Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Dan lay on his bed, looking up at the ceiling rose, waiting for divine inspiration. It didn’t come. Over the past week he’d tried so many times to write a note to Augi that it had become ridiculous. Because he deeply regretted the last words he’d spoken to her.
His mother’s words about trust kept coming back to haunt him.
It’s people you trust, not words. Trust your gut instinct.
He hadn’t the last time he’d been with Augustini.
His pride had got in the way. But now? Every time he passed the library or caught sight of her walking along the street — back straight, head high, eyes straight ahead — his gut screamed at him like a house alarm. She never acknowledged she’d seen him.
Once, he thought he’d caught her ducking down a side street, as if she’d seen him. That hurt. But he couldn’t figure out a way of retrieving their friendship, still so new — except this. Do as his mother had suggested.
He returned to the computer, willing the right words to emerge, but they jumbled in his mind, fighting each other, being discarded after consideration.
For a moment, he thought about the AI tool, sitting ready to turn his stumbling words into fluid ones. But the thought was only fleeting. There was no room in his life for words which didn’t come from the heart.
He squeezed his eyes closed. For goodness sake! He made his living through words. He should be able to write an apology to a friend. Trouble was he wanted her to be so much more than a friend and there was a whole lot stopping him from being that. But he was determined to take his mother’s advice.
He walked back to the desk again, pushed his computer away and began writing He didn’t stop until he’d said everything he needed to say. He read it through twice and only just stopped himself from reading it again, knowing that it might end up crumpled in the waste bin with the other attempts.
He’d said everything he needed to say, even if he’d wished it had sounded more eloquent, more… everything. But he hoped she’d understand.
Augi was surprised the next morning when she checked her post and found a thick, luxury envelope sandwiched between an electricity bill and a neighbourhood newsletter.
Her name was printed in bold, vertical strokes, no fancy loops or flourishes.
A man’s handwriting, she was sure. Her hand trembled slightly. Was her past catching up with her?
Then she turned it over and saw Dan’s name. It was almost as if he’d anticipated her fear and had attempted to reassure it before she blew it out of proportion into a full blown panic attack.
She returned inside, closed the door and sat at the kitchen table, propped the envelope against the flower vase in the centre of the otherwise clear table top, and went to pour herself a black coffee. She leaned against the worn Formica bench and looked across at the envelope.
She’d thought she’d made it clear they had no future and there was no point even dreaming, let alone thinking, about it.
She reached out for the envelope before withdrawing her hand again.
She huffed a nervous sigh. There may be no point, but it didn’t stop her thoughts from repeatedly drifting to the tall, blond-haired man with the eyes which caught hers as effectively as a magnet whenever they were close.
She shut her eyes as she relived the feeling of having his gaze, so intent, on her.
It was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, making her feel more alive under its intensity than she’d felt for a very long time.
She opened her eyes. Even the memory of that feeling awakened within her a desire for life and love that she hadn’t experienced since she’d left Greece.
Until Daniel MacLeod had turned up in Lucy’s café with that warm smile and those irresistible eyes, she hadn’t known she’d been sleep-walking through life.
She picked up the envelope. She knew they had no future, but still she felt herself wanting to choose life over a half-life as she slid her finger under the flap and unsealed the envelope.
She scanned it quickly, her heart thudding.
There was only one question, and it wasn’t the one she’d anticipated.
She re-read the letter, except slowly this time, savouring every word.
Dear Augustini,
Firstly, you were right. It took me some time to reflect on things but you’re absolutely nailed it when you said I’m scared to trust my instincts.
Secondly, you were right again. We hardly know each other.
Thirdly, I’d like to work on both these things, because, it seems, you’ve become too important for me not to.
I don’t know how I will learn to trust my own instincts, other than by practice. But I do know how to remedy not knowing you. So I have a question for you. Would you come out with me on a series of dates so that I can get to know you better?
There’s a classical concert on in Wellington at the weekend. Will you come with me? It’s Bach and Kate told me you loved his work.
I hope you agree because I just want to know you better. What your hobbies are, what makes you laugh, what interests you. I guess I don’t know any of the things people usually learn about each other. We seemed to have missed that first step.
And then, all being well, I’d like to take another step with you. I guess, I’d like to turn this into a kind of journey, even if I don’t know where that journey will lead. But I’m hoping that, along the way, we’ll get to know each other.
You’re right. We could just walk away from each other.
It might not be easy at first, but I’ll learn to wave and say hello as we pass by.
So, if you don’t wish to get to know me better, just walk away and carry on with your life.
Thing is, what little I do understand about me and you, is that if you don’t want to continue on this journey of discovery with me, I’ll feel I’ve missed out on someone who I’m attracted to in so many ways.
Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself here. All I’m asking is for the opportunity to attend a classical concert with you. If you’re interested in trying to move on from our disagreement, so am I. It’s up to you.
Until we meet again, all the best,
Daniel.
Augi kept hold of the note, staring at it.
She hadn’t expected that. Though she should have.
He was, after all, someone who used his persuasive skills for a living.
But he’d walked away from that, disgusted by the deceit, another voice told her.
Yes, replied the objective, calm and cynical voice, but he’s retained his facility with words.
He knows people and he knows how to use them.
She jumped up, casting glances at the letter from time to time as she tidied away the breakfast things.
She’d accused him of not trusting his instinct. Was she doing the same thing now?
She changed into her swimsuit, and pulled on her old kaftan over the top before grabbing a towel and twisting her hair into a topknot.
Her walk to the sea was short. It took her just five minutes along a street and through a reserve before she arrived at the beach.
It was something she tried to do every day although sometimes during winter it was a challenge.
She waved to a group of women further along the beach. They waved back but there were no longer any calls for her to join them. They respected her decision not to join a group they called the Mermaids who swam daily throughout the year. She did the same, except from a distance.
She deposited her things under a stone by the breakwater as usual, and walked down to the sea, no hesitation as she strode in and dived under as soon as she could.
The smack of cold water cleared her head, just as she knew it would.
And she swam freestyle, striking out through the waves until the waves grew calmer.
Eventually she turned, treading water and looked over the rolling waves and long stretch of sand to the houses which sat on land that was once sand dunes.
Behind these the hills rose abruptly into the blue sky.
She always felt there was something frontier-like about MacLeod’s Cove.
The Māori settlement would have made little impact on the land, and the later developments still seemed a little incongruous in the raw landscape, with the soaring escarpment reaching up to 500 metres behind them.
This morning the escarpment was bathed in easterly sunshine which glanced off the ridges, casting the gullies into shadow.
The light made it appear enigmatic, but the hills were very real beneath their shifting, mysterious cloak of light.
The essential reality of the hills never changed. They just appeared different.
She kicked away. A bit like her. A bit like him. They were just people, clothed in a few mysteries. How important were these mysteries, really? In the scheme of things, how often did someone come along who you were not only attracted to, but who you knew was fundamentally solid.
Daniel was right. They didn’t know each other, not really.
What harm would it do to get to know each other?
It wouldn’t mean revealing what had happened to her in the past. Those secrets could remain safe.
He understood that now. And maybe she could help him to learn to trust again.
And help herself in the process she thought, as she returned to shore.
By the time she emerged from the water, she knew she had no choice but to accept his invitation.
Because her feelings for him flowed more strongly than the current at MacLeod’s Cove.
And there wasn’t much point in swimming against a current, because you’d always find yourself in its grip.
Like a rip, taking you out to sea, you had to swim across it before you were safe.
There was no avoiding it. You simply had to deal with it.
And it wasn’t like her to avoid things.
The Mermaids had finished their swim and were walking past as she emerged from the sea.