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“But when you love someone, you should support them in a crisis like that,” I protest.
He gives me the ghost of a smile. “That’s a nice thing to say, but I know I was hard work. Still am. You were probably right to say no to dating me. I don’t mean that to sound self-pitying, but everyone’s right when they call me grumpy and a grouch. I know I am. I’m not easy to live with. Even I struggle with myself sometimes.”
“That’s not why I said no,” I tell him softly. I feel a twinge of guilt at turning him down. That can’t have helped his ego. “My reasons were purely personal; nothing to do with you. I like you, Marc. I think any woman would be lucky to have a man like you.” I mean it. I know the others at the Ark think he’s monosyllabic and cantankerous, but he’s never like that with me. He’s always trying to get me to talk, always teasing. “I don’t care what you were like back then,” I tell him. “But I like you the way you are now.”
“That’s only because you didn’t know me back then,” he points out.
“Maybe. The point is, I think you’re perfectly lovely.”
That makes him chuckle. “Well, thank you.”
“So have you dated much since then?” I’m curious. I haven’t seen him with any women at the Ark.
He shakes his head. “I went on a couple of dates with a girl last year, but that’s about it.”
“Why didn’t you see her again?”
He shrugs. “She was nice enough, but there was no spark. She was very… talkative. Which isn’t a problem in itself as it’s nice to keep the conversation going, but ever since the accident…”
“You treasure your solitude.”
“I do. Partly because I also had a whack on the back of the head and a concussion, and I find since then it takes me longer than it did to process things. Loud noises, too many voices, too much conversation… It makes my head hurt.”
“I’m glad you told me,” I say. “I won’t be offended if you tell me to shut up.”
He smiles. “Oh I don’t get it with you at all. You’re very softly spoken, and you don’t chatter on about nothing. When you talk, it’s always because you have something to say. I like that.” His gaze caresses me gently.
The truth is, I like his quiet manner, too. I find him restful. Many of the other guys I know are very ‘in your face’—Albie can be a sweetheart but he’s always joking around; Hal’s larger than life and has a witty answer to everything; Leon shouts a lot—I have no idea how Nix puts up with him. It’s nice to be with someone who also prefers the quiet life.
“You said you partly treasure your solitude because of your concussion,” I say. “Is there another reason?”
“Just that the accident changed how I feel about things. I don’t enjoy… frivolity the way I used to.” He frowns.
“I would imagine a brush with death can send a person either way,” I tell him gently. “It could make you more outgoing, with an urge to squeeze every last drop out of life. Or it could make you more mindful, with a desire to appreciate each moment, especially in nature.”
I’ve seen him take long walks with Jack over the clifftop. I presumed it was for exercise for them both, but now I think maybe it was as respite for his soul, too. There are few places more beautiful in the world than the Bay of Islands. I can think of worse parts of the world in which to heal.
His gaze lingers on me. “There aren’t many people who understand. I’m glad you do.”
I choose another sandwich to hide my bashfulness. “So tell me about the Army. Were you posted to places other than Scott Base?”
He brightens a little. He obviously enjoyed his time in the New Zealand Defence Force. “Afghanistan and Iraq. I was an officer, in Training and Development.”
“You liked your job.”
“I did. I enjoyed the lifestyle. It’s good for a young guy—lots of exercise, activities, travel, a great social life.”
“You couldn’t have stayed in after your accident? Taken a desk job?”
“I could have, but I couldn’t bear it—the pity, the sympathy. I needed to get away from it all. Do something completely different.”
