“Lasagne?” My eyes widened. “That’s your favourite food?”
He nodded. “That and ravioli. I have a thing for pasta.”
“Mine is cherries.” Pippa tugged my hand for attention. “Cherries and raspberries and blueberries and—”
“Every berry, we get it.” Conner rolled his eyes. “Doubt you’ll find them here.”
“What’s your favourite, Estelle?” Galloway’s soft voice wrenched my head up. He didn’t look away, his gaze intense, as if he could strip aside my outer shell and wrench out my secrets one by one.
“What?”
“Your favourite food? If you could have anything delivered right now, what would it be?”
I bit my lip, flicking through tastes and memories. Once upon a time, my favourite meal was spiced eggplant with grilled halloumi. However, I’d been eating it when the call came about the death of my parents and sister.
I hadn’t been able to touch it since.
“Not sure,” I hedged. “I guess a good soup with crusty bread is nice.”
“Soup?” Galloway pulled a face. “Seriously?”
I bristled. “I think we have more important things to do than discuss our favourite menus, don’t you?”
“Unless you’re suggesting ordering me a massive cheeseburger with all the trimmings, then nope.” Galloway’s smile taunted, almost as if he could read my annoyance and understood how much he affected me.
Well, so what if he could?
We’d kissed.
We’d liked it.
But now, we had to move on and survive side by side rather than lip-locked.
“I’m afraid I don’t have a cheeseburger, but I do have one last bottle of water and a final muesli bar.” Smiling at the children, I said, “Let’s have breakfast. We can afford to have it now that we have a source of water.”
I didn’t mention we didn’t have a source of food...yet.
My eyes drifted to the twinkling ocean. Beneath the surface lived countless molluscs and crustaceans that could keep us alive. We just had to figure out how to catch them.
Today is fishing day.
And tonight, we would eat something substantial for the first time in days.
Please...
The children cheered, but Galloway shook his head. “This isn’t a fix to our dehydration problems, Estelle. It will take all day to get a single pint. Sure, it will tide us over, but we need more.”
“Oh.” My heart fell. A single pint between four of us...that wasn’t enough. “We have two funnels. Does that make two pints?”
“Yes, but it’s still not enough.” He squinted at the new sunshine. Not one cloud in the sky. Not one threatening rainstorm. “We need rain. But before it does, we need to have things ready to store as much as possible.”
Once again, I imagined weaving waterproof baskets.
Don’t be ridiculous.
I could barely mend a hole in a sock, let alone weave a water goblet. How would we store it? What could we possibly use?
Galloway followed my concerns. “For now, we’ll dig a trench and waterproof it somehow so we can catch large quantities—if and when a storm comes.”
“What about the helicopter? We can use some of the metal as a large dish.” Conner piped up. “And the life-jackets can line a hole in the sand, too.”
A smile split Galloway’s face. “Good thinking.” Ruffling the boy’s hair, Galloway hitched his crutch under his arm. “We’ll head over after breakfast and see how easy it is to dismantle the fuselage.”
I padded behind them. “Correction, Conner and I will head over. You will rest with Pippa.”
Galloway spun around. “No way. I’m not being a bloody invalid anymore.”
I couldn’t breathe as he glowered with blue intensity.
I swallowed. “Fine.”
Not fine.
I’d just leave without his permission.
I was the one least hurt.
It was up to me to do the most work until the others healed enough to participate.
We didn’t speak as we huddled around our belongings and slowly savoured the last of our food and water.
I licked my fingers, savouring my final mouthful.
That’s it.
No more.
From here on out...we would have to hunt.
Chapter Twenty
...............................................
G A L L O W A Y
......
I THOUGHT SOLVING our water crisis would make me feel better about myself.
It did the opposite.
Estelle was so damn grateful it made me feel like swine flu. She’d done so much for us, yet she treated me like a bloody king for the one minuscule thing I’d achieved.
Yes, I’d remembered how to snatch water from thin air. But that wasn’t my geniusness—that was my mentor back in the States.
I couldn’t take credit.
Estelle was the one who’d cast my leg, Conner’s wrist, and dressed Pippa’s back. She was the one worrying about us at night, giving us fresh leaves to line our damp sandy beds, trying to forgo her last mouthful of muesli bar so the kids had more to eat.
She was the saint on this island.
Not me.
And for her to treat me like one...well, it pissed me off.
Made me angry.
Made me so bloody livid that I couldn’t get over the pain in my system and the break in my ankle to be better for her.
Not to mention that kiss between us.