I struggled to hold my chuckle. She was so damn delicious when she was mad.
“Pip, you know how the circle of life works. You know we eat fish, that we...kill...to survive. Just like we do what is necessary, some of these turtles will provide food for other wildlife.” Waving at the carpet of crawling things, she added, “That’s why nature has so many hatch at once. Their chances at surviving are much higher in numbers and those that don’t make it...well, that wasn’t their destiny.”
Conner rolled his eyes. “Destiny to be dinner, you mean.”
Pippa threw a handful of sand at him. “Stop it.”
“All right. That’s enough.” Planting a kiss on Pippa’s head, I said, “Let’s all focus on the fact that they’ve just hatched, not the day of their demise, okay?”
Pippa sniffed but slowly nodded.
Conner continued to chase the babies into the sea, drawing a finishing line in the sand and cheering as each waddled over it to the gentle tide beyond.
The tension vanished, and together, we watched the miracle of life as a thousand little things trudged their way to the turquoise ocean and disappeared into its dangerous depths.
How many will survive?
How many will return to this same place and lay another generation of young?
And, if we never go home, how many times will we witness it?
Chapter Forty-Seven
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E S T E L L E
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Blasphemy: Blasphemy is the act of insulting, showing contempt, or lack of reverence to something considered sacred or inviolable.
It’s official, I’m a blasphemer.
What other word could I use for the complete switch of my emotions?
I still despaired. I still worried. I still begged for rescue.
But I also thanked. I smiled. I revelled in my new world.
Because they made it so much more real than anything before.
Taken from the notepad of E.E.
...
APRIL
SLEEPING WITH GALLOWAY changed my world. And not in some superficial ‘he’s my soul-mate’ kind of way. More in a ‘this man will protect me, care for me, and do everything in his power to make me happy’ kind of way.
His selflessness made me do the same for him and our quality of life (despite the lack of facilities and society niceties) was the best I’d ever had.
My existence was copacetic.
Conner celebrated his fourteenth birthday, and we did our best to give him the same experience as Pippa. We lit the bonfire to signal a new year, we raided our larder for the wild mint I’d found growing last week to make a coconut milk mint dessert, and we all pulled together to laugh and joke, all while keeping the weak but constant depression at bay.
It wasn’t depression that debilitated us or made us hate our life. It was depression knowing that, no matter how happy we were, Conner was at an age now where the island wouldn’t be enough.
He needed friends and girls.
He needed freedom to experiment and space to get into mischief.
We could give him many things; we could teach and care, but we couldn’t give him the complexities of adolescence.
Marking such occasions and sharing life events confirmed what we’d known for a while. Despite Galloway’s progression with the life raft (it was half-finished and filled with potential), we were stuck here until fate decided otherwise.
Some days, it was all too much. Days when the sun irritated and the sticky salt frustrated. But luckily, those down days were soothed by happy ones, and those were what I chose to remember.
As life ticked on and Galloway and I spent more and more time in bed together, I slowly relaxed into my new world.
I allowed Galloway to learn who I was.
I no longer wanted to hide.
I told him about my family, my singing, my home.
I glossed over the tour in the USA, and only briefly mentioned the record deal because that part of my life had been so new and it was over now.
Singing and song writing were a part of me. Performing and wealth were not.
He didn’t need to know about that when I had so much else to share.
In return, he told me about his dead mother, his grieving father, and the fact that his dad might not make it now he’d lost a son as well as his wife. He told me he’d studied his final months in the USA with a world-renowned architect and loved working with wood almost as much as I loved scribbling in my notebook.
My personality was no longer afraid of companionship. I was free. Which meant I no longer hid my music or songs.
I sang often.
I shared lyrics.
And the fear of getting pregnant slowly faded as my periods came irregularly, just like always. The womanly affliction didn’t last for long (which I was thankful for), but at least, it showed that my body had enough nutrients to continue operating correctly and also meant, that, despite the number of times I cornered Galloway for a quickie or he dragged me from my bed in the dead of night, we were being as careful as we could.
I knew he wanted to come inside me.