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Hunter stood across the road from Café Bliss, where Morgan and her mother Rowena lived and worked. The Lauders had welcomed him into their lives, no questions asked – well, some questions... But they had accepted him as a friend-in-need of Skye’s: in-need of accommodation, and clothes – and pretty much everything. He looked down at the damp jeans he wore, a donation from Rowena. He wished he had a shirt to put on. Half-naked in the sea was one thing, walking into a busy café like this was something else.
Hunter waited for another car to pass. After his clan departed, he had lingered on the beach hoping to dry the faded fabric out, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He crossed the curving road to the double glass doors, everything he’d planned to say seeping from his brain. The only thing he was certain of was that this could go very badly. Pitchforks and flaming torches might be a thing of the past, but the Lauders were resourceful. He had no doubt they could come up with something brutal if he was no longer welcome. It was a strong possibility.
Pushing through the doors, he inhaled sweet and savoury aromas, and identified the rich fragrance he recognised as essential to the lives of Skye and her friends: coffee. The café was about a quarter full. The animated hum of conversation, clink of cutlery and crockery, and music playing from black boxes high on the pale blue walls was bittersweet. He’d been part of this world for a blink of time, and it had been one of the happiest times he’d ever known. With Skye in her world.
A crash from the kitchen arrested his attention, and he met Morgan’s stunned gaze. She stared at him for a frozen moment, then dropped into a crouch as customers followed her line of sight to him. Pinned by their inquisitive stares, he jumped at a gentle touch on his arm and turned to find Rowena beside him, her sweet freckled face pensive.
“Hunter?”
He opened his mouth, and then shut it again, at a complete loss. He’d hurt these two people simply by existing. He didn’t deserve –
Rowena stretched to hug him, and his vision blurred with unexpected tears. He trembled as he returned her hug, overwhelmed by the kindness of this petite, motherly woman.
She drew back and searched his face, her green eyes so like Morgan’s, her expression hinting at questions he could easily imagine. “You’re absolutely frozen,” she quietly observed, “I think we need to find you a shirt, don’t you? This way, my lad.”
He followed her back outside. Conversation resumed behind them, and he heard the faint tinkle of broken china being tidied as the doors swung to. At the end of the side lane beside the café, they reached the studio room that had briefly been his bedroom. Rowena unlatched the door. “We left it unlocked. In case you came back.”
Hunter swallowed back another surge of emotion as she pushed the door open and stood aside. He stepped inside.
It was still empty apart from the long sofa that had doubled as the bed he never needed, the boxes of clothes Skye had dressed him from, and...something new. Art boards and canvases were stacked against the wall. An old wooden shelf held a jumble of paint tubes, a jar of brushes, trays, and some books. Sketchbooks. He recognised the style from the days he had spent as Skye’s muse. His heart thudded as if it was trying to get past his ribs. He stared around the room, anticipating Skye’s light tread, her slight form appearing, her smile that would make him alive again.
“She’s not here.” Beside him, Rowena noted his reaction. “She visits, but she doesn’t live here now that Mike has moved back to the village. Actually, she’s been having some...problems since you left.”
He swallowed again. “I know.” It was a husky croak.
“How? Have you seen her?” Rowena’s eyebrows rose, and for the first time she betrayed anxiety.
“Yes. She was at the water’s edge this morning.”
“And? Did she know you?”
He shook his head.
“I’m so sorry, Hunter. That must have been...” Pity showed beneath her worried frown. “But I have to ask – can you think of anything to account for it? Why she doesn’t seem to have any memory of you? It’s like you never existed.”
He mutely shook his head again. How could his chest be so hollow and yet throb with so much pain?
“I wondered if you two had fought, perhaps over your decision to stay with your friends instead of returning with Morgan?” Her gaze raked his face, as penetrating and suspicious as Morgan’s had once been. “It seemed so completely impossible that you weren’t filling her thoughts. I thought she was pretending to not remember who you were, making a point of moving on. But it’s obvious her memory loss is genuine. So – no clue?”
“I don’t know what has caused this,” Hunter managed, mostly truthfully. “Is it just me she’s forgotten?”
“And anything connected to you. It’s very...odd.” Her gaze dropped to his damp jeans and bare feet, and the bruises and grazes on his arms and torso. Her eyes returned to his. He watched her resolve waver and teeter between fear and pragmatism, the need to know and the need to not know. It was palpable. As was her choice to not follow his sandy footprints to unbelievable possibilities.
“I really am so sorry, Hunter. For Skye, too. I understand how you feel about her, and how she feels...felt about you. This must be...I can’t imagine. Let’s hope it’s temporary. The doctor has every confidence it will pass. I’m so pleased you’re back.”
“You are?”
“Skye hasn’t been herself since you left,” Rowena’s frown deepened. “She’s just so...so sad. She thinks she’s hiding it, but... She clutches her chest in the oddest way. Like she’s in pain.”
Hunter forced his hand, rising to his ribcage, to drop.
“I’m sure that having you here will make all the difference. We can’t fill in any of the blanks for her, not yet anyway. The Doctor was very clear about giving it at least a month to come right on her own. But seeing you every day can’t but help to bring her memories and her smile back to her. Please, stay as long as you can.”
Hunter jerked his head in awkward thanks, desperately hoping her prediction was true.
“And, Hunter?”
He met her eyes and saw that they had filled.
“Thanks. For bringing Maggie May back to me. I don’t need details. Just...” she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, then looked startled. She reached a tentative hand to his face. Knowing that she touched skin as cold as the ocean, he lowered his gaze, afraid of what he would see in hers. But after a brief silence, he had to look up.
Her expression was thoughtful. “Just – thank you,” she finished quietly. “Once you’re dressed, come on over to join us if you’d like to.” She crossed to the second set of doors that led into the café courtyard.
“Rowena, where has Skye gone?”
She turned, her hand on the latch, “She’s at school. It’s only her second day there. She should be back around four, so you’ve got a day to fill in the meantime. Come over to the café when you’re ready, we can find something to keep you busy.” She smiled, although her eyes were still thoughtful, and left.
Hunter watched her go, irresolute. It seemed rude not to accept her offer to join them, although Morgan’s shocked face made him wonder what kind of welcome he could expect from her. The last time he’d seen Morgan, he’d been inside her mind. He dragged his thoughts away from the memory, feeling wretched.
But everything else paled beside Skye.
He couldn’t wait. He had three days to make her understand the odds and let her choose. And regardless, with or without Jarrod’s threat over their heads, rude to the Lauders or not, wasting precious time away from Skye would be torture.
On the long sofa that had been his bed, someone had stacked the clothes Skye helped him find. He took a faded T-shirt from the top of the pile and pulled it over his head. Sneakers were at the end of the sofa and he tugged those on too.
He unlatched the lane door and pushed it open, but a voice halted him.
“Skipping out on us already?”
He turned to face the tense figure across the room. “Hello Morgan. It’s good to see you again.”
“See me from the outside, you mean.” Her flippant bravado didn’t reach her too bright eyes. Colour flooded her face. It was obvious the sight of him was abhorrent to her.
She sneered, “Well, I guess you know it all, yeah? Saw me inside and out?”
He didn’t speak.
Her voice was a low growl as she stepped closer, her eyes boring into his. “I have nothing hidden from you, Hunter. Nothing.” She blinked rapidly and stepped back, forcing a brittle smile. “So, cheers for that. So nice to have no secrets.”
She flinched when he moved, but he held up cautious hands to show no threat, and gestured towards the sofa, raising his eyebrows in silent request. She hesitated, her expression belligerent, studying his face. Then she stalked across the room and stood beside the sofa, turning to face him, her arms crossed.
“Yes,” he spoke softly, “I saw who you are, Morgan.”
She swallowed, her eyes flicking away from his.
“I saw all the good that you are. Why your friends and family love you.”
She snorted, continuing to avoid his eyes.
“And I saw Jarrod, twisting everything that is warm and natural for you to feel, to serve his own ends. As is his wont.”
She blew out a shaky breath, and her eyes met his.
“I know him well, Morgan. And I know you. You can’t blame yourself for what he did.”
“When –” she broke off, swallowing, and looked down, then up at him, vulnerable. “When you...showed up in my mind, I – I – had some feelings...” her olive skin was blotchy with embarrassment. “Does that mean I really have...feelings for you? Because I don’t. ...Do I?”
“No. You don’t. Humans are made to want love. To love and be loved. It wasn’t really me you were responding to. It was Jarrod playing on your natural desires. It’s what the Nemaro do. Taking what exists in human nature and manipulating it to serve our purposes. There is nothing wrong with attraction or with desire, but what you felt wasn’t about me. Please don’t think I read anything into it at all.”
“So, you don’t think I’m in love with my best friend’s boyfriend?” Her voice wasn’t rock-steady, but he recognised her teasing tone that always made Skye smile, and saw the ghost of humour in her face.
He smiled a little in response, “No.
“And what about Jarrod? What about my feelings for him? Was any of it real?” Her grave intensity surprised him. “And his for me? Did he have any at all?”
“I don’t know, Morgan.” He couldn’t read her expression. “Is it going to be all right with you for me to stay here? I understand if you need me to go.”
She didn’t speak. After a brief silence, she nodded towards the door open onto the lane. “I guess you better get going. You have a lot to fix. If you can...”
“I will. ...If I can.”
“I can’t take you to her school, Mum needs me here. You don’t drive, do you?” At his confused expression, she rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t. I guess you can hitch a ride.” She made a fist with her thumb sticking up, mystifying him.
“Which way do I go?”
“Turn right at the end of the lane and take the next road on your right. Follow it until you reach the main road out of the village without having to go past the café.”
Avoid being seen from the café. He understood. Rowena might have other ideas.
“Good luck,” she said earnestly, her forehead puckering. She looked at him intently for a moment. “If anyone can help Skye, it’s you. Maybe see you both back here later,” she added as she turned away.
Some of Hunter’s tension eased. Morgan seemed to have forgiven him a little. He stepped out into the lane, closing the door behind him, and retraced his steps to Marine Parade. Skye had once pointed out to him the steep road that led over the Bannimor hills to where the closest high school was. He had hated the idea of her going without him so much that she had teased him about becoming a student like her. Well, perhaps now he would. Following Morgan’s directions, he quickened his pace and began to ascend.
Ahead of him on the slope, a couple trudged, towering packs weighting their backs. Each had an arm outstretched towards the road, thumbs extended. At his pace, he would soon overtake them. Perhaps they could give him directions to the school? But almost at once a car pulled up beside them, and after a quick consultation with the driver, they unloaded their packs into the vehicle, climbed in after them and the car drove away. Bemused, Hunter stared after it, trying to understand.
He clenched his own hand into a fist, thumb extended just like Morgan had, and held it out towards the road. Yes, it looked the same as he’d seen them do. Had this been what caused the car to stop? Was this ‘hitch a ride’? Transportation in a vehicle would be faster than walking. Self-conscious, arm outstretched like a flag, he continued to stride up the curving slope. After about ten minutes, he heard the welcome sound of a car approaching. It went past him. Minutes later, another followed. It too went past him. But he saw the face of the driver peer at him, the man’s eyebrows rose, and the car braked and stopped.
Hunter strode forward.
