Chapter 22
Liz watched Helena striding off across the valley floor, pack riding high on her shoulders.
Maggie turned and looked helplessly at Liz, lifting her palms. Then she heaved on her backpack, grimacing as she fought to push her arms back through the straps, and went after Helena.
Joni had snapped her sunglasses back on and turned in the opposite direction, walking some distance and then flinging herself down in the long grass, a starfish of limbs, as she glared at the sky.
Liz was too hot beneath her fleece—confrontation always made her sweat—and she yanked at the zip and then tossed the fleece on top of her pack.
Helena and Joni had clashed often in their teens. They could both be strident and opinionated, quick to rile and slow to back down. Liz and Maggie had become mediators, trying to smooth out the knots in the fabric of their friendship.
Somehow, Liz and Joni never fought. Perhaps it was because they didn’t set themselves against one another.
They’d always been so different—Liz with her studies and focused, determined attitude, and Joni with her music and chase for wild freedom.
Like magnets, they were drawn together by their opposing forces.
She waded through the tall grass, the sun hot on her shoulders. She found Joni still lying down, fingers pushed into the roots of her hair.
Liz reached out a hand to her.
“Not ready.”
With a sigh, Liz sank down beside her, flattening a little space in the long grass. She didn’t say anything for a while, giving Joni the space to breathe. From her experience with patients, she’d learned that often it was the pause that was the key.
She examined the grass for ticks, wondering whether Norwegian ticks carried Lyme disease. She’d have to look it up when they had a signal. Then she glanced up, watching a bird of prey circling above the tree line, its wingspan dark against the flare of sun.
Eventually Joni said, “Helena’s always looking for an excuse to bring me down. She thinks I’ve got my head up my arse. Did you see the look she gave me when I bought the champagne last night? She’s always had a chip on her shoulder about money.”
“She’s had to work hard for everything she’s got.”
“And I haven’t?” Joni said, sitting up. “Sure, my grandmother owned her house, but we were hardly rolling in it.”
Liz knew that. She and Joni had lived on the same street—detached houses on a tree-lined road, with room in the driveway for two cars. It wasn’t riches, but it was enough.
“I’d have given away the house in a flash to have what she had. What you all had.”
Family.
Joni’s mother—a Chilean model who was to thank for Joni’s wide, dark eyes and striking bone structure—had died a week after giving birth, from an infection caused by a part of the placenta not being expelled.
Joni’s father, a British photographer, had dumped Joni in her grandmother’s care when she was seven.
Now he only got in touch if he needed VIP passes to whatever festival she was headlining.
Joni took off her sunglasses and squeezed the bridge of her nose. Her skin looked pale and there were mauve shadows beneath her eyes. Then she looked up at Liz, face filled with concern. “I hope I haven’t gotten you in trouble over the doctor’s note. I wasn’t using you.”
“I know that,” Liz said, and she did. Joni could be impetuous and a little self-centered at times, but she was never manipulative. “It’ll be fine. The clinic will have my back.”
“I shouldn’t have put you in that position. And I shouldn’t have bailed on the tour, on my bandmates, on Kai . . .”
“Do you really think legal action will be taken?”
She lifted her shoulders. “I’m in breach of my contract.”
“What did Kai say when you spoke to him last night?”
Joni looked blank.
“Down by the lake. You were on the phone to him?”
“Oh. Yes.” Joni glanced away. “He was trying to get me to finish the tour.”
Liz nodded. “When he calms down, maybe it’ll all settle. You said it was over with him?”
She nodded. “We’re bad for each other. We’ve been doing too much coke. Too much of everything. I can’t see him letting this go. He’s got a mean streak.”
Joni’s romantic life had always been tumultuous. She pinwheeled from one relationship to the next. There was a dancer from Spain she was briefly engaged to. A club owner in Ibiza she lived with for two years. An Australian surf instructor who wanted to take her back to Bondi. And then Kai.
Liz said, “It was brave of you to get out.”
“But the way I did it . . . I’ve messed everything up, coming out here, getting you into trouble. I’ve made so many mistakes, Liz. Hurt so many people. If you knew—” She broke off, shaking her head. “I should never have come.”
“Don’t say that! You’ve made this trip for me! Helena and Maggie were thinking of pulling out. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be spending four days in the lodge taking gentle strolls around the lake. I need you!”
“You need me?” Joni managed a laugh. “Liz, you’re the strongest, most capable person I’ve ever met. You don’t need anyone!” A shadow passed over her eyes. “Especially not me.”