But we would make do.
We had a bamboo kayak that we’d never used. A life raft to rescue us. It lay where we’d left it, half stockpiled, all alone on the virgin beach. It would finally have a use, ferrying our items to shore while Galloway guided it from the shallows.
The moment the anchor splashed, Coco squirmed. “Home!”
Galloway managed to keep hold of her as she turned ballistic. “Hey, calm down.”
“Swim! Swim!”
He chuckled. “You get into the water first, Stel. I’ll pass her to you.”
I did as he asked, fighting happy tears as my feet kissed the water’s surface then slipped beneath the warm embrace, up my calves, my kneecaps, mid-thigh. I didn’t care about my shorts and t-shirt getting wet. All I noticed were the blissful welcome of my toes sinking into soft, soft sand.
This was my place.
My one true home.
Turning to grab Coco, Galloway bent over the rail and kissed me. The moment our lips touched, I wanted him desperately. I wanted to escape into our bamboo grove and rekindle our island romance. I wanted to say hello and delete the goodbyes that’d happened here.
Conner.
Pippa.
We’d called Pippa the day before we left and told her we were returning. She didn’t sound surprised. If anything, she’d expected such a call.
She’d regaled her adventures of the past few weeks, her room at her grandmothers, her first day back at school. She sounded centred and calm. However, her parting words had destroyed me: “Say hello to my brother for me.”
Coco wrapped her small arms around my neck as I plucked her from Galloway’s grasp. The moment he was free, he leapt over the side and cannonballed beside me.
The spray went everywhere.
“Down. Down.” Coco kicked.
The water was too deep for her to stand, but she could swim before she could walk. She was a Fijian water nymph.
Plopping her (clothing and all) into the turquoise bay, she giggled and ducked under, half-doggy paddling, half breast stroking toward the shore. Galloway suddenly scooped me into his arms. Saltwater rained from my toes.
“What are you doing?” I laughed.
“Walking you over the threshold, of course.”
“That’s very nice of you. However, I do believe we’re past that in our marriage.”
“Never past romance, Estelle.”
We shared a kiss.
“Never change, G,” I murmured against his lips.
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Well, perhaps...you could change one thing.”
His eyebrow rose. “Oh?”
“You could grow your beard and hair again. I rather miss seeing you all wild and savage.”
Ever since we’d returned to Sydney, he’d kept his hair cut to his nape and his stubble no longer than a few days’ growth.
He was handsome no matter what, but there was something undeniably sexy being rugged and untamed.
“I guess that can be arranged.”
I kissed his cheek. “I’m the luckiest wife alive.”
“Damn right you are.”
I giggled under my breath. “Has your ego inflated?”
“Not at all. Just stating facts. Because I happen to be the luckiest husband in the world.”
“That’s way too cheesy.”
“Do you care?”
As Galloway marched toward the shore, chasing our swimming daughter, I laughed. “Not in the slightest. I love you. Cheesiness and all.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I pinched him. “Come on. I always say nice things.”
His eyes glowed with love. “I’m gonna say nice things to you the moment we’re alone.”
My core clenched as the tide relinquished us to dry land.
Coco bolted up the beach, dripping wet, toward the bamboo home we’d created. Wrenching open the rickety door on hinges made of flax string, she vanished inside and came out with her carved voodoo doll from Conner. “Co’s doll!”
My heart burst.
This.
This was what life was about.
Family and connection and memories.
Thank God we’d learned that lesson while we were young enough to enjoy it.
From disaster to serendipity.
Life was a journey and no one (no matter how wishful, bossy, or opinionated) could change the destination.
That was fate’s job.
Our job was to stop fighting.
Because only then could we find true happiness.
.............................
“Wrong, suckers. I’m her favourite person. Didn’t you hear her? She obviously said Co...that’s me.”
Tears trickled down my face as the video summoned Conner from the dead.
“He was so full of himself that night,” G murmured, tucking me tighter against him as we lay in the dark. “So cocky and proud.”
“He’d earned it. He was her first word.”
We’d been back on our island only a few hours. We’d unloaded our cargo, said goodbye to the crew, and arranged a pick-up time in a few days to return to Nadi to buy a speedboat of our own.
As the sun set on our first day, we’d enjoyed a simple dinner of fish and coconuts, returning to our tasks as easy as if we’d been born to it. We didn’t touch the canned goods or packaged produce. We didn’t drink the variety of juices or fresh water. And we didn’t crank up the generator to cast away the moon-tinged darkness as it fell.
It’d taken us months to get used to modern conveniences.
And only hours to relax into primitiveness.
Coco had stitched my heart with love as she’d squeezed me so tight before bed. Her body trembled with excitement at returning where she’d been raised, back in the sea where she’d been born, back where she belonged.
Now, the island was quiet.
And Galloway and I had finally gathered the courage to open the carved wooden box and say hello to my bracelets, passport, and unfixable cell-phone. Amongst our left-behind belongings were Mr. Whisker Wood (Pippa’s carved cat), and my birthday heart from Galloway.
I hated that we’d left them alone.
But now we were back, and I’d never take such things for granted again.
Together, we’d inserted the memory card with so much precious reminiscing into the new waterproof device we’d brought with us.
The first video had ruined us.
The second had decimated us.
But as we spent the night welcoming ghosts into our heart, we shed sadness in favour of thankfulness for such precious playbacks.
The day Coco said her first word.
The day Conner earned her undying affection and bragged about it for weeks. We were all so skinny and sunburned. So much wilder and on the fringe of survival than we’d thought. Yet our laughter and smiles were pure and besotted.
“I miss him.” My voice fell onto our leaf-stuffed bed.
This interlude in our old home wouldn’t last long. Galloway had already contracted a local building firm to camp on our island and help erect our forever house. Soon, the palm tree walls and bamboo floor would be surplus and unwanted.
But for now, I’d never felt more content.
“I don’t think that will ever change, Estelle.” G hugged me harder. “But at least, he knows how much he was loved. He’s happy, wherever he is.”
The moon crested over the horizon as hours ticked past and we watched video after video, inspected photo after photo.
And when we finally grew drowsy, my thoughts switched to the torn page of my notebook that I’d cast into the sea in a brittle plastic bottle.
Had anyone found it? Had anyone read the hardship of someone who didn’t know what she’d been given?
It didn’t matter anymore.
Bottle or no bottle.
Message or no message.
I’d finally listened.
I was home.
Chapter Eighty-Three
...............................................
G A L L O W A Y
......
EPILOGUE
ONE & HALF YEARS LATER
“THEY’RE HERE, G.”
I glanced at Estelle as she entered Coco’s room.
I’d just tucked my daughter into bed, kissing her browned cheek, loving how beautiful she looked amongst driftwood furniture and her starfish-shaped bed.
She’d fallen asleep before I’d finished reading her favourite book on humpback whales.
We’d moved into our new home two months ago after a successful build with four local craftsmen. We had everything we could ever dream of and had introduced a piece of the city we’d run from. Glass and steel made up the front part of the house, soaring above the canopy, granting perfect views to the achingly beautiful vista beyond.
The abode was understated but sturdy; built on stilts if there was ever a tsunami. And at night, the glass would glow with candles, looking like a lighthouse for lost souls.
We’d even built a small turret as a look-out for incoming guests and when the sun set over the woods, it illuminated the crash site, bouncing off the broken fuselage of the doomed helicopter that’d introduced us to our chosen end.
We hadn’t discarded it.
The forest was its resting spot, just like the beach was ours.
Tiptoeing to the exit, I smiled at my wife. Her stomach billowed over her bikini bottoms, a cute bump through her ebony sarong.
Four months pregnant.
However, unlike the horror of the last pregnancy, we were both calm and collected with a birthing plan in place, medical team on standby, and the fastest speedboat we could buy tethered to our newly built dock.
Her eyes glowed as I bent to kiss her.
I didn’t need to ask what was here.
The turtles.
Late December had arrived, and, with perfect precision, our leathered friends had returned.
“Fancy playing nursemaid to yet another egg laying?” She smiled, looping her fingers with mine and guiding me down the open-air steps.
Our house blended modern and rustic, taking inspiration from priceless architecture that I’d studied and the natural beauty of Fiji. It could be called a tree house with its segmented zones and open-air corridors.
Shade was granted by louvers and automatic shutters, cascading away to reveal stars and galaxies at night. If it rained, we got wet dashing from the open-plan kitchen and lounge to our bedrooms.
But we didn’t care.
We lived freely with no worries to ruining clothes or messing hairstyles. That triviality didn’t matter.
“Want to grab a drink and make a night of it?” I asked as we traded polished floorboards for sand.
“Sure.”
Coco would sleep the night away, giving us time to do whatever the hell we wanted.
I knew what I wanted.
My wife.
Together, we headed to our palm tree and bamboo house which had turned into a convenient storage for food, toys, and awesome hang out for Coco.
Soon, she’d have a brother or sister to play with.
I couldn’t wait.
The large fridge where a lot of our seafood was kept fresh and locally brewed craft beers were stored ran off the solar panels I’d installed the first month we’d arrived.
Every mod-con we needed we’d implemented, plus more.
But we didn’t use them often.
We’d adapted too much to let machinery rule our life now.
Gathering a basket with a few beers for me and a bottle of wine for Estelle, we made our way to the beach to watch yet another miracle of life.
.............................
Dawn broke as the turtles finished their task.
“Come swim with me.” Estelle swiped sand from her legs and untied her sarong.
My mouth went dry as I gawked at her feminine form, full breasts, and belly swollen with my child.
I’d married this woman.
I would have her for the rest of my life.
Christ, I’m lucky.
Placing my empty beer bottle in the picnic basket, I stood. Snagging her wrist, I yanked her forward to kiss. “It’s dawn.”
“So?”
“Aren’t you tired?” I placed my hand on her stomach. “Do you need to rest?”
Her eyes twinkled. “What I need is you.”
I sucked in a breath as she carefully removed my glasses and tossed them onto the blanket below. Her fingers skimmed under my t-shirt, removing it in one swipe, leaving me half-naked in board-shorts.
The pinky horizon warned we didn’t have long before Coco awoke and another day began.
But Estelle wanted me.
I wanted her.
I’d never say no to that.
Moving together, we waded into the tropical ocean.
As always a small pang hit me as I relived saying goodbye to Conner in this bay. His legacy meant we never (no exceptions) went swimming without water shoes. I refused to lose any more loved ones from a venomous fish we couldn’t see.
Estelle moaned as she ducked under, drenching her long hair and hovering in the tide’s embrace.
I copied, rinsing myself in saltwater and bobbing beside her to stare at the red and gold clouds.
The turtles had finished laying and most had returned to sea. However, a few stragglers slowly flippered past, eddying the current as their soulful black eyes judged us.
Estelle swam sedately beside a mammoth-sized turtle, hovering in pleasure as the creature slowly sank beneath the waves and disappeared.
We’d given up so much coming back here.
But we’d earned untold wealth in return.
“Come here.” Looping my arm around Estelle’s waist, I sluiced her into my embrace.
She giggled but accepted my kiss.
My hands roamed. Our bodies reacted. The urge to connect magnified.
But a noise appeared on the horizon, reverberating around our home.
“What on earth?” Estelle looked up, peering into the ever-lightening distance.
“It’s a boat.”
“I thought you’d given the builders the week off?”
“I did.” I stood in the chest-deep water, holding a hand over my eyes to shield from the piercing sun. “It’s not them. I don’t know the motor.”
“Who is it then?”
“I guess we’re about to find out.” Taking Estelle’s hand, I guided her from the ocean and jogged dripping wet to the jetty.
We padded to the end just as the small craft pulled up and cut the engine.
My heart quit beating.
“Oh, my God—” Estelle gasped. “You came. You truly came.”
“Hi, Stelly.” Pippa waved shyly. “Hi, G.”
Launching myself into the small boat, I grabbed her in a bear hug. “Wow, you’re here.” Her slight frame had filled out, skinniness replaced with budding curves, and her cheeks were no longer gaunt but rosy red with health.
She’s here.
After so long.
I couldn’t release her. I’d worried I’d never have the luxury of touching her again. Of calling her my own. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
She hugged me back, sighing heavily. “Honestly? I didn’t know if I would. It was nana’s idea.”
“Hello again.” Joanna Evermore cleared her throat as I released Pippa.
“I—I don’t know what to say.” I wished I wasn’t half-naked and dripping wet. The first impression wasn’t the best. Did this mean Pippa would live with us again? Did she finally want to be a family?
Questions ran rampant as the skipper offloaded two small suitcases onto the dock.
I frowned. The bags were too tiny for an extended stay.
Estelle said quietly, “This isn’t a home coming, is it?”
Pippa stiffened. “I’m—it’s just...”
“We’ve come for a week.” Joanna cut in. �
��School holidays are in effect and I asked if Pippa wanted to go somewhere. It was me who suggested coming to see you.”
I wanted to hate the woman for taking away my adopted child, but I only felt grateful. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“I can’t come back full time, G.” Pippa glanced at the island, decorated with brand new sunshine and freedom. “But I did want to talk to my brother and do my best to get over what happened here.”
Joanna moved closer to Estelle. “Her therapist said it would help.”
Therapist?
The poor kid had it worse than I feared.
But she was here now.
That was step one toward recovery.
Shoving away my concerns, I transformed into honourable host. Grabbing their suitcases, I bowed. “Well, our home is your home. You’re welcome anytime, you know that.”
Pippa smiled, her eyes drifting to Estelle’s belly. “I see you forgot to mention baby number two in your latest phone call.”
Estelle held Pippa’s hand as she clambered from the boat. They embraced. “We didn’t know how much to share. What would hurt. What wouldn’t.” She kissed the girl’s cheek. “But now that you’re here we have so much to catch up on.”
“I can see that.” Pippa turned to face our house. The glass glittered with secrets and history even though it was so new.
It knew what we’d survived here. It knew how much this land meant to us.
We’d lost, we’d won; we’d scarified, and celebrated.
We would never have a second chance with Conner.
But Pippa had returned.
One day, she would be able to visit without hurting from scars that bled so freely.
One day, she would be able to say goodbye to grief.
But until that day happened, I would be there for her.
And I wouldn’t waste a moment.
“Come on, Pippi.” I slung my arm over her slender shoulders. “Time to go home.”
.............................
THREE YEARS LATER
Considering we’d crashed with no expertise, no knowledge, no hope of surviving apart from sheer determination, Estelle and I hadn’t done too badly.
We’d not only survived, we’d excelled.
We’d created life.
We’d lost life.
We’d learned about life.
And life had almost killed us.