Ora's Gold Page 13

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘You just said you didn’t want to do anything.’

  ‘I didn’t! I said I didn’t want to go all the way tonight. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to do anything. Do you only have two speeds?’

  ‘Thanks a lot!’ He rolls over to his side of the bed, taking the covers with him.

  If I could storm out I would.

  I knew this was a trap.

  He turns around again, sighing loudly, and looks up at the ceiling. ‘I’m trying to give you space, okay? This is all new, and I’m no expert.’

  ‘You know a lot more than me!’

  ‘But it’s different. You’re different. I’m different. This is new. It’s not like there’s a guidebook.’ He’s sounding worked up and looks like he’s holding a lot in as he grips his arms tightly over his chest.

  In a lightbulb moment I suddenly see how this is for him. It isn’t a trap! It’s a big-hearted attempt to make this special, and it must be so far removed from how he was with his ex. She would have been the driver—experienced and sure of what she wanted. Predatory even. And here I am, the complete opposite, expecting him to know what to do because he’s the one with the relationship history.

  But that was their history.

  I have to do something to connect us again.

  ‘We could get naked,’ I say, surprising both of us.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We could take our clothes off and jump under the covers.’

  ‘Really?’ He’s smiling now, hopefully not thinking I’m completely mad. ‘But I don’t know—’

  ‘Race you,’ I say, before I can begin to feel stupid.

  I sit up and take off my t-shirt and bikini top. He’s a bit quicker, but I had a head start. We lie back in sync and fling off our bottoms at the same time.

  ‘I won!’ I declare, hugging the silky sleeping bag fabric close to me.

  ‘You did not, I was way ahead!’ We’re giggling now, and we turn towards each other, lying on our sides but not touching. The electricity under the covers must be sending out some sparks.

  ‘What I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, is that I don’t know if I can be trusted if you’re lying naked here, next to me.’ He places his hand on my naked hip.

  I look into his laughing eyes. ‘I trust you,’ I tell him, and feel a surge go through my heart because I really do.

  Is this what love feels like?

  Maybe it’s lust … I want to feel my breasts against his chest and the length of him against me. His arm goes around my back and mine around his as we shuffle closer. Every cell in my body lights up at the feel of his skin pressing against mine, our muscles and bones kissing. My blood is coursing through my body at a million miles an hour and my thoughts are registering all of his body parts against mine—the most obvious one pushing against me, warm and hard. Then there’s the pulsing and tingling in my own body, which is going off like a pinball machine.

  I dare to put my hand on his bottom and pull him closer to me. We’re kissing and he lets out a little sound. I’m feeling wild—it’s like a hunger—and now I want all of him.

  ‘Seriously, Ora,’ he says breathlessly. ‘I’m not sure I can do this.’

  ‘But this feels right,’ I say. ‘And good,’ I add, pushing up against him.

  ‘You have no idea!’ He takes my hip again and pushes me away gently, creating some space between us. ‘You tell me you don’t want to go all the way and then practically jump on me.’

  ‘Oh. I …’ I don’t know what to say.

  ‘Whatever happens, we’re not going all the way tonight because that’s what you wanted earlier. But I’m not made of steel—’

  I start giggling.

  ‘What?’ he asks, as his hand starts tracing the length of my thigh.

  ‘Parts of you are!’ I laugh some more. I don’t want to shrivel up inside and let embarrassment take me. He smiles, watching me thoughtfully.

  ‘I feel okay about that now,’ I say, remembering my yearning from a minute ago. ‘I think I was just being contrary before. I actually, really … want you.’ I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t want to feel like the other night, like I’m being left behind.

  ‘And I so want you.’ He looks at me very intensely and all my fears of him walking away leave me. ‘But I heard you before and I’m going to make sure that your wish is my command.’ He’s making a jokey attempt at sounding chivalrous.

  ‘Shall we put our clothes back on then?’ I ask, with that sinking feeling in my belly.

  ‘No, but I might need to take a breather sometimes.’ His hand feels so good on my body. I close my eyes. This is all too intense. My mind wants to gatecrash and sabotage everything, but before my thoughts can distract me, his hand comes around to my belly and gently urges me to lie on my back.

  He spends what feels like hours, tracing patterns and circles over my belly and chest—everywhere but my breasts. So much so that every time he gets near them, I find myself pushing them up, yearning for his touch.

  The sensation sets off tingles in all directions.

  He leans down to my belly and kisses it gently, then blows on it, and strokes it again. I giggle and he smiles. He comes up and kisses my lips, then asks if this is okay. I nod, and he takes one of my breasts in his hand.

  This guy is driving me crazy, playing, making me feel my desire so hotly. I push my breast into his hand.

  He carries on with his patterns in his slow and gentle manner.

  It’s glorious, sensual and all too much. I can feel myself yearning for his touch between my legs. He runs his hands over my thighs and I arch towards him.

  He brings his hand back to my breasts and surprises me when he finally makes contact with my nipples. He leans down and kisses my breasts. There’s so much desire racing around my body, I’m half expecting to see steam. His steady pace is making me wild.

  ‘Is this okay?’ he asks again, and I want to shout, ‘What does it look like?’ But I manage a quick nod and close my eyes, sinking into the pleasure.

  He runs his finger from my collarbone down to the top of my pubic bone and back again. Over and over.

  Slowly, slowly he finds his way between my legs. He keeps kissing my nipples as his fingers gently discover me. It feels like he’s creating this triangle of intense pleasure between the three most sensitive parts of my body. I move with him, responding ecstatically to his touch. He takes me to the edge and holds me there, suspended. My head is arching back and I feel so open and wild. When my body starts to shake and release I lift my head and look into his eyes. Wow. It’s amazing, and scary—big—letting him see all of me. Letting myself be totally vulnerable.

  I snuggle into him for a bit, catching up with myself—feeling the gorgeous intimacy of it all.

  When I sit up, my shyness threatens to overwhelm me but instead I let my lust take over and enjoy his gaze upon my nakedness. He sits up too and we start kissing. Soon, we’re kneeling together, our bodies pressed against each other. My hands dance across his back.

  I push against him and he returns the pressure. I can feel his hardness and want to touch him. I gently explore the length of him, my fingers stopping at his balls, tentatively exploring first one, then the other, then both. The skin is slightly ribbed and they are cushiony—the complete opposite of what they’re attached to.

  He looks at me and smiles.

  It’s my turn to discover and play and his turn to breathe a lot deeper. He opens his eyes and we exchange a powerful look; love, lust, tenderness, passion. His lips look swollen and his cheeks are rosy. I hold his gaze for a long time, feeling bold as my hands become familiar with his body.

  After a long and loving kiss I make him lie down and slowly, fumbling to find the right position and rhythm, I bring him to similar shudders of ecstasy. He holds me tightly as his body rocks against me. We lie for a long time looking at each other, smiling.

  He rolls over and gets me som
e tissues. Then he takes a gulp of water from the bottle and bends down to kiss me, surprising me as he fills my mouth with cool water.

  Stroking, smiling, kissing a little, the reflection of the flames dancing on our bodies. He gently pushes a lock of hair off my face. I close my eyes and smile sleepily.

  Through the night we wake and discover each other’s bodies again and talk more, then sleep again.

  When daylight comes, I thank him for keeping his promise and tell him we’re free of it now. He doesn’t take much convincing. He’s gentle, but it still hurts a little, momentarily. Our lips are grazed from so much kissing and parts of me feel quite sore, but it’s a nice kind of sore. I wasn’t expecting our bodies to fit so well together. Nature is amazing!

  I want to stay here forever in this beautiful hut, high up on the hill. As the morning turns into afternoon, the horses start to stamp their feet and huff and puff in their shaky-lipped way, telling us it’s time to go.

  Neither of us wants to leave. If it weren’t for the food and water and the horses, I could stay here forever …

  We make love one last time before we go. As Jake is taking off the condom he looks up at me, concerned.

  ‘Shit,’ he says. ‘It’s got a tear in it.’

  I sit up and inspect it. He’s right.

  ‘Shit,’ I echo. I was the one who put it on. I must have done it wrong.

  ‘When’s your period due?’ he asks.

  ‘Umm …’ I’m thinking, but my brain’s stopped working. ‘Everything’s out of whack. My cycle’s all over the place.’ As I count back, I momentarily leave my body and see us sitting on the bed, connected, totally at ease now in our nakedness.

  ‘I’m not certain,’ I say hopefully. ‘But I think it’ll be okay.’ I’m trying to convince myself too. A niggling shadow tries to settle over me but I push it away. There’s nothing I can do about and I don’t want this time to be clouded with worry. Anyway, I honestly can’t remember.

  As we make our way back to Tom and Sarah’s farm, retracing our steps, a creeping melancholy steals over me. Maybe it’s always this way when magic happens—there’s a price to pay. But I don’t want it to end. Every hoof fall is bringing us closer to our normal lives and I don’t want to think about mine, even with the possibility of Jake in it now.

  Thankfully the others aren’t around when we get back. We stable the horses and Jake writes a note, then we head to Dione’s on the scooter. I invite Jake to stay over. When he says yes, my lightness comes back and the melancholy withdraws. Is this what love is? Am I going to turn into a needy, neurotic person who only feels complete with her partner beside her?

  ‘I’m starving,’ says Jake, looking in the fridge, clearly feeling at home. I can see that he’s disappointed.

  ‘Hang on,’ I say. ‘I’ll go look for eggs.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he says, and I smile. Maybe he’s going to be needy and neurotic too.

  The chickens took-took at us as we approach, telling me off for being away, hopeful for some food scraps. There have been slim pickings for weeks.

  I pick a few salad leaves out of Dione’s veggie patch and drop the green goodies for them as I open their gate.

  When I go around to the laying box there are only two eggs.

  ‘It’s weird,’ I say. ‘We should be getting double the amount.’ Jake looks at the eggs and shrugs.

  ‘Come on,’ I say, looking back at his stunned face, surveying the secret veggie garden. ‘Let’s go eat.’

  I make an omelette and Jake uses up some salad leaves from the garden, along with the last of the cherry tomatoes. The meal is simple and delicious and his dressing is incredible. He is over the moon about Dione’s veggies—I can see she’s gone up in his estimation.

  We take our cups of tea out to the sofa on the deck. The crickets are still going. We talk for a while, then just sit, leaning into one another, listening to the sounds of the night.

  21

  What?!

  I know it sounds corny but ‘falling madly in love’ pretty much nails it.

  I love being with him, listening to him, laughing and sharing my stories with him. Everything sparkles when he’s here. And he’s been here for weeks! We so happily wrap ourselves up in each other that we rarely leave Dione’s house, our island—the place where all the pieces of ourselves come together, bit by bit, every curve and corner fitting perfectly. One time, I even surprise myself with a crazy thought—maybe it’s good not having anyone else in my life, no-one to answer to or distract me from being with him.

  Apart from Melissa, that is. But she lives so far away and brings only good distractions anyway, like wanting more designs! She came for a visit last week and brought the fabric swatches with her. They looked amazing! She’d heard that we’d been up to the shack, so she didn’t seem surprised when Jake answered the door with me. She was so laid back, it felt like we’d been together all along. After she left, I tried ringing Lucy but it went straight to her message bank. I have so much to tell her. Maybe I’ll call her again and leave a message saying I’ve fallen madly in love and she has to ring me back to find out more.

  I’ve had a couple of freak-outs, too—just privately in the middle of the night—about falling too fast, too deep. But I shook the fear off purposefully, imagining a dog just out of the water, shaking itself. And woke Jake instead … with kisses.

  I don’t know how long this is going to last. I don’t even want to think about it, I just want to be. With Jake. Life is sweet, delicious even—especially since the SIF seem to have dropped off the radar.

  The only downer is money. I have three hundred and seven dollars left, not counting Dad’s allowance, which I’m not going to touch. He’s left a couple of messages since I got out, but I erased them as soon as I heard his voice. He chose not to help me when I was in there, so I’m choosing not to know him now.

  I’m worried about not being able to meet the water delivery bill next month, and the food bills. I’m going to have to use Dione’s spare cash supply. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t mind. She was always paid in cash.

  Jake has started his weekend shifts for the lifesavers, and begins uni next week. I go with him to the beach to get my ocean hit, but I don’t sit with him. I let him focus on the job while I get used to being on a different beach—this one is a long way from the ones I know. It’s strange, as I sit looking at the water and making holes in the sand with my feet I can feel my body yearning for him, like my insides are being pulled towards him. I love it when he finishes and we zip-lock together again, complete in our connection.

  We drive into town every week for water and food, and to check the mail, then head home to cook or walk or make love or listen to music.

  *

  ‘What’s that?’ Jake asks, eyeing the official-looking letter in my hand. We’re on the bench outside the mail boxes and my world has stopped. The MBD Centre wants me to report in. I’ve missed my last two donations.

  My mouth goes desert dry. I haven’t thought about my period for weeks. It’s like something inside me switched off when the SIF were interrogating me—I thought it was my cycle that had stopped, but clearly it was my brain. How could I be so dumb?

  All of a sudden I can see with horrible clarity all the missed signals from my body. Tender breasts and a funny, metallic taste in my mouth. A couple of mornings I’ve even felt a bit nauseous, but only fleetingly. How has this been happening right under my nose? Right inside me. I’ve been so wrapped up in Jake, nothing else has … I should have …

  ‘You’re frowning. What’s up?’

  I don’t know what to say. I’m so scared of shattering the magic that’s been growing around us.

  ‘Ora?’

  ‘I think I’m pregnant,’ I blurt.

  He looks at me. I stare straight ahead. For a long time, not knowing where to put any part of myself.

  I feel him hear the words, resist them, question them. And struggle to accept them. He still hasn’t said anything. I tu
rn and look him square in the face.

  ‘This is from the MBD Centre … they want me to go in for tests. It must have been up at the shack …We’ve been so careful.’ I’m kind of stunned by the irony—all the times since, when we’ve stopped to make sure this wouldn’t happen.

  ‘Holy shit, Ora,’ he says. ‘Maybe you’ve got it wrong?’

  I shrug. I don’t know. I’m completely lost.

  Finally he says, ‘Let’s go get a test.’

  We head for the pharmacy. I wait outside in a haze of disbelief. This is not happening. Jake comes out empty-handed, and crestfallen—he couldn’t get far enough around the counter to grab one. Ever since the Safety for the Future Program, people have to show ID and sign for a test, which is then followed up by a mandatory re-test at the doctors.

  ‘There were too many people. And cameras,’ he says, looking distractedly down the street.

  I can’t be pregnant. Please, please don’t let me be pregnant.

  ‘Dione may have a spare test in her gear,’ I whisper.

  We don’t talk on the way home. I can’t look at Jake. This is all his fault.

  No. It’s all my fault. I was the one who put the condom on. But he should have checked—I didn’t know what I was doing. But it’s not the first time a condom has torn.

  It’s the manufacturer’s fault.

  Maybe I’m not even pregnant. I am so scared.

  I run up to the cottage. When I open the front door, Dione’s scent hits me and I let out a sob. It’s like she was here just a minute ago. I haven’t set foot in this place since the garden birth.

  As I step over the threshold, flashbacks from the woman’s birth come thick and fast, and I reel under their weight. I feel sick.

  There’s hardly anything here. Dione must have got rid of everything before the SIF arrived. I’m shocked at how different it looks. She’s made the basement look exactly like a spa—all evidence of the birthing centre is gone, like it never existed.

  I sit on the floor with my back against the tub and cry until my insides hurt. This cannot be happening. I don’t know how you can go from not feeling pregnant to feeling pregnant in the flicker of a summons.