Reesha ran. She tore off her mask so she could breathe.
The last thing she wanted was for Tanner to see her cry. This wasn't how things were supposed to work.
He wasn't supposed to come back into her life and remind her of all the reasons he was there in the first place.
It had been like that, in the beginning. This funny pakeha Aussie boy had once brightened her days with his smiles and honesty. Unlike all the other men she'd known, he looked at her with eyes that saw her as a human being, not as some arm-candy prize, or a future housecleaner, or a temporary bed-warmer.
With Tanner, Reesha had felt valued.
Until the day she did not.
It's not that he had used her. He hadn't. It was as if he had put her aside and forgot where he'd laid her.
For days after she'd packed up and left, she'd cradled her phone, hoping for a phone call, or even a text from him, querying her absence.
But there had been nothing.
It was worse than death.
When someone died, you mourned them, said goodbye to their body, and you walked away. You could let go of their memory, be free. The world belonged to the living. That's where your attention dwelt. No good thinking about the dead; they certainly weren't thinking about you.
And here he came, back from the land of who-knew-where, bringing his reminders that he still thought of her.
That was so unfair!
Why couldn't he have died that day in the hospital? Why did he have to live?
Reesha had reached the back garden of The Pearl Shoppe. She didn't dare go into the house, for her vibes were so thick with grief she'd surely curse every single pearl there.
She pressed her palms to her eyes and cried. Why did he have to live? By living, he was real. And real meant he had to be thought of, and remembered, and dealt with.
And loved.
That opened up a whole lot of new ache within her.
She had first loved him when he had treated her well. Even after she fell for his charms and fell into his bed, he had continued to treat her well. Even her friends recognised what a catch this was, in spite of his pasty skin. "You got a good one, cuzzie," they said about him. They liked him because he had a steady job.
She liked him because he would sit and talk with her.
Just like he had in the park.
Reesha sank to her knees and sobbed some more. Tanner had never mistreated her, only neglected her.
But when he had paid attention to her, it was so, so good.
Good enough to chase again?
That was the question she asked herself. Tanner had offered her a choice--
Or rather, he let her know she was the one to offer the choice. If she would have him back, he would accept. If she would not--
Would her body stop shuddering? If she rejected him, he would walk away.
She did not want him to walk away.
But would she be a fool to let him back in?
He had said to offer him conditions.
What if she did, he didn't like them, and he turned her down?
Feet crunched on the grass. Reesha didn't bother to look up.
Anaya squatted down next to her. "What's up with you? Didn't you find him?"
It wasn't that. "I don't know if I can stand losing him again." She wiped at her nose.
Anaya lifted the hem of her sarong and wiped her cousin's face. "You're already losing him again if you don't go after him."
She was right. Tanner came back into her life when she thought he was gone for good.
Reesha lifted her head. "But what if I go after him and it doesn't work out?"
"How would you be worse off than you are now?"
Really? Was Anaya that clueless? "Because I would have put my heart on the line again."
"Your heart's already on the line. If it wasn't, you wouldn't be in the back garden scaring the cats."
Reesha looked to the porch. There sat one of the tabbies, tail twitching, eyes unblinking. He certainly wasn't impressed by her display.
Stupid cat. What did he know?
Anaya stood up, fists on her hips. "I sent you after him to sort things out. You came back, unsorted." She shook a finger. "You need to go back and sort things out for good. Tonight."
What? Not tonight. Reesha had ridden an emotional rollercoaster all day.
"But not until you've had some tea."
* * *
When Tanner left his B&B that evening, beach blanket over his arm, he found a startled Reesha not far from his front door. He'd not been expecting company, or he wouldn't have worn an old t-shirt, board shorts, and tropical-strength bug spray. She looked far more elegant in her white top and wraparound floral sarong. Even her mask matched her sarong.
Had he told Anaya where he was staying? Or had Reesha tracked him down, the way he'd tracked her? He hoped it was the latter. His place was only a few blocks from The Pearle Shoppe and the locals at the cafe would remember the only tourist in town.
"I was headed to the beach," he confessed, as if it wasn't obvious.
Reesha looked over her shoulder. "What? This beach? There's nothing there."
"Exactly." Everyone knew Cable Beach was the beautiful one. Town Beach, facing Roebuck Bay and Dampier Creek, was not exactly a tourist attraction. Little more than red dirt and scrub, it held few charms for any but the walking-distance locals and boat-launchers.
That suited Tanner just fine.
"Was thinking of watching the sun set and the stars coming out."
"Wrong beach." Reesha pointed west, over most of Broome, toward the ocean. Anyhow, the sun had lowered enough that the trees of Broome had obscured it.
He observed the horizon. "I suppose it doesn't matter."
No pussyfooting. Reesha came here for a reason. He hoped it was a good one. "Are you coming with me, or have you come to tell me you no longer want me in your life?" He pulled his mask up over his face.
She stepped back. "I never said that."
"No, you didn't." He held out his arm.
She took it, her forehead still wrinkled.
Honesty. That's what Armand kept telling Tanner. He had to be honest with everyone in his life from here on out, even if such honesty was painful.
The thought of Reesha coming to tell him he had no chance was painful.
But if that was her purpose, why was she walking with him?
"Have you chosen if you want me back or if you want me to leave?" Might as well come right out. It would be harder if he invited her down, they had a pretty good evening, and then she dropped the bomb.
Reesha stiffened. "I don't know. I want to be able to say goodbye cleanly."
Oh! Direct shot to the heart. His feet slowed.
She noticed. "No, no. I mean, I haven't decided yet."
He put a hand to his chest. "That very nearly did it."
Her brow furrowed even more. "Wait. Are you having heart problems?"
He waved her concerns away. "I'm not going to keel over, if that's what you're asking."
When she pressed a fist to her mask, he snatched it away. "I'm not going to have a heart attack. Just--" how to reassure her? The last thing he wanted was for her answer to be dependent on his health. "Be honest. If you want to leave me forever, the condition of my heart is no longer your problem." He drew in a breath. "And if you choose to stay, my heart has no problem."
He tucked her hand back into his arm and continued down the red dirt path to the narrow strip of sand called Town Beach. Naturally, no one else was about. It wasn't as if people were attracted to the semi-submerged scrub, the mangrove trees or the lack of surf. There certainly wasn't a moon to make it romantic.
He found a somewhat secluded corner near some rocks and spread his blanket. The sun had lowered enough that the west horizon of town took on a gentle ruddy glow, while the sky overhead darkened to navy. No stars had yet appeared.
Tanner settled onto the blanket, took off his mask and inhaled deeply. "Yep, smells like estuary." He kicked off his shoes. Laying back, he looked up into the evening sky. Still no stars. Shouldn't they have seen at least one? Wait... there were two faint ones in the east, just above the horizon.
Reesha settled herself on a corner of the blanket, her legs demurely to the side. Almost looked like a mermaid sitting there, one about to fade into the darkness of the sea, if it weren't for her white t-shirt. She, too, had removed her mask. Her fingers toyed with it.
Definitely two stars on the horizon now, though others had not yet come out. The sun had lowered enough that the land was darker than the sky.
He inhaled. As pleasant as it was to be sitting near Reesha once more, if he didn't say anything, then this was all that would happen. His heart thumped at the thought that it might be the last time.
One thing he'd learned as part of his recovery was never to leave unfinished business. "Reesha, the reason I came out here tonight was to lay here and look at the stars. That's all I had planned." Had even covered himself in bug spray, should the mangrove swamps prove to be an infestation ground of mozzies. "But now I get to look at the stars with you."
That sounded sappier than he'd intended. He wasn't aiming for romantic or anything like that.
Back on topic. "I'm flying out of here in three-- or rather two days. That should be more than enough time for you to make a decision."
She drew a sharp breath. "Why do I have to be the one to make the decision?"
"Because I didn't give you the right of decision before."
She shuffled position. "I chose to leave."
As hard as it was to admit, "But I had already left. My body was still around--well, kind of." He spent more time at work than at home. "But mentally and emotionally, I was gone. That was unfair on you."
He rolled over, propping his head on his hand. "I hurt you when you did not deserve it. The very least I can do is give you back the choice."
At first, she said nothing. The gentle lap of water against the sand mixed with the sounds of settling birds calling to one another. Soon they would fall silent, leaving only the water and maybe the wind. Even the sound of human settlement was absent.
"What if I decide to leave?"
"Then tell me before I go."
Silence once more.
"And if I choose to stay?"
He fought the smile that twitched his lips. "Then tell me before I go, so I can cancel my plane ticket."
She tched. It was too dark to see her face.
Tanner rolled onto his back. Another couple of stars had come out, the Pointers, low on the southern horizon. Southern Cross should become visible soon. "Let me tell you about my life. This is the life I'll have when I return to Perth. Life without you.
"I wake up in the morning. I sit at my table and enjoy a slow cup of coffee. I try different kinds from day to day, just to see what's out there. Then I'll do some morning chores about the house. If the weather's good, I'll go pull some weeds in the garden."
Reesha shuffled closer and laid down next to him, hands behind her head. At least there was something to see in the sky.
"Then I take a walk. Exercise is good for you, you know. Thought about joining a gym, but realised either I'd never go, or I'd fall into it too much and it'd become a new obsession.
"Sometimes I'll call Armand. Sometimes he'll call me."
Reesha sat up. "Who’s Armand?" Some kind of warning tinged her voice.
"He's my sponsor. We need to keep in touch regularly. It's part of the program."
Reesha relaxed back to the blanket. "Oh," was all she said.
"He helps me recognise when I'm approaching dangerous behaviours. Points them out to me when they're small and easily taken care of.
"One thing an addict of any kind struggles with is recognising the small warning signs. Or rather, if they do recognise them, they tend to dismiss them. Think that they can handle it, that they'd be fine. But we're wrong. We can't handle it. We won't be fine. That's why we need to see them for what they are, and learn to do something about them when they first arise.
"That's my day so far, and it's only early morning."
A breeze ruffled across his skin. The heat of the day had faded. Reesha scooted closer to him.
"Then I don't go to work." The Southern Cross appeared in the sky, as did a few other stars. The breeze was no longer warm, but not quite cold enough to make him wish he brought a jacket.
Reesha's hand trailed across his arm. "If you don't work any more, then what do you do?"
"Oh, little bit of this, little bit of that." Always a little bit. Never more.
"Such as?"
"I took a beginner's pottery class last year. Twelve weeks of thumping clay. Quite liked it. Then I tried macrame. Didn't like it too much. Attended a series of classic film showings at the local library. Went geocaching. You know, stuff," back in the Before Times, when one could go out and do things.
"Then we got stuck at home. Thought about quilting. Decided against quilting. I learned how to make sourdough instead." And videos. Always the online videos.
"Why do you do all that? What do you plan on doing with it?"
He rolled over to face her, though it was dark. "Doing? I'm not doing. I'm being."
"I don't get it," Reesha replied.
How to best put it? "Remember how you'd always go to cultural dance practice on Friday nights?"
Her hand traced his arm. "You remember that?"
How could he not? In the early times, she'd taken him along once. Granted, he was bored, as there wasn't much to do but listen to music in a language he didn't understand, and watch dances he didn't know. The only bright point was Reesha when she was on the floor. Her hips, wrapped in a traditional skirt, moved with such alluring elegance, it was the best reason to stay. The only reason, really.
He could have spent the whole evening watching her.
"You spent all that time learning all those dances. Occasionally your group would go out and perform. Why did you learn all that, do all that?"
She thought about that one. "Don't know," she finally admitted. "It was just what you did."
He scooted closer. "Or is it what you are?"
"I suppose."
"You suppose. You never stopped to question why you dance, because it is who you are. Who they all are. Your..." he dug in his memory for the word, "your whakapapa?"
She snorted. "My whanau," she corrected. "But yeah. I see what you mean." She shifted the subject. "You don't have a culture, do you? You have no songs, no stories, no dance."
He sighed. "No, I do not." Until he'd met Reesha, he hadn't noticed its absence. Her life was rich. It had meaning. His was, he had to admit, dull and flat.
"Is that why you did what you did, because you were empty?"
"Perhaps."
Her hand ran up and down his arm. "And now you seek to find meaning in your days?"
While his first thought was to answer yes, that didn't feel genuine. Was that what he was seeking? "I don't know if 'meaning' is the right word."
"What are you looking for?"
At her question, his mind opened up. "That's the thing. I'm not looking for anything. I'm already there."
"Where?"
"Life."
That was it. He'd been avoiding life before, the fool that he was. Life was already around him. He was in it. He did things, or not. "It is not my actions, but my presence that matters."
That was it. That's what had gone wrong. He'd forgotten to be present in his life, in Reesha's life. He'd let work--
A soft warm body pressed him back to the blanket. Reesha's lips locked to his, not soft, but insistent.
From the depths of a long-abandoned life, he remembered this. Or rather, his body did. How could he have forgotten?
She did not let him up for air. Rather, her hands tugged impatiently at the hem of his t-shirt, tucked into his board shorts.
"Reesha?" he gasped as soon as he could get free. "Wh--"
"Shh," she insisted, before stopping his mouth with a kiss. "Just be," she eventually commanded him.
He could do that.
If she was going to take, he could give, just as the knot on his boardshorts gave way to her nimble fingers. Tanner gasped as her hand slid under the waistband, to a place it hadn't been in years.
His body remembered, stirring to her touch, even if he did not. When was the last time they'd been together?
A terrible shame that his mind couldn't remember--
Her hand gripped about his shaft, driving any last thoughts from his head. How quickly he became engorged under her expert fingers.
He helped her free his lower torso from the confines of his boardshorts. Let her do whatever she wanted.
And she did. Forget foreplay. Forget lingering kisses. Reesha wanted. Reesha could have. Tanner had no intention of stopping her.
Except, what about--
Too late. Her lips about his shaft wasn't her wanting to pleasure him, but to get him wet enough for her to take him straight up. Ah well.
He gave in as she rode him hard, desperate.
Should he hold back, or simply lose himself in this sudden gift from Reesha?
No matter. Her climax came quick and hard. She tossed back her head and cried out the culmination of her pleasure. He couldn't recall her ever being this noisy.
A moment later, his own release came. He couldn't have pulled out, even if he wanted to.
He did not want to.
Her body settled lower, resting on his thighs. She scrubbed a hand across her face, then ran her fingers through her dark hair, pushing it back, echoes of the past.
She did not slump forward for a cuddle, but remained upright, her gaze on the distant horizon. A plenitude of stars sprinkled the heavens.
Tanner did not want to break the spell. It was enough for him to watch her silhouette against the navy-blue sky.
If only they could have stayed there forever.