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This
is a work of fiction, loosely based on the real person, Russell Crowe. No
insult or injury is intended, this story is for entertainment purposes only. This
story is for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains explicit sexual
situations and adult language. The writer is not responsible for any
"discomfort" caused to the reader by this language and these
situations.
Remission by:
©
11/2004
Chapter
1 December
2001, Nana Glen, NSW. Mari stretches her back. Muscles
aching. Her whole body hot and sweaty. Most of the boxes are indoors
now. Heavy boxes, loaded with her books. Just a few more to go. She smiles to
herself. Muscles aching in places she's never felt before. It feels good though,
makes her feel proud and satisfied. The house is almost finished.
It's a typical Australian farmhouse with verandas all around. It needed a lot of
work. A new roof, wiring, plumbing, kitchen and bathroom, a lick of paint, new
windows. The local contractor has
done a great job. At her request the builders have
knocked down a few walls, creating larger rooms. All the rooms have doors
leading out to the veranda. A spacious living room, light and airy. The original
dining room transformed into a studio with large windows letting in rays of
light. A large kitchen completely refitted. A little office. And what she calls
her 'media room' with her TV and audio equipment. She has a special sound system
installed, enabling her to listen to
music in every room. The living room is sparsely
furnished. Huge bookcases covering one wall, still empty, waiting for her books.
A fire place surrounded by two big couches and a large rug. No table. She likes
it that way. Some of her paintings are on
display on the ground. She will probably just use one of the bigger ones.
Doesn't want to clutter up the walls. Space....private space....how she has
longed for that. Kicking off her boots, she drops
full length on the couch, wriggles her toes and flexes the muscles of her long,
strong legs Her fatigue sinks into
the couch, taking the ache with it as she lies still, enjoying the solitude. After a while she gets up and
walks into the kitchen. A cold beer would do just fine. Drowning the dust. She
laughs out loud. It bounces off the empty walls and space around her, the sound
making her strangely happy. ~*~ Some weeks later and she has
settled in nicely. The farmhouse is a dream. She
loves the verandas all around the house, the possibility to step outside from
every room. She has furnished the house in a minimalistic way, every piece
picked with care for either comfort or functionality. In the kitchen a large bare
wooden table with four chairs. She doesn't plan on entertaining any time soon.
Basic appliances, with the exception of a huge classic American refrigerator. The living room, its largest
wall covered with her books, is bare except for the two couches and rug in front
of the fireplace, a stereo and little cabinet where she keeps some glasses and
booze. One large painting on the wall. No flowers. She prefers them outside,
alive, not dying in vases. It's a bit untidy. Books, newspapers, magazines and
CD's on the floor. Evidence of her living here. Mari is in her studio, working.
Her easel at the window. Canvases and paints everywhere, a big table filled with
paper, brushes, pencils and books. Light... lots of light coming in through the
big windows. Tenor voices singing the flower song from Delibes 'Lakmé'. A hard knock on the front door.
She looks up from her painting. Disturbed. "What the fu...."
She steps onto the veranda, rounds the corner. There's a man standing
outside her front door. His silhouette against the bright light. Cowboy hat,
longish hair, broad shoulders. A workman. She has left word in town that she is
looking for help. Never expected a reaction this soon. Calls out to him.
"Please come over to the back, to the kitchen." When he enters her kitchen Mari
realizes her mistake. She would have known him anywhere. He takes off his hat
and looks at her with obvious amusement. He has the most catching smile and
gorgeous ocean-green eyes with long lashes. A strong face with scruffy beard and
disordered chestnut brown hair. He's wearing a pair of threadbare jeans and a
well worn flannel shirt over some sort of rugby jersey. "G'Day neighbor. Thought
I'd have a gander, see if you've settled in...need anything?" That deep,
warm voice. Strong hand stretched out for a shake. She is suddenly very aware of
her appearance. Her long dark blond hair in
a disheveled bun, her old jeans and top covered in paint. Paint all over
her arms, her hands... She holds them up, "Hi, I'm eh...I'm sorry, let me
wash my hands first." Nods at the table. "Please have a seat,"
and walks over to the sink. He places his hat on the table
and sits down. At ease, confident, observant. "You've missed a
spot," he says, still smiling, pointing at her face. Catching her reflection
in the window, she sees the streaks of paint on her cheeks. Grimaces at her
image. He's observing her. A tallish
woman, somewhere in her thirties. Long arms and legs, slim without being skinny,
with curves in all the right places. Large,
intelligent grey eyes with long lashes, a short straight nose, soft mouth and
strong chin. He wouldn't call her beautiful but she has the type of face that
could grow on a man. Definitely her own woman. She walks up to him and shakes
his hand. A cool hand, strong grip. Looking him straight in the eyes, "Hi,
I'm Mari. Nice of you to come by. Actually I thought you were a farm hand
soliciting a job," she grins at him, clearly amused. "Would you like
something to drink? I'm having a beer myself, but if you'd like something
else..." "Beer'll do fine, ta." She takes two bottles out of the
fridge. "Want a glass?" He shakes his head. Mari takes
the seat opposite him. Getting the table in between them. "I realize that
it should have been me, coming over. I was planning to come introduce myself,
but frankly I've been enjoying the peace and quiet so much, that I put it off
for a bit." It's the truth, but as soon as the words come out, she regrets
them. "Not meaning that you are
disturbing me now, I mean..." "No worries, luv. I know
what you mean. Anyway, you haven't
been here that long. We haven't marked you a recluse yet". His giggle is
catching, she feels the responding smile take over her face. He is very
attractive and he knows it. When Mari bought the property,
she was well aware of who her future neighbor would be. Not that she had
expected to meet him. Well...not so soon anyway. Not with his schedule.
"I'm a bit surprised seeing you here. I didn't think you would be around
much, with your day job." "Too right, I haven't been
around as much as I would've liked, but I'm not complaining. Comes with the
territory. So...tell me. How are you settling in? Is there anything we can help
out with?" "I'm fine. I've found my
way around town, know where to get the basics. I did put word out that I'm
looking for some hired help, but I'm sure it will all work out. Nothing very
urgent. Just need some help with my land." She has to laugh at herself. My land! Doesn't that sound wonderful? He gives her a surprised
look, eyebrows raised. She explains. "Sorry, it's just that I never had
land before, I'm still not quite used to it." He understands. "Yeah,
it's great isn't it? To have that sort of freedom?" "Freedom...yes." Face
suddenly serious. "Would you
like to see the rest of the house? I've had a lot of work done to it." He
follows her around the rooms. It isn't a feminine house. No
flowery designs, no knick-knacks. The large painting in the living room catches
his eye. "Yours?" "Hmm." She doesn't ask
him if he likes it. It's an abstract, vivid colors, large bold strokes of paint.
He can almost picture her painting it. In a happy mood, a happy painting. "I like it." He likes what she's done to the
house, appreciating the way she's kept the rooms spacious, almost empty. Room to
move. He likes the sight of the books everywhere, the CD's. There are no
photographs. Apart from the books and music, hardly any personal things at all.
But somehow the house feels extremely personal, strangely appealing to him. Mari opens the patio doors and
steps out onto the veranda, overlooking the back garden. Not exactly a garden.
Things are growing but that's about it. "Hm!...I could do with a
gardener. Do you happen to know anyone? I wouldn't be needing one full time,
just to help out. Make a garden plan maybe. I'd like to grow things, maybe some
veggie's and herbs, maybe even some fruits...don't know the first thing about it
though. Never had a real garden before." "I'll put a word out for
you. We'll find someone." Outside now she's strangely at a
loss for words. Should she invite him back in? Ask him if he wants another beer?
She settles for just silence. He walks deeper into the garden, up the slight
slope that gives a view over a large part of her land. Mari follows. Observing
him. He has a swaying way of walking. Broad shoulders and a small ass..... In turning to her: "What
are your plans for the farm? If you have any? It's been neglected for
years". "I'm not sure yet.
Basically what I want is to do it justice, get it back in shape. But as I have
no idea where to start, I'll need a couple of good hands. I would like to plants
some more trees. I would like a horse. Could use some help finding a nice one. I
have no plans for cattle and such. Don't want it to be a working farm. Don't
want it to become a burden, you know?" It makes sense to him. "I
take it you don't need to live off it?" Smiling at her. "No,
I don't need to live off it." Grinning now. "Would you like another
beer?" He checks his watch. "I'd
like to take a rain check on that, if you don't mind. Running late. Oh, before I
forget. We're having a barbie next Saturday, a bit of a New Year's get-together
for our local friends. My mom sends her regards and would like to invite
you." Eyebrows raised. "Your
mom...?" He giggles. "Yeah, she's
the boss. But really, you should come. It's an informal little affair. Great
chance to meet some of the other neighbors." Looking her straight in the
eyes. "And I would like it if you came". She smiles at him. "Well
... if you put it that way. Tell your mom I would love to come. What time?" "Beaut! Around six for
drinks then." They walk back to the house
where he picks up his hat from the kitchen table. She follows him to the front
where he's parked his truck. He gets in and turns toward her. "It's nice
meeting you, Mari. See ya Saturday." She feels the blush on her
cheeks. "Yeah, till Saturday." A roaring engine and he is gone. She
feels strangely alone. O fuck, woman, get
a grip! She shakes her head and walks back into the house.
Chapter Two or Index for Remission
Return to Real Russell
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