Chapter Thirty-seven – Jack
Chapter Thirty-seven
JACK
S he doesn’t know how exceptional she is. Why doesn’t anyone tell her how exceptional she is? The words play on a loop as I kiss down her neck.
The sand is rough against my bare skin and I can feel it finding its way into all the wrong places, but in this moment, I’m totally okay with it. We couldn’t wait until we got back to the island, not when there was a perfectly quiet vacant strip of sand down the side of The Oyster House – well away from any breakables – so I grabbed a spare tablecloth and laid it out on the sand.
She’s warm, the breeze is cool, the moon is full overhead, and the scent of salt from the river fills the air.
We’re only a metre from the water’s edge, and I wonder if we wake any of the fish as we finish.
‘Well, that was like ants at a picnic.’ Andie grins goofily as she pulls her underwear back on.
My brow furrows. Ants have never been welcome at any picnic I’ve attended.
‘Not you! The sand,’ she clarifies as she brushes it from her legs. I watch, mesmerised, as her hand delicately grazes her inner thighs, and I feel a surge of energy, almost ready to go again.
‘Thank God.’ I laugh. ‘I wasn’t a fan of you comparing our mind-blowing sex to something as, um – ah – as small as ants . . .’
She doesn’t indulge me with a response, turning instead to face the wall of The Oyster House. At first I assume she wants privacy to do up the buttons of her blouse – ironic, considering what we’ve just done – but then I realise that she’s running a hand over the smooth brick.
‘You know, this would be so perfect for a projector.’
I zip up my shorts and move behind her, pretending to admire the wall. It looks like an ordinary wall to me.
‘They should so do movie nights here. People could bring their boats and watch from the river,’ she continues enthusiastically.
I reach for her waist and spin her around to face me. Her cheeks are still flushed from orgasm and her skirt flares out around her.
‘That’s a great idea,’ I murmur, so captivated by her heavenly expression that I lean in to dot a soft kiss on her forehead. ‘So, tell me more about this infatuation with movies.’
I wait as she takes a deep breath, a fleeting shadow crossing her face.
‘We used to have family movie nights when I was a kid, and we started the tradition again when Dad was diagnosed with dementia. It became a nightly thing. Mum would wear these T-shirts she got custom-made for her classes. A different movie quote on each T-shirt. She had an entire drawer full of them.’
‘So, watching movies helps you feel closer to your mum?’ I ask, my attention focused on her.
Her eyes flick up at me. ‘Yup. Well, it did. Before I became fixated on this darn island feeling.’ She laughs lightly.
‘And do you think you’ve found it here yet?’ I probe, feeling a flutter in my chest.
‘Hmm, I really don’t know. I don’t have any photos or footage to guide me, so I’m just following the clues from her stories and my instincts. I suppose I’m waiting for that overwhelming sense of certainty to hit me.’
As I study her beautiful, hopeful face I can’t shake the thought that perhaps this magical feeling she’s searching for vanished with the oysters.
What is Pearl Island now, without them? My chest tightens as if pressed by a heavy weight.
Back at my cabin an hour later, I’m grilling us our bacon-and-egg sandwiches. Instead of sitting on the counter, supervising the bread as it crisps up into the perfect golden brown, Andie is curled up on the couch. I’m glad she feels comfortable here, but it’s clear that something is troubling her.
‘Do you want to call your dad?’ I ask, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the sizzle.
‘Mm?’ She looks up from her phone, eyes glazed. She could just be tired from a combination of too much wine and our long boat trip home.
‘Your dad? Or Toby? You should have reception here,’ I repeat.
‘Oh right, yes. That’s okay, thank you.’ She looks back at her phone.
I glance at her again, then lift the hot skillet from the hob and turn off the flame. I walk over to the sofa and sit down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her leg.
‘Hey, is everything okay?’ I ask quietly. ‘Is it your dad?’
‘Oh no, no. Toby texted earlier to say everything was fine there. If I call Dad, it will only confuse him. We decided it was best to have no contact.’ Her voice wobbles as she says it.
‘But I bet you’re missing him?’ I ask, taking one of her hands in mine and preparing to listen intently.
‘A bit, yes. I gave him this seashell to help him remember where I’ve gone – not that it will actually be useful – but I realised I didn’t bring anything of him with me . . . So I was just looking at some videos on my phone. It’s silly, really. I’ll be home the day after next anyway. I think maybe our conversation earlier about the movies and why I came here stirred something up, and now I can’t remember if I replaced the coloured dots on his television remote. He needs a green sticker for the on button and a blue one for the volume otherwise he sits there with no one to hel–’
‘Andie, breathe,’ I cut in, drawing her close and cocooning her in my arms. ‘I’m sure Toby has it under control. Right now, your only job is to relax. I get the feeling that you’re good at everything else, except for maybe that.’
She shuffles out of my arms and tilts her head, eyeing me incredulously. ‘Excuse me, but I can be very good at relaxing.’
‘Alright, show me,’ I challenge, already feeling triumphant at the sight of her watery smile.
She kicks her feet up onto the sofa and settles back against the cushions.
‘See?’ she says, sticking out her tongue.
‘Now, how about closing your eyes?’ I suggest.
‘I mean, I could . . . or I could stay awake for our late-night snack?’ she replies, her smile turning wry and wide.
‘Message received.’ I grin back, leaning down to kiss her deeply before leaping up to switch the hob back on to finish grilling our extra-hot sandwiches.
She leaves before sunrise again, even though I ask her to stay. My thoughts should be consumed by my impending decision for Alec later today, but instead they’re preoccupied with her.