Chapter 19 #2
‘Hey, guys,’ said our waitress, putting her tray down on the table. ‘Sorry for the wait.’
She was a petite pretty girl with long curly hair and dimples, and the sight of her brought a blush to Harry’s cheeks.
‘Hey, Lola,’ Harry replied, sitting back to make room for her.
Lola’s eyes widened as if she hadn’t expected him to remember her name. ‘Oh, hi, Harry.’
Their eyes met briefly, and I may have been imagining things, but I suspected that there could be some chemistry between them, given a bit of encouragement.
I watched as Lola clumsily set coffees in front of us, spilling some onto the table, Harry mopping up with a napkin.
I took a deep breath as a pang of sorrow pierced my side.
Someone new could be a good thing for him; I wanted him to be happy, but it was only natural that it also brought Bronte’s absence into sharp focus.
Lola walked away and I tried not to notice as Harry’s eyes followed her.
‘Actually, you might know more about my plans than I do.’ I picked up my spoon and swirled it through the froth on the top of my coffee.
He whistled under his breath when I got Bronte’s gap-year book out of my bag and slid it onto the table.
‘No way. I don’t believe it.’ He whistled under his breath, reaching out to touch the cover so tenderly that my heart squeezed.
I was her mother, of course this was hard for me, but Harry was not much more than a boy and he’d been through the trauma of a terrible traffic accident and witnessing his girlfriend’s death. ‘May I?’
I nodded and Harry picked up Bronte’s book, turning it over, smiling at the illustrations on the cover. He opened it and my bookmark fell out from the page marking the Blue Mountains.
He smiled wistfully. ‘I feel like I know every page of this book. We worked on it together – her itinerary, I mean, not the actual design. She spent hours drawing it. Did you like her weather wheel? I think that was my favourite part.’
‘I haven’t seen that yet,’ I told him. ‘I’ve only read as far as her plan to come here, to meet you in the Blue Mountains.’
His brow furrowed. ‘I’m not following you.’
Over our coffees and his banana bread, which he insisted I try, I explained how I was discovering Bronte’s journey page by page, savouring her entries and following her path.
I told him about my experience in Nepal and how I almost went home, and how it dawned on me before booking a flight back to the UK that somewhere along the line, the trip had become as much about me having an adventure as it was about doing it for Bronte.
‘And that was when I found out I’d be coming to Australia.’
He laughed in disbelief. ‘That’s …’ He threw his hands up and leaned back in his chair. ‘Genius! And if you don’t mind me saying, really wild of you. She always told me that the secret to your success was to plan every detail. Yet here you are, winging it.’
My success . I let that sink in for a second, imagining her talking to Harry about me. Pride fizzed through me.
‘“Winging it” is the perfect description,’ I agreed, ‘but I think when you’ve been through a tough time, like you and I both have, getting by is an achievement in itself.’
He took a breath as if he was about to say something but then seemed to think better of it.
‘When I say I’m using her itinerary,’ I continued, ‘I realised early on that there’d be times when I wouldn’t be able to follow in her footsteps exactly.’
‘So, Everest Base Camp?’ he said with a hint of humour in his eyes. ‘Yes or no?’
‘I could easily have done it,’ I said primly, and then returned his smile. ‘But I didn’t have the shoes.’
He burst out laughing. ‘Between you and me, I don’t think she was totally sure about it. I think you made the right decision.’
I knew I had; my time at the One World Project had taught me a lot about myself. I wouldn’t have missed that for anything.
‘I’ve read that she was planning on travelling to the Gold Coast with you. I can easily do that too. So here I am, raring to go.’
He swallowed hard. ‘Right. Okay, sure.’
I laughed. ‘Your face. I’m only teasing. I’m going to stay for a couple of nights, then I’ll head north by myself.’
‘Are you sure?’ he blustered. ‘I mean, I could borrow my Uncle Pete’s car …’
I laid a hand on his arm. ‘I’m sure. She wrote – and drew – so beautifully about the Blue Mountains that I knew I had to visit. And seeing you again was too good an opportunity to pass up. I think she’d have liked this. Us meeting up again.’
He let out a deep breath. ‘Yeah. I think so too. I wish …’
He tailed off and settled for finishing the last mouthful of cake instead. ‘Let’s go, shall we?’
‘Sure.’ I caught the eye of a waitress and asked for the bill and within minutes we were heading for the door.
I could see how difficult it was for him to express his emotions.
He was suffering, that much was obvious, and he still hadn’t managed to utter Bronte’s name.
I’d meant it when I’d said that there were lots of things I wanted to say, and it looked as if he might feel the same.
Maybe I’d be able to help him with that while I was here.
Maybe these next couple of days together would be good for both of us.