In the Shadow of Satellites (29 page)

I don’t belong anywhere anymore. I’m fading into oblivion.

By the time she comes out of the bedroom and hands me a small white envelope the size of a phone bill, I’m already spiralling into despair. Reluctantly, I take the envelope off her, and as soon as I do, I can feel that there are more than just words inside. There is also something small and solid.

Slowly, I peel open the envelope with my name on the front, in the same writing that was on the little rolled up piece of paper in an empty plastic Coke bottle in Geezer’s mouth. That night feels like a lifetime ago now.

I pull out the object first. It’s a compass, compact, brass, and working, judging by the way the arrow inside swings this way and that as I move it. It looks old, maybe even antique. It’s slightly battered, but also beautiful.

“Wow,” Ana says quietly, peering at it. “Is there an inscription on the back? I think I saw words there.”

I turn it over, and she’s right. It’s inscribed in tiny, block print.

For Luke, so you can find your way home.

Love, Sara x

The memory of Luke’s sister and all she’s been through makes its way up through countless others to the surface of my mind. She gave this to him? I stare at it, at the arrow within the casing. I can almost feel the love, the power, the hope. I swallow down the lump in my throat and hand the compass to Ana. I’m not worthy to hold something so precious.

Trembling, I open the single piece of white paper to see more of Luke’s handwriting. It’s not dated. I wonder if he knew how anxious it would make me to see a date on it. Or maybe he just didn’t think it needed one.

Dear Sian,

Please don’t think I left because I wanted to. I didn’t – it was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had to. I was trying so hard to be there for you but I wasn’t helping. I could see that me being there was just confusing you, making it worse, and that’s the last thing I wanted. You need time to come to terms with this, alone.

I’m leaving this with Ana. She’ll know when the right time comes, when you can face this. In the meantime, I’ll wait.

Sara gave me this when I left for my first deployment and I’ve carried it with me every day since. It’s a talisman, a lucky charm. We soldiers are a superstitious lot. I believe it kept me safe, and now I want it to keep you safe.

I don’t need it anymore. I’ve found my way home. It’s half a world away from where I was born, on the other side of a lake, in the shadow of satellites and shooting stars, with a German Shepherd and the woman I love.

I hope you can use it to find your way back to us. I really hope so, Sian. I miss you. I love you, and I’ll wait for you, however long it takes. I’ll be here.

Luke

I can barely read the last part, my eyes are filling up with all the tears I’ve been holding back since the fire. I think that I was afraid I was going to fall apart if I let them come, but now that they’re here, I know I was fooling myself. I’d already fallen apart. The tears had nothing to do with that.

Ana takes the letter out of my hand gently, and reads it without asking. When she looks up at me, she has tears in her eyes, too.

“Oh, babe,” she says, sniffing.

She hands me back the letter and the compass, and I sit there, holding onto both, staring at them through the tears that continue to come. I pushed him away. I should never have done that. All he wanted was to help, and I let my own selfish pain get in the way. I let myself drown when I should have taken his hand.

“You need to see him,” she whispers, nodding and wiping away her own tears at the same time. “You need to talk to him. I’ll take you to him.”

She stands up, pulling me up with her, but I’m not sure I’m ready to see him yet. My head is swimming.

“I… I’m not, I can’t –”

She squeezes my hand and I look up at her. She’s determined, that steely look in her eye telling me she isn’t going to argue about this.

“Look, you’ve been out of it for a while, so I’m going to pretend that you’re still a bit fuzzy around the edges,” she says firmly, sniffing back more tears. “I’m going to make this decision for you, seeing as you’re not really capable of making it for yourself. You need to see him. You do. And that’s where we’re going, right now. Get your shoes.”

As if I wasn’t anxious enough, the car ride out to the lake has me right on the edge, staring into the abyss. I beg Ana to slow down a dozen times, but she doesn’t listen. She’s on a mission, but I don’t care if it takes us hours to get there, rather than thirty minutes. I need that time to get my head in the game. I have no idea what I’m going to say to Luke, but I don’t let go of the compass the entire time.

It isn’t until we get to the lake that I realise we have no way of contacting Luke and no way of getting across the lake without a boat. Ana isn’t fazed, though. She instructs me to wait while she disappears into the café. I use the time to try and calm my nerves. When she finally reappears, brandishing a set of keys like a lunatic, I’m almost afraid to ask.

“Aussie John,” she grins, still slightly breathless. “He knows Luke and he’s leant us his boat. I left him my car keys as a goodwill gesture. Come on!”

“Who’s Aussie John?”

“Come on!” she says impatiently, practically pulling me out of the car. “Never mind that – and wave to the nice man!”

I turn to look and sure enough, there’s a guy in his fifties who looks remarkably like a man-mountain, standing on the back deck of the café, smiling at us. We both wave, then make our way down to the jetty and the only boat moored there. It’s old, really old, and more than a little weather-beaten. I hope like hell it’s watertight.

“He lives over the other side,” she says, untying the boat and throwing the rope in.

“Who does?”

“Aussie John! He looks like a biker, but he’s got the softest of hearts. He’s a sucker for a love story, so he says. As soon as I told him why we needed a boat, he was practically in tears.”

I struggle to associate the huge guy waving us goodbye with a romantic heart, but I believe her. I’d seen her do some amazing things in the time I’d known her. She could talk her way into – or out of – anything. If it wasn’t for her smooth-talking, I don’t think James and his friend would ever have come over to our table that night.

I sit in the unfamiliar boat and think about that as she guns the engine and launches us towards Luke’s place at lightning speed. One thing keeps going round and round in my head, and that’s the journey that both Luke and I had taken over the past ten years. Him in the army, then travelling the world. Me staying at home, having a family. Both of us ending up at the same place, at the same time – twice. Once in Christchurch two years ago, once here a few months ago. What are the odds of that?

Suddenly, the signs had never been clearer. Regardless, my heart races. What should I say to him? Do I have the courage to take his hand?

I hold the compass even tighter, hoping that some of Sara’s strength will suffuse into me. I love the way it fits into the palm of my hand so snugly. It’s almost as if it was meant to be.

For the first time since the fire, hope fights its way to the surface.

Yet, the closer we get to Luke’s place, the more nervous I am. Ana and I don’t try to talk over the sound of the engine, and for that I’m grateful. As we round the bay, I see two things simultaneously.

One is Luke’s cottage. The other is the burnt-out shell of my former home.

It’s heart-breaking, and I drag my eyes away from it with all the willpower I can muster. That part of my life is over. I know that now. It hurts, and it will always hurt, and I think maybe that’s the way it’s meant to be. It’s a yin and yang thing, the cosmic balancing act applied by the universe, completely out of my control. The only thing I can control is my reaction to it. I have to allow myself to feel the pain without being sucked under by it. I have to try not to be so scared of
feeling
.

Luke is standing in front of his cottage, watching us. I can’t see the expression on his face from this far out, but I can tell by his body language that he wasn’t expecting us. He’s wary. His hands are hanging loosely by his sides, his feet spread shoulder-width apart, as if he’s readying himself for battle. I know the feeling because I am too, only my battle is with myself.

As we near the jetty, I ignore the wasteland on the other side of the trees that separate our properties, concentrating instead on Luke. He walks forward slowly, now recognising that it’s us. His expression is set somewhere between tentative hope and resignation.

Ana cuts the engine and we coast into the jetty in the sudden silence. The air feels like it’s buzzing with more than just the sound of cicadas or water lapping the side of the boat. I can’t take my eyes off him, but he doesn’t come forward. It takes a moment or two, but I realise that he’s waiting for me to come to him. He’s made his move, now it’s up to me. I have to show him I’m ready.

“Go,” Ana says quietly, reading my mind. “I’ll wait here.”

I feel like I’m moving in slow motion, as I climb out of the boat and scramble onto the jetty on my hands and knees. I feel like a newborn, using limbs that I’m just not used to yet. It’s like it was in the hospital, slow and laborious. Eventually I find my feet, breathless, my heart racing. I’m on the cusp of something new and frightening, and I feel it through every cell in my body. I fight the change, even though my heart aches for it. It’s habit, self-preservation.

I walk the few metres towards Luke in a daze. Everything around us disappears, and I focus on his face, on those blue eyes staring out at me from a face that I once thought was a cliché. How wrong I was! He’s not a cliché. He’s far from it. He’s my saviour. He’s the reason I’m here.

The thought hits me with such force that I stop dead. His expression doesn’t change, but I can see the anxiety in his eyes magnify. It feels like he’s speaking to me, urging me forward, even though he doesn’t open his mouth.

With barely a metre between us, we can reach out and touch each other, but we don’t. I hold out my hand and open it, exposing the small compass nestled in my palm. He glances down at my hand, then his eyes are locked onto mine again.

“It works,” I whisper. “I found you.”

Then I’m in his arms, or he’s in mine, I’m not sure. He lifts me off my feet and I can feel our hearts beating in unison through our clothes. I’m floating, flying, soaring, and he’s right there with me. His lips are on mine and I’m holding him so tight, afraid he’s going to disappear again.

For a fleeting moment, I wonder what we look like from above. I wonder if the satellites can see us.

Ana makes a sly departure, leaving us alone on the jetty. I barely register the fact that she’s gone. Luke holds me so tight, I wonder if he’s as afraid as I am that this moment is somehow not happening, and that it will be over before we’re ready for it to end. I hold him even tighter, just in case.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he mumbles into my hair, his voice thick with emotion. “This past month has been the longest goddamn month of my life.”

He sounds so vulnerable, so scared, my fragile heart can barely stand it.

“I was so worried about you. I don’t want to be here without you. It just feels all wrong. Please promise you won’t leave me like that again.”

I don’t know if he means physically or mentally, but I’m going to try my hardest not to do either.

“I promise.”

We stand like that for the longest time before we’re finally brave enough to let go. He looks down at me, smoothing my hair away from my face and staring at me as if he’s committing me to memory. He has tears in his eyes. We both do.

Then he leans down to kiss me, and it’s as if we’re the last two people left on earth. The past, the present, the future – all of it blends seamlessly, the memories swirling around us like stars in the night sky. Each pinprick of light is precious, each one is a jewel. We’re the centre of the universe, everything revolving around us in a light show that both dazzles and delights.

When we finally come up for air, I’m dizzy. Dizzy with happiness, adrenaline pumping through me and filling me up, the cracks in my soul becoming a distant memory, echoes of a hurt that marked me, but didn’t break me.

His hands leave my face and slide down over my bare shoulders and arms as he takes hold of my hands. I love the way he maps my body with his hands. I love the way they leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I love how gentle he is, and how sure.

“I’ve got something to show you,” he says.

We turn as one, and for the first time, I look properly at his cottage and wonder just how much time I’ve actually lost. All the rotten timber from the outside has been replaced with fresh weatherboard, and although it’s not painted, I can see how it’s going to look when it is. I can even imagine the swinging seat on the front porch, just as he described it. He leads me along the jetty, across the grass and over the threshold, silently showing me the interior, which still needs a lot of work. It’s still an empty shell, but it’s also finally a home again. He points out that with the new roof, the cottage is finally weathertight.

We stand there together, on solid new floorboards, the timber framing still lacking its internal walls, and take in his handiwork.

“What do you think?”

I smile up at him, knowing that he can read my mind as well as he can read my face.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you think so, because I want to ask you something.”

He turns to me, taking my other hand in his, his expression sombre.

“I did it for you,” he says. “I’ve been working around the clock to keep my mind off the fact that I was so worried about you. It kept me going, kept me sane. It gave me something to focus on, and it gave me the chance to do some thinking. When I left the States, I thought I was looking for something. I wasn’t sure what, but I just had this intense need to get out, to go find it, whatever the hell it was. But now I think that maybe I wasn’t looking for something. I think I was waiting for something. I was waiting for you.”