The Way Back (Emerald Bay #1), page 8
Her eyes widened and she clutched her abdomen. “Elle, I don’t feel good. Something’s wrong!”
“What is it, Hay-Bay?” I asked, stepping closer to take her hand again.
When she screamed in pain, my heart dropped and I hit the big red button on the wall beside the bed. The alarm sounded and two nurses ran in as Hayley’s eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped motionless on the mattress.
Dave woke with a start and scanned the room, his eyes finding mine. “Elle, what’s going on?” He jumped to his feet and ran to Hayley’s side.
Tears were already trailing down my cheeks and I wrung my hands together, unsure of what to do. “I don’t know. She just screamed and then stopped moving.” I cried and paced as I watched them work on my best friend, a lump wedged in my throat.
“Hayley! Hayley!” he cried. They pushed him back, gently but firmly, and he stood with his hands linked over the top of his head, his face tortured, his eyes glued to her. Finally they wheeled her from the room, carrying drips and monitors with them as they went, and Dave followed. Their yells filled the hallway until they disappeared into an elevator, followed by a faint dinging sound.
I was left alone in the dead-quiet room. I slouched onto the seat where Dave had slept and stared at the empty space where my best friend had lain, smiling and joking with me only minutes earlier. I curled up in the chair and let the tears fall.
* * *
Six hours later, Hayley was back in her room and conscious. One of the nurses came to let me know I could see her, but only for a few minutes since she needed to rest. She lay on the bed, her face pale and eyes closed.
After racing home to get the kids from Mum and Dad’s, I’d come back and we’d waited together in the hospital cafeteria. Stella was officially bored after five hours of nothing but walking-tiggy, coin rolling and napkin-folding contests. And she let me know it – repeatedly. The other two had done their best to destroy any semblance of peace and quiet in the place, and my head ached with the effort of shushing them and threatening them with dagger-laden looks – the Mum-eye, as Jack liked to call it.
“Hay-Bay?” I peeked in through the curtain that circled around the bed, mimicking privacy.
Her eyes flickered open a moment, landed on mine, then shut again. I’d seen the pain there. It sent a bolt of fear into my gut and I swallowed hard.
The kids wandered behind me, with wide eyes. I shushed them and pointed to the bench seat against the wall by the elevators. They frowned, moaned, but complied. I tiptoed to her side. “How’re you feeling?”
A groan. Her hands fluttered toward her face, which twisted for a moment, then fell.
“Okay, I’ll just wait right here then. When you’re ready, I’m here. Where’s Dave?”
She motioned toward the restroom. “Bathroom.”
I nodded and sat in the chair beside her.
“So tired.”
“You just get some rest then, sweetie.”
“He’s in the special care nursery. Little Jake.” She opened her eyes again, and focused on mine and a small smile flitted across her face.
“Oh Hayley, congratulations. Is he okay?”
“I don’t know… it all happened so fast. He’s not supposed to be born yet. He wasn’t ready. But the midwife said he’ll be fine. He just looks so small.” She forced a thin smile onto her face, and her eyes glistened. “He’s beautiful though. Tiny, and perfect.”
I grinned. “I’m sure everything will work out. They’re really good at taking care of preemies this days.”
“They said he’ll have to stay in the hospital for a few weeks, just to get his size and strength up.” She closed her eyes again.
“He’ll be home before you know it,” I said, as I took her hand in mine.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FINN
Suzy skipped ahead of me along the trail between the dunes. Spiky sea grass jabbed at my calves as I followed her, my feet sinking deeper and deeper into the hot, squeaky sand with each step I took. She was getting further ahead as the sand seemed to pull at my feet, holding me back. “Suzy, wait!” I cried, but the breeze tugged the words away from my mouth.
She turned her head to look at me with a question on her face. Her brown hair flicked around her head and across her eyes as the wind rose higher. It lifted her skirt and whipped it around her thin legs. She laughed, spun back around and kept running away from me, toward the beach. I ran after her, my feet sinking still further into the heavy sand. I couldn’t catch her. There was something I needed to tell her. Why wouldn’t she stop? If only she’d listen to me. I reached my hands towards her, but she was too far away.
Then, suddenly, she wasn’t. I felt the soft fabric of her dress beneath my fingers and caressed it lovingly. She laughed again and nestled into my chest, her hands cupped beneath her chin.
“Suzy darling, I’ve missed you so much. I thought you’d left me, that I’d never see you again, but here you are. How is this possible? Where have you been?” The questions tumbled pell-mell from my lips and I pulled her closer, squeezing her in a tight embrace, and lay my cheek on top of her head. The scent of her shampoo – lilac and lavender, so familiar to me – sent a pang of nostalgia stabbing through my chest, and I heard a loud sob. It must have come from me, though I couldn’t be sure.
She didn’t respond, just lifted her face to stare into my eyes with a smile playing around her full lips. I took in every feature as I gazed at her: the lines around the outside of her mouth where her smiles stayed even after she’d finished smiling, the freckle on her top lip that always stood out just a little more than any of her other freckles, the curve of her hair over her forehead where the cowlick she’d always hated brushed it backward and up into a wave. I grinned and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She giggled and lifted her face to catch my lips with her own.
We kissed, and I felt the tears glide from my eyes as they soundlessly found their way down my cheeks. The heavy stone of pain I’d been carrying around in my chest for three years seemed to melt away as our kiss intensified. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me toward her to deepen the kiss, her fingers entwining in my hair. She pressed her body up against mine, and a groan escaped my lips. “Suzy,” I said against her cheek.
I lifted her in my arms and held her high above my head with both hands beneath her arms, then lowered her again to kiss her once more. “I’m so happy,” I said, my eyes closed as I sprinkled kisses along her neckline, tasting and nibbling at the familiar collarbone and the curve of her shoulder. I pulled back to look at her again –
Her face had changed. It was Eleanor in my arms, not Suzy. Her brown hair had turned blond and fell in waves across my arm. I felt it tickle my skin as she threw her head back and smiled at me. Her lips found mine and pressed against them with a depth of passion that took my breath away. Sadness peeled away within me, replaced by a burning hunger. I wanted her, needed her.
I pulled her closer and locked my hands in her hair. My mouth explored hers, and I felt her tongue press playfully against mine. My hands explored her hair, her shoulders, her neck, down her back and up again. I tugged at the strap of her sun dress, pulling it down her arm. My lips found her shoulder and nibbled the soft skin.
“Finn. I want you.” She spoke for the first time and her words jolted me backward momentarily. Her voice sounded like Suzy’s. I frowned and stepped away.
“Finn, where are you going?” she asked. She moved toward me, following me in my retreat. “Finn, don’t leave me. Stay. Please, I need you. Don’t leave me here. I’m scared.”
I shook my head. No. It couldn’t be Suzy. It was Eleanor. So why did her voice sound like Suzy? Why did her words haunt me?
I sat bolt upright in bed, sweat streaming down my face and chest. Where was I? At Trev and Lorna’s, my in-laws’ place in Victoria. I recognised the floral print bedspread and squat TV screen in their guest room. Lavender sheets were twisted around my body, and I shook all over.
I jumped from the bed and slipped on a t-shirt and shorts over my boxers. Just a dream. Just a dream. The words repeated themselves in my head like a mantra, a chant. I slumped back down to sit on the edge of the bed. My breathing began to slow and I rubbed my hands over my face tiredly with a deep sigh.
I’d slept for about seven hours, but it felt like a lot less. I hadn’t slept well in years – not since Suzy. My bed seemed so empty, so quiet now. She’d always snored a little, and it helped soothe me into a comfortable sleep. Now I heard every bird call, every car or truck that rolled by, every curtain’s flutter against an open window. Every sound in the stillness of the night disturbed me, and I always woke spent and dissatisfied.
The dream had distressed me. I felt disoriented, sad, aroused and scared all at the same time. I’d seen Suzy, held her in my arms again, kissed her, smelled the scent of her shampoo. But then she’d become Eleanor. What was going on? I shook my head slowly from side to side. The touch of Eleanor’s skin, her arms around my neck, the tickle of her hair on my arm — I felt a thrill of excitement run through me.
The sound of tiny footsteps echoed quickly down the hall and the door to my bedroom burst open. Sarah and Sylvia ran through the doorway together and hurled themselves onto the bed, giggling and chattering all at once. “Can we go to the markets with Grandma and Grandpa?” asked Sarah as she launched herself at me and knocked me back onto the bed.
I laughed and wrapped my arms around her thin body. “Yes, if that’s okay with them.”
“They said we could.” Sylvia sat beside me, twirling the end of her braid between her fingertips.
“Well then, I guess you can.” I kissed Sarah on the cheek and sat back up to lay one arm around Sylvia’s shoulders. “Everything okay, Syl?”
She sighed and nodded slowly. “Yes. It’s just that I miss Mum.” Her eyes darted to mine, seeming afraid.
My heart dropped. When had my grief caused my children to be scared to talk to me about their mother? What had I done to them? I pulled her close to my side and hugged Sarah with my other hand. “I miss her too, Pumpkin. And it’s okay to talk about her, anytime you want to. You know that, right?”
“You just get so sad. Like you’re angry with me.” She dropped her eyes to the bedspread beneath her.
I sighed. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to. It’s just that I’m sad about Mummy too. I promise, from now on we can talk about her anytime you want to and I won’t get sad or angry. I’ve never been angry with you – I think sometimes I get angry with myself about what happened.”
“Why would you get angry at yourself?” asked Sarah, her eyes wide as she snuggled deeper into my lap.
“I guess I feel as though it was my fault.” My shoulders slumped as the truth broke free, and I felt a lump rise in my throat.
Sarah took my face between both hands and turned my head until I was looking directly into her blue eyes. “Daddy, it wasn’t your fault. It was the dumb kangaroo.”
It was exactly what I did with her whenever she blamed herself for something outside her control – held her head between my hands, looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn’t her fault. The sincerity on her little face made the lump in my throat shift. The girls burrowed their heads into my shoulders and wrapped their arms around me, holding me tight. And I let the anger dissolve, released the guilt I’d felt all these years and clung tightly to them as though they were life rafts in an ocean of despair.
After the three of us sat that way awhile, Sylvia pushed away and smiled at me. “I’m going to tell Grandma we can go.” She ran from the room.
Sarah lifted her eyes to find my face. “Are you okay, Daddy?” she asked, lifting a hand to stroke my cheek.
“Do you know how much I love you?” I asked, tapping her on the nose.
She rolled her eyes and smiled at the same time. “Mega-bucketloads. I know.”
“That’s right – mega-bucketloads. And that’s never going to change.”
She leaned close and laid her head against my chest. “Me too, Daddy.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ELEANOR
I leaned my head back against the headrest of the car seat and cranked the air conditioning. My first day at work had been amazing, exhausting, exhilarating and freeing. I felt alive and independent, as though I were capable of anything.
I’d met Craig at the staff entrance at SeaWorld first thing that morning, since I was to be one of his assistants, and he’d showed me the ropes. I couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect job if I’d tried. The pay wasn’t amazing, but who could complain when you got to work with such beautiful creatures all day long?
My favourite dolphin was named Jenna. She had a damaged pectoral fin, but what she lacked in manoeuvrability she made up for in personality. She’d already managed to sneak up on me and splash me with a flick of the tail – according to Craig she did stuff like that all the time. When she poked her snout out of the water to watch me, it was almost as though she was laughing at me, soaked to the bone, my hair dripping into my eyes. All I could do was laugh with her.
Like with any first day of work, I was tired. My head throbbed, my stomach growled, and all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch with a glass of red wine and watch Bridget Jones’ Diary for the fiftieth time. But I couldn’t – that was Mack’s and my flick. It would bring up too many bad memories. I’d have to find something else to watch. But I wasn’t about to give up the red wine – I’d just have to make new memories with it.
I grinned at my own twisted thinking and turned the car for home.
It felt strange calling Emerald Bay home again – strange and yet right at the same time. It had been my home for my entire childhood, and the familiarity of it, the warmth I felt when I walked its streets, had never changed. It was me who’d changed. When I met Mack my first year at University in Sydney, he’d visited Emerald Bay with me a few times, but said he’d never live here, that it was a sandy hole of a place where nothing ever happened. And I’d adopted his viewpoint without thinking it through on my own. In my mind, I’d never go back.
But now that he’d run off with Rachel and left our lives, there was no reason for me to stay away from Emerald Bay anymore. Still, I felt such a sense of defeat, as though I’d lost some kind of challenge by moving back home Why? I loved Emerald Bay. Didn’t I?
Traffic on the drive home was heavy, and the Pacific Motorway slowed to a standstill at Nerang as usual. Even the traffic jams were familiar to me. I smiled and turned the radio to my favourite FM station.
Something I’d noticed was that ever since coming back to Emerald Bay, the debilitating panic attacks I’d experienced in Sydney had disappeared entirely. I felt relaxed – peaceful, almost. It was the first time in as long as I could remember that I’d felt that way. Being married to Mack had been a continuous stream of impossible expectations to fulfil. I was never pretty enough, stylish enough, accomplished enough or witty enough for his liking.
His snobbish friends looked down their pointed noses at me – the woman who chose to be a dowdy housewife, who wanted to make Play-Doh from scratch for her children, who enjoyed playing soccer with them in the park, her wayward hair drooping over her eyes, who dropped the children at school in the morning without makeup and dressed in sweats and a T-shirt because she’d been up all night cleaning up their vomit or scaring away the monsters from their dreams.
I wanted to be that kind of woman, that kind of mother. But Mack didn’t want that – he was ashamed of me. I could see it in his eyes. Whenever the other mothers, styled to the nines, sized me up with their perfectly lined eyes, I could see it in his face. Why can’t you be more like them? That’s what he was thinking, though he didn’t say it.
And then he found Rachel – stylish, coiffed, elegant Rachel, everything he wanted in a wife. She never cleaned her own home, or parked her car in the driveway to vacuum out the mountain of crumbs accumulated on the floor while wearing an oversized T-shirt for a dress. Everything about her was poised, considered and calculated. Everything about her was opposite to everything about me.
It broke my heart to see how happy he was with her – and how different she was from me. How she met all the expectations I’d failed to live up to. It broke my heart when he told me he didn’t love me anymore – that he loved her and was moving out of our home, our lives, our family. Just remembering it all brought tears to my eyes as I sat in the winding line of traffic.
Before long the cars ahead of me accelerated and I was on my way. I flashed past shopping centres, neighbourhoods and parks on my way back to pick up the kids at my parents’ house.
They’d settled in well at their new school. It was a small primary school, filled with the children of surfers, restaurateurs and retailers – offspring of a tourist town, just as I had once been. Back then, my Dad had been principal of that same school, and I’d been the kid trying to avoid the stares of the other children when they realised he and I had the same last name. We’d transferred there from a nearby school, and I’d hoped for a little while that maybe no one would notice I was different.
And then during maths, a boy had walked right up to me with a shy smile on his tanned face. “I’m Finn. Can I sit with you?” He’d flicked his hair from his eyes with a jerk of his head as he said it, and my heart jumped in my chest. It belonged to him from that moment onward.
Why did I think I could stay away from him now? I’d been naive to believe we could live in the same town and not be drawn together like two poles of a paint-chipped magnet. That night on the beach, when Hayley went to hospital, we’d almost kissed. What would have happened if we had? Did I really think I could avoid something like that happening again?
