Page 51 of Return to the Waratah Inn

It was no good—he couldn’t do CPR on her here. The water rose and fell, making stability impossible, and his board wasn’t big enough to hold the two of them. He leaned over her and began to paddle. The rip carried them further north. Gradually he managed to pull them closer to shore with each stroke. He used every ounce of strength he had. Each arm movement gave his all, his breathing laboured and his mind focused.

When they reached the shore, he dropped the board and pulled Anna up beyond where the water could reach. Then he dropped down beside her and began CPR. He counted in his head, then performed mouth-to-mouth.

“Come on, Anna,” he muttered. “Wake up, baby.”

Beneath his palms, her chest was all bones. She was much more frail than he’d realised. It felt as if he would crush her with every compression. But he couldn’t ease up—she still hadn’t drawn a breath.

Nearby, someone shouted something. A few people gathered around, asking him questions. But he couldn’t hear them, and he didn’t have the breath to respond to them. He had to bring Anna back. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Her parents were coming over for dinner. They wouldn’t understand. He didn’t understand either. She’d been right there with him, happy on her board only moments earlier. How did this happen?

Tears clogged his throat. It ached as though filled with a boulder. A sob rose up within him.

Then he was awake.

He sat up with a wail as the intense pain of it all rushed through him and overwhelmed him. With both hands pressed to his forehead, he stared at the couch beneath him. It was a nightmare, a familiar one. He’d had that dream for years before he met Kate, and now it was back. The rescue on the beach earlier that day had triggered painful memories. It felt like he was there, living through it, losing Anna all over again. It’d been a long time since he’d thought about her. He’d tried to push those memories to the back of his conscious mind for years now, hoping they’d fade or disappear entirely. But here they were again, as vivid as the day the drowning happened. He’d decided never to surf again after that day, but Kate had helped him heal. Because of her, he was able to get back into the ocean, to ride the waves he loved.

Still panting, and with sweat streaming down the sides of his face, he swung his feet over the edge of the couch and rested them on the floor. His head pounded with a hangover from the liquor he’d drunk before passing out hours earlier. His hair was still caked with salt from the ocean, and his eyes felt as though they’d been pasted shut.

He stood to his feet, a little wobbly, and made his way down the hall to their bedroom. Sunshine peeked through the gaps n the curtains, announcing the dawn. Kate sat with her back propped against a pile of pillows, Noah at her breast. She looked up at him with tired eyes.

“Are you okay? I was about to come and check. You shouted.”

He sat beside her on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Sorry, I had a bad dream. I collapsed on the couch.”

“Bad dreams are the worst. But I’m glad you were able to get a surf in. They’re saying it’ll be thunderstorms for the next few days.”

He offered her a weak smile. “Right. It’s good I went, then.”

“Definitely,” she replied. “Noah slept pretty well last night. He only woke me up at midnight, two o’clock and about fifteen minutes ago. So, we’re making progress.”

He shook his head. “You’re amazing. I don’t know how you do it. You make it seem so easy and natural.”

She huffed. “Really? I’m glad you think so. Sometimes I feel so completely out of my depth.”

As he watched her continue to feed Noah and tell him about the nighttime feeds and how she thought Noah had smiled at her once, Alex was overcome by a feeling of awe at the beauty she exuded and the quiet strength she brought to their lives. He wanted so badly to be a good husband for her and father to Noah, but he wasn’t sure how.

Some days, he felt as though he was being swamped by the pressures of the world, the expectations he’d placed on himself, and the fear of becoming like his own father. He couldn’t do that to Kate and Noah—he wouldn’t put them through what his dad had put him through. He’d turn things around and be the dad Kate believed he could be. He didn’t see it in himself, but she did. And he’d hold on to that. He would’t let his past define him or control him.

Kate wanted him to open up, to share with her how he was feeling, what he’d been through, his hopes and dreams for the future. She wanted to know everything about him, she’d told him dozens of times over the course of their relationship. But he didn’t see how that would help. What if she didn’t like what she heard? What if she thought he was weak? No, he could manage it alone. He could push through the pain and take ownership over his own choices. She didn’t have to know how he struggled on the inside, because he’d deal with it himself, like he always had. And he’d become the best father and husband he could be, because they deserved it.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

January 1998

Cabarita Beach

A kookaburra laughed in the gum tree behind the Waratah Inn. Another replied, and within minutes, an entire family of kookaburras had set up a chorus. The sun had set behind the inn, but there were still several shafts of golden and purple light shooting across the clear sky overhead. Bindi sat on the back steps looking out over the swimming pool, and beyond that, Nan’s kitchen garden. The water in the pool was still for once. Miraculously, there were no guests splashing and none swimming laps. There was a lull for now, although she knew it wouldn’t last long.

A mosquito landed on her arm, and she slapped it away, then grimaced at the headache that thudded along the front of her skull. She’d drunk too much the previous evening when she’d been out in Surfer’s Paradise again with her new friends. It felt like she was coming down with a cold as well. Her throat was on fire, and her eyes dry and sore.

Her new mobile phone dinged on the floor beside her, and she picked it up to look at the small screen. There was a message from Brett.

Want to go out again tonight?

She hadn’t been sure she’d even get use out of a mobile phone, but several of her new friends had them and had convinced her to get one. Her phone was solid and rectangular. It was awkward to carry around, so most of the time it stayed in her purse or on the desk when she was working. She considered his invitation. With the way she felt, the last thing she wanted to do was go out to another club and drink, or dance to the heavy music that reverberated through her chest and left her ears ringing for the rest of the night while she lay awake in bed trying desperately to fall asleep. Besides, he’d become even more familiar and flirtatious with her each time they hung out together.

She started tapping on the tiny numbered keys—three pushes for the first letter, two presses for the next. It was an exercise in patience and frustrated her no end when she made a mistake.

She pressed his number into the keyboard to call him instead.