She swayed towards him and then stepped away, getting another glass for herself. “I tried to save her.”
“What happened?” Two stools were next to the kitchen bench, and he perched on one, while Penelope stood on the other side and chopped cucumber for the salad she was making.
“We’d been diving for almost a week. We were researching sea snakes out at Ashmore Reef and getting some fantastic data. Our last morning while we were preparing to dive, we saw a rare species, and we didn’t want to miss the opportunity to track it, so we jumped in after it without doing our checks.” She transferred the cucumber to a bowl and chopped a tomato. “Emelia was always more disorganised, slower to start in the mornings, so I’d prepared my gear, but hadn’t done hers.”
Sam could see where this was going. “She didn’t have a full tank of air?”
Penelope shook her head. “It was the same tank as she’d gone down with the day before. Might have had forty bars if she was lucky.” She sighed. “I didn’t realise, didn’t even think of it until she panicked. We were both so enthralled by the snake.”
“Why didn’t she take your extra reg?”
Penelope glanced up, misery in her eyes. “I don’t know. I thrust it at her, but either she didn’t register it, or she thought I was low too… she pushed me away and swam for the surface.” She stared at him. “We’d been diving deep for days. We’d been down for a while. I had to do the safety stop.”
Her eyes begged him to understand, and he did. “If you’d followed her, you might be dead too.”
“I had a full tank. We could have shared all the way to the surface.”
He walked around the bench, unable to ignore the pain in her voice. “People panic all the time. It’s not rational, it’s instinctive. You did your best.” He stroked her arm and she turned to him.
“I should have done better.”
“You couldn’t have. She was past reason.” He slipped his arms around her and though she stiffened for a split second, she then relaxed and softened, melting into him. A couple of red curls tickled his nose and he shifted, running a hand over her hair to brush it away. She smelled like salt and ocean, but underneath that was a hint of something else, a citrus, lemony scent which probably came from body soap or shampoo. It suited her—sweet yet sharp.
Penelope trembled in his arms and her breath hitched. Was she crying? He snagged a tissue from the box on the counter and handed it to her.
She took it, stepping back and dabbing at her eyes. “Thank you. I’m sorry, I thought I’d cried all I could.”
This woman was too hard on herself. “You’re allowed to cry. It’s cathartic. Besides, it’s hardly a sniffle. You should see my sisters when they’re upset. They could flood the room.”
She smiled, which was what he was aiming for. “How many do you have?”
“Three.” He gave a fake shudder. “As a teenager I learnt very early to avoid the house one week out of every month. They were very emotional teens.”
Penelope chuckled. “And now?”
“Not quite as likely to cry if you look at them the wrong way,” he said. “Though most weeks I just call them.”
“You call your sisters every week?”
He shrugged, uncomfortable with the incredulity on her face. “Mostly. When I was away I couldn’t, so I made up for it when I was back.”
“You must have a good relationship with them, particularly if you were going to move in with the one who was pregnant.” She continued chopping her tomato.
“We get along all right. Izzy is the baby and she’s always had a special place in my heart. I was about ten when she was born and I remember holding her in my arms and she smiled at me and farted.” He grinned. “Made me laugh so hard I almost wet myself.”
Penelope snorted and he moved back around the bench to give her space and sat on the stool. “What are you making?”
“Vegetarian nachos.”
“Are you vegetarian?”
“No, but I try to have a couple of vegetarian meals each week, and this one is easy to prepare.”
He completely understood the desire for easy. In the city, he’d lived off take-away because it seemed too much of a hassle to cook for one.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Penelope glanced at him. “I always end up chopping more than I need or having half a tomato which goes off in the fridge, and we had arranged to go out.”
“Sure. I’d love to. What can I chop?”
