He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know.” He blew out a large breath of air. “We’ve only know each other for three days. I’m hoping she’ll call me when she reads my apology on-line.”
“Are you serious? You apologised via your blog?” his sister’s voice screeched into the phone. “You may have been honourable with the whole running after her thing, but you’ve publicly humiliated her. You better go find her and start grovelling. Saying sorry on the blog is a start, but you need to try a lot harder.”
He covered his eyes with his hand and leaned back into the leather seat. His sister was right again! Tilly deserved more. He hoped she would listen to his apology. “I don’t know where she is,” he admitted.
“You found her in Israel, so work it out,” Bea all but yelled at him. “Go after her. Now.”
“I need to think. She could be anywhere.” His head started to ache as he considered the number of possibilities as to where she might have gone. Tel Aviv? Jaffa? Australia?
“Did she give you a hint where she’d go?”
“She could be anywhere in Israel or even be on her way to Australia.” His palm rubbed his chest, hoping to massage the dull ache in his chest away.
“Ask her aunty,” she suggested brightly.
Not even worth considering. “I don’t think she’ll tell me.”
“She may, if you pour out your heart.”
He shook his head. “She’s religious and I’ve lied to her.”
“So work it out. You found her once, you can do it again.” She was so full of enthusiasm and encouragement, a direct contrast to how he felt. He felt like running in the desert and screaming out this frustration. “Thanks Bea, you’re the best.” He injected some enthusiasm into his voice so she knew she was appreciated.
“I know,” she said, a little too smugly, making his mouth twitch into a smile.
“I’m glad you’re okay. Thanks for the pep talk. Say hi to Nigel for me. Bye.” He disconnected the call. His hand lowered and he watched the desert landscape from his window as he mulled over the possibilities of where Tilly could have gone. But where?
Tilly sat on the beach watching the calm waters of the Sea of Galilee, hoping it would ease the ache in her heart. It didn’t.
Buried under a large brimmed hat and sunglasses, she breathed in the humid air, drawing it deep into her lungs. She was determined not to cry again – he was not worth it.
Digging out her mobile phone from her bag, she rang her aunty, knowing she would be awake despite it being early.
“Hi Aunty, it’s me,” Tilly said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.
“Hello dear, are you well?”
“Fine, fine.” She paused. “I’m in Galilee at one of the women’s only beaches. It’s really nice and peaceful here.” Looking around, she smiled at her ingenuity. One of the benefits of being in Israel was the consideration towards the religious Jews. There were women’s only beaches here which gave her the comfort of knowing that no male reporter could disturb her moments of Zen.
“If only you’d done that at the Dead Sea,” her aunty sighed.
Yes. But then she may never have met Nate and have him rescue her from the mud and the reporters. Despite him betraying her, the memory of him heroically sprinting over to save her was still one of her prized possessions.
“I read his blog,” she sniffed with indignation. “I even read his apology. Do you think he meant what he wrote?”
“I’d like to think so. But I don’t know.”
“Have you heard from him?”
“I haven’t answered any of his calls.”
“If he asks, shall I tell him where you are?”
“I don’t know. I need time to think and I can’t think when he’s around.”
He had the determination of a bloodhound to find her. Would he come after her now that he had his story?
She had read the apology on his blog and she understood his hatred of Sebastian – it matched hers. But the ache of betrayal still stung. It was hard to believe that they had only known each other for three days, but she was already thinking of a long term commitment. But their ‘relationship’ was built on lies. How could they have a life together when she did not know what was real and what was not?
“Listen Tilly, you need to make your own decisions. You gave up years to care for my sister, your Gran but now, you need to work out what’s best for you. Not what’s best for your parents. Don’t worry about me or your family. And if you choose to stay here, my apartment is big enough for you to share.”
“I love it here. I really do. I now understand why you chose to live here.” She sucked in a quick breath. “To be honest, I’m scared.”
“Tilly, you’ve got time. And you’re in the best place to think. Not far from where you are is where Jesus was baptised and performed some of his miracles. And on the other side of the lake, great Jewish Rabbis are buried there. Did you know that it was in Galilee that Jewish text and laws were written down, for the first time? The place is steeped in mysticism. Draw on it and let it give you the strength to make a decision.”
“Thanks Aunty. You’re right. This place has an amazing vibe.” She nibbled her lip. “I’m going for a swim now, I’ll call you later.”
“I’m out all day so you can catch me on my cell or ring tonight. Take care, my dear.” Maude disconnected the call and Tilly returned her phone to her bag.
Despite it being morning, the sun beat down and sweat trickled down her back. The beach was empty save for a few women. Casting an eye around at the modestly dressed women, she hoped not to ‘offend’ anyone in her one-piece swimmers. Shedding her knee length skirt and T-shirt, she made a bee-line for the water and plunged in.
The water refreshed her, washing away some of the pain and frustration she was carrying. Lying on her back gazing at the blue sky, a calmness descended on her confirming she had made the right decision to head north. Christians, Jews and Muslims all valued this area, for different reasons and with it being so rich in history, she hoped the answers would come to her more easily, to help her decide what to do.
While she was here, she planned on visiting as many historical places as possible. Coming to the beach for a swim was the best idea she had had, as she relaxed in the water.
Closing her eyes, she floated and a peace washed over, which was as comforting as the water. She belonged here. Here in this small country so far from Australia. Apart from her family, nothing waited for her return. With her brothers grown up, marrying and starting their own families, she would be the single aunt. It was not too hard to see that she would be the one to babysit, mind the children and be on hand for everyone else. And her parents would need care as they aged. She loved them and wanted to be there for them, but she did not want to be the dutiful daughter who gave up on love and having her own family to care for them and everyone else.
The idea of migrating here exhilarated and terrified her. She would have to make new friends and learn a new language. But if she returned home, she would most certainly do the same thing. Work and earn enough money to travel and experience life away from the small town she grew up in. Here, she had somewhere to live, someone to rely on.
Her parents would have kittens thinking her aunty had convinced her to stay. But this decision was hers and hers alone. Her heart warmed at the idea of starting a new life and finding true love one day.
In the short time she had been with her aunt, she realised that she loved working with her, taking tours and sharing history with tourists. But that was long term. There were two issues of residency and studying which needed to be addressed sooner rather than later.
At least she had somewhere to live. Her aunt’s apartment was big enough for the two of them and she could earn money by babysitting. Lifting her hand and seeing the prune like look of her fingers reminded her of how long she had been in the water. Reluctantly heading out, she sat on her towel and shrugged on a long sleeve shirt to protect her skin. With her
hat on, she allowed the sun to warm and dry her skin. The decision to stay comforted her as warmly as the sun raining down on her.
The decision was made. She would shortly return to Jerusalem, but in the meantime, there were churches to visit, hiking trails to be explored and ancient sites to reflect upon.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nate was sure his head was going to combust. When he had chased Tilly to Israel, he had a lead, but when she left him in Jerusalem, he had none.
Standing in the doorway to Maude’s apartment, he looked down at Tilly’s pint-sized aunt who had her arms crossed tightly across her chest and wore a menacing frown. If the situation were not so dire, he would have laughed at her attempts to block him from entering her apartment.
“You’re just expecting me to tell you where Tilly is.” Maude looked at him as if he had grown a second head, unable to believe he expected her to help him.
Couldn’t she see he was begging? Begging did not come easily to him. “I need to talk to her.” He would even get on his knees if it would help.
“Try calling,” she sniffed in derision.
“She’s not answering her phone.” He saw Maude’s face soften. She knew Tilly was avoiding him. Hope sprang in his chest that he may be able to win her aunt over. “I’ve looked everywhere, except for Australia. Can you help me, please?”
She pointed a bony finger at him. “You lied to me and to Tilly. Why should I?”
“Because I’m crazy for her.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few days but I want to be with her, protect her, care for her. I can’t wait to show her the sights of London and make her happy.”
He caught Maude swallowing a smile before coughing and speaking in a stern voice. “But the blog post. I read it. How can you be true to her when you treated her in such an awful way?” Pain stretched across her forehead reminding him that the exposé his editor had printed, about him and Tilly’s relationship, had hurt not only Tilly but her aunt too.
“I need to explain to her what happened but I need you to trust me. I did not write it. Please, Mrs Winters, I need you to trust me.” He caught her hand and her gaze, in the hope she would believe him.
“How can I trust you?” Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits.
“Apart from the blog post, I’ve treated her with respect. I got her away from the reporters, brought her to you, put her in a secure hotel and organised security in London for her,” he answered with a flourish, certain his actions would back up his credentials. Surely she would believe him now.
She shrugged, unwilling to accept what he was saying. “I promise you that I will not hurt Tilly. I want to apologise to her and beg for her forgiveness.” He paused. “If she tells me to leave, I will, you have my word.”
Maude stared at the wall, reflecting on his words before turning to look at him with a cool stare. “If she was really important to you, I’d expect you to walk on water for her.”
He scratched his head. Thinking, thinking. He blew out an exasperated breath. A clue? He clicked his fingers in anticipation that he would make a correct assertion. “Is that a reference to where Jesus walked on water? It’s at, um, it’s—”
“The Sea of Galilee.” She completed his sentence while giving him a look that told him she could not believe he did not know that.
He squirmed in his shoes, reminding him of being back at school and not knowing the twelve disciples. “That’s a pretty big place, can you be more specific?”
“Not really. I didn’t ask her exactly where she was staying. I suggested a couple of kibbutzim but there are plenty of places to stay at.” She waved her hand in a dismissive way which made his teeth clench.
He ran his fingers through his hair. He had a clue, even if it was vague. He could work with it.
“I don’t expect she’ll visit the springs as she’s just come back from the Dead Sea. So that leaves you with Tiberias, the ancient ruins in Bethsaida or one of the beaches,” she added.
At least he had a starting point. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, can I call you Aunt Maude?”
“Perhaps.” She said before turning into her apartment and shutting the door.
With a whoop, he headed to his rental car and started on the two hour drive to Galilee.
His hands tightened around the steering wheel of his car rental as he searched for Tilly in Galilee. There were a number of towns to search, plus, she could be staying at any of the kibbutzim dotted around the area.
He raked his fingers through his hair as his GPS directed him from Capernaum to Tiberias. Despite the air conditioning blasting with icy coldness, his skin burned hot. His shirt clung to his skin, sticky with sweat and sullen sulkiness. Swiping the back of his hand across his forehead, he followed the directions until he arrived in Tiberias.
Now what? After parking the car, he walked around aimlessly. She could be anywhere, hiking in the hills, unwinding in the hot springs, visiting the ancient ruins in Bethsaida, picnicking on the beach.
Looking out over the large body of water before him, he considered a number of options and decided to target the ancient sites first. Tugging his phone from his pocket, he opened the internet and searched for a tourist page on Tiberias.
A few hours later, cranky and irritable with the heat and humidity, he downed most of the water from his bottle before tipping the rest over his head, giving him momentary relief from the intense heat.
His lips pinched. He was not anywhere closer than he was this morning. If only he could get another lead. Just something. A family strolled past, their elated voices filled the air of excited excursions. He swivelled sharply, catching their Australian accent. Had they met Tilly? His heart raced – there was only one way to find out.
In a few long strides, he caught up with the family and introduced himself. “Hello, I’m Nate and hope you don’t mind me interrupting your walk.”
Of course, they didn’t. They were on holidays, relaxing.
He went onto explain, “I caught up with an Aussie girl in Jerusalem and we clicked.”
The older woman smiled warmly and he continued. “She gave me her number but I lost it. I’m trying to find her.”
“That’s so sweet,” the woman gushed.
He held up his phone with a picture of Tilly. The couple examined the photo while the children started pinching each other, obviously bored. The parents separated the children before turning to him.
The husband said, “Sorry, we haven’t seen her but you could try the YMCA—”.
“We’re staying there and there’s a number of Aussies, so perhaps your girl is staying there?” she interrupted. Her husband rewarded her with a scowl which she ignored.
Not wanting to waste a minute, he thanked them profusely and sprinted to his car. With trembling fingers, it took a couple of turns before he was able to punch in the details into his GPS. He started the car, welcoming the air conditioner as he followed the directions to the YMCA.
He found it easily enough and after parking, literally sprinted to the reception, where he repeated his story.
She was staying here!
Punching the air, he smiled at the helpful Israeli. “That’s great, that’s great. Is she here now? I need to see her.”
The older man shrugged. “I don’t know.” He pointed to a couple of chairs. “You can wait for her there.”
His insides were vibrating with anticipation. He had found her, well sort of. If he waited long enough she would be here. He could not wait to see her. Unable to sit, he paced around the lobby area until the man at reception gave him an exasperated look. He sat, then stood, then sat again. How could he sit still when he had found Tilly? He ached to hold her, apologise to her and beg her to forgive him.
Tilly decided the best thing about travelling was meeting people. Today, she had met three women in their early twenties from America, all of whom encouraged her to join them. Instead of being alone, she had a wonderful day doing touristy things a
nd when they invited her to join them for an early dinner, she was happy to oblige. As she walked through the doors of the YMCA, her spirit was elated with the new found joy of friendship.
After being on the run from the media and now Nate, she relished these moments of freedom, a stark contrast to the constant stress of being discovered. The joy ended and her feet froze immobilised to the ground seeing Nate. Nate was slumped on a chair, asleep. It was not that late but he must have been waiting long enough. Her heart quickened and she scraped her fingers through her hair. She could slip past him and leave him asleep, she could find somewhere else to stay or she could wake him and demand to know what he was doing here.
Chewing on her fingernail, her toe tapped on the tiled floor, she deliberated and finally decided to go with option three.
On shaky legs, she made her way to the man who had broken her heart, publicly humiliated her and tried to make up in a clumsy, yet humble way. He was here, so she would have to give him credit for that. Whether for the story or to talk to her, she was impressed that he had found her. Her fingers fluttered to her throat while she stood over him, watching the calm, rhythmic beating of his chest. One arm rested on his upper torso, whilst the other dangled by his side. Taking in his crumbled clothes, unshaven and un-kept appearance, she guessed he had not showered or rested since the morning. It was late and the air was still humid and warm. Used to the heat, Tilly had enjoyed the balmy evenings but the same could not be said for Nate.
Leaning over, she touched his shoulder and her hand jerked back as though burning herself on a hot stove. The feel of his warm skin and the hardness of his muscles reminded her of their passionate night and then his betrayal. Rubbing the back of her neck, she took a deep breath before leaning over and shaking his arm. “Nate, wake up.”
Groaning, his eyes opened, seemingly annoyed at being woken up. Rubbing his hand across his face, he yawned and looked up. “Tilly.” He straightened in his seat. “Tilly, you’re here.” Leaping to his feet, he took a moment before steadying himself and straightening his wrinkled T-shirt. “Please let me talk. Don’t send me away till I’ve had a chance.” His hand reached for hers, but she took a step back, scared to make contact less she fall into his arms and never move from them. Even after the way he had treated her, she was concerned about her traitorous hormones making her do something she should definitely avoid.
Falling for Mr Wrong Page 14