Lincoln entered the door of Elsa’s bungalow carrying a bouquet of yellow flowers.
‘Why are you still here?’ Elsa said, flicking the remote control to turn off the television. ‘I thought you had to leave.’
‘The plan changed so I thought I’d surprise you,’ he said, handing her the flowers.
She sniffed them; they had no smell, which was always a disappointment, but it was no matter because she had Lincoln back with her for another day or so, and she’d take any time she could get before losing him again. ‘Thank you, they’re lovely.’
Lincoln perched on the edge of the couch. ‘I have some news,’ he said, his eyes alight with the secret. ‘I’m staying in Tasmania and I plan on coming over with Caesar every day to visit you.’
‘Don’t be absurd. You can’t stay in Tasmania for me. I shouldn’t ever have asked you to do that. It was wrong.’
‘I’m not staying for you; I’m staying for Caesar,’ he teased. ‘I’m settling down a bit, as you suggested.’
‘I shouldn’t have said that, either,’ she said, hot with shame. ‘It’s your life. You need to do what makes you happy.’
‘I am.’
Elsa bit her lower lip, not daring to believe that what he was saying was true, and yet inside her was a flicker of hope that was growing in strength by the second. She let it sink in: Lincoln was staying here in Tasmania and she would be seeing him every day, along with that mad Caesar dog.
‘You better get me some water,’ she croaked. ‘This is quite a shock.’
He jumped up. ‘Of course.’
But she caught his hand as he passed and looked up into his eyes. ‘This makes me very happy.’
He leaned down and put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her to him. ‘Me too.’