A Flower in the Wilderness

* * * * * * * *

His arrangement with Celeste left Adrian free in the mornings to pursue his chosen style of painting - landscapes. After his exploration of the surrounding country he had already found a number of views he considered suitable, and so on Monday morning he began his first work.

It didn't go well because he wasn't concentrating properly, his mind kept wandering to the up coming afternoon with Celeste. He knew it was foolish to be so absorbed by her, but after all, what man would not look forward to an afternoon with a beautiful woman.

She arrived at the prearranged time and was wearing a plain while cotton dress.

"I thought you said you wanted to wear..." he began, but Celeste cut in.

"It's all right, "I've brought them with me; I'll change here."

Adrian would have liked her to wear a long but simple body hugging evening dress, but since he'd left the choice to her he accepted what she'd decided.

He took her to the conservatory, now his studio, and left her to change. He had already come to a tentative decision about where he wanted to pose her. It was inspired by one of the first thoughts he'd had about her, "A lovely flower growing in the wilderness."

Through the windows of the studio could be seen the plain stretching out to the blue hills. If he posed her there in front of the window there would be the contrast between the rugged background and her delicate beauty.

When he returned to the studio Celeste was ready in her white shorts and red shirt. Adrian explained his idea to her and she agreed. The details of the pose took some time, with Celeste turning this way and that until Adrian was satisfied he'd got the best pose.

He had her seated on a box covered in black velvet, her body turned partially away from the viewer, in this case Adrian, but her face was turned to look directly at him. There was a lower box on which she rested one bare foot, this bent her knee slightly; the other foot rested on the floor.

Her back was arched and her head thrown back slightly on her slender neck. One hand rested lightly on the bent knee and the other touched the frame of the window.

The arching of her back drew Adrian's attention to the fact she was not wearing a bra and her shirt moulded over her pointed nipples and the upturned breasts. This, together with her long legs showed off to perfection by the shorts, he found somewhat disturbing.

In art school the models who posed naked for the students had never troubled him, but the exquisite loveliness of Celeste he found deeply disquieting. "If only I were the vicar of Bangalul," he thought. He could see that painting Celeste was going to be an unsettling exercise.

* * * * * * * *

Perhaps because he was unsure of himself as a portrait painter Adrian made many sketches of Celeste that afternoon. As he worked he talked to her, asking her about her life in Bangalul; did she like living in the town? Was she much involved in church work? Where had she lived before Bangalul? Questions that gently probed her personality giving him more than a physical image of her that he must bring out in the painting.

He seemed to detect what he felt was a sweet naivety in her only covered by a thin layer of adult sophistication. In addition Adrian could detect none to the arrogance that many attractive women display. It was as if Celeste was unaware of her beauty.

He also noticed that if a question got too close to her relationship with Kingsley she would veer away from it.

Adrian had continued to attend church although his motive for doing so would not come into the category of religious. He'd had the opportunity to see Kingsley and Celeste together both in public and private and was puzzled by the reserve between them when in private. There seemed to be no animosity between them, no ill will, so why this reserve?

He wondered how often Kingsley and Celeste made love. Adrian felt that it must be wonderful to make love with such a beautiful woman, and of course there were Kingsley's amazing good looks. He wondered if after a while the beauty of one's sex partner had little to do with the frequency of sexual intercourse.

His experience with women had been mainly limited to drunken one nightstands with girls and women he was not in love with and the departure of whom he was glad to see in the morning.

He wondered how he would feel in the morning if it had been with Celeste.

They broke every half hour to give Celeste a rest from her pose and as their time drew to a close Celeste asked if she could see what he had done. He pointed out that he had only made rough sketches that would mean little to her; nevertheless he showed them to her, but she made no comment.

As she left he watched her little blue car bounce along the rough track, disappear for a moment into the dry creek bed, and then reappear up the other side and continue along the bitumen until it went round a bend and out of his sight. He felt a sudden emptiness in the place.

He spent some time before her next visit mulling over the sketches he had made. He wondered how he would be able to present not only her physical beauty, but the inner beauty he believed he had detected. He cursed himself for being so unsure of his skill in portrait painting, and wished he had been more involved with his subjects in the few portraits he had painted.

He had come to Bangalul seeking inspiration; he had found it and believed that if his hands could do what his mind conceived, Celeste's portrait would be his finest work yet; the lovely flower in the wilderness.

* * * * * * * *

At her next visit he began the portrait proper. This time he questioned her about her childhood. He learned that her mother was a philosophy lecturer at the university and her father was principal of the theological college where Kingsley had done his training.

That was how Celeste had met Kingsley, and strangely she had no difficulty talking about his academic achievements and his ambitions. It was only matters relating to her marriage and her relationship with Kingsley that brought the shutters down over her eyes and she fell silent.

He learned that Kingsley had been an outstanding student both at the university and the college. His professors believed he was destined for an academic career, but he had insisted that he must have parish experience, that he must, as he apparently had put it, mix with "real people" before entering academia.

How long would they stay in Bangalul? She didn't know, perhaps for a long time, perhaps not. Kingsley was a wonderful pastor and had a real concern for people, and in many ways it would be pity for him to leave parish work and take an academic position, but it might prove inevitable.

"Why inevitable?" Adrian asked.

The shutters came down and Celeste turned the discussion on to another track.

Adrian felt somewhat frustrated by Celeste's refusal to talk about her marriage. He felt that here lay a key to her character. After all, a beautiful woman virtually locked away in an isolated community when like many attractive women she could be enjoying a glamorous life in a city seemed strange.

He wondered if she was only there in Bangalul out of loyalty to Kingsley. He had heard stories of attractive women going with their husbands to live in such remote places and very quickly divorce followed.

He also wondered why she was having her portrait painted. It was usually a husband or parents that wanted a portrait painted of their wife or child, yet as far as he could tell Kingsley had no interest in Celeste's portrait.

After his first invitation to lunch with the Harmer-Swans other invitations had followed and each time after he meal Kingsley had excused himself and left Adrian and Celeste together. If Kingsley disliked Adrian's company why invite him, and in any case Adrian could detect no dislike for him in Kingsley, and certainly Adrian harbored no dislike for Kingsley.

Adrian did wonder if Kingsley had detected his growing feelings for Celeste, but again, why leave him alone with Celeste, and surely if he did have suspicions about Adrian's feelings, he would have tried to stop the portrait sessions, yet he did nothing.

"Yes," Adrian thought, "it's all very puzzling."

* * * * * * * *

Adrian was struggling with the portrait and the time came for them to review the arrangement they had made; should they continue or not?

Adrian freely admitted that he was unable to capture the aspects of Celeste that he thought made her who she was, but he was reluctant to give up. He did not reveal his real motive for not giving up, which had less to do with the portrait and more to do with having Celeste to himself for six and more hours each week.

Celeste seemed equally reluctant to give up saying, "It will come Adrian, I know it will."

And so they continued and in fact continued long after the portrait should have been finished, and Adrian noticed that Celeste increasingly arrived early and lingered after the session was over as if wanting to spend time with him.

He had become so obsessed with Celeste and the portrait that his landscape work was not going well. It is questionable whether it was the portrait he was obsessed with or the subject. The more he saw of Celeste the more infatuated with her he became.

In addition to her seeming reluctance to go home after a session, Adrian noticed that Celeste increasingly sought to touch him. He had avoided having physical contact with her as much as possible, since he felt there was no point in torturing himself over what he could not have, but he could not reject her desire to have physical contact with him.

He did however admit to himself that had Celeste been one of the women he had once associated with, he would have had her in his bed in very short order. But Celeste was not one of those women.

It was one Wednesday afternoon and Adrian had reached desperation point over the portrait. It was as he irritably made some slight adjustment to her pose that Celeste put her arms round his neck and saying, "Don't be cross Adrian," she kissed him.

Her lips were warm and soft and the kiss not simply a friendly peck. When the kiss was ended her arms remained round his neck, and she was looking deep into his eyes.

"I think I know why you're having so much trouble with the portrait," she said.

Adrian, overwhelmed by her kiss and her continued physical contact with him stammered, "W-what d-do you th-think is the t-trouble?"

"The trouble is, Adrian, that you're in love with me, and that love is causing you to lose objectivity. I'm right aren't I?"

Adrian was almost struck dumb by Celeste's frankness. He struggled to find a response, but Celeste continued, "And if it's any consolation, I'm in love with you."

"You...you can't be in love with me," Adrian said hoarsely.

"Why not?" Celeste asked.

"Kingsley...you're married and..."

"That doesn't stop me being in love with you Adrian," Celeste said, kissing him again. "Why don't you make love to me, you know you want to, you've wanted to almost from that first time we met."

She slipped from the box to stand in front of him. He felt the pressure of her body against his and for a moment he almost succumbed, and then pushing her away said, "No...no...I couldn't do that to Kingsley."

"You don't understand," Celeste began to say, but Adrian cut across her.

"There's nothing to understand except that you're inviting me to commit adultery -- you're prepared to betray Kingsley."

"I want to explain," Celeste tried to say, but once again Adrian, backing away from her, interrupted.

"There's nothing to explain, so please don't let's continue this. You're here to have your portrait painted, so let's get on with it."

Celeste's face was white with anger and she was shaking. "We won't get on with it, it's over."

She picked up the dress she had arrived in and stormed out of the house. Adrian didn't watch her drive up the track this time, but he was aware of the sound of her departure.

* * * * * * * *

"So that's the end of it," Adrian said to himself. He had rejected the very thing he wanted so dearly, and was not sure whether to curse himself for a fool or bless himself for a saint.

For once he had been offered the body of a woman he loved, and not the body of a woman he would despise in the morning, and he had rejected her. If he ever saw her again it would be only by chance in the town.

The next day he was unable to work. For as long as she had sat for her portrait he at least had been with her, now he could not even go to the church where he had always sat beside her. Thinking about her and frankly admitting he wanted her, he was almost driven to tearing the paint off the walls. The most beautiful woman he had ever met and he had said "no."

Friday and this was a day when she would normally have come for a sitting, but there would be no more Fridays, or Mondays and Wednesdays. As if by some established habit or ritual he went into his studio at the time he would normally expect Celeste to arrive and sat miserably staring at the incomplete portrait of her.

He was so lost in thought he did not even hear her car draw up. It was not until she actually entered the studio he was aware that she had arrived for the sitting.

"Celeste! He exclaimed I didn't expect..."

"Let's get on with it," she snapped.

"But you said..."

"For God's sake let's get on with it. You'd better leave the room while I change or you might see my naked body and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Confused Adrian left her while she changed, and when he returned she was already in position. Not a word was said, and when she saw he was ready to start she adopted her pose.

He found it even more difficult than ever to work and what he did do was more pretence than reality.

He broke the grim silence between them when he noticed through the window behind Celeste black storm clouds building up over the distant hills. There was distant lightening followed after an interval with a faint rumble of thunder.

"Looks like a storm in the hills," he said.

Celeste turned to look out of the window. "Yes," she said a curious smile on her lips. "Let's hope we get some of it on the plain, we've waited long enough for it."

Adrian worked on as the storm approached. The drought had been long and the ground parched, but now the rain came pouring down, seeming to lash the earth to the accompaniment of constant vivid lightening strikes and crashing thunder. The roof gutters filled and overflowed, unable to cope with the downpour. The light had faded and it became impossible for Adrian to go on working. He switched on the electric light, but there was nothing.

"The line must be down," Celeste said.

For long after that storm the people of Bangalul said there had never been such a storm in living memory, and it became known as "The day of the storm."

* * * * * * * *

"You might as well change and go home go home as soon as the storm eases," Adrian said.

Celeste laughed and said, "I'm afraid, Adrian, you won't be able to get rid of me that easily."

"But it won't go on for ever," Adrian said and..."

"No," Celeste said, "laughing again, "but its aftermath will."

"Aftermath...what..."

"Go and look at the creek, Adrian."

"Go out in this and look at..."

"Getting wet won't hurt you," she said, "just go and look."

He took an umbrella, but he didn't need to go to the creek. He could see from the house that the creek was already flooding over its banks.

When he went back into the studio it was to see Celeste lounging back in an old armchair.

"Well?" she asked; a faint smile on her lips.

"The creek, it's already in flood," Adrian said.

"Yes," Celeste said. "You see, it isn't just the local rain. When it rains up in the hills it sends a wall of water down the creek. They call it a flash flood. People have camped in the dry creek bed, and there's been no local rain, but it has rained up in the hills. Down comes the flash flood and they've been drowned, or if they're lucky they only lose or their gear."

"So how are you going to get home," Adrian asked anxiously."

"I can't," she said, "the only way back to the town is across the ford, and even if I tried the car would probably get swept away."

"That means you'll have to..."

"Yes, you poor by," Celeste said mockingly, "that means you're stuck with the wicked women who tried to seduce you."

"Don't, Celeste," Adrian said, "it was just a passing thing and we don't need to talk about it."

"Don't we?" Celeste asked tersely.

"No, how long will the creek stay in flood?" Adrian said, picking up her tone.

"Oh dear, you are anxious, aren't you. Well the good news is that it might be down by tomorrow or it might take a week. It depends on just how much rain was dumped up in the hills."

"Kingsley, he'll be worried sick," Adrian said.

"No he won't, he knows were I am."

"But alone here with me?"

"Yes, alone here with you," Celeste said, looking at him amused. "If you're so worried about it I'll use your telephone and give him a call; that is, if the phone isn't out as well as the power. Can I reassure him you'll be able to feed me? I mean, he wouldn't want me to starve to death."

"I've got enough food to last a few days," Adrian said, "and please ring him and let him know what's happening."

"He'll know what's happening but if it makes you feel better I'll call him."

The telephone was still working and Celeste got through to Kingsley. There was a brief conversation and when Celeste out down the phone she said, "There you are then, it was lucky I could get through."

"What did he say?"

"He said: yes he realised the creek was in flood and I couldn't get back; he was relieved that you had sufficient food; you are to look after me and we are to enjoy ourselves. Does that make you feel better?"

"And he really doesn't mind you being here alone with me?"

"No, he doesn't mind me being here alone with you, and so you can stop feeling guilty about something we haven't done."

"I wasn't feeling..."

"Oh yes you were Adrian. You've been guilty about the way you feel about me for a long time, but as the old song has it, "You can't get in jail for what you're thinking." If on Wednesday you'd given me the chance to explain, you'd have discovered that there's nothing to feel guilty about. I don't feel guilty. Now while I'm here perhaps I can pay for my board and keep by doing the cooking, so show me where the food is, I'm starving."

"There's no need for you to..."

"Oh yes there is Adrian. After all I'm the vile seductress and I'm sure you wouldn't want people to suspect that I paid for my board and keep in any way other than the most virtuous. By the way Mrs. McGregor won't be able to get here to do you're cleaning, but don't expect me to do it."

Her whole manner had been somewhat satirical and Adrian wondered where his goddess had gone. "Perhaps goddesses have these moods he thought, especially when their offers of sexual pleasure have been rejected.

* * * * * * * *

Her cooking, Adrian had to admit, was far better than his, but what he thought of as her "mood" continued.

After the meal and the clearing up they retired to the lounge and sat opposite each other in armchairs and Celeste said, "And what shall we do to keep ourselves entertained this evening? We'd better keep it safe; have you got any children's board games?"

Adrian, having so far not reacted to her cynical remarks now turned on her.

"There's no need to be sarcastic Celeste. If we've got to spend time together we might as well make it as pleasant as possible. We have a choice of CDs, the radio or the TV, if the reception is any good."

"Which it probably won't be," Celeste added.

"Or we can just talk."