Unseen Messages

Estelle smiled, her lips glistening from my kiss. “You mean, I have to tell you about our daughter, too?”

  I choked. “Wow, what a way to dump it on her.”

  “What did you just say?” Madi’s eyes turned to sniper scopes. “Can you repeat that, please?”

  Estelle beamed. “What? You mean the bit about Galloway knocking me up and me giving birth on an island? Or the bit that we have a two-year-old daughter?”

  Madi squealed in a perfect imitation of Coco. “Oh, my God! Where? Can I see? Where is she?”

  My eyes flickered to the closed bedroom door. No doubt Coco would be awake now after that squeal-fest.

  However, Estelle wriggled out of my arms and hauled her friend to the door. “Tomorrow, oh so eager aunt.”

  “I’m an aunt?”

  “You’re anything you want to be.”

  “You’d better be prepared for an interrogation tomorrow, Stel. You’ve been a seriously bad friend to leave all of this out.”

  “I promise to give you day by day updates.”

  “Starting with what the hell you were doing flying in the middle of a thunderstorm when you’d claimed you didn’t want to go to Bora Bora with me?”

  Estelle groaned. “Don’t make me feel guiltily for wanting my own space.”

  “I can and I will. It’s my right as your best friend who was left behind to run your dead existence.”

  Estelle stiffened. “You're right.”

  “Of course, I’m right. I’m always right.” Madi paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Wait, what am I right about?”

  “My dead existence. I’m officially no longer alive. All that money, the recording deal...that’s in the trust with the lawyer and you’re now the beneficiary. That money isn’t mine.”

  Madi snorted. “Pfft, I’m only safe-keeping it for you, douche canoe. Every penny is yours. You earned it.”

  “No, you earned it,” Estelle argued. “What you did for me. The apartment. The moving. Shovel Face. Madi...thank you so much.”

  Joking turned serious as the two women hugged.

  “Don’t mention it.” Madi kissed her. “You’ll pay me back by introducing me to my niece tomorrow.”

  Breaking apart, Madi opened the door. “Bye, Galloway. I expect you to actually contribute to the next conversation. It was like having a stray eavesdropping today.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets. “A stray?”

  “Yep. Estelle found you and brought you home. That’s normally what a stray is.” Winking, she added, “Cheerio. Have fun arguing about who gets to buy the mansion.”

  Estelle closed the door as Madi skipped into the corridor.

  She sighed under her breath. “She’s never been any different. I used to grow tired watching her buzz around like a wind-up squirrel, but now, now I find it energizing.”

  “She’s something else, I agree.”

  “Best intentions, though.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt.” I lowered my jaw, watching her beneath hooded eyes. “I can’t say the same for my intentions, however.” The fact that our kiss had been interrupted wasn’t forgotten by my lips or my semi-hard erection.

  Estelle slinked over the tiles, slotting herself back into my arms. “Your intentions?”

  “I don’t know if I should spank you for keeping such things quiet or kiss you stupid for making our future so much easier.”

  Her eyes darkened at the mention of sexual punishment but guilt won. “I’m sorry, G. I’m sorry for not telling you what the tour meant.”

  “I’m sorry for telling you about my past and showing you the sort of man you married.”

  “I’m not. I’m honoured you trusted me enough.”

  “And do you trust me?”

  “Unequivocally.”

  “So no more big reveals? Nothing of such epic proportions?”

  She smiled. “Not that I know of.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Oh?”

  “I can stop being mad at you now.”

  “You can?”

  “Yep.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “It means...I have another issue that needs taking care of.” My body aligned with hers, pressing my hardness against her lower belly.

  “Oh, yes, that’s very important.” Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed me. “Perhaps, I should help you with that.”

  “Perhaps, you should.”

  Our lips connected as she breathed, “Now...where were we?”

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  ...............................................

  E S T E L L E

  ......

  Money.

  It can’t buy happiness.

  It can buy happiness.

  But it can’t buy health. It can’t buy love. It can’t buy a future that is priceless.

  Money makes everything easier, but it can’t buy dreams.

  And dreams are what I want.

  Taken from the New Notepad of E.E.

  ...

  OUR LIVES CHANGED immeasurably in the next few weeks.

  We underwent another medical examination to ensure the vitamins were working and our bodies were putting on necessary weight. We had a meeting with search and rescue, going over their inspection grid and discussing how far off they’d been from finding us (it wasn’t that much but enough to keep us secluded). We endured more conversations with Australian immigration about our residency. Sent a massive thank you to P&O Cruises for finding us. And we visited (much to my annoyance) another dentist to ensure nothing was overlooked on the cruise.

  Considering we’d been missing for three and a half years, there wasn’t much wrong with us. Only a broken heart from a teenage boy’s death and the empty space at night where a solemn girl used to be.

  But when melancholy tried to take us over, we remembered what we did have.

  We had each other.

  We had Coco.

  We were alive and found.

  We were lucky.

  The day after Madi visited, Galloway carted Coco and me to the closest optometrists and sat for an hour having eye exams and picking frames for a new prescription. The bounce in his step at finally getting new glasses was worth the heartache of being lost in a city we couldn’t acclimatise to.

  For a week, we readjusted to the busy world. We went out for dinner and gritted our teeth through loud noises, obnoxious diners, and processed food. We put up with a temperamental toddler who demanded the quietness of the beach and nightlights of the stars. And we waited (not so patiently) for Galloway’s glasses to be created.

  Some days, we braved the supermarket where everything we needed on the island was available within reaching distance for the exchange of money.

  Money.

  I had some.

  I had a lot.

  I’d come from an upbringing where a few thousand dollars in savings meant you were doing all right in the world. Heading to America with Madi meant I’d leapt from a few thousand to a few hundred thousand, fully believing my life was set.

  But now, I had a few million.

  And I couldn’t comprehend what such wealth would mean.

  It was all so surreal.

  Coco would never go without. Galloway and I need never worry about where we could live or how we would afford it.

  We were lucky.

  Our hardship was over, and we’d been rewarded.

  However, as each day bled into the next, I couldn’t shake the feeling of depression. I was more depressed here than I’d ever been on our island (even in those terribly dark days at the end).

  Here, I felt like I didn’t belong.

  I still cooked by moonlight, and we hadn’t turned the television on once.

  It was as if we’d become suspicious of such conveniences and preferred the simplified existence we’d enjoyed.

  The only change we did accept was Madi.

  She slotted into our lives as if she’d been there forever.

  She returned the next
night, and we spent the evening talking about nothing and everything. Galloway told her what we’d done to survive. I shared juicy details of our marriage. And she played with Coco as if she’d been born to be an aunt.

  Most nights, she’d pop by after work to say hi and hang out. And Galloway accepted her with charm and suavity—completely unlike how he’d accepted me. Where I’d been given the cold shoulder and blustery glances, Madi was given warmth and welcome.

  Then again, according to Galloway, his frustration with me was all based on lust. Wanting me when he couldn’t have me.

  He didn’t want Madi (thank God). But it did make me aware that for the first time, I had to compete for his affection. I wasn’t the only woman anymore, and he wasn’t the only man. If he popped to the store down the road for a forgotten item, I panicked wondering if he’d find another girl more attractive than I was. What if my gaunt frame and silvery stretch marks no longer held his attention?

  However, he had the same fears. And we shared them one night when a nasty quip turned into a heated debate about uncertainty in our relationship.

  We’d both been so stupid.

  We weren’t together because we’d been the only adults on our island. We were together because our souls had bonded, our hearts had glued, and our two had become one.

  Afterward, things did get a little easier. Whenever Madi came around, Galloway was on his best behaviour. I guessed being on neutral territory made him behave. However, I liked to believe it was me.

  I’d cured whatever festered inside him. It was still there, but he could breathe without feeling guilty. He could laugh without filling with hatred.

  He’d mellowed.

  But when he held Coco, he came alive.

  In bed together, just before falling asleep, we often spoke of Pippa and Conner. We welcomed the memories, and when Pippa finally called us (on the cell-phone immigration had given us), we’d been quiet for hours afterward. Physically in pain with missing her.

  She sounded happier. Not cured. Not content. But happier.

  Being in a new place—away from us, the island, and Conner’s ghost—she might have a chance at healing. I didn’t know if she would be okay mentally, spiritually, but at least, physically we’d done what we could to protect her.

  And I wanted her to be happy. I wanted it enough to keep our distance until she returned to us.

  Night-time was the hardest.

  We struggled to sleep on the soft mattress. And gave up in favour of the yoga mats we found in the apartment closet. We relocated to the lounge where Coco slept between us and the balcony doors remained open to the humid breeze and distant crashing of the ocean.

  That was the only time we found peace.

  True peace.

  Peace that wasn’t manufactured or bought.

  However, we also slept in the lounge with the doors wide because Coco screamed blue murder whenever she couldn’t hear the sea. If we popped into the city, she cried. If we tried to give her a treat of chocolate or candy, she cried. She truly was an earth child who found pleasure and belonging in the sand between her toes, the sun upon her face, and the simple sweetness of coconut and papaya.

  “Will this get any easier?” Galloway muttered, feeding mashed-up banana to Coco.

  Her tiny face scrunched up. “No.”

  “Come on. It’s yummy.”

  “No!”

  We’d tried everything, but she still wouldn’t eat anything overly salty or sweet. Her palate was refined to simple, rustic food and pounded her little fists whenever we tried to introduce her to flavoured foods such as spaghetti bolognese or meat dishes.

  I was a vegetarian and converted seafood lover, but Galloway was a serious meat eater. Turned out our daughter took after me in that department.

  However, I still couldn’t have eggplant or halloumi (not after the painful association with my family’s death).

  With all the loss and never-leaving grief lately, my parents and sister had been on my mind. Being back in Sydney made their demise seem so much more recent, webbing with the ache of Conner’s passing and Pippa’s leaving.

  It’s all too much.

  “I think she misses Fiji,” I whispered, rubbing my temples from the slight headache I’d had all day.

  Coco looked squarely at me. “Fiji. Fiji. Home!”

  The spoon in Galloway’s hand clunked into the bowl. “I know, little nut. Fiji was your home. But it isn’t anymore. We live here now.”

  Tears welled in her green-blue eyes.

  I couldn’t stop staring at the nutmeg brown of her tanned skin (that I doubted would ever fade), the light blonde of her ringlets, and the determined set of her pretty jaw.

  She was the perfect blend of Galloway and me, holding the same cravings deep inside her.

  Yes, baby girl, I would love to go home.

  Galloway caught my eye.

  I didn’t need him to speak to understand he felt the same way.

  I hadn’t asked him.

  I hadn’t pried.

  But I knew he was homesick.

  Why were we here?

  Why had we returned if we would trade everything for what we had before?

  Before Conner died?

  Before Galloway almost died?

  Before your family almost perished?

  So much death and yet I wanted to go back.

  It didn’t make sense.

  We should be happy to be here.

  Happy to be safe with medicines and doctors and people around us once again.

  Tearing my gaze from his, I stood to take the dishes to the kitchen.

  The moment was broken.

  No mention of home was uttered.

  The next day, Galloway and I spoke for the first time about where we would live. We didn’t want to outstay our welcome in the apartment (thanks to the Australian government’s generosity) and we needed to put down roots if we were ever going to feel comfortable here.

  We discussed what he would do for work. Not because he needed to, but because he couldn’t sit idle. He hadn’t been able to sit idle in Fiji, and he couldn’t start now.

  We agreed he’d look into transferring the certificates for his architectural degree here and go into construction. However, none of that was possible until the paperwork cleared and brought us back from the dead.

  My lawyer was in charge of that, including reinstating my funds and assets. I still hadn’t talked to the record company, but Madi had informed me they knew I was alive and were waiting to discuss their contract terms.

  So much responsibility.

  So much happening at once.

  I wasn’t used to it. It made me want to run away and slam the door in everyone’s face.

  After a long day of uncertainty and endless questions, we finally got the call to pick up Galloway’s prescription.

  Holding Coco’s hand, I waited outside the optometrist after he forbade me from entering. He returned with the box tucked in the bag along with lens cleaner and care instructions.

  He wasn’t wearing them.

  Taking Coco’s other hand, we strolled silently back to the apartment. His limp still affected his gait, but he’d become better at hiding it. A few days ago, I’d asked if we should invest in a car. I still had a valid license. It would make things easier—especially carrying groceries back to the house.

  However, Galloway refused.

  We weren’t ready for a car.

  We’d walked for the past four years. We would walk for another few more. Besides, the option of swimming all day everyday had been stolen. We weren’t ready to have our feet put out of commission, too.

  As we got closer to the apartment, I struggled to hold my curiosity of why he hadn’t put his glasses on.

  What is he waiting for?

  Entering our home, he stole Coco and asked if he could put her to bed on his own.

  I shrugged and left him to it, slightly miffed that he hadn’t put on the glasses that he’d hankered for for so long. He’d compl
ained so much of wanting to see his children and me in full clarity.

  Now, he had the chance and didn’t.

  Why?

  Pouring a glass of water, I padded barefoot to the balcony and stood with my eyes closed, pretending I was somewhere where walls were made of palm trees and the floor was sugar-soft sand.

  Eventually, Galloway exited the bedroom where he’d put Coco down. He hadn’t put her in the lounge, which meant he either wanted to talk or...

  My nipples tingled at the thought of sex.

  The violent hunger in my blood took me by surprise as he came up behind me and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Can you come with me, please?”

  I nodded, taking his offered hand and following him to the couch.

  “What were you doing? With Coco?” My voice was inquisitive as I sat down.

  He smiled. “Seeing her for the first time.”

  “You put your glasses on?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  He looked at the ceiling, a glistening film over his eyes. “And she’s absolutely goddamn beautiful.”

  My heart lurched. “She is. She’s perfect.”

  His hand went to the cushion behind him where he’d stowed the glasses case. Taking a deep breath, he cracked it open and pulled out the sexy black frames. “Now, I need to see just how beautiful her mother is.”

  I couldn’t breathe as he slipped the glasses on.

  He kept his eyes down; adjusting to whatever prescription enabled him to see.

  Then...he looked up.

  His mouth fell open.

  His blue irises burned.

  And every molecule of love he had for me magnified.

  “You’re...you’re—” His voice cracked.

  “I’m?”

  “You’re so much more stunning than I ever realised.” His hands shook as he traced my cheekbone with his thumb. “After so long of not seeing clearly. After so long of falling in love with a woman I knew was beautiful inside and out, now I can see her. Truly see her. And I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

  I pressed my face into his palm. “Thank you. That means—”

  He kissed me, slipping his fingers to my nape and pulling me close. “I can completely and honestly say that I have the most stunning wife in the world.”

  Our tongues joined and passion exploded.

  His glasses turned askew as I clambered onto his lap—kiss kiss kissing him all over. I didn’t realise how terrified I was of him seeing me. How much I relied on his hazy vision to protect that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be enough for him.