious, worried, uneasy. He knew that would displease their father.

  Sitting up, she clutched his hands. "You didn't tell, did you? About the Nirvana?"

  "No, Luke and I haven't told, but if he ever finds out, Dad's gonna be furious."

  "Don't tell him," she begged.

  "I won't. Now go to sleep - I'll stay with you."

  Soon her eyes closed, but she still clutched his hand. Bored, he reached for the pamphlets on the bedside table - Bible stories. Prepared to laugh, he began reading. He read on and on. It was strange, her mood had affected him. He yearned for something too, but didn't know what. He closed his eyes and heard her crying softly in her sleep.

  Ten days later, the hospital released her. Matthew had kept in close touch with their father and he had the train tickets for them to go to Adelaide, where Anderson had purchased a house.

  On the train, Rachael seemed stronger, Matthew gave her the note. Rachael read the note from Anderson with a feeling of doom, unnerved by his endearments.

  Honey girl, go on with Matthew to the house. Have fun. Buy some new clothes, see the town, enjoy yourself. Anything you want, baby girl. And when you're better, come on out and see the ranch. It's primitive and you'll probably be bored to tears, but daddy wants to see you. Love and kisses - Daddy.

  She tore the note into tiny pieces and flushed them down the toilet and then went back to her seat. Matthew was leaning his head against the window, but started when she returned and asked, "Want the window?"

  She nodded. She wanted to look out onto the unknown landscape and not have to talk.

  The train rushed through green vineyards and red, rugged mountain ranges loomed in the distance. Sweeping plains and forests thrived in this place of vivid contrasts.

  When they arrived in Adelaide, Matt took her hand and led her through the lovely city to the waters of St. Vincent Gulf. They sat silently at a cafe, sipping juice in the warm winter sun. Curious, August being winter, yet the temperature was 62 and the breezes that blew in were mild.

  After a time, they walked slowly along the green belt of parks, stopping only for Matt to consult his notes on how to reach the house. After walking along the elegant north terrace, Matt noticed how tired she looked. "Let's find a taxi," he suggested. There was still a way to go, along King William's Road by the Torrens River.

  The cab rushed past the parklands and the river, past bluestone cottages and quaint hotels. It stopped in front of a stone mansion, very like the house they had left behind in America, but no great iron fence here; there was no reason to have one. Inside, the marble hall echoed of yesterday and unpleasant half memories.

  Rachael found the room where her suitcase had been put. Anxiously, she opened the large case and rummaged through it, but they weren't there - the secret things were gone.

  Opening the smallest case, she found them, the Bible was cleverly hidden. Luke had taped a dust jacket of a popular novel over its leather face. The crystal was inside the right leg of her jeans.

  Inside the small vanity case, she saw the urn holding her mother's ashes - Luke had cleverly taped a bath salts label over the alabaster surface. They knew - all of them knew - that stealth was necessary without knowing why.

  She felt the urge to hide them again, but knowing that Anderson was far away in Alice Springs, instead she placed them side by side on the table. She felt the rosary around her neck, slid under the covers, and curled into a fetal position. Her fingers found comfort in the touch of the cross and the ragged Teddy she clutched and finally she slept. A long troubled sleep.

  Eleven hours later, when she awoke, she found her gown was stained and she remembered the other time, when she had thought dead babies were funny. Now she cried when she saw herself in the mirror, she saw how thin and gaunt her face had become. Her eyes seemed hollow, without light, and dark shadows framed them.

  She explored the six upstairs bedrooms. Just like the old house, they were well furnished - Anderson's expert touch. When she went downstairs, she found Matthew in the kitchen cooking eggs.

  "Smells good," she commented.

  "At your service, ma'am. Scrambled with cheese and mushrooms and toast." He flared a towel over his arm like a waiter. "Sit," he commanded.

  In silence they ate hungrily. When they had finished and were lingeri
ng over coffee, Matt coaxed, "If you're feeling up to it, maybe we'd better get you some new clothes. There's supposed to be a good mall here."

  She tugged at her loose blouse. "I've lost a few pounds, that's for sure."

  "In one of Dad's notes he mentioned a Rundle Mall. He seems to thinks there's a lot of good stores there. And he seems very keen on you spending a bundle of money on new clothes."

  "Uh, huh," she answered. But I really don’t feel like it.

  They put the dishes in the dishwasher and wandered out to the living room.

  "I feel like he's brought it with us."

  "What?" he asked, puzzled.

  "The house," Rachael said, her arms indicating the chairs, the sofas, the paintings, the rugs. "It feels like the same house."

  "Come on, Rachael," he said, wanting to shake her depressed mood. But he felt it too. This magnificent house where it seemed no one lived.

  "When are we going?" she asked.

  "Whenever you feel strong enough. Dad said to book the plane tickets whenever you're ready."

  "No - can't we go by train?"

  "It would take forever."

  "Please, Matt. There was something so relaxing about trains..." She paused. "I'm still bumming. I want to get there, but I don't. I want to be somewhere else, somewhere not in this house." She shivered involuntarily.

  He was weary of being the babysitter. Luke was off somewhere with Dad and he'd been left to spend all that time at the hospital. He was feeling impatient. He also felt strange and different but the prescription helped. He wanted to move, to feel alive, to do something. This season of waiting did not suit him.

  "All right," he said. "I'll check on the tickets. The train's called something weird - it'll probably be slow as hell."

  He went into the dining room and retrieved some travel pamphlets. "The Ghan," he said.

  "What?"

  "The Ghan - the train's called The Ghan. Named after Afghan camel drivers who in the 19th Century transported tourists through the Outback."

  "I like that word Outback."

  "So do I," he agreed.

  They decided to leave in the morning. Rachael went to bathe and Matt picked up the phone to book the tickets.

  In the morning, when Rachael repacked, she found a stack of legal papers that her father had sent. There were two passports, both with her picture. One stated her name was Mrs. Christine Thorpe; the other, Rachael Thorpe. Immigration papers for all of them, that were perfectly legal. Her father thought of everything and he had clout - ways and means. She remembered a very long time ago when she had been so proud of him.

  "Him" - "He" - that was the only way she could think of him now. The words "Dad", "Daddy", "Father" were totally alien in her mind. He had become "HE". She was afraid, an unknown implacable fear. She was afraid of him or of what he was.

  They had a comfortable Pullman on the train and they drank in the sights during the journey of almost a thousand miles. Matthew had purchased two books and they read avidly about the new world that was to be their home. It was a generous land of many faces: the opal fields, Ayers Rock, The Olga's - a dozen separate heads of rock teeming with wildlife. The animals, strange and different, captured their imagination and like small children they began to feel the excitement of being young and eager in a new world. They read on, the pages of information holding them fascinated, until their eyes were red rimmed and they reluctantly closed the books.

  The hum of the wheels and the swaying of the train lulled them to sleep, sitting upright. After spending so many hours in awkward positions, they were stiff and sore when they finally arrived in Alice Springs.

  On the platform, they looked around for Luke or Anderson, but they were not there to meet them. After the crowd thinned, leaving them the only two people on the platform, a man came toward them, smiling, his broad brown face alive with welcome.

  "Mr. Thorpe, he send me." Without waiting for an answer, he picked up the two largest suitcases. "I'm Charlie. The jeep it's there." He nodded toward the parking lot. "Not too far," he said.

  They followed him, carrying the rest of their luggage. He did not seem put off by their silence. He threw the jeep noisily into gear and repeated, "Not too far."

  Alice Springs receded quickly - it was not a large town. The road became rougher until he turned off onto a dirt road and the jeep jarred and swerved, missing the holes. In the distance they heard an animal call, a howl, repeated back from another direction.

  "Dingo," he said, and then lapsed back into soft humming as he fought the wheel to control the jeep as they drove over the many ruts.

  The landscape was a mixture of reddish brown sand dunes, rocky outcrops, and low mountain ranges in the distance. In contrast to the many rocks, masses of flowers bloomed - daisies, pea flowers - pussytails. The landscape was punctuated by various types of trees as well - desert oak, bloodwood, ironwood - all thriving among the plains and rocky slopes. It was a fertile desert.

  Twenty minutes later they saw in the clearing a low, flat, sprawling house surrounded by several outbuildings. Charlie parked the jeep in front of the house. They could see in the distance, two men on horseback changing direction and riding towards them.

  "Rachael," Luke called as he dismounted from the handsome mare. He came forward and hugged her tightly in greeting.

  How different he looked with his hair golden from the ever-present sun and his face tanned and much fuller.

  "Oh, Luke," she said, "you look so...so…" She stopped, not able to put into words how marvelous he really looked. In contrast, she and Matthew looked so grey, thin, and unhealthy.

  He drew his companion forward. "Ah," he said, "this is Tommie, Charlie's son.”

  The young man, about Luke's age, stepped forward. Under the battered hat, Rachael saw a broad, brown face, much like Charlie's. He nodded politely to her, shook hands with Matthew, and then turned away to lead the horses to an outbuilding in the distance.

  The three of them stood for a moment in the dusky clearing looking toward the small shed, where Anderson, in a dark blue suit and tie, was painting the shed for the third time. He shielded his eyes against the setting sun and then carefully put down the brush and came to greet her. In his tight embrace she gasped for breath against the fabric of his suit. His touch repellent.

  "Honey, sweetheart, I'm so happy to see you." He looked down into her face, searching for something that he did not find.

  "Me too," she lied.

  He held her away for a minute and, looking into her ashen thin face, asked, "Feeling better?"

  "Yeah."

  In a moment he forgot her and called after the older man's retreating back, "Charlie, wait up...about the well..."

  They carried the luggage into the house. Rachael felt the house, with its shining wood floors, welcome her and the huge rock fireplace that dominated the room was soon blazing with a roaring fire.

  "It gets cold as a bitch at night," Luke warned, "and it's hot as hell in the day. This desert country, you know."

  They sat around the fireplace in big comfortable chairs.

  "You look so good," Rachael said.

  "Maybe now, but shit - I was a real mess - strung out and jumpy as shit," Luke said. "They helped me."

  "Who?" Matt asked.

  "Them - the Aborigines. They seemed to know what was wrong with me. They brought a potion that I've been drinking every day. Course Dad don't know about that. He still thinks I drink Nirvana."

  The slamming door brought the conversation to a close.

  "Hey, guys!" Anderson said with false cheerfulness, "we don't have any help - we'll have to get dinner ourselves. I've seen to supplies; we've got plenty. I've got to hop down to Adelaide in the morning. Matt, you wanna come?"

  "Gee, Dad, could I stay here this time. I wanna look around, you know."

  He nodded his consent and went to his room and soon they heard the click of the fax and knew he was working. That was good - they needed to talk.

  But Anderson could
n't pay attention to the clicking machine. His mind was on all those crazy notes he kept finding; just today he had found another one in his suit pocket. Like the others, it was sentimental and loving. He couldn't believe she had written them, but the handwriting looked like hers.

  He had to get a grip on himself, for at business meetings he would reach into his notes only to find one of her silly messages - and it was beginning to unnerve him. The one he held now was the same.

  Dear Anderson. When you read this, we'll all be in Australia. Darling, even when you're gone, at work, no matter where, I'm always with you. I promise you that no matter what I'll always be with you.

  Love, Christine

  He tore the note into tiny pieces and set it afire, but even the small mound of ashes bothered him.

  It was the smell, too. He had noticed it the first night at the hotel in Sydney. He couldn't pinpoint its source, but it was the smell of rotting flesh; it even seemed to cling to his suits. One night, after it had almost driven him crazy, he had emptied all of his pockets, checked his shoes, and gone through all of his belongings, but still he couldn't find whatever it was that was causing that rancid smell. Because of it he had developed a mannerism of sniffing; it looked bad and he'd have to control it.

  "He's been gone a lot," Luke said. "I've been hanging out. The horses are fun and I've learned a lot from Tommie."

  "Do they both work for us?" Matt asked.

  "Yes and no. I think Charlie really hates Dad - you can see it in his eyes - but he came with the contract and he's supposed to stick around until the construction's done. He's the handyman. Tommie just came along and now we're friends. They're from just over the ridge - Aborigine land."

  After dinner, they went out on the porch.

  "Geez, it's cold now," Rachael said.

  "Yeah, it's like that here. Sun's brilliant all day, but at night it can go down to freezing. It's winter here, you know."

  They all looked up at the dark velvet sky.

  "I have never seen so many stars," Matt commented.

  "Yeah," Luke agreed, turning toward the shed and the rumble of the instrument.