pulp.
Not once she gets to know you.
Not that he hadn’t long suspected it—or could even disagree with it—but something about having it spelled out quite so dispassionately …
By her …
Well, he’d wanted conversation. And one thing he knew about Shirley was that any time spent with her would never go where he thought it would. He’d imagined himself a cosy little scenario that involved the two of them talking long into the night, sharing. Bonding. He’d not let himself imagine anything beyond that, but her wild and dishevelled state over dinner had teased and taunted and distracted him for most of the evening as he’d pretended to listen to Caryn but in fact fantasised about ways of getting Shirley that mussed up himself.
She’d been happily engaged in a long conversation with their trusty Captain about piracy on the high seas—though, given a chance and despite his age, he’d bet his life that the charming Captain Konstantinos would have proven just as untrustworthy with his passenger—and he’d had the double assault of endless monologue on one side and the Shirley Marr show on the other. Complete with seamen who didn’t know he understood some Greek discussing with much hilarity the comparative merits of tanned blondes versus sultry brunettes.
The brunettes won.
It wasn’t fair to blame Caryn for not being as interesting as the only other woman in the room. The two were completely different people. Night and day. Except he’d spent his entire life indulging in bright, obsequious day when deep down inside he was all about the cool, mysterious night. The cover of night disguised so many more faults.
Shannon. Courtney. Louisa. Dominique.
He had as many names as Shirley could possibly want to hear. It wasn’t a struggle with recall that had kept him silent; it was the implication of her words. That he should have started a life with one of them by now. That he was late to some kind of party and that it was his personal failing.
Did she not see the irony?
Shirley had more shields around herself than any man could possibly negotiate. She’d be single and stoic until her last breath, despite her great faith in the random lightning-bolt strike of love.
Who was she to judge his choices?
He reached into his room and grabbed his coat, then headed for the wind storm outside. It was too early to sleep, even if he believed he could. But there was a lot of unexplored ship out there yet.
And a lot of disquiet to burn off.
He wandered the entire circumference of the freighter, staring out through the occasional slot in the bulky siding into the vast nothing of the ocean and up into the vast everything of space. So far from the visual pollution of land, and despite the floodlights at the front of the ship and the glow of the full moon, the stars seemed to blanket the dark sky. Together they were more than ample to see by.
But one circumference was complete and he wasn’t yet ready to return to the solitude of his cabin, which was insane because the past two years had been all about solitude. He turned into the heart of the sea-containers massed in the middle of the vessel.
He heard Twuwu’s contented rumination—a kind of chew and snort combo—before he turned the corner into her clearing. A bit of time in the company of a female with no expectations, no opinions and no judgements to cast. That was what he needed.
‘Hayden?’
Hell. Awful timing on his part.
‘Out for a walk?’ Caryn asked. The caution in her voice was immediately obvious and his mind went straight to Shirley’s defence of the woman. He sighed.
‘Caryn, I think I owe you an apology …’
They talked for quite some time as Caryn finished her checks on Twuwu and settled her for the night. She accepted his fumbled explanation and his assurances of regret for his hasty departure earlier in the evening.
‘Is it Shirley?’ she asked, wiping her hands on her jeans.
His denial was instant. Too fast. Like his pulse at the mere suggestion of something more going on with him and Shirley. ‘It’s such a short trip, Caryn …’
She called him on that deflection. ‘You don’t really strike me as a man who would have a problem with something short-term.’
‘I’m not.’ At least he wasn’t. That thought got him frowning.
‘I thought we had a spark.’
And a spark might once have been enough. More than enough. The truth—and the outrage of what it signified—burned. ‘It’s me.’
She stared at him long and hard. But what could she say, really? Other than the obvious. ‘Fair enough. Your loss.’
Maybe so. And given how tightly wound he’d been after storming from Shirley’s room, definitely so. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you back.’
‘Oh, God, chivalry? You really aren’t interested.’ She fell in beside him.
It felt good to laugh. And it felt strangely pleasing to have treated this woman with respect. This woman who loved her family and her homeland and was happy to talk to a stranger for hours about them.
‘Can I ask you something, Caryn?’
‘Shoot.’
‘Is your wildlife park anywhere near Queenstown?’
‘About four hundred kilometres away.’
Oh. It was worth a shot.
She took pity on him. ‘But we go right through Queenstown on the way.’
He lifted his head. ‘Will you need any help with Twuwu on the journey?’
She laughed. ‘No. There’ll be a whole transport team meeting us at Invercargill. Why? You need a lift?’
‘It’s a long story, but yeah.’
‘Let’s see what happens. There’re always multiple vehicles.’
He held the door of the accommodation deck for her and dropped his voice. ‘Thanks. We’ll even ride in with Twuwu if we need to.’
‘Are you kidding? No one gets to do that.’ She stopped a few doors down from Shirley’s room. ‘This is me.’
He shoved his hands into his pockets, carefully away from her. He wasn’t used to negotiating his way out of a woman’s room. ‘I appreciate your understanding, Caryn,’ he whispered. ‘Considering.’
She laughed in the silence and unlocked her door. ‘I think I understand a lot better than you do.’
‘See you tomorrow.’
‘Yep. Bright and early.’ She stepped into her room.
‘’Night.’
Her
