A Roll in the Hay

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Orchard accident brings a man to a struggling daughter.
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CHAPTER 1

Paris Jenks sighed and scratched her ear lobe while waking slowly to the chug-chug of an agricultural tractor and the post-dawn excitement of Meg and Dawn. They were orchard dogs, fed miserly and given shelter in return for helping to eradicate rabbits.

The curly blonde schoolteacher scratched a breast and knew with a sigh what that had been about: it was five weeks since she'd woken with a man beside her. That's akin to going three evening meals without potatoes.

Prospects for the 29-year-old were not good for getting fucked. It was end-of-season and the seasonal fruit pickers had gone. Her life at present was confined to walking to school and walking back home late afternoon to take over from her exhausted mom to sterilize more glass jars, fill them with raspberry pulp mixed with pumpkin to extend bulk and a small amount of quince to give it a different hint of taste that customers agreed made the jam live up to it's name of 'Ma Jenks' Unique Raspberry Jam'. It was one of the products the family had offered for sale for four generations at the roadside stall that attracted locals and people from the city all-year long.

Paris had Sundays off from chores from lunchtime and her mom frequently urged her to go off and 'be with a man', but working 15-hour days six days a week and 6-hour Sundays usually convinced her to go to bed early, alone. The school principal was married and although some of the senior boys at the 'all-grades' school were obviously interested Paris knew if she took any of them on her career would be over and the community would ostracize her and she'd have to leave the district to avoid her family suffering from her misdeeds. Older brother Tony was a good backstop to fill her needs but he was now on an overseas working holiday with his girlfriend. When the pruners arrived in early winter and the pickers were in the district from late summer she walked a little bandy-legged with a big smile on her face.

Then suddenly the daily grind for Paris became more upbeat. It began that very day when her mother screamed in a panic, "Meg's home!"

Fuck thought Paris and yelled, "I'm coming" She tore off her old work dress, pulled on shorts and buttoned her shirt as she went running off. Meg coming home by herself meant only one thing: her father was in trouble.

Maggie her mom was sitting grimly in the passenger seat of the Land Rover. She'd never learnt to drive, never wanted to, except in moments like the present, with a crisis threatening. Maggie had grown up with horses and only quit ridding when taking a nasty fall three years ago during the local hunt, ending up with concussion and a broken hip and agreeing with everyone reluctantly never to ride again.

Paris tried to send Meg off to find Reg but the dumb dog jumped back on the vehicle's cargo tray.

"The McCain's boundary line," wheezed her mom, indicating some emotion was there.

Paris took another look at Meg, noticing mud on her legs. "Meg's come through the creek."

"Get me to the creek then," her mom shouted.

The Old Girl as they called the 54-year-old faithful 'workhorse' was driven at 40 mph, the aged vehicle's maximum speed and above safe speed through the orchard to the far end of the property where it dipped into undeveloped land.

"There's the tractor -- it's upright," Maggie said with relief, as an overturned tractor would have suggested the driver might be pinned underneath it.

"There's dad, forty yards to the left of it."

"You know I can's see without my glasses."

"Then why come without them?"

"Paris!"

Rarely had Paris seen her mom on edge like this, so she backed off.

"Is he standing, sitting or prone?"

"Prone."

"I see him. He looks dead."

"Mom, only old age will end the life of that tough bastard. Calm down."

"I will not calm down."

"Well, get ready for a slap."

They drove on in silence, her mom standing as the canvas top was only put on it winter, still a few weeks away. She held on to the solid windscreen assembly and finally said mournfully, "I see clearly now -- his lower body is under that old stunted tree he's felled. He's not moving."

Paris, fighting her own panic, snorted, "It's hard to move when you're unconscious with a broken leg.

With Reg Jenks painfully hospitalized with shattered hip and a fractured femur high up on the other leg, neighbors organized a roster to work Reg's property. One guy even cut up the tree that had sprung back when about to fall to catch Reg and pin him to the ground, smashing the chainsaw as well. Reg would later boast it was the best firewood they'd ever had.

Maggie advertised for a temporary orchard manager but the only replies received were from inexperienced misfits. She called Tony who was in England with Rose. He was sorry to hear about his father's inquiries but said the tough old coot would bounce back. He also said he and Rose had commenced a degree course to qualify as advanced travel consultants and he had no intention of taking on the family business. "Get Paris to quit teaching disinterested kids and get into a real job."

"What real job?"

"Mom, running the fucking orchard. Has dad's accident made you thick?"

Maggie cut the call rather than rant at her son. All she said to Paris was Tony was not coming home and carried the gin bottle out to the summerhouse. Paris joined her and said she would resign from her teaching job.

"Don't do it Paris. It's you career, a way out of drudgery once you gain sufficient seniority to apply for an upgrade position a long way from here. I had my chance but let it go. Please Paris, keep teaching. "

Paris walked back to the house and called the school principal. He agreed she could leave immediately as he had two trained teachers living locally who'd been pestering him for employment.

Next morning Maggie Jenks stirred and passed wind, feeling on the bed beside her and only then remembered husband Reg was in hospital. She froze, hearing the unbelievable -- the chug-chug of the agricultural tractor warming up and the post-dawn excitement of Meg and Dawn.

"Paris, you stupid young woman," she muttered proudly. "Like your mother and grandmother and great-grandmother you're turned aside an easier life because of your love of the land."

Paris arrived home at 4:00, absolutely whacked, a welt over her forehead and stretching to ease her aching back.

Maggie poured Paris coffee and run a bath for her, growling, "An ex-schoolteacher ought not to try to do a man's work on her first day on the job."

"Fuck men mom, what use are they? Tony should be here doing what I'm doing but he and Rose have discovered booze, group sex and cheaper drugs are more readily available when you're a tertiary student."

"You're exhausted darling. Eat your oat and chocolate cookies for energy and toddle off to your bath. What do you do today?"

"I felled the last twenty dead tree trunks and dug around three of the stumps with the bucket and one by one racked up the stump jacks and finally wrenched out the stumps with the use of tractor power and the chainsaw."

Maggie was appalled. "Darling, that's work for a man."

"Find me one mom and perhaps I'll agree with you. Dad wants that remaining five acres ready to plow this spring and someone has to keep that work on schedule and that person is me."

Maggie pleaded but Paris said no way would she slacken off.

"I'll talk to your father and get him to defer that development on the business plan."

"We must be plowing and planting in the spring mom otherwise will not meet our longer-term contractual obligations to be supplying olives on schedule. We paid through the nose to get those tests done and findings are that with good drainage we'll make a mint from olives to take you and dad into a moneyed retirement."

"A deferment for only a year Paris," Maggie whined.

"No, we'd have to pay the $15,000 contractual penalty and suffer the schedule first year's loss of income. And remember, it will be months before dad is back toward being his old self and the surgeon warned dad will lose some of his former mobility."

"Oh God."

"That's a convenient refuge for you mom. I suggest you use it. Just tell dad I'm clearing out drains. You mention anything about the development block to him mom and I'll swat you; that I promise. "

Maggie sighed and told Paris she'd been such a beautiful baby and was so angelic until she went to high school.

Paris stroked her mother's hair. "Don't put you foot in it where it's not wanted mom and you'll think of me fondly. Just find me a man."

Sharpening up her techniques, next day by noon Paris had wrenched four stumps from the ground and carted them on to a knoll ready for burning. She then lay in the sun, head propped up on a log, hat shielding her face from the weakening late fall sun and ate her meat sandwiches. Thinking about being fucked made her too restless so she switched to thinking about her Grade 6 class and hoped the new teacher had the expertise to keep the students going forward and could love them better than Paris had managed. God, some of them were real shits and that was not only the males.

About that time a guy with blond hair, blue eyes and a figure that caught Maggie's breath stepped out of a pickup and she called, "Over here. What are you hawking?"

"I'm looking for permanent work. Mom said I should try you."

Maggie decided the guy would not be offering the work she had in mind for him. "Go to the kitchen and fetch a couple of beers for yourself from the fridge. If I'd know you were coming I'd comb my hair and put on a bra."

"Mom's like you; only does herself up when visitors are coming or she goes out. She doesn't wear clothes on hot sunny days.

"Are you one of Betty Philip's sons?"

"Yeah, second oldest Gilman."

"Hi Gilman. Are you the one who went to university and returned as a lecturer in animal genetics."

"That's me. Sorry to hear about the old man."

"He's doing okay. Up walking already to keep away clots. It's agony watching him. His face is in pain and he looks to be moving liked a headless rooster."

"Sorry to hear that, I really am. I'm having a year off from lecturing. Mom thought I should offer to give you a hand."

"Go get your beer Gilman. Sounds like we should talk."

* * *

The truth was Gilman had been asked to resign, having being caught screwing the Chaplin's two daughters. He'd arrived home in disgrace and no longer thinking that episode was a really big joke. It had really hurt when some of his closest associates turned on him and openly despised him. Christ, he'd not screwed the Chaplin or his wife and both daughters were in their early twenties.

His parents were devastated when he told him. His father offered him money to go to another country but Gilman said he had plenty of money and had decided to work on the family farm. Gilman father told him aggressively he was not wanted on the farm, as it was ticking along smoothly with his two brothers working in partnership with him. His mother jumped in and told him about Reg Jenk's accident and said all the neighbors had been pitching in but Maggie really needed permanent help.

"Paris resigned from teaching at the school last week to work on the farm but she'll be next to useless bringing that former swamp land in. The other thing big about her are her breasts and head because she has a big opinion of herself."

"Christ, Paris Jenks is still around. I used to go around all day with a hard on thinking about her."

"Gilman please, this is your mother you are speaking to. I will not have blasphemy used in my house."

"Sorry mom. Big breasts you say?"

"She's gorgeous Gilman and has long driven the Toms away. She should be married...oh Gilman, go work for Maggie. If she doesn't pay you enough I'll subsidize your income."

Gilman heard the tractor approaching as he heaved his luggage from the cargo box and took no notice, thinking the driver would be one of Maggie's neighbors lending a hand. Suddenly two dogs had cornered him, one barking and the other eyeing him intently.

"What are you stealing from our house you asshole!" yelled a woman.

Gilman grinned, turned and froze as the eye dog slunk towards him two paces and growled, looking ready to pounce.

"Paris -- it's me, Gilman Philips and I'm arriving, not leaving with loot."

The tractor motor revved and it moved closer to him and he heard the unladylike Paris shout, "Meg and Dawn, get the fuck out of there. Get in behind. Good girls."

Gilman thought all that must be confusing for the dogs but then Paris had always confused him. The dogs had raced off and were coming in behind the veteran tractor.

As she jumped off the tractor Gilman noticed the shirt sweat stains below and between her tits. Her face was sweaty and dirty. Where was this beauty has mom had been on and on about? He went to kiss her but she backed off saying he should keep his distance. "The only time you had any interest in me was to try to get your hands on my breasts."

"Paris, for God sake, that was ten years ago."

"My mom says men never change."

"I don't want to kiss you, okay. You look anything but kissable."

"Thank you very much. And now you can fuck off home."

"This is my home. Your mom has hired me."

Gilman thought that was the only time he'd ever seen Paris Jenks with her mouth open without it gushing words, abuse or singing. Then she hissed, "You stay here: I have someone to sort out."

Gilman watched her go and wisely did not comment 'Nice ass'. Actually it was difficult to tell in those heavy, dirt-caked pants. What on earth had she been doing?"

Five minutes later Maggie came out, all smiles. "Sorry about that, I gathered you caught an earful. She's been jacking out tree stumps since 6:00 this morning and has gotten seven out today, a record for her. The poor girl is exhausted. After a bath and a couple of wines she's promised to come out and apologize. I had a strip ripped off me too."

"Paris, jacking out stumps, all by herself?" Gilman said, scratching his head.

"They are smallish stumps Gilman, the largest would be only four feet across.

"Four feet is larger than small Maggie."

"Oh, you've decided to call me Maggie have you? That's fine."

Gilman took his bags to his room and then opened a beer and said he was going to sit with Paris.

"She'll kill you seeing her in the nude without her face and hair done."

"Sometimes a man has to do what a man has to do," Gilman said, making Maggie grin. He was thirty so wondered how the body of Paris, a year younger, looked these days. He licked his lips and began what could be a perilous journey.

Gilman knocked on the bathroom door.

"Fuck off Gilman. I know it's you because mom doesn't knock."

He walked in and Paris remained motionless, making no effort to cover up. He ran his eyes over her slowly.

"Well, what do you think?"

"You still look pretty, lovely trim job and your boobs are magnificent and I like your mouth not being in that hard line it was with me outside earlier.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, may I sit and sip my beer? Play with yourself if you wish; it won't embarrass me."

"Why are you here, I mean in the bathroom? This is not natural."

"To show you I'm not afraid of you any longer. You used to bully me when we were young. Try that now and I'll probably whack you one."

"You were soft as shit when we were young."

"It's called being sensitive but I was in awe of you. You were so popular, especially among the girls and I knew you had something that I know now is aura."

"So I'm all grown up and beautiful just as you dreamed I'd be?"

"You are grown up and many women your age are more beautiful than you. I've experienced the world."

Paris said mildly he'd proven how brave he was so he could clear out and leave her to play with herself.

Gilman stood and looked down on her. Paris opened her legs wide and he grinned and said, "Has that pussy hair been trimmed to form 'G' for Gilman?"

She just smiled and closed her legs

"I go and talk with your mom. At present she's more interesting than you."

Half an hour later the so-called beauty came out in a toweling robe, flushed cheeks and a towel around her head. In comparison her fifty-something mother looked almost attractive.

During dinner Maggie said at the hospital that afternoon the house surgeon had asked to see her.

"I was told Reg was coming along well. The hip replacement has presented no problems and his pinned femur of the other leg became infected but it was on the surface, very localized and is now well under control. He is wearing surgical stockings to inhibit possible blood clotting and is now managing to walk from his bed almost to the nurses' station on his walker under pain relief, and the nurses refer to him as that determined cuss. There have been complaints about his swearing and vulgarity but the nurses make out as if he'd the only character in the ward. I heard one of them promise him light relief but my coarse husband accused me of mishearing and said she'd said 'night relief'.

"They probably mean the same mom. Rumor has it you give the best fellatio in the district -- why not visit him at nights after lights out?

"Gilman, you'll have to excuse my daughter. She's learnt from her father to exaggerate, twist and invent all for a laugh."

"I'm keeping out of this Maggie. When will Reg come home?"

"Possibly next week. A hospital outreach team will inspect our facilities and to work out with me what will need to be done for Reg's comfort and to keep him away from physical danger or stress. I'll receive a nurse aid to help me with Reg each morning until he's confident enough to rely on just me. He'll receive physiotherapy treatment at home for months, possibly for a year."

Looking pleased, Paris said that was all good news.

"Yes dear, but now for the bad news. The medical assessment says he should regain 60% of his former mobility, perhaps working up to 80% with hard work and determination."

"Mom, dad a cripple? He'll shoot himself," Paris screamed and Maggie began crying.

Gilman strode over and shook Paris by the shoulders. "Shut up Paris, I know you are tired but your outburst is helping no-one.

"Get you hands off me, you jerk."

Gilman grinned and said that was better, what he expected from her and told her to hug her mom and say sorry.

"I-I-I couldn't bear to tell him," Maggie sobbed.

"We'll all go in tomorrow morning and Paris will tell him and Maggie you'll hold Paris."

"Keep out of this, it's family," Paris snapped.

"Your father coached me football for three years. He became an expert on minor leg, rib and shoulder injuries and taking players coming out of injury through rehab. I'll take him back through that and remind him of some of the great comebacks."

"Well...in that case..."

Drying her eyes Maggie said, "Yes Gilman, you're coming with us."

Next morning just before dawn Gilman heard the tractor start up.

"Christ," he swore. He found his old thick trousers and then threw on an old football jersey and grabbing his thick socks and boots and hat, raced out after Paris and caught her as she was about to set off. She eyed him passively.

"Suddenly a farm guy are you?"

"I've done plenty of it, including cropping and grape pruning during university breaks. We have this hospital thing with your father this morning."

"We're not leaving till 10:30 -- I'll get three stumps out be then."

"Five with me helping."

"Two because you'll get in my way."

He flared but caught the grin.

"Bitch, you almost got an earful.

Her grin widened and she told him to jump on.

They reached the bathroom together, Gilman still hearing Maggie saying, "Five stumps in just under four hours, I can't believe it." Paris had said, "He's not as useless as he looks mom."