“You’re good at … that. Always been good.” She wanted to close her eyes, but she wanted to see him, too. He was something to hold onto, and she was rootless. Empty.
“Yeh,” he said, “I am. I rang the resort. Asked them to get word to the nanny that you’re OK, in case the kids wake up.”
“It’s dark. How long?—”
“Nearly five. In the morning. You’ll be here for today, and no worries, so will I.”
The tears were still tickling when she fell asleep.
When she woke again, it was light outside. There were palms outside her window, and banana plants, too. The kids had been thrilled to be able to pick bananas themselves, and to watch boys scramble up the coconut palms. It had been such a good holiday.
Oh. Zane. He wasn’t beside her anymore, and she got a flash of disorientation that was nearly fear. Her abdomen ached, though distantly, and she was still groggy.
The door opened, and it was Zane. He didn’t smile when he saw her, but he had that intense look again when he came over, took her hand, and asked, “Better now?”
“Yes. Awake, anyway. What time is it?”
“Nine-thirty. I went downstairs for something to eat. They said they’d look after you. Have they been?”
“Dunno. I just woke up.” They were saying normal things, but it didn’t feel normal. It felt unreal. And there was an ache. A hollowness. “I do need the toilet, though.”
“Want me to help you?”
She stared at him.“No,I don’t want you to help me! To go to thetoilet?There’s an image you’d have in your head forever.”
He grinned, and she laughed, then regretted it. “Could you get the nurse? Please? And then wait outside for a bit?”
He came back as the nurse was settling her into bed again. “Café’s pretty good,” he said. “They have smoothies. Also mango lassis. You like those. Want one?”
“We can bring you a meal tray,” the nurse said. “If your stomach’s up to it.”
“Not a meal,” she said. “A mango lassi would be good, though. I’ll try it, anyway. But—Zane.”
“Yeh?”
“The kids. Are they OK? Is somebody with them?”
“I told you before,” he said, “but you were pretty out of it. The resort sent over a nanny. I asked for it when I rang about the ambos. Do you remember that bit?”
“No. I don’t remember much. Have you talked to them this morning, though? They must be worried.”
“Not yet, but I will. Let me go get your drink first.” He leaned over the bed, took her hand, and kissed her forehead, and it was so tender, she got those tears again.
When he was gone, the nurse said, “He’s lovely, isn’t he? Zane Mahuta, isn’t it?”
“Uh … yes. How do you know?”
“You haven’t seen the Blues play the Fijian Drua, then,” the nurse said. “We love our Drua, and on home soil, they’re hardto put away. Not so good when they play in New Zealand, but no wonder. Too cold down there for them to be at their best, or too hot up here for your boys to be.” She smiled, and Skylar smiled back. “You’re here on holiday?”
“Yes.” Skylar shifted, and the nurse said, “Pain? Where is it?”
“My shoulder. Weird.”
“Ah,” the nurse said. “That’s gas. They pump it in there to distend your abdomen for the surgery, and it likes to hang about and make a nuisance of itself. Let’s get you up and walking around. That usually moves it along, and helps you heal, too.”
Lovely. She was not only sweaty, bloody, and messy, she was also gassy.
What a prize.
