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"Youdon'thave to make lunch for everyone."
We stop walking, and I take Wilby's hand in mine. "But I want to. The kitchen in my apartment back home is the size of your bathroom. It'll be fun—or an unmitigated disaster—to put my awful culinary skills to use in a big country kitchen. Plus, I'm sure the last thing your grandma wants to do after driving three hours is cook."
"Two hours," Wilby corrects.
"Isn’t Scuttlebutt three hours away?"
"It is." Wilby adjusts his Akubra. "For those of us who stick to the speed limit."
"I see."
We've walked from the back of the main house and reached the fence line. "This is probably as far as you want to go."
I nod. "Right."
I can already see the outline of a plane under a cover. Wilby's plane is still in Scuttlebutt since we drove out here, but it's no surprise they've got more than one.
"That's my mum's plane," he says with a wistful smile. "Haven't piloted her since…"
I give his hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry, Wilby. It's my fault your plane's not here."
"Forget about it. Just…" He takes his hat off and clutches it to his chest. "Promise me I'll get to see you again. That you won't leave town without saying goodbye."
"Of course. I wouldn't dream of leaving without spending some more time with you. Look, I have an open-ended ticket. Maybe once I finish my job, we can hang out together for a few days?"
"You serious?"
"I am."
I am so not prepared for this to be the last time I see him.
He smiles as a single tear rolls down his cheek. "That's the best news I've had in a long fucking time."
We kiss, and I savor the taste of his lips, tinged with a hint of the salty tear that's fallen down his face.
I make my way back to the house, checking in on the kids on the way. Bridgette's screen is filled with little boxes of kids' faces, with a bigger box in the top right corner displaying who I'm assuming is her teacher, while Kolby gives me a big thumbs-up, sporting a goofy grin as he takes off his headphones. "Thanks for helping me with my maths homework again last night."
"My pleasure, little buddy." I ruffle his hair.
He smiles excitedly, and, man, does he remind me of Wilby. Not just appearance-wise, although there is a strong familial resemblance, but it also comes from a deeper place. They share the same type of energy. Kolby's a mini Wilby personality-wise. He's cheeky. Has trouble focusing. But he's got the best heart.
It's so cool that Wilby's stepping up and looking after his niece and nephew like this. After he got the phone call yesterday, summoning him to Sydney for some important business meeting he had to attend in person, he made breakfast as he said he would.
During the course of the day, as we talked, he filled me in a bit more about the deal with Katrina, the kid's mom. His othersister, Emma, has managed to track her down in Melbourne, but she's on a bender, so all Emma can do is sit, wait, watch, and hope that their sister doesn't totally self-destruct.
It's heavy stuff.
Not to mention whatever business issue Wilby's dealing with in Sydney today. I probably could have asked about it, but I'm still new to this whole prying-talking business, so I left it alone. Whatever it is, it's serious, so when Wilby is ready to tell me, he'll tell me.
An hour later, I'm sitting out on the front porch, staring out at the vast expanse while I sip on a mug of very strong coffee. The beef I found in the fridge is now in the oven where it’ll cook for the next few hours. The veggies are chopped and ready to go in half an hour before the meat is done.
It's not even ten, and it's already blistering hot. The sun beats down on the barren ground, the heat sizzling from the dry and dusty earth.
It's nice out here. I mean, not for sleeping. Last night was just as horrendous as the first night. Even with the window wide open, I heard nothing. No honking. No yelling. No signs of humanity at all. How are people meant to sleep in conditions like that?
But during the day, just sitting and staring out at nothing like this, it's exactly what I need right now. I never just relax, do nothing, and let my mind float…
Anxiety's a funny thing.
