Chapter Forty-one – Jack
Chapter Forty-one
JACK
‘A re you searching for pearls or your birthday cake?’ Andie’s voice echoes across the water, her head bobbing on the surface. Her neck is strained as she tries to keep her hair dry. She’s about to be severely disappointed by what I have planned, but I want full poodle.
I’ve asked her to meet me out on the floating pontoon. Instead of sending a text, I showed up at Moorings’ front door. That way she couldn’t leave me on ‘read’. I don’t know if it was a touch of cold feet, or just concern about her dad, but even when we went to bed with our bacon-and-egg sandwiches last night, it felt like a part of her was miles away.
Moorings was quiet as I approached. A sleepy-looking Andie in an oversized tee and no pants answered the door. She looked self-conscious at first, so I was relieved when she accepted my invitation, promising me she’d change and see me out at the swim platform.
‘Both. I’m not one to give up easily,’ I say with a grin, pushing my goggles up onto my head. ‘Give me another couple of decades and I’ll find that cake.’
Andie reaches the pontoon and gracefully climbs up onto the platform. ‘You know, this is the first time I’ve made it out here.’
‘Really?’
I’m surprised – it’s right out front of Moorings. I follow her lead, pulling myself up beside her. I’m glad she seems happy to be here. Had this evening been ours alone, I would have organised one of her cherished movie nights: buttery popcorn popped on the hob and packed into Clara’s picnic basket, a secluded cove as our cinema, and a flat rock transformed into our screen to fulfill her dream of an outdoor movie screening.
But I could tell she didn’t want to miss my mother’s documentary debut, so I’m hoping that our time together now, along with my surprise later, will show her how much I’ve grown to care for her.
‘Wait, what are we doing?’ Andie asks, eyeing the flippers and snorkel gear resting on the platform.
‘This pontoon happens to be right above the best coral shelf in the river. I thought you might enjoy exploring the same reef your dad possibly did and meeting some of the local critters.’
Raw emotion fills her eyes and her features soften. ‘Thank you,’ she whispers.
‘You’re welcome,’ I whisper back, even though we’re in the middle of the river and free to be as loud as we like.
We’ve known each other for less than a week, but I already know I won’t be able to stop caring about her when she leaves the island tomorrow.
‘So, we’re actually seeking an up-close Woof encounter?’ she quips, her emotion melting into a playful spark.
‘If you’re game?’ I ask, arching an eyebrow at her.
‘Of course.’
As we hold each other’s gaze, I can’t help but read into it. Is she also game enough to see if we can make a go of us?
With our masks and fins on, we hold hands and step off the platform, plunging into the deep blue. The water is teeming with tiny bright fish, but thankfully no jellies. I keep a close eye on Andie as she ventures off in different directions, each time pushing a little further from me. I dream of being this adventurous with her in her everyday life. I’d be content to stay in her wake, paddling at a safe distance behind her, cocooned in a sparkling curtain of her bubbles. Occasionally, she lets out a high-pitched squeal as she points out a specific splotch of coral, but for the most part she’s lost in her own enchanted realm. I hope that she’s able to escape from thoughts of her world back home for a while. There’s nothing quite like the reset salt water provides. The email I sent earlier, and the decision I’ve made about my future on Pearl Island barely cross my mind.
After half an hour or so we head back to the pontoon, exhausted and grinning.
She tells me to turn away while she wriggles up onto the platform, but I have to adjust my board shorts as I sneak a glance. There’s a piece of seaweed stuck to her bum; today’s swimwear is a bikini.
I clamber up the swim platform behind her.
‘May I?’ I ask, reaching to swipe at the tangle of seaweed clinging to her butt cheek. It’s stuck like superglue. She laughs, a sweet, tinkling sound like wind chimes in the island breeze. I understand the seaweed, not wanting to let go of her so easily.
‘Watch the bird poo,’ I warn as Andie settles onto the hot timber.
‘Eww, yuck,’ she exclaims, sitting down and promptly laying down onto her back, red-cheeked and panting slightly.
I narrowly avoid a white, pasty splatter myself. As I lie down next to her, I make a mental note to come back out here later with some vinegar and a scrubbing brush.
Neither of us speak as the sun warms our damp bodies, like we’re solar powered.
‘You’re quiet,’ I say finally, stretching out a hand to rest on her upper thigh.
‘Mm, am I?’ she murmurs, eyes closed and face tilted to the sky, drinking in the sun. ‘I’m just thinking how wonderful that was. And how I’m really going to miss it here.’
There are things I really want to say, but I chicken out. ‘I thought you were conspiring to get me to do the Dirty Dancing lift with you,’ I say instead. I’ll get there eventually.
One of her eyes springs open. ‘Lucky for you it’s too deep out here,’ she laughs. ‘Not too deep for raunchy dancing lifts though.’
Surely she can’t be ready to say goodbye to this either.