Star Struck

by Ryn Shell

  She suggested to Linton, “Let’s take our relationship like a slow waltz, rather than a stride forward. Let’s get to know each other again gradually.”

  Linton squeezed Rose’s hand. “Agreed.”

  Relationship-wise, they danced forwards, backwards, but mostly in sidesteps. They laughed as much as they could over relationship stumbles.

  “I’m in no hurry,” Linton said. Having lived alone for so long and having lost some of his cognitive function, he found it difficult to share deep emotions with anyone. Opening up to Rose was a new experience.

  She helped him put thought into words and express how things affected him. When she could not get him to tell her his feelings, she had a pretty good try at guessing them, which she could do most of the time.

  When Rose needed to get her pent-up emotions expressed, Linton listened to her rant.

  Rose knew that Linton didn’t enjoy her tantrums. Total opposites they were, aside from the mutual attraction to each other and their love for their family and nature.

  When they arrived back in the Dandenongs at the farmhouse, Carl had the Skylab rock and was bursting with excitement, wanting to talk to his father about Skylab’s disintegration. “Your truck got hit by space junk, and it was covered up for diplomatic purposes. That’s why you got such a generous rehabilitation package. I’ve written to NASA, and they want to see your piece of Skylab to authenticate it.”

  Linton’s hand gripped his chin. “I did sign a paper saying I’d not talk about the truck crash to anyone other than NASA representatives.”

  “Why did you do that?” Carl protested.

  “That money is going to come in handy now.” Linton grinned. “We have all the money we need to build the house your mother has always wanted.”

  Helen clapped her hands. “Let me take it to school for show and tell.”

  Carl shook his head. He fetched the chunk of hard, smooth silver-and-black–like substance and placed it on the table.

  Rose, Linton, Carl and Helen studied it, turning it over and examining it.

  “You look after it, Carl. It’s yours.” Linton took Rose’s hand. “Your mum wants to show me the berries.”

  Rose and Linton left the chunk of rock in Carl’s safekeeping and walked into the gardens.

  “I’m being greedy,” Rose said. “You need time to get to know your children, and I want time alone with you.” She lifted her hand to rest it above Linton’s heart. “You must be tired of my talk after that long drive home.”

  “No, never tired of hearing you talk.” He brushed his lips over her brow. “You need to talk.”

  She walked ahead of him while talking. “Linton.”

  He followed her.

  “Remember standing beside your woodpile up there?” She laughed and pointed to the top of the rise. “You don’t remember?” She swung around to him.

  “I couldn’t understand what you just said.” Linton touched an ear. “I’m partially deaf.”

  “You could hear me in the car.”

  “No. I used the rear-view mirror to watch your face, read your lips.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “I know you didn’t.” Linton grinned.

  “Was it the truck accident?”

  “Oh, yes. I still see the lights and hear the explosion in my dreams.”

  “Nightmares.” Rose frowned.

  “There’s a massive boom, and then total silence,” Linton said. “Then this ringing I get in my ears grows louder. It could drive me mad—if I let it.”

  “And you don’t let it?” She gazed up at him, admiration evident in her features.

  “I’ve got you…” He squeezed her gently. “You’ve given me a family and so much more to focus on than tinnitus and hearing loss.”

  “You can hear some of what I say?”

  “I can’t distinguish between soft sounds,” Linton said. “I can’t understand phone calls. Other than that, unless you are talking too fast for me, I read your lips.”

  Rose’s eyes widened and her respect for Linton deepened for all he’d overcome. “I didn’t know.”

  “I can hear you talk. I just can’t tell the difference between a lot of sounds. The letters B, C, D… and other similar sounding letters, all sound the same. If my back is turned when you speak to me, I guesstimate what you’ve said.” Linton chuckled. “If you insert my fantasies into those guesses…” He grinned as he swung an arm beneath Rose’s thighs and raised her into his arms.

  “Oh my gosh!” Rose giggled and blushed. “Put me down,” she said breathlessly. Her palms cupped the rippled muscles on his chest. “When did you get those?” She stroked his chest—feeling. “What you lost in hearing you have made up for in…”

  His mouth crushed the words from her lips.

  She pulled away. “Don’t work so fast. You always…” She squirmed.

  He took her lips to cover the protest, and she punched his chest.

  He set her down on the ground.

  “You heard that clear enough,” she said looking with surprised concern at her fist and gently opened and closed her hand.

  “The feel as if I know what your voice would sound like. I can’t explain that. When you speak to me now, my mind inserts a clear sound to go with what I part hear you are saying.” Linton watched Rose’s face for a response. “I love the sound that fills my mind when you speak to me. You stir such a beautiful noise memory of the sweetest music, the voice of one I know I loved.”

  “You knew you loved?” Rose muttered, turning away to hide the disappointment his past tense words brought.

  Moving to face her he said, “I wish that I could remember you talking to me on the radio. I often fantasised as I drove through the night that I had someone such as you back at home, and I’d imagine you coming online and chatting to me. I’d tell you about interesting things I was seeing. Things like the Min Min lights.”

  A thrill ran down Rose’s spine. “We did talk on the radio about the Min Min lights.”

  They strolled through the flower garden and Linton exclaimed in delight at hyacinths in full bloom. Then taking out his pocket knife, he cut a rose stem and gave her an exquisite salmon-amber–coloured “Remember Me” rose. “How long was our first courtship?” Linton asked. “We can have fun repeating the process.”

  Rose’s eyes shone at the memory. “You proposed on the second date.”

  “I did not!” Linton grinned wildly as he raced his lips over her face, caressing her curves, moulding her breasts gently in his strong hands. “I can’t get enough of you. I’m not sated yet; I can’t wait until a second date.”

  Her head tipped back, and his lips accepted that as an invitation and kissed her throat.

  “Whoa,” Rose pressed away. “It’s a slow waltz and not a stride forward,” she reminded herself and Linton.

  “It’s a shuffle, not a glide,” Linton grinned. “But I want to take the advanced dance class.”

  “Our first date was on a Wednesday.” Rose’s fingers moved through his hair. “You took me to the movies to see My Fair Lady. You bought me a box of chocolates, and I was stupid and didn’t eat any because I was too afraid of getting fat.”

  “So you were a silly teenager?”

  “I was fifteen, and I wanted to impress you.”

  “What? You had waited—until you were fifteen for Mr Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And was I?” Linton squeezed her hand. His hand slipped around her waist.

  “Yes,” she murmured. Rose willed that he would remember how he had once loved her or at least tell her that he’d fallen in love again. She needed more than just dependency, friendship or lust—although she’d gladly accept all of that with joy if that were all she could have—rather than lose him again.

  “On our first date…” Linton said, “what did you look like?”

  “I borrowed my older sister’s slacks and jumper, as I wanted to look all grown up for you.” Linton chuckled. “I did too good a job.” She grinn
ed. “And I wore my mum’s Muguet De Fleur perfume.”

  “Do you trust me to leave you for a short time again?”

  “Of course.” Rose fought to still the panic within. “But, do you have to go somewhere?” Rose hugged Linton and tried not to show distress that he needed to be apart from her. “You’ve not had a moment to yourself since you came back. Of course, you can go. Have I been that possessive that you felt you had to ask?”

  “I haven’t wanted to be away from you either.” Linton’s arm slipped quickly around Rose’s waist. “I’ll only go as far as the corner store. That shouldn’t give you separation anxiety. How does pizza and a DVD—My Fair Lady, if they have it—sound? Oh, and chocolates?”

  “I still have that jumper. You didn’t get to slip your hand up under it until the third date.”

  “How soon was that?”

  “First Wednesday of December was the first date,” Rose said. “I remember because I cancelled a meeting I’d been looking forward to for months.”

  “You cancelled for another date with me?”

  “No contest.” She laughed. “It was the following Saturday. We took a country drive and climbed an observation tower at the top of Mount Donna Buang—most incredible first kiss.”

  “Next Saturday,” Linton said. “Can we go to Mount Donna Buang?”

  “Yes.” Rose’s eyes opened wide as her hands slid up Linton’s chest and around his neck. “But, would you like me to show you that kiss now? We can start practising.”

  Linton worked his spell on Rose again.

  32

  Rose woke up in Linton’s arms on the morning of their second date re-enactment. She jumped out of bed and hurried to make coffee.

  Sliding up beside her, Linton nuzzled into her neck. “Smells good.”

  “The coffee?”

  Linton’s arms slid around her waist, and he drew her close to him. “You.”

  “We can go another day if you want to go back to bed,” Rose said half hopefully.

  “Still scared of heights?” Linton mocked with a playful smile. “Too old to make the climb?”

  Rose giggled. Would those spine-tingling sensations that she’d experienced at the top of Mount Donna Buang’s twenty-one-metre-high lookout tower be as exhilarating on their second, second date as they had been on the first? That thrill had more to do with Linton than the incredible views over the Yarra Valley, Dandenong Ranges, Melbourne.

  Rose hurriedly dressed and packed a picnic lunch while Linton filled a Thermos flask with hot coffee. They rugged up in layered clothing to suit the variable conditions they might find in the mountains.

  Once they were heading towards Warburton in Victoria, Linton began remembering things.

  He recognised the tall mountain ash forests and tree ferns. Linton had not been into south-eastern Australian rainforest country since before the accident.

  “I remember this road,” Linton cried out. “I remember that.”

  Linton pointed and twisted in his seat. Rose slowed down and crawled past all of their favourite views, whenever there were no cars behind them.

  Linton touched Rose’s arm. “I’m struggling not to cry every time I recognise something.”

  “That makes two of us.” Rose sniffed.

  She took her eyes off the road to glance at Linton briefly. The big hunk of a man’s happy face glistened—wet with tears. It was still early morning when Rose turned the car on to the road which wound its way up the mountain.

  A lyrebird crossed the road, and they found a spot to park. A yellow-tailed black cockatoo moved about in the tall mountain ash forest canopy. Crimson rosellas and flame robins made a brilliant splash of colour as they flew about the intense green treeferns.

  It was lovely to stretch their legs after being in the car for an hour. The thrill of seeing the elusive, superb lyrebird roused them. They felt strong—emotionally and physically.

  Linton poured a cup of coffee for Rose from the Thermos flask. “You look inspired enough to climb a mountain.”

  “Just a little one.” Rose’s cheeks felt hot. Tingles went down her spine when their fingers touched in the exchange of the coffee mug. Rose couldn’t believe the sensations she was experiencing.

  “I’m going to have you feeling pretty well exhausted by the time I get you home.”

  “Bring it on,” Rose challenged.

  “Once we finish our coffee,” Linton said.

  Rose grabbed her camera and sketchpad, and they entered the forest, walking quietly.

  They listened. Both Linton and Rose searched for signs of movement or recent activity. They trod softly, matching their steps, stopping between strides to listen for sounds.

  Linton took hold of Rose’s arm and pointed out a place where the earth was freshly scratched. A movement through the trees caught their attention, and they swung around to focus on that area of forest. A moment later, they both heard the sounds of dried leaves crackling and a twig snapping.

  They knew better than to speak. The ringing call of bellbirds rang out through the forest. The bell call was answered from the direction of the twig crack. Then came a sharp ring and crack, the noise made by the whip bird, but they both knew it was not from that bird.

  Was Linton remembering? Rose believed that he was. They’d not spoken about doing a rainforest walk to find a lyrebird, yet he knew how to recognise the signs of one in the area and how to approach it. They heard what sounded like a kookaburra’s laugh, but they quickly realised that the sound was actually coming from a lyrebird, an excellent mimic. This bird was as aware of their presence as they were of his, and he was going to put on a display for his mate in front of them.

  Together, Linton and Rose moved around a group of ferns, watching to place their feet where they’d not harm anything.

  The male lyrebird, keen to impress his mate, emitted a full repertoire of mimicked birdcalls, songs, wing beats, and beak claps, all delivered in quick succession. His “territorial” song was melodious. His “invitation display” sounds resembled a clicking, grinding, mechanical noise. As he lifted and shimmied his lyre-shaped tail, a twanging, whirling, thudding, clicking and galloping noise—plus strange metallic sounds—merged with his seduction display.

  The couple slowly moved away. Even a lyrebird needs privacy to mate. Rose and Linton found a private place in the forest.

  Speaking only with their eyes—eyes widened by their intensifying passion and growing love for each other—Rose, like the female lyrebird, gave her all to her mate.

  33

  As Rose continued the drive, Linton got a better look at the scenery than she could. She caught glimpses, through clearings, of the Yarra Valley stretching far to the horizon.

  A cry of “I know that spot” and Linton pointing excitedly came when they were halfway up the mountain at a hairpin bend.

  A waterfall flowed down the cliff, into a creek that disappeared beneath the road and emerged out the other side. Rose found a place to pull over. They walked back and thirstily drank of the effervescent mountain champagne.

  The thrill of the fun she’d had at the rest stops while ascending Mount Donna Buang subsided when they arrived at the top car park, as trees obscured the views she’d been waiting to see. Rose gazed unenthusiastically up at the metal tower. Her memories of their last visit there were of a first kiss and not that climb to the top.

  “There is no option.” Linton grinned. His joy showed no sign of subsiding. “I said I’d wear you out before the day was done.”

  Linton carried the picnic lunch up the observation tower staircase. Rose followed, trying not to show her distaste for heights—but Linton knew. He stopped regularly, chatted cheerfully about the scenery that revealed more of the panorama with each level reached.

  “You don’t want to go back to that, do you?” Linton nodded in the direction of the city of Melbourne, with Port Phillip Bay stretching out, low on the horizon, glistening beneath a shimmering fog haze.

  At the top level, Linton turned
her shoulders to face the open countryside. “That’s our future. What do you say?”

  Rose lay back against Linton’s chest, his strong arms encircling her. “Yes.” She wasn’t certain what she’d agreed to, but she knew she would be happy as long as they were together.

  The back of Rose’s legs ached from the climb. She would have loved to have taken a nap in the car and allowed Linton to drive home. With his condition, it had been explained to them that his reactions might be delayed. He would not be able to take fast evasive action if he were behind the wheel. Aside from that, and Linton not having remembered their life together before the accident, Rose didn’t believe that anyone could even tell there was anything at all wrong with him.

  “Linton.”

  “Yes.”

  “Before—in all those years between the accident, when your truck blew up, and now…”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Did your health change a great deal over that time?”

  “It changed a lot. I got better.”

  “And nothing got worse?”

  “Nothing.”

  She was silent for a while, and Linton sorted through CDs. “Want some music?”

  “No, I want to talk.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Today—I couldn’t tell there was anything wrong with you.”

  “Hmm.” Linton appeared thoughtful, his brow creased, and his voice deepened.

  “What’s wrong?” She hadn’t meant to sound so alarmed.

  Linton spluttered with carefree laughter.

  “What?” Rose lifted her brow. He was laughing so hard he made her laugh too. “What is it?” Rose nudged his arm.

  “Nothing.” Linton squeezed her arm gently. “I was just being silly. You were so serious and worried, what with you being told I would deteriorate quickly. However, unless I’m Superman and don’t know it and you’re about to open a box of kryptonite, I plan to be around taking care of you for a long time.”