Unseen Messages(172)

“You’re awake,” she whispered. “You’re finally here.”

“I—” I spluttered. My dry throat was out of practice. The more I woke, the weaker I became. My scratchy throat was the least of my issues. My toes tingled and limbs ached as if I’d run for weeks with no rest.

But it didn’t matter.

Estelle gave Coco to Pippa and immediately slipped into my bed. The ecstasy of her warmth as she curled into me cured me better than any sleep, swifter than any drug.

I sighed heavily as her head rested on my chest.

My left arm (the same one that’d tried to kill me) wrapped around her—needles and all.

I reached for Pippa and Coco with the other, urging them into the hug and kissing them.

Estelle’s tears soaked my white hospital gown, spreading a translucent stain.

Pippa let me go, cuddling Coco. “So good to see you, G.”

“You too...” I coughed. “Pippi.”

Estelle shuddered, clutching me tight.

Unable to stop myself, my lips landed in her hair. I’d almost lost her. I’d said goodbye. I’d forced her to leave.

“You never said it...” I breathed, nuzzling her, loving her.

Estelle stiffened.

No reminder was needed. She knew what she’d refused me on the precipice of my death.

I understood why she did (sort of). I understood she didn’t want to say farewell. Didn’t want finality on something so heart destroying.

But the fact she hadn’t said it broke me.

“I love you, G.” Her lips found mine.

The broken parts healed.

Her lips tasted of strawberry and sugar. Her mouth moved beneath mine, chanting over and over, “I love you. I love you. I’m sorry. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

We reaffirmed that we were still here. Still together. Neither of us had left. No divorce had come true. No goodbye had been uttered.

This was hello, and I wanted it to last forever.

We hugged for the longest time.

A doctor arrived but didn’t interrupt. He allowed our moment before tiptoeing closer and checking my vitals.

Estelle sniffed back the dampness in her gaze, smiling with genuine ease at the doctor. Over the years, she’d told me tales of her struggle with crowds and strangers. I had no doubt being around so many would be hard. I was proud of her for being so brave.

Pippa and Coco moved out of the way as the doctor came closer. “Welcome back, Mr. Oak.”

I jerked.

No one had used my last name in so long. No one but Estelle and my island family had spoken to me in almost four years.

Just staring at someone who wasn’t familiar, someone I didn’t know every scar, sunburn, stretch mark, or growth spurt was the strangest sensation.

“Thank you for saving...” I coughed again. “Me.”

The nametag said my physician was Dr. Finnegan. His red hair gave away Irish roots even if his Australian accent didn’t. “Pleasure was all mine.” His eyes flickered to the machines and the drip slowly administering whatever had saved my life. “All signs are great for a full recovery. In such severe cases such as yours, I must warn you that although the infection didn’t spread to your bones, it was in your blood long enough to possibly cause complications with your lymph glands and immune system as you get older. You must be careful with any future cut or graze and continue to be vigilant with insect bites and swelling. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“The strength of the antibiotics have given your body a head start. However, you’ll need to take oral medication once we dock for twenty-one days afterward. This is the higher end of the scale, but after so long with no adequate vitamins, your system is too weak to fight on its own.”

Estelle said, “I’ll make sure he takes every pill, Doctor. I thought I’d lost him once. I won’t let him leave me a second time.”

Finnegan chuckled. “Good to have you on my side, Ms. Evermore.”

“Please...call me, Estelle. I told you that two days ago. You’ve already met my children. I want you to call them by their first names, too.” Smiling, she pointed at the two girls.

I was so used to them half-naked that their matching peach sundresses were ostentatiously bright.

“This is Pippa but you can call her Pippi, and Coco is short for Coconut.”

Finnegan touched his temple in greeting. “Pleasure.” Bending to tickle Coco under her chin, he grinned. “So you’re named after the tree that’s been dubbed a miracle, huh?”

Coco giggled. “Co co co coconuts. Yummy.”

Dammit, Conner.

Why did you have to die?

God, I missed that kid. He would’ve loved this. He would’ve been the centre of attention. Probably already earned a girlfriend or two.

Why was life so cruel to those most deserving?

“They are.” Finnegan smiled. “They’re also immensely helpful for stranded survivors such as yourselves.”

Coco shook her head, rosy cheeks glowing. “No. Home.”

Finnegan frowned. “What do you mean?”

For her young age of just over two, Coco had a good string of words and knowledge of questions. I doubted she could answer eloquently about her conception and birth, but I tensed. The age-old cliché that a man and woman were overcome with lust and just couldn’t help themselves. That we threw caution away just to have sex and screw the consequences.