Chapter 46
CHAPTER
I swim lazy laps of freestyle, then duck dive and swim breaststroke underwater. I turn somersaults and kick off the wall. I float, soar and fly.
When I finally surface to retie my hair, Sebastien, feet bare, is crouching by the side of the pool. He smiles into my eyes.
‘Excuse me.’
‘Those are the first words you ever said to me.’
‘May I join you?’
Against all odds, we’ve found each other. Against all odds, I love him desperately.
‘Yes, please.’
I glimpse the angry red scar that cuts across his arm before he dives into the deep end. Rising to the surface like a seal, he sweeps water from his face. I’m out of my depth when he grasps my waist.
‘I love you, Felicity Atherton.’
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
His brows lift. ‘You want more?’
When I nod, he smiles.
‘I loved you when you strapped my finger.’
‘You couldn’t have!’
He frowns. ‘At least since Hobart.’
‘You weren’t very nice.’
He kisses my mouth, slow and wet. ‘I loved you when we slept together on the ship.’
‘You were cranky.’
‘That’s because you didn’t love me back.’
I cling to his shoulders. ‘I didn’t know how I felt.’
‘When I couldn’t get through to you on Morrison, I made up conversations.’
I wrap my legs around his waist. ‘You were angry after we had sex.’
‘There’s a lot more to sex than what we had on Morrison.’
‘I thought what we had was a lot.’
His eyes narrow a little. ‘I was talking about trust.’
‘Oh.’
When he bites my neck so hard it almost hurts, fiery darts of lust shoot through my limbs.
He walks determinedly towards the shallow end of the pool and sits me on the side. ‘Sex isn’t love.’
I press a finger against his mouth. ‘Do you remember what I said about your different parts?’
‘You accept them.’ A tentative smile. ‘It’s a start.’
‘I love them, Sebastien. I love every single one.’
I don’t care which bedroom we’re in, but Sebastien, determined to find the master suite, keeps a steely hold of my hand as he marches down the hallway to a room with a bed covered in crisp white linen and a mountain of cushions.
I neatly stack the cushions in a corner, but he drags the bedspread and doona onto the floor. We’re standing on opposite sides of the bed when our eyes lock. He breaks first.
‘Your eyes are blue, like the sky.’
‘You said they were like a Norway spruce tree.’
‘That too.’
‘I didn’t know about chestnut eyes until I met you.’
By the time we meet in the middle of the bed, we’re naked. I want to touch him everywhere. His face, neck, shoulders. The skin of his throat and chest, the muscled planes of his torso. When I kiss along the scar that marks his arm, he nuzzles my neck.
‘We should talk.’
‘I love you, Sebastien, and you love me.’ I stroke his silky hair. ‘We can talk later.’
He’s clearly torn, but when I wriggle under him, he relents and comes inside me. He kisses and plays until, in a tangle of longing and craving, I wrap my legs around his back and link my heels.
‘Now, Sebastien …’
‘Close your eyes.’
Gossamer clouds in flimsy white streams, stormy grey clouds in cobalt and steel. Vast silver skies, floating mists, white-capped oceans and rugged cliffs. Powder blue and midnight blue, billions of stars that dance on the sea. He lifts me high, lets me fall, lifts me high again.
Until finally, when I’m shaking and quivering and crazy with need, he stills.
‘Look at me, Lisse.’
I open my eyes and stare into his. One final thrust and we fly.
A lazy moon filters through the window as I lie on his chest. Hand unsteady, he brushes hair from my face. He kisses my forehead, runs his lips across my temple.
‘I’m leaving the air force.’
I push myself out of his arms and sit. ‘I’ll wait until you come back. I told you that.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘I’d miss you and I’d worry about you, but you’re not only brave and courageous, you’re prodigiously capable and—’
When he tugs, I lie down again and we face one another. One of his legs sits snugly between mine. Our hips and stomachs and chests meet up.
‘I don’t want to go back to the air force.’
‘What made you decide?’
‘If I lost my sight, I couldn’t read. The zip line, the other things, they’re only part of who I am. You see that.’
‘Where will you live?’
He frowns. ‘With you.’
I trace around his lips with a fingertip. ‘You’ll be a long way from home.’
‘A sharp-tailed sandpiper flies eleven thousand kilometres to get here.’
‘Then he flies eleven thousand kilometres to go home and nest.’
Another frown. ‘I want to nest here.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘I want this for us and for me.’
‘You could be a pilot here.’
‘I could do other work too.’ He kisses the top of my head. ‘I want to get married.’
‘What?’
He’s suddenly tense. ‘Will you marry me?’
I kiss his worried mouth. ‘I’d like that.’
‘You’re like a mother to Matilda. We could give her brothers and sisters. Caring for them could also be my work.’
I blink back tears. ‘Would you build them a zip line?’
‘Only one.’
I rest against his chest again. ‘One is enough.’
‘I’ll buy Matilda another pony.’
‘She can only ride one at a time.’
‘You need a new car.’
‘I don’t—’
‘This house is for sale. I’ll buy it.’
‘Sebastien!’
‘Tell Matilda I quit the dragon book.’
‘You can tell her that yourself.’ I kiss the pulse at his throat. ‘What are you reading now?’
‘Tolkien.’
‘According to Tilly, you know everything about The Lord of the Rings already.’
‘I’ve read the Norwegian translation. This edition is in English.’ He pushes hair behind my ear. ‘Matilda admires Enid Blyton, J.K. Rowling, C.S. Lewis and Jane Austen. She’d like to visit England.’
‘I think Tilly called you more often than she owned up to.’
‘You, me, Matilda, our children.’ He strokes my side. ‘We’ll see starlings in England and white-throated dippers in Norway.’
‘Yes.’
‘I won’t leave you.’
‘I won’t leave you either.’
He watches closely as I trace the initials of his ring. ‘The night I called from the ship and Robin answered, I was going to tell you how I felt. Before I left Morrison, I would have given you the ring.’ His arms tighten around me. ‘I didn’t want it back.’
‘I hadn’t come to terms with loving all your different parts.’
‘Would you like to go back to Antarctica?’
‘As long as we can sleep together.’
‘There and here.’ He strokes down my side. ‘This will be our home.’
Crickets chirrup, frogs croak, a southern boobook hoots the night. Blue-winged parrots, sharp-tailed sandpipers, brolgas on the marshes. Flying birds, nesting birds, birds that pair for life.
I stroke across his shoulders, find the kink in his hair at his nape. His limbs soften as he sleeps, and I hold him close.