AT 29 (115 page)

“I went to Europe first; Paris, Rome, Venice, Geneva, Brussels just about everywhere. Running, of course, but relieved to be away from Australia and the horror of losing Nicky. Living at the orphanage for all that time was a blessing. I'd saved plenty of money.”

“I called your parents every week for months. I think your father wanted to tell me where to find you, but you wouldn't let him.”

“I'm sorry.”

“What did you do?”

“What every tourist does. I discovered that the French really do serve the finest food in the world. The Mona Lisa is overrated, at least the way it's shown nowadays from twenty feet away, locked behind bulletproof glass that all but obscures her face. Musee D'Orsay is better. The Swedes are the most attractive people anywhere. Saint Petersburg is heavenly in late spring. Rome has so much to see that it would take a year to get it all in. Milan is, indeed, the fashion capital of the world, but I still can't imagine paying five hundred dollars for heels. Venice is expensive, but worth every penny. It's a lover's paradise. I thought of you.”

Jimmy chuckled. “You have a critical eye.”

“If you need a guide I'm your girl.”

“Someday.”

She smiled. “Everywhere I went the people were wonderful. That's the real benefit of traveling. Discovering that people can be nice the world over. The Europeans, and Asians aren't so different from us. They work, play, create, converse, laugh and love the same as you and me.”

Jimmy glanced out the window. “They are us and we are them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just something someone mentioned.”

Les followed his gaze. “I was in Japan when I read that you entered rehab.”

They turned their eyes to one another. “But you stayed away.”

“I was still dealing with Nicky's death.”

“And, now?”

“It still hurts.”

“Why did you shut me out?”

“I shut the world out.”

“I had dinner with Sister Marie just after I arrived in Melbourne.”

Les dropped her eyes. “How is she?”

“She's fine. It's hard to tell she had a stroke.”

Les nodded. “Then she's back in charge, good.”

“No. Another nun is in charge, but Sister Marie still raises the money.”

“That must be Sister Monica. She's the one who found Nicky.”

“Why did you come back to Australia?”

“I didn't want to go home to New Hampshire. I couldn't bear to live in Melbourne. Something pulled me here.”

“What's here?”

“You tell me? Why are we sitting together in a seaside town called Apollo Bay? Two Americans who grew up twenty miles away from each other on a continent half a world away.”

“Simple for me,” Jimmy answered, stung that she skirted the one thing he was desperate to hear. “Nigel asked me to come. We'll go back to work as soon as we return to New Jersey.”

She changed the subject. “The scotch on the counter, I thought you stopped.”

“At Nigel's place? A reminder. I didn't slip.”

He caught the eye of the waitress and signaled for the check. His heart ached. Les clearly didn't long for him the way he longed for her. ‘Why did you come back? Who knows? Why did you shut me out? I shut the world out.' Why? Why?? ‘I wanted to be with you! I could have helped! You needed me!
I
needed you!!' He had to leave before the hurt gave him away.

They walked for an hour. This time their hands did not touch. They wandered among the streets, stopping now and then browse in a store. At times, the conversation became distant. Jimmy had plenty of questions, all barred from his tongue by the wall of indifference that seemed to be Les' feeling toward him. But they were together. She came to him. Hadn't she taken his hand in the church? They came to a stop at a corner and turned toward the bay.

“I want to show you something.”

“The bay? I've seen it.”

“With Melba?”

“Who?”

“You said her name last night. Who is she?”

“Nigel's grandmother. I was reading something she wrote before I fell asleep. I must have been dreaming. What do you want me to see?”

They crossed the street and followed the sidewalk to the bay. Benches lined an overlook above the beach. She motioned to one and they sat down to look. She reached for his hand and the distance between them melted away.

“I come here everyday, rain or shine. I think about Nicky. He was such a beautiful, innocent little boy. That's why it hurt so much. I couldn't save him.”

“It's not your fault.”

“I'll never forgive myself, but the introspection helps. So does the church I took you to this morning. Not the service so much, but the music. Lovely, healing in a way. Whenever I hear it I feel better.”

“Nigel plays one of those songs on
Yarra
.”

“The last one. Yes, I know.”

Jimmy smiled. “He stole it. I'm surprised he hasn't been sued.”

“I hear you in that music.”

“Me?” Jimmy shook his head.

“Do you know the very first time I heard you sing?”

“Surfer's Paradise.”

“No. That's when I knew I was in love with you.”

His heart leapt. “When?”

“It was one winter night while I was pursuing my masters at B.U. I was tired of reading, but I couldn't sleep. I turned on the radio, thinking about Australia and wondering if I might ever return. Dick Summer's voice offered a backdrop to my thoughts. Then I heard another voice and I sat straight up in bed. It was you just before you launched into
Lulu
. Then you sang the song and I was sure I knew you. I listened to
the rest of the interview and jotted down Passim, where you were playing that winter. A week later, I went to see you with some friends from school. When I saw your face I was sure we had a connection. Now, living above the post office for the past two months, seeing Nigel's childhood cottage and looking here at the bay, I know in my heart our connection is Apollo Bay.

“The first time I came here I was a month into my internship at Saint Malachy's. Sister Marie gave me some time off and insisted I use it to see other parts of Victoria. She wanted me to know something about Australia before I went home to finish college. She even lent me a car. When I came into Apollo Bay it felt like home. This area was called Krambruk, then Middleton for a time before it was changed to Apollo Bay. Until late in the nineteenth century, the only way to get here was by water.” She stopped speaking and turned to face him as if waiting for Jimmy to confirm her conclusion. When he didn't respond she turned away and pointed at the water. “A hundred years ago ships occasionally stopped in this bay before heading south or north. Some were whalers from America. Over there.” She nodded her head to the right. “There was a wooden dock, very long and sturdy. The ships would tie up for repairs.”

She turned to look back at the town, gesturing with her hand. “The early settlers harvested trees to get by, but farming followed quickly. The local Aborigines were called the Gadubanud. Another name was Parrot People. I like the way the indigenous people pronounce it, Katabanut. They are said to have been fiercely independent. I spent a few days here and when I went back to Melbourne I read everything I could find about Apollo Bay and whaling. Eventually, it led to my masters in history.”

“You told me.”

“Did I?” She seemed to remember. “That's not where I'm going with this.”

“I was here last night with a friend of Nigel's.”

“The Aborigine. I know, Reina told me.”

Jimmy turned in surprise. “You've met her?”

“She was with Nigel when we ran into each other. She's the one who told me you were at Nigel's shop in Airey's Inlet. She was quite insistent that I go to you. Back to my story.” She tightened her hold of his hand. He squeezed back overjoyed.

“After I moved into the apartment above the Post Office I started to think about you. Until then I couldn't let you in, but you flooded back. I almost called Cindy in Millburn. I went to the bank to get money to buy a ticket for the states. When my parents called I thought about asking them to find you and tell you I was coming. But my emotions were too confused, guilt that I had shut you out, fear that you hated me. I was paralyzed and I did nothing.”

“Until today.”

“Yes, but it's not what you think. The apartment where I live above the post office, it feels like I've lived there before. No ghosts, just déjà vu that comes now and then. Do you ever feel that way?”

“Everyone does.”

“Here, looking out at the bay, it's the same. In time, it began to feel like I was waiting. Every Sunday, when I listen to the choir, I hear your music. Maybe you can't hear it, but I can. It brought me back to you.”

“I wish you had come to me.”

There was a long silence as Les swept her eyes across the bay. Her head turned from side to side then out, gazing with concentration at the distant, endless horizon. Jimmy watched her, lost in thought like he was no longer at her side. At last, she tightened her fingers around his palm and turned to look into his eyes.

“It was supposed to be here. That's what I want you to understand. Something made me wait. I had to wait for you to come back to me.”

“I didn't know you were here.”

“Look at the bay. How does it make you feel?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“I feel safe.”

“Safe?”

“Can't you feel it?” We belong here. This is our home.”

He thought of his conversations with Franco. “You belong at the orphanage.”

She let go of his hand. “Never.”

“Not here, Les, with the boys at Saint Malachy's. I can take you.”

“No.”

“You're hiding. You think this is where you belong because it's safe. That's only an excuse. I've spent half my life making excuses. If I've learned anything from the past year, it's that I can't do that anymore.”

They drove to the cottage with the unsatisfying conversation still in the air. An invisible wall stifled the desire to touch. Nigel and Reina met them on the porch. Inside, a young man was at the table, poring over drawings. Nigel pulled Jimmy in to look at the architect's diagrams while Les went into the tiny kitchen with Reina. A short time later Reina came back and fetched Jimmy outside.

“What did you say to her?”

“I suggested that she go back to the orphanage.”

“Good. Take her now.”

“She won't go.”

“Force the issue and make sure you go with her.”

“Why?”

“Because she's not right. She needs professional help and you're the only one who can get her through it. Until she gets beyond the guilt, she won't have a chance.”

“She says she feels safe here. I don't think she'll ever leave Apollo Bay.”

“One step at a time. Deal with this first.”

“Reina, what makes you think…”

“Nigel says you love her. Do you?”

“She ran away from me.”

“I walked away from the man I love when he needed me. Then a stranger saved me from a lifetime of regret. You have to make her face what happened.”

“What if she can't handle it?”

“Isn't that the same question you were answering when you came to the opera house to find me? Nigel needed me. That's what you said. Les needs you. She needs your help to get over that child.”

The guise was an overnight to Melbourne to get his things, check out of the hotel and return to Apollo Bay. Les was reluctant, but Jimmy held her close and said he needed her. That part was true. He was desperate to make love.

Their longing demanded unification. The naked closeness carried them to explosive joy, settled to pristine peace then rose again until the only thing left was exhausted oneness, so entwined that no force could ever separate them again. Over dinner they made plans.

“I will travel with you.”

“Yes, wherever I go.”

“But we will have a home. We'll come back to Apollo Bay. Nigel and Reina will be there, too.”

“And, an apartment in Manhattan.”

“If you insist, but the children will grow up in Apollo Bay.”

“Children? Don't you think we should get married first?”

Later, he pulled out Melba's story and showed it to her. They lolled on the bed, studying Nathan Whitehurst's music. Les softly hummed the melodies, becoming more and more interested as she turned the pages.

“I've heard some of these songs before.”

“Not likely,” Jimmy said.

“Yes, I'm sure of it. In the church.”

“Les, these songs were written almost a century ago.”

She leaned across the king-sized bed and grabbed a hotel pen from the night table. She wrote some words beneath the notes of one of the songs.

“These are some of the lyrics I remember. Sound it out. They fit perfectly.” She flipped back to the narrative. “Melba played the piano with her husband?”

Jimmy nodded. “The way she put it, he was too impatient to learn how to write music. She taught him the piano and became his scribe as he created his songs.”

“I wish we had a piano. I'd like to play them all.”

Perfect, Jimmy thought, as the idea struck him. Until that moment, he didn't know how to broach the subject of returning to Saint Malachy's. He pictured the baby grand and their first time together. It was late, but this was his best chance.

“Let's go find one.”

Les looked at him. “Where?”

“It's a big city. There must be lot's of pianos.”

Her mouth opened in question. “Now?”

“Sure, let's take a shower and go look.” He kissed her on the lips.

He kept up the charade for as long as it took to gather the courage to steer the car toward the other side of the city. When he turned onto a street several blocks from Saint Malachy's, she stiffened and went silent. He parked in front of the entrance and turned off the motor. Les glanced at the stairs. Then she turned back and stared ahead without moving. Jimmy took her hand.