Blindside
Page 41
‘Coming up. How about a couple of burgers and some fries to go with that?’
She filled her cheeks in an expression of mock-nausea.
‘I keep playing it over and over in my mind,’ she said after a silence. ‘Can’t get rid of it.’
‘I know,’ he said, squeezing the soft hand. ‘Give it time, and some TLC. You’ll be fine, baby. I guarantee it.’
She nodded as she squeezed his hand a little more firmly. But even as she did so tears were silently filling her eyes and spilling down onto the pillow. Her expression did not change: she was releasing tears, nothing more. He passed her a box of tissues.
‘Have you ever been to Proserpine?’ he said while she cleaned herself up.
‘Proserpine? In Queensland? No, why?’
‘Well, I’m told it’s pretty close to paradise.You rent a boat, one of those big motorised yachts, and cruise around. Drop anchor whenever you want, jump in for a swim when it gets too hot . . . go spear-fishing in this blue water that’s so clear you can see right through it, all the way. I’m told the coral trout up there are the sweetest fish you’ll ever eat.’
‘Yeah?’ she said, wiping her eyes, showing some interest.
‘Yeah. At night, you barbecue the fish on deck, wash it down with a crisp, dry wine that’s been chilled in the icebox. You can sleep, or whatever, under the stars, and it’s a sky like no other, I’m told.’
‘Is that so?’
‘It is.’
‘“Or whatever”?’ She managed to arch an eyebrow.
‘Definitely.’
She sniffed. ‘Hmm. So, when is this happening?’
‘Soon. I’ll arrange it tomorrow. When does the university year end?’
‘November.’
‘November it is. Then maybe we can head for Italy, see if we can’t chase down some long-lost relatives.’
She gave him a big smile—an enormous effort.‘Wouldn’t that be something?’
At close proximity he lost himself once more inside those moist, mint-green pools that stared back at him like a mirror image. Amazing. Even when she was in the throes of post-trauma and depression, she filled him with a barely controllable excitement and longing.
‘Everything all right in there?’ he murmured, moving a strand of her hair from her damp face.
She responded with an almost imperceptible nod. It seemed a huge effort. But her eyes said it all. They told him that, for all its improbable origins in a rough bush cabin far from anywhere, for good or otherwise their future together was cemented with the blood of Terry Pritchett. They had somehow beaten the odds.
And now they were one and the same.