Chapter Twenty – Jack
Chapter Twenty
JACK
I n the worst timing possible, the river boat arrives at the dock at the same time as Andie. I don’t get the chance to revel in my excitement that she actually showed up – I’m too busy trying to catch Charlie’s eye to send him a subliminal message that now is not the ideal time to make his delivery.
‘Delivery for you, Coops!’ hollers Charlie from the stern.
And message not received.
‘Hey, Andie,’ I say as she reaches the end of the dock. I brush my lips against her soft cheek. ‘Can you give me a sec?’
‘Sure.’ She smiles, cheeks rosy. Gah . We have dimples.
‘They look like good ’uns,’ Charlie announces as I board the boat to give him a hand. ‘There should be two, right?’ he confirms.
‘Yep.’
The first suitcase hits the dock with a promising thud. It’s a hard-shell case – the sort that has a good track record for delivering quality items.
I glance down at Andie, to check she hasn’t vanished. But she’s still there, absorbed in her phone.
Thump! The second suitcase hits the dock.
‘I don’t suppose you want to grab a beer tonight?’
I shake my head and Charlie follows my anxious gaze to where Andie is now perched on the dock’s railing, phone re-pocketed.
‘Shit, I didn’t see her there. Sorry, say no more, buddy.’ He slaps me on the back. ‘Good luck.’
I join my suitcases on the dock, grab a handle in each hand and walk them towards Andie. She jumps down from the railing as I approach her.
‘Sorry about that,’ I say, sheepishly.
Dating rule number one: Don’t keep your date waiting.
‘I’ll pop these into the general store and then should we get going?’
‘Lost luggage?’ Andie asks, eyeing the suitcases curiously.
‘Of sorts,’ I say vaguely, tossing up exactly how much to reveal.
‘Do tell.’ I’m encouraged by the flirtatious edge to her voice.
‘Well, it is lost luggage – that I’ve purchased. The airport does a sale a few times per year of unclaimed baggage. Five bucks a pop for a bag and its contents. It’s like my own personal op shop on wheels.’
A smile dances on her lips, but I can tell that she’s fighting it. ‘What happens if you’re not a fan of your anonymous traveller’s packing?’
‘You get what you get and don’t get upset. That’s what Mum always taught me.’
‘That sounds like Hazel.’
An odd sensation washes over me at her familiarity with my mother.
‘Yeah, it does,’ I murmur.
‘Can I be there when you open them and find women’s underwear?’
‘Absolutely not.’ Dating rule number two: Don’t show your date your underwear. Or potential underwear. Unless you’re in it.
‘Oh, oh! Or worse still, what if they’re full of dress shoes?’ She wears a wide grin. My own mood lifts in response. I’m becoming increasingly addicted to making her smile.
‘I’d cope just fine, thank you,’ I tell her.
It’s not only about a cost-effective wardrobe. I redistribute any inappropriate items to other island residents. Charlie regularly wears his swish Dior leather belt to parents’ functions at the school – reckons it commands instant respect.
Andie raises an eyebrow as she looks pointedly at my thongs. Regardless of what I may have led her to believe, I know how to dress for an occasion. Even still, I’m wearing one of my few shirts with buttons.
‘I thought I instructed bare feet?’ I fire back as I catch sight of her sandals. Her toenails are painted a sunny yellow.
‘Yeah, and I ignored you.’ She pokes out her tongue and follows me into the general store.
Beryl’s not in so I deposit the bags behind the counter and scribble a quick message on the back of a paper bag.
Will return for these in the AM.
Thx, Jack
PS You and Bob can have first dibs.
Andie peers over my shoulder as I tape the note to the counter.
‘Bob?’ she asks, evidently recognising his name.
‘Best to keep the authorities on side,’ I say, swiping two Chupa Chups from the colourful tin by the cash register. ‘The lolly tax.’ I wiggle my eyebrows at her. ‘I’ve been taxing poor Beryl since I was a young whippersnapper.’
‘Also known as stealing,’ Andie says matter-of-factly, snatching the watermelon lollipop from my outstretched hand then promptly changing her mind and swapping it for the strawberries and cream.
‘Or sharing,’ I correct. ‘I don’t know what you people do in the city, but around these parts, sharing is caring.’
‘We share expletives with our neighbours about blasting their music at ungodly hours, does that count?’ She unwraps her lollipop and jams it into her mouth. Why do I instantly think about her tongue tasting like tart berry and creamy sweetness?
‘Come on, the boat is waiting.’ I tug on her hand.
I’m putting on a good show, but I’m actually terrified Beryl will come back and spring us mid-Chupa Chups heist. It’s her blood pressure that I worry about more than any sort of reprimand.
The river boat is pulling away from the dock as we exit the store.
Andie starts waving her hands wildly and begins sprinting down the wharf. ‘Hey! Wait up!’
‘Andie!’ I yell after her, my laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. ‘We’re not catching that!’
Andie halts halfway down the jetty and swivels back to face me. Her expression is equal parts relief and horror. ‘Oh.’
She slowly makes her way back to me and I throw a gentle arm around her shoulders.
‘Sorry, I’m probably all sweaty,’ she says. But she doesn’t pull away.
‘I don’t mind.’ I deliberately wipe my own damp forehead. ‘You know, you can switch off when you’re here.’
She doesn’t respond immediately, and I worry that I’ve spoken out of turn. I’m already holding back. What I really want to say is, you can switch off when you’re with me .
‘I only meant that, since I invited you, I’ve got it sorted,’ I offer hurriedly.
‘Thank you,’ she says softly, before her tone switches back to the in-charge Andie I’ve come to know. ‘So if we’re not catching the river boat, where are we going?’
I remove my arm and spin her to face me. ‘Honey, I got my boat licence before I got my pen licence. We’re not going anywhere if I’m not the one driving. Right this way.’
I lead us along the shore towards the next jetty, where my tinnie is anchored in a row of other fishing boats. A speed boat has just docked and its passengers are stumbling off, each face greener than the next.
‘Bloody Alec,’ I mutter, unable to stop myself.
‘Do you know everyone on this island?’ Andie asks as we weave through the dishevelled crowd. One guy is not done being sick so I subtly shift my body to shield Andie.
‘Yeah. It’s hard not to. But I wish I didn’t know him.’ I glance back to where Alec is tending to the boat’s leather trim instead of his poorly guests.
‘Oh?’
‘He’s the manager at Clam Cove Resort. A mainland import. Decided that offering thrill rides on the river was a genius idea. Let’s just say that he shouldn’t even have his pen licence.’
‘So he’s a shithead. Got it.’
I mock gasp. ‘You don’t hold back!’ But I’m warmed by how quickly she commits to disliking a guy with absolutely no context. Just because I’ve said so.
‘What?’ She flutters her eyelashes innocently. ‘Kindergarten teachers have been known to swear out of hours, you know – and occasionally in hours, too.’
I laugh. ‘Yeah, I’ve noted your potty-mouth. Seems like a trip to Miss Andie’s classroom would straighten Alec out.’
‘Yup, or a little self-defence nibble. And it’s actually Ms Alcott’s classroom,’ she corrects me.
Ms Andie Alcott’s classroom . I love slowly piecing together snippets of information about her.
‘I’d prefer you to save your nibbles for me,’ I say thickly.
Her eyes flash. ‘Copy.’
She doesn’t pry any further about the Alec situation and by the time we stop in front of my boat it hits me that I like her even more now than I did twenty minutes ago when we met on the dock.
I step down into the boat and offer Andie my hand. ‘Ms Alcott?’
She’s still holding her Chupa Chup, so boarding turns into a comical one-handed manoeuvre. After a couple of false starts, we finally manage it.
Once Andie’s safely seated, I pass her a life jacket, taking care not to disturb the overflowing pile that hides the picnic basket I stowed there earlier.
‘Ah, tell me this isn’t the Titanic package,’ Andie says, slipping the bright orange vest over her shoulders.
‘Absolutely not.’ I love our playful banter, but above all I want to make sure that she’s comfortable. ‘We’re not going far,’ I reassure her as I pull in the anchor and start the motor. ‘Just some place you can’t reach on foot.’
‘Okay . . .’
‘Do you trust me?’
My eyes are thankfully on the river as I carefully back out of our mooring and swing the boat around. Either response from her has the potential to rattle me.
‘I think so.’
My heartbeat quickens as the boat accelerates out into the open water.
‘Good. Then sit back and enjoy the ride,’ I announce.
Unfortunately, we have to pass the old oyster farm on the way out to the mouth of the river.
‘What’s over there?’ Andie asks, pointing at the plastic farm poles poking out of the water, as out of place as cheap supermarket candles on a homemade cake.
‘Ah, that’s the oyster leases.’
I consider elaborating further, but it’s so depressing. For the time being, I’d rather stick with the light-hearted, carefree version of myself who plays pranks and makes Andie laugh. Thankfully, her focus has shifted to the weird rock formation shaped like a turnip.
Once we get past the farm, it’s bumpier than I expected. The wind has picked up and whips the water into sharp peaks, like well-beaten cream. I do my best to avoid the waves, but it still feels like we’ve set sail in the stubborn-stain cycle of a washing machine. I steal a glance at Andie, feeling guilty I haven’t provided the smooth journey I promised. Her curls dance wildly around, but her head remains still, gaze fixed on the horizon – like she’s feeling seasick.
‘Here, suck on this.’ Her lollipop has vanished, so I retrieve mine from the pocket of my board shorts and pass it to her.
‘Thanks.’
Andie sucks diligently, her face turned upwards to welcome the refreshing sea breeze, while I navigate the turbulent waters.
A few minutes later we glide into a sheltered cove. As soon as we round the rocky outcrop, the winds ease and the late-afternoon sun shines down on the tranquil waters, transforming it into a mesmerising sea of glittery turquoise.
‘Wow,’ Andie gushes as I cut the engine and drift to a stop. As anticipated, there’s only a handful of boats dotted around us – the decline in tourism does have its benefits when searching for a secluded spot to impress a girl.
I turn and grin. ‘Feeling any better?’
‘Oh, I was feeling fine,’ she says with a grin. ‘I’m just a sugar fiend.’
I shake my head. ‘Unbelievable! Now who UNO Reversed who?’
‘What is this place?’ she asks, eyes shining.
‘Pearl Cove.’
‘It’s stunning.’ She retrieves her phone and starts recording. I can’t wait for her to see the sunset. I’ve timed our arrival perfectly.
‘Do you want me to take a pic of you?’ I ask. ‘With your phone, not mine. We want to be able to distinguish your eyes from your nose.’
‘Ha. No, it’s okay, thanks. I’m just capturing some of the scenery for my dad.’
I release the anchor and await the satisfying clang as it makes contact with the riverbed.
‘Alright, two choices,’ I say, turning back to Andie. ‘This is as close to the shore as I can get, and there’s oysters everywhere out here. So, you can either keep your sandals on to avoid cuts and wade in, or I can carry you. What’ll it be?’
I’m well aware of the outcome I’m wishing for.
‘They’re leather, they can’t get wet,’ she states. Her tone is serious but a mischievous glint flickers in her eyes.
‘Right. Over the shoulder it is.’ I spring forward, and a gleeful scream escapes her lips.
I’ll come back for the picnic basket.