PORTRAIT OF A LADY

 

                                                                              Chapter Eleven

                                                                   Married Life At Brook Farm

 

Nothing would ever be the same for Steve; he knew that without any doubt. As his love for Jessie gradually changed from disbelief to astonished gratefulness that a girl so beautiful as she, so knowledgeable of the ways of the world, and so aware of all the sensations of being alive, should feel the same about him. The period that followed was one of continued learning about himself as an individual, and as one half of a couple. This was totally different to his shared relationship with Bill. Where that had been a sharing of minds and of physical endeavour, even intellectual in so far as Michael's natural, but suppressed intelligence had allowed. This was different. This was love. Mad delightful unstoppable sexual love.

          Theirs was not a traditional courtship. No walking out, no dinner dates where one might get to know the other. No delving or searching out of each others interests, and no gentle explorations of compatibility. Theirs was a head on meeting of the species, no holds barred where mating and procreation was the name of the game, and sex was the common denominator.

          Of course during his years on the farm, Steve was fully aware that sex was a key component in husbandry, and that mating the animals was a natural part of the process. Put a male and a female together and in the fullness of time the female would produce a calf or a lamb or a kid. Moreover some of these matings produced more than one offspring, especially the pigs which seemed able to produce a football team in one go.

          It was agreed, without any in-depth discussion on the matter, in some kind of telepathic understanding that they should be married as soon as was possible, and in the meantime Jessie would move in.

          And so their life together started on a high; too high to sustain;  too high to maintain. Had it not been for Steve's understanding, despite these other distractions, that the farm was still his main priority, it might have been different. He understood that the marriage had to be dovetailed into the farm, and not the other way about. Jessie too understood her version of things. She had never told Steve of her past life. Had never indicated to Steve whether he was her second boyfriend, or her twenty second or her hundred and twenty second. Although she had known from the very early on that Steve was a virgin, only to lose that title to her, she had never given him the slightest hint as to her own sexual status. Steve on the other hand had never considered the matter to be of importance, and if the thought had occurred it would most likely have been dismissed as irrelevant. In his simple way he might ask what difference would it make to the boar how many visits other boars had made to the sow. Indeed, did it matter to the Ewe how many other sheep the Ram had visited. 

          Despite their different experiences in life they settled down to being together with no major problems. For Steve the next few years were ecstatic. Not only did he have the animals to look after; but now there was something else. The animals were mostly in existence because of Steve's attention to their natural cycle, making sure that males of the species were in attendance as and when required, but that when the time to give birth came along he was there to give whatever help was needed. Long before Farrah had died Steve had shared the responsibility for this aspect of farming, and of course ultimately he had assumed complete responsibility. Now his various flocks were nearly all descended from his early efforts, and more recently by new additions to improve the breeds. But a new presence had come into his life when Jessica presented him with a son. This was different, for in this he had not merely arranged for the two sexes to mate for nothing more that commercial reasons. This time the new life which had emerged from the body of his wife was the direct result of his own life force. The essence of his very being had been the catalyst for the child that had now become part of his life.

          Not for a moment did he dismiss the even greater part his wife had played in this new creation, but Steve could not help himself. Most of his life he had been on the outside looking in. Family had meant nothing to him, and indeed he had consciously or subconsciously avoided being involved in a family way of life. The detention centre of his early teens was all he knew about family, and whatever the rights and wrongs of that establishments, and despite a certain feeling of belonging which had developed, it had failed to ignite in him any desire to explore further what to him was an alien world.

          But Jessie had come into his life, followed by his new son Stuart and everything had changed. He was a father, and the child suckling at his wife's breast was his child. At long last words which had previously been without meaning to him had come alive. Father ; mother ; child ; husband; wife; family. The very thought of these words brought tears to his eyes. Family!

          Gradually a new order was established and Steve's resolve to be all things to all men became ever firmer. The farm prospered as never before, and somehow Steve found the time to develop his painting skills to levels he had not previously reached. His fascination with the darker side of nature was still as strong as before, but now he found inspiration in ways and places he had previously overlooked. New birth and new life in all its forms took on a new meaning and Steve was able to convey these wonderful events on canvas, just as powerfully as before when he had been able to depict death and decay. "The other side of the coin." he mused, remembering one of the phrases Farrah's often used.

          Not only that but his wife and son had proved to be excellent models. In the privacy of their home, and when the weather allowed out in the farm, Jessie was perfectly happy to sit for her husband, dressed or otherwise to capture her in natural or studio settings. And as one painting followed another Stewart’s images perfectly reflected the passing years. Those early years were the happiest years in his life.

          "Too happy for it to last." he had once said jokingly. But that joke had been prophetic and would haunt him for the rest of his life.

         On one occasion when Steve had asked a question, innocently he had thought, following a comment Jessie had made about her life before him, her response had come as a surprise.

          "Does it matter?" Jessie had responded, rather curtly.

          "Not a bit. I thought you wanted to tell me something, that's all."

          "No, I don't. Not yet anyway, Does it bother you.?"

          "No." Steve waited a moment. "Of course I want to know everything about you; when you are ready to tell me. And in any case you're so beautiful it would be incredible if you hadn't had lot's of boyfriends."

          Jessie smiled, seemingly satisfied. "One day." She smiled again. "One day I will tell you."

          Steve too was satisfied, 

          It was of course an uneven equation and best left alone. Perhaps they both realised that comparisons would only lead them into choppy water, and it was to be a long time before the subject was raised again.

          The marriage took place just five weeks after they met, attended by ten members of Jessie's family, the owner of the art gallery, and one other person who they assumed had come with him. Other than his friend from the art gallery there were no representatives from Steve's side; there simply weren't any. Aware of this and to avoid the little chapel being one sided, the small band of well-wishers were invited to sit where they wished.

          There was no honeymoon. The cattle needed milking and all the other animals needed feeding, relying, quite unknowingly of course, on Steve being there to attend to their needs.

          The way of life for the new Mr and Mrs Farrah gradually settled to a level of activity in which they could both be happy and content. Jessie was able to look after their domestic needs as well as helping out with the milking which enabled Steve to spend more time on maintenance. Bit by bit a sense of order and routine was established which provided them with a lifestyle that pleased them both. It also provided Steve with time to paint, for in his knew found contentment he discovered subjects all around him. Best of all he had a willing model in Jessie for she was always happy to pose for him; mostly outdoor when the sun was shining, and mostly indoors when it rained. Occasionally roles might be reversed and for special effects on a warm but wet day Jessie would take off her clothes despite the rain. This technique produced a number of striking images which Steve was keen to explore. It also had another benefit for the sensuality of the soft rain had an erotic effect on them both and these sessions usually ended with them making love - more often than not 'al fresco'.

          It was on one such occasion, as the gentle rain fell upon them and they were recovering, though still connected, from a vigorous session in the field furthest from the house when Jessie held her man fast. Nearby and fixed to Steve's easel was a large umbrella to protect the painting and also his large old Barber jacket - the same one that Farrah had given him on his very first day at Brook Farm. He used it now because of its multitude of pockets, as his outdoor painting coat. It was a warm day and Jessie laid under Steve while he recovered his breath having accomplished his task. Both were hot and sticky with sweat, grateful to be gently sluiced by the steady rain.

          "You happy Steve?" she asked, almost dreamily, her grip not allowing Steve to disengage from herself.

          "Can't see how I can be happier." Steve replied. "What makes you ask?"

          "Oh, I don't know. We seem to have everything. I just wonder."

          "Well we could do with some more money that's for sure; but we are getting by don't you think.?"

          "I suppose so, but I keep feeling that there is something missing."

          Steve stretched his arms lifting his head away to a position so he could look down on his wife, uncaring about their nakedness.

          "What are you getting at my love? he asked. Are you not happy then?"

          "Yes, too much I think. But I can't help thinking that there should be something else."

          "My word," he chastened, as with an easy motion he moved from her, turned her over and gave her bottom a gentle slap. "You don't half take some satisfying."

          "Oh you do alright; don't worry about that."

          "What then?"

          "Oh nothing; it's just me being silly."

          "Silly is it? Well now that you've asked me a couple of kids running about the yard might be nice. Is that silly as well?"

          Jessie sat in an instant as though startled. "Is that what you want Steve?" she asked in a quiet voice, a voice slightly diluted by the sound rain which had continued, still gentle but unabated.

          "Sure," he answered, "I guess that would be nice in time."

          "What do you mean - in time?"

          "Oh I don't know. What do you think?"

          "How about seven months?"

          "Seven months?"

          "Or thereabout."

          The puzzled look on Steve's face remained for a few seconds until he seemed to understand the implication of his wife's question.

          "Are you telling me......?"

          "Yes Steve........I'm telling you."

          Nothing more was said at that moment but Steve simply picked her up, and with her draped in his arms he carried her towards the farmhouse, their clothes in a little pile upon her middle where they had been deposited after Steve had quickly scooped them up.

          "What about your easel and coat?" Jessie called out.

          "Never mind about that, I'll get them later." He answered. "Got to get you out of this rain first."