Unseen Messages(190)

She returned the next night, and we spent the evening talking about nothing and everything. Galloway told her what we’d done to survive. I shared juicy details of our marriage. And she played with Coco as if she’d been born to be an aunt.

Most nights, she’d pop by after work to say hi and hang out. And Galloway accepted her with charm and suavity—completely unlike how he’d accepted me. Where I’d been given the cold shoulder and blustery glances, Madi was given warmth and welcome.

Then again, according to Galloway, his frustration with me was all based on lust. Wanting me when he couldn’t have me.

He didn’t want Madi (thank God). But it did make me aware that for the first time, I had to compete for his affection. I wasn’t the only woman anymore, and he wasn’t the only man. If he popped to the store down the road for a forgotten item, I panicked wondering if he’d find another girl more attractive than I was. What if my gaunt frame and silvery stretch marks no longer held his attention?

However, he had the same fears. And we shared them one night when a nasty quip turned into a heated debate about uncertainty in our relationship.

We’d both been so stupid.

We weren’t together because we’d been the only adults on our island. We were together because our souls had bonded, our hearts had glued, and our two had become one.

Afterward, things did get a little easier. Whenever Madi came around, Galloway was on his best behaviour. I guessed being on neutral territory made him behave. However, I liked to believe it was me.

I’d cured whatever festered inside him. It was still there, but he could breathe without feeling guilty. He could laugh without filling with hatred.

He’d mellowed.

But when he held Coco, he came alive.

In bed together, just before falling asleep, we often spoke of Pippa and Conner. We welcomed the memories, and when Pippa finally called us (on the cell-phone immigration had given us), we’d been quiet for hours afterward. Physically in pain with missing her.

She sounded happier. Not cured. Not content. But happier.

Being in a new place—away from us, the island, and Conner’s ghost—she might have a chance at healing. I didn’t know if she would be okay mentally, spiritually, but at least, physically we’d done what we could to protect her.

And I wanted her to be happy. I wanted it enough to keep our distance until she returned to us.

Night-time was the hardest.

We struggled to sleep on the soft mattress. And gave up in favour of the yoga mats we found in the apartment closet. We relocated to the lounge where Coco slept between us and the balcony doors remained open to the humid breeze and distant crashing of the ocean.

That was the only time we found peace.

True peace.

Peace that wasn’t manufactured or bought.

However, we also slept in the lounge with the doors wide because Coco screamed blue murder whenever she couldn’t hear the sea. If we popped into the city, she cried. If we tried to give her a treat of chocolate or candy, she cried. She truly was an earth child who found pleasure and belonging in the sand between her toes, the sun upon her face, and the simple sweetness of coconut and papaya.

“Will this get any easier?” Galloway muttered, feeding mashed-up banana to Coco.

Her tiny face scrunched up. “No.”

“Come on. It’s yummy.”

“No!”

We’d tried everything, but she still wouldn’t eat anything overly salty or sweet. Her palate was refined to simple, rustic food and pounded her little fists whenever we tried to introduce her to flavoured foods such as spaghetti bolognese or meat dishes.

I was a vegetarian and converted seafood lover, but Galloway was a serious meat eater. Turned out our daughter took after me in that department.

However, I still couldn’t have eggplant or halloumi (not after the painful association with my family’s death).

With all the loss and never-leaving grief lately, my parents and sister had been on my mind. Being back in Sydney made their demise seem so much more recent, webbing with the ache of Conner’s passing and Pippa’s leaving.

It’s all too much.

“I think she misses Fiji,” I whispered, rubbing my temples from the slight headache I’d had all day.

Coco looked squarely at me. “Fiji. Fiji. Home!”

The spoon in Galloway’s hand clunked into the bowl. “I know, little nut. Fiji was your home. But it isn’t anymore. We live here now.”

Tears welled in her green-blue eyes.

I couldn’t stop staring at the nutmeg brown of her tanned skin (that I doubted would ever fade), the light blonde of her ringlets, and the determined set of her pretty jaw.

She was the perfect blend of Galloway and me, holding the same cravings deep inside her.

Yes, baby girl, I would love to go home.

Galloway caught my eye.

I didn’t need him to speak to understand he felt the same way.

I hadn’t asked him.

I hadn’t pried.

But I knew he was homesick.

Why were we here?

Why had we returned if we would trade everything for what we had before?

Before Conner died?

Before Galloway almost died?

Before your family almost perished?

So much death and yet I wanted to go back.

It didn’t make sense.

We should be happy to be here.