Unseen Messages(94)

But I couldn’t.

I had children who relied on me, and it was their blind faith that Galloway and I could protect them that stuffed the cloud of grief back into its padlocked box and allowed me to smile and create and pretend that this was just an adventure and not the rest of our godforsaken lives.

I did my best to teach the children on the afternoons when we rested beneath our tree. But I hadn’t applied myself at college and Galloway was cagey about his education. We weren’t scholars and I failed in teaching algebra and trigonometry when I barely remembered my own schooling.

I groaned, doing my best to get comfortable in the damp sand. The day had ended and the sky had darkened. The stars couldn’t shine, hiding their brilliant sparkle in the mist.

My bones ached and our fire spluttered and wheezed as drizzle did its best to slowly suffocate it.

For two days, we’d barely moved from the meagre warmth of the flames, waiting for the weather to switch and greyness to pass.

I’d had enough.

We couldn’t let sadness infect us.

Once we did, it would be all over.

“Come on.” I stood up, swatting at my sandy legs. “We’re doing something.”

Pippa threw a hand over her eyes, lying on her back. “I don’t wanna.”

“Too bad. We’re going to.”

Conner sat up, rubbing his face. “Do we have to?”

“Yes. Up.”

Galloway groaned. His hair covered one eye and his lips glistened with every sinful thing I wanted to do to him.

I expected an argument, but he levered himself up and grabbed his walking stick. “Come on, guys. What’s the harm? Got nothing better to do.”

In a mixture of grumbles, everyone climbed to their feet and swiped wet hair from their foreheads. Silently, they followed me to the water’s edge a little way away from the camp.

I didn’t know where I was going. I had no clue what I was doing.

Please...let me come up with something. Something therapeutic but fun.

In the weeks since the crash, we’d formed some resemblance of fun. We’d played games, told jokes. We’d scratched tic-tac-toe, a checkers board, and rudimentary snakes and ladders in the sand. For pawns, we used twigs and shells, letting the tide wipe our game board away whenever it crept up the beach.

I stopped.

That’s it!

Everyone slammed to a halt.

“So...what’s the big idea?” Conner frowned. “Come on, Stelly, I want to go back to the fire.”

“Stop whingeing.” I marched to Galloway and stole his walking stick. “May I?”

He let go of it instantly, avoiding my fingers as if I was contaminated. “By all means.”

His leg had healed enough that he could stand without support.

His splint needs to come off.

Wasn’t a normal cast about six to eight weeks (depending on how bad the break was, of course)? His had been on for twelve. I was surprised he hadn’t taken it off yet.

What if he fears the same thing I do?

The fear that he still limped, not because of the obstruction around his leg, but because of his body’s inability to heal properly?

Don’t be ridiculous. He’ll be fine.

He had to be fine.

I couldn’t...I couldn’t cope if he wasn’t.

Swallowing those thoughts, I strode away and used the end of his stick to scratch into the sand. Mist and sea spray dampened my holey clothes. I was miserable and low but my mother had taught me this trick. However, she hadn’t shown me on the beach; she’d shown me in a field where the wind was the eraser and not the ocean. But it worked, that much I knew.

Everyone crowded around me.

The songwriter part of me had an outlet for my emotional troubles. I found solace in scribbling sonnets when no one was looking. Each time I jotted something down, I felt a little lighter, a tad calmer, more able to deal.

I had that outlet. But what did Conner, Pip, and Galloway have?

“What are you doing?” Pippa asked, her hair tangled like a kelpie.

I smiled. “Something secret.”

“Doesn’t look secret.” Conner crossed his arms.

“Well, it’s magic then.”

“Doesn’t look like magic, either.”

I scowled at the teenager before scratching more words. He’d been getting argumentative as the calendar inched onward. “Just wait. You’ll see.”

Biting my lip, I manhandled the large stick-pen and finished my design. My heart skipped a beat as I stepped back and bumped into Galloway.

He stiffened but didn’t move away, letting me catch my balance. His body was warm (so much warmer than mine) and the same electrical charge flowed from his skin, lighting up dormant cells, turning my blood into a heated pathway of need.

My insides clenched and melted at the same time.

I gave him a fleeting smile. “Thanks.”

He cleared his throat but didn’t reply.

Pippa read what I’d carved into the sand: “Give me your worries and I shall make them disappear.” Her brown eyes met mine. “What does that mean?”

“Ugh, I’m not interested.” Conner’s hair stood up in all directions as he shook his head. “It means a counselling session, Pip. And we don’t need one of those.”

Is it puberty turning him into a brat or the lack of sunlight and endless drizzle?