Chapter 24
We pop out of the cluster of mangroves and arrive at a deserted beach on the south side of the island. I make my way over to Hugh, but he avoids me, ducking into a conversation with Natalie again. We make eye contact just as he sits down next to her. He looks away, but not before his mouth flattens into a thin line. I grit my teeth with exasperation. I know he’s hurt, but I don’t know how to figure out what to do next if I can’t even talk to him . . . How am I supposed to decide whether to tell him the truth?
We lounge around the beach and stick our feet in the water, only relaxing for twenty minutes before Vanessa ushers us along. We head down a different path towards a paved road where a large white van waits for us.
‘Everyone in,’ she says, ushering us into seats.
Our driver’s name is Alana. She’s either really excited to see people or she’s really good at her job, because she gives us a warm, enthusiastic welcome as she drives us to the top of the mountain. She describes the history of Fitzroy Island, how it used to be a part of the mainland, how the trail we were on before and the road we are using now are relics from when the island was used as a lookout location during World War II. She chatters about the turtle sanctuary, how she and her team take a boat out from the mainland every morning, how they have no access to anything but a radio if they need to call for help.
When Andrew asks if she likes working in such a remote environment, she laughs. ‘Sometimes I really want to be able to order a pizza for lunch,’ she says, ‘but there’s nothing like being surrounded by nature.’
When we reach the peak, we climb out of the van and Alana herds us to a giant rock, where we have a panoramic view of the island. Crystal blue water stretches out in all directions. We can see both the beach where Coral Sea Dreaming is docked and the private cove we had walked to earlier. The turtle sanctuary is at the opposite end of the island, we can just make out the white roof of the building from our perch.
I scramble around the rock and go stand next to Hugh, but he’s talking to Alana about turtles. He’s listening to her intently, his sandy hair mussed from the wind that’s rippling over the mountaintop. She’s so passionate about it that there isn’t a moment to cut in, and she talks non-stop until we are all back in the van and heading to the place she calls her office. Although every time she says ‘office’ she giggles, like she’s part of an inside joke. I’m envious of her passion for her work, and I find myself daydreaming about the possibility of having a job where I was so removed from corporate America that I didn’t even have the option to walk with Bella to get bubble tea.
When we arrive, Alana walks us through a series of outdoor tanks, each one bigger than the last, home to a vast array of sea turtles, some small and some massive.
The sanctuary rescues turtles from everywhere around the Great Barrier Reef, up to hundreds of miles away, responding to distress calls from boats or volunteers who see turtles in need of help. Their team nurses the turtles back to health and releases them back into the wild.
We cluster around a tank, home to a turtle named Sparkle, and listen to Alana explain Sparkle’s journey to the centre and her expected release back into the wild. Hugh is standing next to Natalie during Alana’s speech, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from him.
I catch Pippa raising her eyebrows at me and stifling a laugh. I edge closer to her, and she elbows me in the ribs. ‘If you talked to him,’ she says, ‘you wouldn’t have to keep your distance.’
I roll my eyes, but I’m grateful to have at least someone to share my feelings with. ‘I’m trying,’ I say. ‘He’s avoiding me.’
‘You know what I’m going to say.’
‘I don’t know what you’re going to say,’ I disagree.
‘It’s pretty hard to avoid someone when you’re sharing a teeny bedroom . . . You know if you do have that conversation, you should also invite Hugh to come with us on our waterfall tour when we get back to Cairns, spend some proper time together away from the fish.’
‘I don’t know even know if I’m going on that tour,’ I point out.
‘Let’s be real, Millie,’ Pippa says sternly, her blonde hair swinging around her face. ‘You have nothing better to do.’
Lunch is a simple picnic set up around fold-out tables at the sanctuary. Alana passes out pamphlets explaining where our money would go if we were to donate. I tuck mine into my back pocket. Contributing to a cause like this isn’t a bad idea. I could gift a monthly contribution to Millie for Christmas.
Everyone tucks into lunch, but I hardly have any appetite. People take turns asking Alana questions about the sanctuary, and we all listen to her talk about it, fascinated by her life and her work. I notice that Hugh leaves a half-eaten sandwich on his plate too.
The rest of the afternoon passes by in a blur. We go to the beach, where Vanessa says we’re free to spend the rest of the afternoon, and I spend close to an hour trying to approach Hugh and losing my courage. He’s either talking to Andrew or he sees me coming and walks in the opposite direction. Miguel has started surfing the shallow waves breaking near the beach and keeps trying to get me to join him, hollering at me from his perch in the ocean.
It’s only when Natalie walks up to Hugh and they start to chat, both of them standing ankle deep in the calm water, gazing out at the horizon, that I get the nerve to address him.
‘Hugh, can I talk to you?’ I say quickly, forcing the words out of my mouth before I lose my nerve.
Hugh looks at Natalie, who spins to face me. ‘Perfect,’ she says, ‘just who I wanted to talk to.’
‘Actually—’ I squirm ‘—I was hoping to talk to Hugh . . . alone . . .’
‘Oh.’ Her face falls. ‘OK. Hugh, talk to you later.’
‘What’s up?’ Hugh asks once Natalie is out of earshot. His voice is tight.
We start walking along the beach, which eventually curves out of sight from our group.
‘I . . . um . . .’ I stutter out, unable to form a sentence. I was so focused on getting him alone that I didn’t think through what I needed to say. ‘I need to tell you something,’ I say, as we round the corner and disappear from everyone’s view.
Hugh’s eyebrows knit together, and for a moment his eyes are unreadable. It feels unimaginable that we haven’t spoken all day, when the past three days all we’ve done is chat. The ache in my heart is so pronounced that my hand flutters to my chest.
‘Seriously, Millie?’
‘What?’
‘You were rude to Natalie and she’s been wanting to talk to you.’
‘No . . . can we not talk ab—’
‘Oh, wait.’ Hugh’s glowering now, and he kicks at the sand. ‘Don’t tell me. You’re jealous.’ He spins to face me and stops walking. ‘Is that it?’
We’ve reached the end of the beach, and Hugh turns to keep walking, climbing over a rock and into the forest. ‘She has a boyfriend for God’s sake,’ he says, ‘we’re friends! And if you actually bothered to talk to her, you would know why!’
‘Wait,’ I say, feeling like everything is spinning out of control too quickly. ‘That’s not it. I’m . . . I’m dealing with a lot right now. I’m not usually this all over the place, I promise.’
Hugh stops. We’re both in the trees now, just steps off the beach. ‘You’re ridiculous, you know that? You tell me you don’t want me, and as soon as you see me with someone else, you do?’
‘This isn’t what this is about!’ I cry.
‘Really?’ Hugh takes a step towards me. My heart is pounding in my chest. He lowers his face closer to mine. ‘What is it then?’ he asks, but his voice is softer, like the anger has drained out of it. His eyes have returned to their light blue. He raises his thumb gently to my bottom lip.
‘Hugh,’ I whisper.
He leans in to kiss me, and I raise my face to meet his. His hand palms the back of my head and the small of my back simultaneously, pulling our bodies together. My thoughts disappear from my head and are replaced by more, more, more , as I reach my hands into his hair.
Suddenly, he pulls away.
‘What is it?’ I gasp, short of breath. My head is clouded with desire for him. There are so many words I’ve left unsaid, but there’s no way I can say them now.
‘You drive me crazy,’ he says.
My pulse is racing. ‘Mmm,’ I reply, ‘I think you just like a challenge.’
He looks at me, and his gaze is so filled with longing that my swimsuit feels like it will disintegrate off my body. His eyes travel the length of my body, up my legs, lingering on my waist, my breasts, my neck. I can’t stand the anticipation, and just as I’m about to step forward, he moves, closing the space between us and grabbing the backs of my legs, picking me up with a hand under each thigh and pressing me against a nearby tree. The heat from his pelvis radiates towards mine.
All I can think about is undoing the drawstring of his swimsuit.
‘Hugh,’ I pant, as he grazes my neck with his lips, his kisses searing my skin. He’s reached his hands underneath my swimsuit, and his thumb is circling my nipple. I moan when he lifts my breast into his mouth. I feel him harden at the sound of my arousal, and when I reach down to feel him, he catches my hand and sucks gently on my thumb. I squirm with pleasure.
I’m even more turned on than I was the last time. The heady anticipation has been replaced by knowing what Hugh can do to me.
‘Please,’ I whisper. He places his hands under my thighs again and steps out of the clearing this time, laying me down on the white sand in between two large rocks.
His grip is so firm that for a second, I don’t feel the sand at all, I’m waiting for it to touch my skin. Then I realise I’ve wrapped my legs around him so tightly that I haven’t touched the ground. I relax, and he releases me from his hold, slipping a finger underneath my swimsuit.
He gasps at my wetness, and I whimper at the feeling of his finger inside me. His thumb circles my clit.
‘What if they come around the corner?’ I manage to ask. I’m panting with desire.
‘They won’t,’ Hugh says. ‘And they wouldn’t be able to see us.’
Everything seems to grow fuzzy with Hugh’s touch, I’m so swept up in desire I can’t see straight. His other hand palms my breast again.
‘You,’ I manage to say, ‘I want you.’
I grab for the strings on my swimsuit and untie them. He brings his head down slowly and kisses me right where I need it. I writhe with pleasure, driving my fingers into his hair. I can’t feel my toes anymore. I can hardly feel the sand.
By the time Hugh steps out of his swimsuit, I’m on the brink. If I can’t have him, I feel like I’ll die.
He takes a moment. ‘I want to savour you,’ he says, before placing his thumb on my clit one more time.
‘Hugh,’ I whimper. He kisses me again, this time his tongue is intense, claiming my mouth like he could consume me entirely. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth.
His hardness pushes into me, and I feel like I could explode. I see stars, clinging to his back, my fingertips driving into the divot between his shoulders.
He is slow at first, exploring, and as he moves faster, I grow closer and closer to coming totally undone.
When he looks me in the eyes I lose it, unravelling into pleasure, and watching me, feeling me, makes him climax too, both of us collapsing into a panting heap.
We lie on the sand together for what feels like an hour, not saying anything. I don’t open my mouth, worried I’ll break the spell. Our fingertips trace lazy circles on each other, until we know it’s time to head back. I never gather the courage to say anything. I don’t want to ruin the moment, our moment, underneath a cloudless Australian sky.
We dip in the ocean to rinse off the sand before walking down the beach to meet the others. I can’t meet Pippa’s gaze because I’m afraid I’ll betray myself immediately, but I can’t keep a smile from playing across my lips. Hugh’s hand brushes my ass casually as we approach the group, and I know without looking that he’s trying not to smirk.
We make our way down the rickety dock. The ocean has gotten choppier as the afternoon progressed, and the boat is rocking up and down with the waves. Everyone struggles to find their balance at first.
Hugh’s face pales as he sits down on a bench in the captain’s room. He doesn’t remain in his seat long enough for the rest of us to sit down. Almost instantly, he is on his feet and making his way towards the front of the boat. Miguel looks at me with a mixture of disgust and conspiratorial superiority. It instantly confirms what I was afraid of. Hugh is seasick, and Miguel is wondering why I’ve been spending so much time with a liability instead of spending time with him. He raises his eyebrows at me ever so slightly before slipping below deck, presumably to get as far away from Hugh as possible.
After ten minutes I find a glass of water and gently walk over to where Hugh is clutching the railing.
‘Anything I can do?’ I ask softly.
He turns, all the colour drained from his face. His eyes are a light icy-blue again.
‘This is rough,’ he says.
‘Water?’ I ask, searching for any way to help.
Hugh shakes his head no.
I rub his back, gently placing my hand in between his shoulder blades. His skin is warm to the touch. Even though he’s sick, touching him is reassuring. Being near him I feel balanced, like I can breathe again.
‘It’ll be OK,’ I whisper.
I help him get ready for bed, bringing him water and a plain piece of bread in case he feels like he can eat.
When I dip a washcloth in cool water and lay it across his forehead, his eyes flutter open.
‘Millie,’ he says. His voice is hoarse, but he’s managing a wry smile.
‘What do you need?’ I grab his bedframe to steady myself as the boat lurches again.
‘I’m sorry I’m taking away our night together.’ Hugh chuckles in disbelief at the situation, his throat scratchy. He leans his head back into the pillow and takes a deep breath, like that comment took every ounce of energy he had left.
‘We have the mainland,’ I say, smiling.
‘I was hoping you’d say that.’ Hugh grins.
‘But I need to talk to you about something.’
He nods. ‘As you wish.’
‘And I still don’t understand how we would navigate the Sydney–Columbus problem.’ I can’t resist pointing it out. I’m hoping that if we agree this could never go anywhere, I wouldn’t ever need to tell Hugh the truth.
‘That doesn’t matter,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you in April anyway.’ He squints at me. ‘Right?’ He’s referring to the conference he’s going to in April to present his paper, the paper on the extinction of the butterfly wrasse. I know Millie would kill me for agreeing to participate in the circulation of Hugh’s research, especially at her expense, but I can’t help but agree to see him. A two-hour flight is a lot closer than a twenty-four-hour travel day.
‘If you want to, then yes.’
‘It’s settled then. I’ll see you in Boston. We can figure it out then.’
‘That doesn’t settle anything,’ I argue back softly.
‘Sydney is better.’ Hugh closes his eyes briefly and then opens them again. ‘I hated when we were avoiding each other all day.’
‘I hated it more.’
‘We would figure it out, you know,’ he says. His voice is sleepy.
‘I can’t leave my family,’ I respond, my voice in a whisper. ‘They need me.’ Although as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I’m not sure if they need me or if I need them.
Hugh squeezes my hand gently when I take the washcloth away. I leave him in peace, trying and failing to find distraction upstairs. Eventually, I come back to our room. He’s finally been able to drift off.
‘Goodnight, Hugh Harris,’ I whisper, as I climb up into my bunk.