Sunlit Shadow Dance (8 page)

It was
registered in Buck’s name at his own family farm address in
Queensland, down near Rockhampton. The story given was that Vic was
just driving it down there as a favour to him, and then it would
serve as a second farm car. Buck had made it clear that if it was a
lemon he would be paying the car agent a visit on his next trip to
Cairns and looking for a refund, and he had a persuasive manner
about him when needed.

It was a slow
drive over unfamiliar roads to reach the isolated aboriginal
community where Jane lived, and it was long after dark before
distant lights came into view. He felt anxious about how she would
react to him turning up announced, late at night. But he was driven
to keep going, regardless of how he was received. Most of all he
just wanted to see her again.

He would have
to play the encounter by ear. It seemed a huge ask to say to a
girl, who barely knew him, to come away with him. He felt somehow
foolish for proposing it, though his mind and emotions joined
together in telling him this was what he needed to do.

He was certain
her safety was a terribly precarious thing, particularly if she
suddenly became the centre of attention over something she had no
prior knowledge of. It would be a disaster if they returned her to
jail and took her children away.

His emotions
for her were a complex mix of a hundred things but first and
foremost he felt hugely protective of both her and her children,
very conscious his contact with her and telling others could bring
her undoing.

He was glad
when he pulled up outside that a light was still on in her cottage,
hoping that meant she was still awake. He sat in the car for a few
seconds composing himself. Then, realizing that planning was
pointless at this stage, he opened the car door and walked towards
the house. He was glad there were no other houses nearby, just the
bulk of the back of the shop 50 meters away. He was also glad there
were no dogs barking.

He knocked on
the door and another light came on, lighting the outside. She stood
there with the light behind her, illuminated in silhouette. She was
wearing a light slip, not quite a nightie but something similar. It
illuminated the outline of her body. He felt a huge rush of
affection for her, this new Jane who seemed to have occupied his
Susan’s body. He wanted to take her to him, hold her close and give
her reassurance, as she stood there looking uncertainly into the
outside night, seeking to make an identification.

His voice came
out a bit croaky, “Jane, I needed to see you again.”

Now
recognition came to her, half puzzled, half welcoming, another bit
apprehensive. “Vic?”

He continued,
“I am sorry I did not get here until it was so late. I hope I have
not frightened you.”

As he spoke
she seemed to relax. She opened the door to invite him in. They
stood facing each other, a meter apart. He knew he needed to
connect with her in a way that went beyond words.

He put out his
hands to greet her and she responded in kind, a mirror. He walked
forward a step and took her small hands in his. They felt so
delicate, even though hardened with manual work. She gave him a
tentative smile, such an open and trusting face.

All his
rehearsed words fell away, he looked at her and she looked back at
him with a curious intensity, as if seeing him for the first time.
He released one of her hands and put his hand to her cheek and
stroked it. She brought her hand to his hand and squeezed it,
softly. Almost unconsciously she stepped forward, moving towards
him, their bodies were almost touching.

He put his
arms around her shoulders and pulled her into the small gap until
all the space was gone. As he felt her body come against him he
knew it was still her, made anew but still her. He cradled her in
his arms and stroked her head. She was the most precious thing he
had ever touched. He lifted her face to his, as if to kiss her.

She looked at
him, serious trusting eyes locked on his, not knowing, but open to
his soul.

He said, “You
are all I have thought of since I left you yesterday. I just needed
to see you again. More than anything I needed to see you again, to
touch you and feel you and know you were not just a dream, but a
living breathing person.”

She nodded, “I
am glad you came, I have wanted to see you again too. It has a
feeling of rightness though I do not know why. Part of it is
because David trusted you. I trust you too”

Then he said,
“Will you come away with me, leave here and come with me, just you
and your children?”

She said, “If
that is what you want I will come with you. How soon shall we
go?”

He asked, “Can
we leave tonight? I would like to leave before the night is over.
Perhaps we could rest for a while and go an hour before the
daylight comes, when others in this place are still sleeping.”

She said,
“Yes, we will come with you then.”

She went to
the fridge and found some bread which she toasted and served to him
with a mug of tea. As she sat beside him at the table she picked up
a pen and paper, saying. “I must write a note to tell Matilda at
the shop along with Pastor Doug and Ruth that I have gone away and
will get in touch with them again as soon as I can, or they will be
worried about me.”

When it was
done she put the folded note on the table.

Then she said.
“We should rest now.”

He looked
around and saw some cushions on the sofa which he could lay on the
floor to make a bed. He said, “I will fix some cushions to lie on
for the night.”

She said,
“There is space to lie beside me on my bed.”

So they lay on
the bed, side by side. She turned her body to face him, and took
his arm and placed it over her shoulders, then came in close
alongside him. So they slept, bodies touching. It felt so good to
him and it felt right to her.

She awoke in a
small hour of the morning, number around 3 or 4. Her mind was
sharply awake in an instant. She did not know where her body was,
except it was in a bed and the bed was unfamiliar.

A sound came
of another human drawing breath, in and out, regular but not loud.
She moved her arms around to explore the bed space. There was
another body lying not far away, source of breath sounds, it was
hard and angular shaped, a body of elbows and bony protuberances.
It must be a man. Now she knew who this man was. The man had a name
and a face. He had no history but his name was Vic, he was with her
and she was glad.

She could
remember no other past and her future was an unknown place, but he
was here and he was known. That was enough so she would trust her
life to him. She slept again until he woke her in the early dawn
and she knew him still.

As the first
light tinged the eastern sky they each carried a sleeping child to
the car and drove together to another unknown place.

Almost two
months had passed since that day when Jane and Vic had driven away.
Vic could not think of a time when his life had been better or more
fulfilling. Not that there were not lots of little speed-bumps or
frustrations along the way, including the inability to satisfy his
sexuality with this beautiful women whose body pressed to his every
night.

But these were
at most minor frustrations that did not detract from the goodness
of his life. In his earlier life when he had visited his sister in
Alice Springs one of the things which gave him greatest pleasure
was her three children coming and going, talking to Uncle Vic,
sitting on his knee, showing him their books and drawings,
sometimes telling him their stories of the days and at times
playing little games which frequently involved him but at other
times he just sat and watched.

Now he had a
family and it felt like it was his own; his Janie, his Annie and
his Davie; he had given them all pet names of affection. Janie was
his wife in all but name. Apart from that full sexual union, they
did everything together, talked, shared, worked side by side, held
each other in the night. He felt so comfortable with her and knew
it went both ways. And he loved their children. Even though they
were really hers not his, he felt the same level of ownership and
protectiveness he would have if he was the biological father. At
first they mostly called him Bic, now he was just Daddy; he had
filled up their memories in this space. He rarely disciplined them,
though a couple times he had given Annie a small slap when she was
mean to other kids at the playground, and a couple times something
similar to Davie when he did something dangerous that could injure
him. He had told Janie and she had said, “Of course, you are their
father now, like I am their mother.”

As he walked off to work this morning he rolled through the
events of the months in his mind;
that
long drive across the Cape to find her again, her uncertainty in
the doorway and then, as they touched each other, their bodies and
minds had connected in a safe place.

So he had
committed himself to care for Jane and her children; she had
trusted him to do so in whatever form it took. It was this sense of
total trust that was so compelling; it drove him to be better than
he could otherwise have been. In a way he felt he was minding three
children not one, except that one had the body of an adult. He
sensed he was entrusted to carefully and gently rediscover this
adult beneath the child in Jane. This trust was the best thing his
life had required of him at any time.

He believed
that, in giving her this space and safety, she would slowly
rediscover herself; an adult made anew from the child he now held.
He felt and thought she could never be the Susan of before again;
too much had been broken inside her, parts which could not be
remade. But instead she had the chance to create a new self, one
who could become his Janie, the one he knew and loved and who loved
him in return.

So he must
hasten slowly, let her rebuild her life piece by piece. He knew he
could take and love her body at any time he chose; she would trust
him with this too. But to do so now would be to take a part of her
innocence, to make the choice for her before she could make the
conscious choice for herself. He most wanted her to regain her
sense of womanhood and choose him, not for him to seduce the
trusting child who would then be his bonded woman in an unchosen
way.

He did not
know why this seemed so important but it was. So he must just push
away his sexual desire for her, at least for now. He must pretend,
when she cuddled her body into him and pressed her thighs against
his maleness, that he was doing no more than cuddling a sleeping
child.

His mind
stepped through the weeks that had passed. Week One - they had
crossed the peninsula to the east coast and followed it south to a
small town south of Townsville, where they had found a caravan park
with an empty van and stayed there for five nights. Days were spent
watching their children play on the beach and going for walks
through the sand dunes. Nights were simple meals and storytelling;
she seemed to have no interest in watching television and he
preferred it this way, lest stories of the missing Susan appear, or
stories of Mark, Anne or the other Lost Girls.

While he was
not sure what was the best way for her to regain her past
knowledge, his sense was that any memories or desire for knowledge
of the old had to come from inside her not be pushed onto her
through the telling of others.

So instead
they both told stories, first for the children, then stories of her
life in the mission since her babies came and also stories of his
helicopter mustering and the people and places he had been. As they
talked they linked their eyes together to share their imaginations.
In that place he felt totally joined to her.

In Week Two
they had drifted further south still following the coast, more
little villages with holiday accommodation, budget places, each for
a night or two. One day they had treated themselves to the ferry to
Great Keppel Island and had stayed there for three days, swimming
and snorkelling in the clear water and watching their children play
in the shallows. In Week Three they came more inland towards
Brisbane, stopping in towns like Bundaberg and Gympie, but finding
the city, as they approached it, to be too confronting for an
unfamiliar family with two small children. By Week Four they had
come back to the coast, this time to the Sunshine Coast.

Here they
finally found this place which felt right; a holiday and caravan
park just a short distance from the town of Caloundra. The ocean
beaches were beautiful, there were sheltered inlets on the bay side
which were safe for small children, the people were friendly but
incurious, and they had been given a free demountable to live in
along with a modest wage for Vic, paid in cash in return for him
doing a few hours of caretaker and handyman duties each day. He
also did a bit of casual labouring nearby, the jobs coming by word
of mouth.

There was
plenty of work and it was easy work for someone with his mechanical
skills; ground maintenance, welding and fabrication, fixing
lawnmowers and other small machines, maintaining the pool complex
and gardens. It was not a job for life but the pay was enough to
cover the daily living expenses and it gave then both a sense of
stability and security.

He used the
name Vic Bennet, giving an impression of being married to keep life
simple. At the same time he avoided pieces of paper that could be
traced; the cash funded a day to day existence, meeting basic
living costs without the need for a verified identity

For Janie, in
particular, this was a place to put down new roots. Her best friend
had become Thea, a single parent who lived in the demountable two
doors down. She had two children aged two and four, and supported
herself by making the beds and cleaning the units in the park.