Unseen Messages(174)

The doctor looked at Galloway. “However, yours is Oak so I’m assuming, and I don’t want to pry, that Estelle was married or somehow a distant relation to the Evermores before you met? Or did you perhaps change your name out of convenience?”

Pippa shot out of Estelle’s arms, indignant. “She is my aunt. G is my uncle. I don’t care what they say. They’re family.”

Finnegan held up his hands. “I wasn’t saying otherwise, but the authorities will need to solve this.”

“Solve what?” I asked.

Finnegan gave me a sad look weighted with everything we didn’t understand. “When we arrive at port in a few days, you’ll be interviewed by Sydney immigration. You’ll be detained unless you have valid documents stating nationality and origins.”

Detained?

We’d gone from imprisoned on an island to imprisoned by people?

Hell, no.

Not going to bloody happen.

“Listen, we have no documents because we crashed. We’re alive because of how we pulled together not because anyone came to find us. They can take their clearance and shove it up their ass before I let them detain or separate us.”

Estelle warned, “G...”

Pippa burst into tears again.

Coconut looked as if she’d join in.

Heaven had just become a nightmare.

Estelle placed her hand on mine. “It’s okay. We’ll work it out.” She smiled bravely at Finnegan. “It will be okay...right?”

Finnegan had the grace to lie. However, his eyes couldn’t stop the truth. “Yes, I’m sure it will be,” said his mouth. “I’d start saying goodbye now,” said his eyes.

For the first time, but definitely not the last, I wished we were back on our island.

Back home.

Where nothing and no one could touch us.





Chapter Sixty-Eight


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E S T E L L E

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TWO DAYS.

Both comprised of twenty-four hours.

Both unchanging in minutes and longevity.

Yet somehow...they blinked past.

It was always the same. If something joyous was on the horizon, days turned into years. But when something horrendous threatened, they turned into seconds.

Two days was too short.

Despite our ticking time, Galloway grew stronger.

Finnegan inspected his badly healed ankle, foot, and shin. He took X-rays and tapped his chin with deliberations.

Unfortunately, he admitted that the end product wasn’t ideal.

Galloway’s shin had healed from the lateral malleolus injury and his foot suffered a lis franc fracture which might cause arthritis.

His ankle however.

His ankle wasn’t normal.

We already knew that.

What we didn’t know was the injury was called a bimalleolar fracture. Coupled with his other injuries and the fact the ligaments and tendons had been damaged as well, meant the splint I’d done and the best care I could administer wasn’t enough.

The joint had moved while healing, causing a malunion. His ankle could bear weight, but he might never be able to run or even walk without a limp. He would develop pain over time as he aged. It would be unstable and require constant awareness for the rest of his life.

Instead of being strong for G, being there while he heard the news, I broke.

I felt responsible.

I hated that I’d let him down.

I should've done more to fix him. I should’ve known how to provide better care.

However, he didn’t blame me. He blamed himself. He was the one who’d coerced a pilot to fly us in uncertain weather. He was the one who’d done something karma demanded payment for.

I loved him no matter his brokenness or wholeness.

I just wished I’d been better. More able. A nurse rather than songwriter.

That night, after Finnegan delivered the news, Galloway held me close and ordered me to stop feeling guilty. I was never to think about it again.

He accepted that this was his gait now. He could run; he could walk (he might never do it gracefully or be able to dance) but he was alive and that was all that mattered.

We were given permission to move Galloway from the infirmary and into my room under the proviso he carted the antibiotic drip and fluids wherever he went.

We spent two nights curled together on the floor with Pippa and Coco beside us.

Conner’s ghost never left, giving us strength to face what we must.

Galloway’s system (bolstered by drugs and intravenous nutrients) excelled with healing. His natural colouring returned, his smile appeared, and every hour he felt more alive in my arms.

The medical team kept a close eye on him. And all of us underwent a dentist visit for cleaning and X-rays.

I required a few fillings as did Pippa, but overall, our teeth were in good shape thanks to our flossing and bi-daily brushing, even with old toothbrushes with no paste.

We’d done what we could to stay in physical condition.

And it’d paid of (minus the lack of weight).

On the morning we cruised into Sydney Harbour, two things conflicted me.

One, I’d waited three and a half years to return home, and it’d finally come true. I hadn’t had to fly (thank God) and the cruise liner (along with its staff) had been the best integration into noisy society that we could ask for.