Lost In Kakadu (18 page)

She grumbled and disappeared. Moments later she strolled to the fire with Charlie’s letters tucked under her arm. “I’ll just be over here then … in case you need me.”

“Okay, but no peeking.”

After removing the sharp spines from half a dozen spiral Pandanus leaves, he wrapped the long strips of greenery around the meat. He added a layer of paper bark and tied the bundle together with a strip of wire. He dug out the loose dirt from the earth oven he’d already used dozens of times. With the axe, he scraped glowing stones from the fire into the pit and placed a layer of wet grass over them. Then he dropped his roast bundle on top. Smoke billowed from the ground as he covered it with more grass and hot rocks. To finish off he covered it with dirt and patted it down with the palm of his hand.

As he cleaned up he watched Abigail choose one of Charlie’s envelopes and take out the folded letter inside. She always took her time reading them, sometimes reading the same letter several times over. Despite her insistence, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to read them. He caught her rubbing away a tear.

“Why are you reading those sad letters?”

She jumped when he spoke. “I can’t help it. Will you let me read this one to you?”

“No, I told you I don’t like snooping into other people’s business.”

“Come on. It’s my birthday.” She grinned up at him, her eyes pleading.

Mackenzie agonised over his answer. He knew what it felt like to have your privacy invaded. But maybe somehow this was different. Maybe Charlie would’ve wanted them to read the letters.
How else will we know what to do with them
? He sighed, hoping he wouldn’t regret his decision. “Okay, but just this one!” Slipping into the seat beside her, he tried to ignore his dirty feet as he stretched them toward the fire.

“Trust me, you won’t be able to stop at just one.” She cleared her throat. “I should really start with the first letter it makes more sense to go in order. But this one just seems more appropriate given that it’s my birthday.”

“Just read the letter.”

She huffed. “Maybe I should give you some background—”

“Read it, Abigail.” He poked her in the ribs.

“Okay.” She giggled before she began reading.

‘Hello Holly, it’s your father here,

Happy birthday, my beautiful girl. I can’t believe you’re eleven already. I thought my heart would burst with joy when I saw you in the park today. I felt like it was my birthday, too. Your pink dress made you look very grown up and your friends looked so happy. I wish I could have been there to celebrate with you, but your mother wouldn’t let me.

I’m sending some money for you to buy something special and I hope your mum gives it to you this time.

In my dreams I give you lots of cuddles. I hope you get them. I will love you forever. Please write.

Your daddy …
’

Abigail’s voice began to quiver. ‘
Charlie.
’

Mackenzie looked over at Abigail and noticed tears balancing on her lower lashes. She seemed more upset by the letter than the words warranted and he sensed something deeper was going on. He placed his hand on her knee. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She dropped her eyes to the page. “It’s just so sad.”

“Do you think she wrote a letter?”

“Why do you think all these letters are here?” She patted the bundle. “His letters were returned. It’s hard to tell if she even read them.”

A tear escaped and trickled down her cheek and it took all his might not to wipe it away. Charlie had obviously put a lot of time and effort into all these letters. It didn’t make sense that he kept sending them, knowing they’d be returned. “Why wouldn’t she read them?”

“I have this horrible feeling his daughter doesn’t even know he existed.”

Mackenzie remembered when he was eleven and quickly forced the thought aside. This was meant to be Abi’s special day and reading these letters was making her miserable. He couldn’t stand it any longer, he reached over and wiped the teardrop from her cheek. Their eyes met, and her chin dimpled.

“Enough of this sad stuff. It’s your birthday and we’re not having any more tears. Besides you’ll ruin what precious makeup you have left.”

He watched her laugh—eyes closed, white teeth showing, slight dimples in her cheeks and a lock of blonde hair falling across her face as she tilted her head toward him. With each passing day, she was growing more relaxed, she put on less makeup and her high heel shoes had long ago been abandoned. She laughed more freely too and subtle creases had gradually appeared at the sides of her eyes. Despite their rugged setting, she was blossoming and he liked what he saw.

He stood up and held his hand toward her, helping her to her feet. “Now go wash your hands. Lunch is nearly ready.” He watched her walk away. She wore her sadness on her downcast shoulders. Now more than anything, he wanted to make this day special, and in that instant he knew exactly what would cheer her up. Lunch first though.

As he dug the roast meat out of the oven the savoury smell made his mouth water. Licking his lips, he juggled the steaming bundle to the table he’d previously made out of a plane-wing. Abigail joined him just as he unravelled it.

They ate with their fingers, peeling off mouthfuls of meat at a time and mixing it with the stewed cranberries and crunchy wattle seeds. The quoll was sweet, tender and delicious.

“This is better than anything the caterers were planning for my birthday,” she mumbled, her mouth full.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No. I mean it. The combination of flavour and texture works so well with the meat. You’re very clever.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He raised his eyebrows. “I have another surprise.”

Her eyes lit up. “What?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

She cocked her head. “What are you up to?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. But no peeking. In fact, you need to lie on your bed until I call you, then I know you can’t see what I’m doing.”

She gasped with mock hurt. “It’s my birthday and you want to send me to my room?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” He laughed. “But yes, do as you’re told.”

A small dimple appeared in her right cheek as she grinned at him. “Okay. But only because you asked so nicely.”

* * *

Mackenzie filled the backpack with the water bottles and left Abigail to wrap the leftover meat. They’d learnt a long time ago not to leave food lying around. Ants could sniff it out in minutes.

He followed the now well-worn path down to the lagoon and within ten minutes he heard the waterfall. The path did a hairpin turn as it skirted the cliff face and as he travelled along the edge he peered into the valley below. Over the last couple of weeks, the glistening stream had steadily decreased in volume and he could see a distinct line in the valley wall marking where the water once coursed through. Approaching the stream, he squinted at the sun and breathed in the damp smell of wet rocks.

Glancing up the cliff face, he reminisced about how difficult it’d been to climb the first time. Now he could simply climb up from there with the ladder he’d made from the plane’s electrical wiring and several solid branches. He strolled along the waterfall’s edge to the flat rock that served as a jetty and knelt down, washed the dried blood off his hands and splashed water onto his face.

After filling the bottles, he returned them to the backpack and buckled it on for the uphill journey back to camp. He gripped with his toes to climb the steep path and pulled himself along with the thick vine he’d woven from tree to tree a long time ago. The calluses on his hands were now as tough as leather, protecting him from the vine’s rough surface.

Arriving back at the camp, he called out to Abigail.

“I’m in my naughty corner.”

He laughed. “Okay, stay there till I call you.”

He poured the water into the large pan he’d made with the metallic cone of one of the plane’s propellers and placed it over the fire between two logs. Then rummaging through the toiletries he chose from what was left of their collection of soaps and shampoos and grabbed a hair brush.

He placed one of the chairs on its side, then tilted another chair back onto it to test its sturdiness. Satisfied, he returned it to its original position. He fetched their towels, both of which were now looking pretty ratty, and walked toward the hole in the side of the plane.

“Are you ready, birthday girl?”

She was laying on her side, head propped up on her hand, her long legs curled up to her hip and he couldn’t help but notice how nicely tanned they were. He dragged his eyes away. “So what’re you reading?”

“Oh, ummm, Pride and Prejudice.” She laughed at her own joke.

In their entire luggage, they’d only had one book between them, ‘Deception Point’ by Dan Brown. He’d finished it weeks ago, but Abigail didn’t seem to mind reading it over and over. Anything to escape from their new reality, he guessed.

Abigail sat up and placed the book open on her life jacket pillow. “Ready for what?” Her eyes twinkled.

“It’s a secret. Here, put this over your head.” He tossed her the towel.

She obediently draped the towel and giggled as he guided her out of the cabin with his hand on the small of her back. Mackenzie felt the slight sway of her hips as he led her to the waiting chair and although he couldn’t see her face he imagined her smiling. “I’m going to sit you in your chair now.”

“Okay.”

He held her hand as she lowered into the seat. Then he moved behind her and began tilting her chair back.

“What are you doing?” She reached out as if to balance.

“It’s okay, just relax.”

He wedged her chair against the first ensuring it was safe then lifted the towel off her face and draped it over her shoulders. He then ran his hands along her neck to catch all her hair and watched it tumble over the back of the chair. “You good?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She sighed and he assumed she knew what he was doing.

“Happy birthday.”

Her hair was thick, soft and surprisingly heavy and Mackenzie glided the brush through it with long smooth strokes. He scooped over cupfuls of warm water, and ignoring their self imposed ration, poured a generous amount of shampoo into his palm and massaged it into her wet hair. He used slow circular movements, starting at the nape of her neck and gradually moving to the top of her head. As a thick lather formed he increased the pressure, but having never done anything like this before, he wasn’t quite sure how hard he should press. He was guided by her reactions, and by her subtle movements and blissful grin he could tell she was enjoying it.

* * *

It had been over a week since Abigail last washed her hair and as they were rationing their shampoo, she had barely even made a lather. But she could tell by the amount of lather right now that Mackenzie was being very generous. Abigail closed her eyes when Mackenzie’s fingers brushed her neck. The fine hairs down her nape stood up to meet him and a delightful shiver ran along her spine. His gentle fingers touching her in this way made her wonder when Spencer had touched her so sensuously. It was hypnotic, erotic.
Stop it! He’s gay and I’m married.
Was
married!
My God, I’m a widow at forty.
She needed to distract her thoughts. “Tell me about your growing up,” she said.

He huffed. “I can’t do that. It’ll spoil your birthday.”

“No, it won’t. I promise.”

“I’m serious. You really don’t want to hear about my growing up. Tell me about yours.”

“Oh, but it’s my birthday.” Abigail pulled her best sad face and when his hands stopped moving she sensed his reluctance.

After a while, Mackenzie resumed his delicate massaging, but it was longer still before he spoke. “Well, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.” He sighed deeply.

“Come on … how bad can it be?”

Abigail felt the coldness of the conditioner and once his hands began their therapy again, she relaxed even more, closed her eyes and was quite happy to wait for Mackenzie to talk. The lotions smelt refreshing and clean.

“I was born in a small suburb called Logan Village,” Mackenzie finally said, “about an hour outside of Brisbane. Most of my childhood is a blur though. It was just Mum, Dad and I and we moved around a lot. I went to nine schools in the first four years and I never had many friends because we were always moving. Until I was eleven. That was the year it all went to shit.”

“What do you mean?”

He stopped massaging. “Shhh. If you want me to tell my story you’ll have to keep quiet. Rodney’s the only person who knows it all … knew it all.”

“Okay.” Abigail frowned at the sadness in his voice. So far Mackenzie had been nothing but jovial in telling his stories, but she sensed she was now in for something completely opposite.

“My dad was a bit of a drinker. He said it helped him sleep. Most nights he started with a couple of beers but then he’d turn to the rum. One night he was in a foul mood and Mum decided to take me out for ice cream. To get me away from him, I guess. It was pouring with rain and she was driving too fast. Anyway, she missed a turn and crashed into a tree. I only got concussion and bruising. But Mum … Mum died.”

“Oh Mack,” Abigail tried to sit up to face him but he placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her back into the seat.

“Shhh, do you want me to tell my story or not?”

“You poor thing. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Abigail. But it gets worse. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

Abigail tried to sit up. She wanted to look at him, to see if he was all right, but again he eased her back down. “As long as you want to tell it,” she said.

His fingers began massaging again and there was a long pause before he continued. “After Mum’s funeral, Dad’s drinking got worse. He’d look at me with such hatred, like I was the devil. He never actually came out and said it, but I know he blamed me for the crash. The more he drank, the worse he got. We fought all the time and I couldn’t do anything right. Sometimes I found him going through my things, just looking for something to yell at me about. One night he started throwing stuff and punching walls and I just wanted him to stop. So I grabbed the biggest knife I could find. I can still remember the sound of the blade as I pulled it from the knife block. I held the knife in front of me … you know, like a relay baton. But when Dad saw me, he just laughed.”