Heaven Sent

"Now don't be asking me for advice, you know I'm all shit and no shovel when it comes to matters of the heart. It's just a fucken mess and we'll do our fucken best."

"Nope Dad, Maybe just one of those cigarettes I know you hide down in the tack shed."

He laughs out loud, then "shush child, I swear that lady has ears like a fruit bat."

"I heard that you old bugger and only one of us with ears the size of a fruit bat."

He hugs his daughter and they walk down the drive towards the barn and the tack shed with its treasured nicotine supply.

"I know someone that still loves you."

"I know you do Dad."

"Not me, you wingnut." They enter the barn and he gestures to the far stall, "almost as old as me though."

"Norman!" she shouts. While all her young friends had owned 'triggers' and 'beauties', she insisted on a proper name for her pony. She climbs the rails, and hugs the horses neck. He stomps and steps in on her making her stumble. It was a game they had played whenever she tried to saddle him.

Dad hands her a cigarette and she grooms the horse while sharing it with her father. They soak up some more quality family silence and when the cigarette is done Dad volunteers, "Look Girly, none of my business bout your home life but you are welcome here as long as you like. As a matter of fact, I don't want you going nowhere till you got your stink back and can get out of your corner okay?"

"Love you Dad."

"Love you too shit head. Now you're probably fixing to go ride that poor geriatric old bugger so some things you need to know about the farm... Um, Got a fella, Harold, working that field in the John Deere, best stay away from there and some of the fences down the creek side aren't what they used to be. Keep an eye out for busted strands while you're riding. Oh, and there's the hand. We got one of them -- um, backpackers staying on as a hand for a while. Keeps the stables clean, feeds up the animals that sort of thing. Mikka or something foreign. Lovely kid, she's worth her weight in gold around the place. One of the family. Say hi if your paths cross."

"Thanks Dad. My gear still in the tack room?"

"Sure is. See you round lunch. Your Mum will be fit for nothing if you don't present for lunch."

"Okay then." She smiled and his heart swells at seeing it.

-----

'Old' Norman is very green and he takes quite some reigning in at first. Not content to walk, he keeps breaking into a canter and every now and then throws in a little pig-rut. It's many years since Melanie has ridden and she becomes tired and sore quickly. There's a quiet place down by the creek where she swam as a teenager. She dismounts and walks Norman down into the clearing near the creek letting him nibble at the lush green grass.

Taking up a flattened stone Melanie flings it hard and flat at the water and watches it skip across the still clear water toward the small island in the middle. A sudden shriek comes from the other side of the island and a female voice calls, "Wait, Wait, No more stoning."

Mel watches as a blonde woman swims across the creek to the gravel beach and scrambles out of the water. She is tall and thin with piercing blue eyes and also, very naked. Her large breasts bounce with each step as she walks towards Mel smiling and offering her hand, "Allo. Mikka."

"Ah, Mikka. Dad said there was someone..." she took the strong handshake and smiled back.

"Mr George, he say that daughter come too. You daughter, Ya?"

"Yeah, Melanie." Mikka was still holding her hand.

"Melanie. Is good to meet. Maybe not throw any more stones now you know is friend. Okay?" she laughs and noticing Mel's averted eyes she blushes. "Oh, is naked. At home is not so big deal. I forget here all the time. I get dressed we talk, ya?"

Mikka turns away and walks a short distance to her clothes. As Mikka dresses, Mel sees the fine blonde hairs under her arms and on her legs. She follows those longs legs up as Mikka bends over to pick up her shorts and spots an unkempt thatch of blonde pubic hair between her thighs. She is probably staring but can't look away. This young woman's powerful athletic body and easy naked grace is unnerving and if she dares admit it, a little arousing.

"How is horse ride? He is old, ya?"

"Oh he did ok. He's actually a bit frisky from not being ridden."

"Ah yes, is long time for me too, I know this frisky." They both laugh.

"So, you are travelling?"

"Ya, is travel this countryside with pack. Do little work here, little work there, see whole countryside. Meet very nice people. Mr George, Mrs Judy very good to Mikka. Nice room, not enough work for money."

"How long have you been here with Mum and Dad?"

"Ah," she counts on her fingers, "Is four months. Been travel this countryside for all done nearly one year. Is time to go home on birthday in 4 month."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three, and you?"

"Thirty-two."

"We can be sisters but you will have another mother, ya?"

"That sounds awesome; I always wanted brothers or sisters. I'd love to travel too, I've never been overseas unless you count the island in the creek."

"Ah, so is your island from kinder, that is why you throw stones at invaders, ya?" Her laugh is infectious and Mel finds she warming quickly to the young lady.

"We used to swim there all the time. The island is my favourite place on this whole farm. I used to sunbake there."

"Is good place to take the boys too, ya?" Mikka flashes a mischievous grin and Mel finds herself blushing.

"One or two maybe..." she admits with a cheeky grin.

"Maybe some girls too, ya? I see you look too much when I am naked."

"What! I'm sorry I wasn't..." and she sees the teasing mischief in Mikka's eyes and knows she is trying joke with her. She pushes Mikka on the shoulder, "You're horrible."

"Sorry, I like to -- what is words for it -- um, 'fuck with you' a bit."

"I'm sure you would, but I'm not that type of girl." Mel mocks disgust and it's Mikka's turn to feel embarrassed.

"No, No, I mean 'mess you' 'make fuck with mind'." She catches Mel smiling, "Ah, you. You fuck with me now, ya?"

By the time they make it back to the house for lunch they are fine friends.

"Allo Mrs Judy, Allo Mr George."

"Hello Mikka, will you have some Lunch with us?" Mum has set a table of sandwiches and lemonade on the porch.

"Maybe one sandwich then I go, ya? Is need shower from swim."

Mikka grabs a sandwich and Mel takes a seat. The shade of the veranda is welcome; though not yet hot by summer standards, the spring day is warm and has brought a healthy pink to her skin.

"Daughter Mel ist creepy hillbilly too -- is sneak on people swimming like her Dad."

Mel is mortified, "I didn't creep -- Dad, what?"

"Oh Mr George is big creeper." Mikka flashes that cheeky grin.

"Dirty old man," Mum interjects, "is how we say it here Mikka."

They all laugh and Mum explains, "Not long after Mikka arrived Dad was fixing a fence down by the creek and got quite a surprise; went through a whole bottle of heart pills that week."

"Oh go shave your legs you filthy hippy." Dad tells Mikka.

"Dad!" Mel gasps, "Some women don't-"

"We know, we know, I might be a creepy old hillbilly but I travelled with the navy Girly."

Mel relaxes into the familiar banter and the family share lunch. Apparently the morning ride had encouraged quite an appetite. Mikka and Dad are talking about the vegetable garden and mulching it with old straw from the barn. A faint twinge of jealousy plucks at Mel's heart as she listens to them chat and plan like father and daughter.

"Darren rang." Her mother gave her a piece of paper with a number on it. "He asked me to write down his mobile number in case you don't know it."

The porch falls quiet as Mel picks up the paper.

"I'm not sure..."

"I told him you would ring when you were ready."

"Mum, you didn't lecture him did you?"

"Has she ever needed to?" Dad asks, "The tone alone is enough."

"I simply told him that we knew you two were having trouble and that we were not impressed by his behaviour."

"Mum."

"Don't roll your eyes and groan at me young lady. If people were a little bit more direct instead of beating around the bush there would be a lot less misunderstanding."

"He's lucky he didn't get me Mel, I would have told him to bring his cheating arse out to the farm so I could lend him some free education."

An awkward silence follows. Mikka finishes her sandwich and makes to leave but turns and asks, "What is this beating bushes."

"It's when people talk about everything except what is important so that they can avoid a topic." Mum volunteers. "Ask this young lady about it, Mel is quite an expert at it. Keep the peace at all costs..."

Mikka continues, "Ah, what is also this cheating? Is like on exam, ya?"

"Mel's husband is sleeping with another woman."

"Oh." She is clearly embarrassed to have asked, "Sorry. Ist not business for me."

"It's okay, I guess. That's the truth of it all and sooner I get used to saying it the sooner I can deal with it." The resignation is clear in Mels voice.

"Mikka hast boyfriend at home. He cheat mit one girl, maybe two girls and ist finding out by see him in bed mit girl when come home from sick. I know this cheating feeling."

"Oh we're sorry for dragging out our dirty linen, love." Dad pats her on the shoulder. "He must have been an idiot to let a fine gardener like you get away."

"I know this dirty linen one -- is private stories ya?"

"So what did you do? I'm glad I didn't see Darren and," she shudders visibly, "the woman in bed."

"First thing, straight away pack bags and go to parents. Then next week go for travel. Now I happy and ring him now and then."

"You're still talking to him?" Mum asks.

"Yes, I ring and tell him how many men I cheat in this country. Is make me happy very much, him not so much."

Laughter eases the awkwardness that had stolen the porch.

"Mikka is put Norman away and have shower - smell like creek." Mikka smiles and walks to Norman, taking up his reigns and leading him from the yard. "Du has Mr George show you big gun, ya? Then you get very good looking with it." She mimes aiming. "Shoot his um, klein hoden." She mimes testicles...

Mel laughs as they wave to Mikka.

"Girl has a point though. Plenty of spots to bury a body along the creek."

"Dad..." Mel shakes her head and smiles.

"She's sent from heaven that girl. She's been such a help around the farm and a little spark in our lives as well. Are you any closer to knowing what you want to do?" Mum asks as she clears the table.

Mel sighs, "I guess it's time I pulled my big girl pants on. I thought maybe I could talk to Barnaby on Monday?"

"Good. Good idea. I'll ring the old thief for you." Dad offers, "Awful person but a terrific lawyer."

"But right now, I could use a shower too and then a nap. I'm not sixteen anymore, that horse riding hurt a bit."

-----

Fading purple evening light slashes down through the cherry blossoms as she crunches along the gravel drive. A faint breeze carries the scent of flowers and freshly turned field and the peace of the farm permeates her soul. The lonely rocks are still there in her heart but a deeper strength surrounds them. For the first time since the coffee shop and seeing Darren with 'that woman', she knows she is going to be alright.

There's an old camphor laurel tree which stretches its thick arms wide, silhouetted against the fading sunset. A rope swing beckons from her childhood. The smell of damp earth rises from her footsteps as she makes her way beneath the big old tree. 'Home is where the heart is' she ponders, 'how long have I not really been home in my own house?'

Her hand runs along the rough bark to a smooth spot and traces letters carved in the trunk. DM 4 MG. How many years has the weather worn against those letters carved there by teenage Darren Myer and Melanie Grange? They've lasted through snow and rain, a tornado at least once and all the summer storms she can remember. She wished life was like a big old tree to weather the trials and keep your love safe in its heart.

The porch bell rang for dinner. "Damn, you're loving this aren't you mum?" she thought and made her way across the lawns to the house.

Mikka joins them a little late, she comes to the kitchen table and pulls up a chair opposite Mel. She smells fresh like soap and has her fine white hair bunched up messily on her head exposing her long slender neck. She wears a light cotton nightdress and Mel flushes a little as she becomes aware that Mikka wears no bra underneath. Her nipples make small points in the light fabric and the lounge room light shines through the light material casting breast shadows on the dress.

Dad and mum wear their nightclothes too and Mel feels overdressed in her track pants and an old football jersey of Dads she has borrowed. Dinner is simple as she remembers it usually is. Cold meat, a light salad, then the traditional cup of tea. Afterwards they sit on the porch and enjoy the cool evening air.

Dad shares his bourbon with the girls and Mum sips a glass of white wine. Conversation is easy and light, they speak like a family, drifting from one thing to the next easily with frequent laughter and shared joy. "More of this simplicity," Mel muses, "that's what my life needs."

The phone interrupts with a loud clangy rudeness and Dad rises, "I'll get it. Probably old Barnaby ringing back."

They can hear him from the porch.

"Oh, Darren, hello."

"Nope, you may not."

"She doesn't wish to."

"Look son, you can play dumb all you like."

"Well let me spell it out for you then. She was in the coffee shop and saw you intimately involved with another woman."

"I'm sure you think you could explain."

"Don't ring back. She'll call you when she's up to it."

Dad comes back to the porch some short moments later but the conversation never seemed to revive. He and mum excuse themselves, "If you young ones don't mind, we're off to bed. I'll leave this bottle here to keep you company if you wish."

They say goodnights and Mel sits down again.

"Ist shit this thing, ya?"

"Yup."

"Hey, we go swim tomorrow yes? Before lunch? Meet you there?"

"I'd like that."

They pour another bourbon each and sit quietly.

"I not like this silence many times, but is good with you. Is comfortable."

"Thanks, I wish we'd met in other circumstances when I wasn't being an emotional freak. I'm usually a lot more fun."

"Is good. I have two sister at home. Sometimes is happy, sometimes is 'emotional freaks'. Always is sisters. You can be my number three sister, ya?"

The spoken gesture disarms Melanie. Somewhere deep inside it tugs a last shield aside and the stress and tension of the last two days pours straight out of her eyes. She puts her hands to her face embarrassed but Mikka comes and kneels in front of her. Pulling her hands away, Mikka wipes the tears from her cheeks and folds her into a warm hug.

Great wretched sobs shake Mel from deep inside. The safety of Mikka's strangely powerful embrace and the warmth of her skin draw all of the pent up sad and angry, confused and afraid out in a tsunami of emotion. Wordlessly, Mikka just holds her close, wrapped tight against her.

Her breathing slows and she hears Mikka speaking, "Shh, is ok, shh..." and she felt light kisses on her hair. The tenderness brings another wave of tears and she rode those through as well. Eventually she lifts her face a little from Mikka's shoulder, aware of the wet of her tears on the girls neck and a little embarrassed.

"Is ok, take time."

She put her arms around her new sister and returns the hug, thankful for being allowed to fall apart. Gradually she is aware of the softness of the strong embrace, the smooth skin, the smell of soapy freshness, the faint pressure of Mikka's breasts against her own and to her confusion she feels a stirring in her own nipples, a heat in her underwear, a strange and taboo rising desire. She pulls back gently from the hug. Lifting her face away and reaching to dry her eyes. Shielding them from Mikka's unless she sees the truth.

"Is ok now, ya?" Mikka stands and picks up her bourbon. She walks to the porch edge and stares out into the night, giving Mel some moments to gather her senses. Mel watches the tall figure from behind, seeing the way her nightdress clings to her curves and stops just above those long strong legs. She takes a sharp small breath when she notices the lack of panty lines against the material.

She is grateful for the moment to get her shit together. Taking her bourbon from the table she drinks the entire glass in a single thirsty slurp. She wipes her eyes and straightens herself in her chair.

"Well that was embarrassing."

Mikka laughs, "It is always foreign people strange mit den feelings. At home - just feel and is all ok."

They sit quietly again, Mikka speaks of home and her family and Mel relaxes just listening to her voice. The bourbon spreads a warm glow through her body and she relaxes again half listening to Mikka's stories of sisters and family life.

"God, what came over me. I've never thought of women like that. Must be the emotional rollercoaster I'm riding at the moment." She thinks to herself while Mikka speaks.

"Bullshit, you're a big fat dyke." Her bourbon glass was very blunt for an internal dialogue.

"She does have a beautiful figure."

"How about those tits?"

"And no undies... I saw her bush you know. She doesn't shave anything."

"Not my flavour lady, I prefer my pussy trimmed."

Mel looks sideways at her bourbon glass; he's becoming a bit of a rude prick.

"Yes well, in any case she's quite attractive, so tall and athletic."

"Bull-dyke."

"Fuck off, I can think she's attractive without being a lesbian."

And then in a disgraceful display her bourbon glass mimes a rude gesture with two fingers and its tongue, "Dined at the y lately?"

"Pig!" she says aloud.

"Sorry?" Mikka asks interrupted mid-story.

"Oh, nothing, thinking out loud."

"Is getting late now, I go piss and then to bed."

"Yup, I should head off to bed too." She's a little shocked by the casual, 'I go piss' but thinks she should probably do the same.

"Mel, you is sister now, if need more hug. You find me okay."

"Okay, thanks Mikka."

Mikka wanders off into the night air leaving Mel deal with her rudely spoken bourbon glass and confused feelings. She pours another finger of bourbon in her glass and splashes some water on it. Picking up her drink she hears the call of the tack shed and its nicotine naughtiness.

The tack shed is dark and she finds the matches first on the bench where dad left them earlier. Striking a match she fumbles around in the half light, looking for the biscuit tin he hides the smokes in. She blows out the match before it burns her finger. Feeling her way along the bench she finds the cupboard, the tin, then the cigarettes. The match flares brightly near her face and she sucks in the nicotine laden smoke and makes her way back outside.

A light shines through cracks in the barn door planks and she wanders closer. She is almost to the door when she hears a voice.

"Dumm gehemmt Ausländer," she recognises Mikka's voice but not the language.

"Ich bin so nass ich ficken müssen."

She creeps closer still putting her eye to crack in the boards.

"kein verdammtes für Monate, und sie ist so heiß"

She can see Mikka has pulled a chair into the middle of the barn and is sitting outside Normans stall. The light at the back door is on so Mikka is silhouetted to Mel and it takes a few moments before she realises Mikka is masturbating.

"ja ja dort, setzen Sie Ihre Zunge in mir"

Mikka shudders and arches her back kicking her legs out straight and arching her arse off the chair. Her hands holding her pussy hard as she rides out her orgasm. Mel gasps as she realises what she's just seen and draws deeply on her cigarette then turns back again to the crack in the door. Mikka is slumped in the chair with her head thrown back. Her breasts rising and falling slowly as her breathing returns to normal.