Chapter Fifty-four – Andie
Chapter Fifty-four
ANDIE
T his is going better than expected. I didn’t know if he’d be glad to see me, and although he hasn’t said as much, I can tell by the way his eyes keep flicking over my body that he’s at least still attracted to me. But I’m interested in more than just a holiday fling.
By the time we finish our baps and coffees, our conversation hasn’t delved any deeper. I’m scared to probe too far below the surface and confront the very real possibility that Jack no longer wants a future together. I’ll obviously have to accept it. At the very least, I’ve learned that I still want to live a more joy-filled life, even if it’s not with him. But I so badly want it to be with him.
The sun has reached its boldest shade of orangey red and is about to disappear below the horizon as I take a gulp of tangy, salty air.
‘So, the hot oyster guy, hey?’ I say, exhaling, veering away from what I really want to ask about.
‘I knew it! You’re just here for my body too,’ he jokes.
‘I’m not not here for your body.’ I nudge him.
No, Andie! I take another deep breath and try again.
‘The oyster farm . . . why didn’t you say anything?’
He lifts his eyes. ‘I know. I should have.’
‘I’m not mad,’ I say softly. ‘You didn’t owe me that. I-I-I’m just trying to understand . . .’ I trail off.
If he truly believed what we had was real, why wouldn’t he want to show me the real him? Was it because of shame like Toby suggested, or did he really think that I couldn’t handle it?
‘It wasn’t you,’ he says, immediately answering my silent question. ‘I was – I mean – I am ,’ he corrects himself, ‘still grappling with so much guilt.’
‘But why?’ I reach over and gently cup my hand under his chin. His hair has grown and is even scruffier, one of his mocha tufts curls towards his brow. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
From everything I’ve been told, the pearl oyster disease was unlucky and not something that was preventable.
Jack withdraws his head from my hand, his eyes darting around everywhere.
‘Yeah, but the Holibob news article that led to the island’s mass tourist exodus was,’ he confesses. ‘The day before, I spotted the boat that ended up stealing the oysters. I should have raised the alarm, sensed something fishy was going on. If the oysters hadn’t ended up in restaurants in Port Hope and Sydney, it wouldn’t have caused such a media frenzy, and maybe we could have salvaged Pearl Island’s reputation. Charlie might have kept his customers –’
‘Hey, hey, hey,’ I interject, reaching for his face again, this time refusing to let go when he tries to turn away. ‘You talk about Andinese, but I have no idea what this nonsense is that you’re speaking. I have witnessed you go above and beyond for this island. If it wasn’t that boat, it would have been another one. And if it wasn’t Holibob , it would have been one of those nosy carrier parrots that leaked the news.’
With my last joke, his body jolts in surprised laughter. I smell oranges.
‘Jack, I need you to listen to me now, really listen,’ I begin, tone serious. ‘I spent the very best seven days of my life here on this island with you. It might sound cliché, but I arrived pretty fucking broken, chasing memories of my parents. By the time I left – even in the chaotic fashion that went down – I felt almost whole again. And that’s mostly because of you.’ I sift a hand through my damp curls, prepared to continue pouring out my heart, but then hesitate. His mouth twitches, and I can’t tell if it’s a ‘she’s irresistible’ or a ‘get me out of here’ twitch, so I squeeze my eyes shut and keep speaking.
‘I love that you’re always barefoot and you’re constantly on a mission to convert me to your way of life. I love that you seem intent on convincing me that you’re some kind of petty thief or that you have even one bad bone in your body when I know the very opposite to be true. I love that you make the absolute best bacon-and-egg sandwiches I’ve ever eaten. I love that you’ve made up an entire language named after me. And I love that you are the last person I think about before I go to sleep at night and the only person I want to watch the sunrise with. And it’s not because you’re an amazing – actually, make that fucking fantastic – holiday lay. I came here today because when you realise you’ve made a mistake and let one of the best people you’ve ever known slip through your fingers, you want to rectify that as soon as possible.’
I’m breathless as I finish. The faint light through my closed eyelids has vanished, replaced by the shadows of the post-sunset sky. With one sense dulled, my smell sharpens: the strong scent of citrus wafts towards me. I inhale deeply and gingerly open my eyes to find Jack hovering close, his lips centimetres from mine, like we’re back on the lily pad.
He’s staring at me, eyes dark. ‘What was that?’ he asks.
‘Um, it was Billy Crystal’s speech from When Harry Met Sally ,’ I say nervously as I wipe my clammy palms on the picnic rug. ‘Well, sort of. I improvised a bit. I know it’s more my thing than yours – speaking Andinese, I mean. But I couldn’t think of something to accurately express just how much you mean to me. You’re a master of these grand romantic gestures and I wanted to finally do one for you, but I couldn’t exactly sail past with “I LOVE YOU” plastered on the sails, could I? Even if you don’t feel the same way I do, I doubt you’d want me crashing into the dock or capsizing – especially when there’s Woof encounters to consider and –’
Jack brings a scarred finger up to my lips. ‘Did you say love?’ he asks slowly.
‘I mean, I think it could be . . .’ I murmur, my heart pounding in my chest. ‘In fact, I know that it is.’
His gaze locks on mine; the intensity gauge is dialled all the way up.
My cheeks grow warm. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. ‘Well, you have a splotch of yolk on the tip of your nose,’ he says, as he reaches to wipe it off. ‘But also, I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing.’
‘I understand if I’m too late,’ I rush to add. ‘I took a risk coming here. I knew there was a chance you’d moved on – you’re the hot oyster guy, after all.’ I flash him a weak smile.
You were my hot oyster guy , I think, regretful.
Thankfully, Jack’s response is swift. ‘You’re not too late, Andie.’ The words send a shiver down my spine. ‘But are you sure?’ His question carries a hint of gravel, laced with concern.
I meet his gaze. ‘I’m sure.’
‘I really am so sorry for not telling you about the oyster farm . . .’
‘It’s okay,’ I say, reaching out to gently touch his arm. ‘I’m sorry for believing you were some unserious island guy, when that couldn’t have been further from the truth.’ My tone melts further. ‘Life has taken pieces of both of us, Jack. Perhaps we’ve been trying to fill those voids by finding purpose in others, when really, we needed to find it in ourselves.’ I finish in a whisper and lay my head on his shoulder.
It’s now completely dark, our surroundings illuminated only by the gentle glow of nearby boats. A lively murmur drifts from upstream, where families and other couples are enjoying the balmy evening along the riverbank. It feels both strange to be back on Pearl Island and like the most normal thing in the world.
‘What about your dad?’ Jack asks, stroking my hair. ‘Taylor said he was found safe where he used to work. I was so relieved to hear that. Is he doing okay?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, feeling a rush of relief at the memory. ‘He’s fine, thank you. It was so awful, but it also ended up being a good lesson for me. I need to learn to share the load with Toby more. It’s not him that’s been the issue, it’s me. But no more excuses.’
‘I like the sound of that. More time for Andie.’
‘Maybe more time for Andie and Jack, too?’ I murmur and lift my head to gauge Jack’s reaction, but he’s turned to look over his shoulder at Charlie Farleys, where a flock of noisy seagulls have congregated.
‘Damn it. I just realised I haven’t locked up. Shit, sorry. I was listening,’ he mutters, swivelling his head from me back to Charlie’s, then back again, as if torn between me and his responsibility to Charlie.
‘I’d welcome a break from this heat, and I could actually use a knife,’ I say, retrieving a wild pearl oyster from my pocket and holding it out to him.
‘Oh hello, where’d you get that beauty?’ He grins.
‘That’s for me to know.’ I wiggle my eyebrows mysteriously. Charlie had proved very useful.
We gather the rug and our rubbish and head into Charlie Farleys. Jack locks the door behind us and suddenly I’m back at The Oyster House. Although the rustic decor is different from the opulent charm of the restaurant, I bet we could still do some serious damage in here.
‘Hey – you break, you buy,’ Jack says, reading my thoughts. I realise that I’m standing near the shelf holding his oyster-shell pieces.
‘I was planning on it, anyway,’ I retort. ‘I happen to know the artist.’ I glance at the sign. ‘A Mr Hot Oyster Guy. Do you know him?’
Jack groans. ‘Oh God. How about I get you that knife?’
‘Nice change of subject, Cap.’
Jack rounds the counter and I pull myself up on top of it. He grabs a butter knife from the cutlery drawer and extends his hand for the oyster.
‘Nope.’ I shake my head. ‘I’ll do it.’
I take the knife from him and plunge it straight into the hinge.
‘You do know you can’t eat that?’ Jack says.
I roll my eyes at him. ‘I’m aware.’
‘So, what are you doing?’
‘Looking for the pearl, of course. Someone once told me they were nature’s lotto ticket.’ I twist the knife and wriggle it back and forth. ‘Wait,’ I say, pausing dramatically. ‘This would be more fun with a wager, wouldn’t it?’
Jack raises an eyebrow. ‘What kind of wager?’
‘If there’s a pearl, it’s a sign that we might actually have a chance of making it in the real world. But if there’s not . . . well, then, I guess it’s over before it really began.’
Jack hesitates, his mind clicking over as he calculates the terrible odds. But before he can respond, the shell pops open. We both lean in, looking for a tell-tale glimmer, but there’s nothing there.
‘Well, that’s that then,’ I say in mock-disappointment. ‘It’s been real nice knowing you, Captain Jack.’ I pause. ‘Unless . . .’
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless there is a pearl hiding here somewhere.’ I inch away from him across the bench.
‘Oi! Not so fast,’ he laughs, catching my arm. ‘You come down from there right now and explain yourself.’
He moves so he’s standing directly in front of me, and I wrap my legs around him.
‘Or you’ll do what?’ I tease, unable to suppress my smile as I tense my inner thighs and squeeze him tightly.
He properly growls now. ‘You don’t want to know.’
‘Alright. But on one condition.’
‘What now, Andie?’
‘You’ll agree to come as my date to a wedding this weekend.’
‘Whose wedding?’ he asks, running a hand up my bare leg.
‘Ben the buck’s,’ I say, struggling to maintain focus. ‘A last-minute invitation was extended to us girls.’
‘Is my Milan suit appropriate?’
‘Of course.’
‘Shoes optional?’
‘Always.’
He flashes a wry smile before finally pulling me into his arms and kissing me hard. As our lips crash together, knocking every last puff of air out of my body, there’s warmth and softness and need.
‘Now, Ms Andrea Alcott,’ Jack breathes, as he reluctantly lets his tongue slip from my mouth and straightens up. ‘Can I interest you in a grilled cheese back at mine? Fair warning, it will definitely be too hot to eat. And by mine, I mean Hazel’s. But she’s on the mainland.’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ I fling my arms around his neck and cover it in tiny kisses, then rise on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. ‘But before we go, shouldn’t you double-check where your pearl is hiding?’
Jack steps back, shooting a puzzled glance from me to the open oyster on the bench.
‘There’s no pearl here, Andie.’
‘Are you sure?’ I tease.
Jack picks up the shell, looking it over. Before he starts digging into the flesh, I decide to put him out of his misery.
‘I’ve been keeping something from you,’ I confess, unable to contain my grin. ‘Ms Andrea Alcott isn’t my full name,’ I pause. ‘It’s Ms Andrea Pearl Alcott.’
I watch his face explode with joy.
‘I got it from my mamma,’ I finish.
‘You see, that is just like you, Andie,’ Jack says, his voice full of affection. ‘You make it impossible for me not to love you. And I love you, Andrea Pearl Alcott. I really love you.’
Through my tears, I beam at him. ‘You know Meg Ryan’s bit.’
He shrugs, like it’s nothing and not the sweetest thing in the world. ‘I told you I was learning Andinese.’
I feel my heart reverberate with a soul-bending thrum as he cradles my face. ‘Want to know something else?’ I murmur.
‘What?’ Jack asks, his eyes drifting to my lips as he pulls me to him again.
I look at him sincerely, tilting my face up to his, anticipating another kiss.
‘I think I’ve found that island feeling after all.’