‘That’s beautiful.’
He meant it. He’d been raised in a pristine house, where a champagne mark on a ceiling would have meant arguments, shouting, and a week of interior decorating right after.
Sara cast her eyes to the butterflies, swirling around another bush. ‘I suppose I keep on hoping that one day soon we can pop another champagne cork to mark Esme’s new kidney, and another for her sixteenth birthday, and one more for her wedding.’ She let out a disgruntled sound. ‘I just can’t think of ever celebrating anything again until that first one happens. Sorry—I know that’s weird.’
‘It’s not weird at all.’
Fraser kept his eyes on the ocean. To hell with the pain this woman was still going through, and the way it took the light from her eyes. It made her doubt herself and everything she did.
He took her face in his palms and she drew her hands over his impulsively. ‘It will happen. We’ll find a donor for Esme,’ he told her resolutely.
‘Help! Oh, my God, please help—is anyone there?’
The anguish in the voice caused them both to scramble up.
‘Help!’ The female voice came again. ‘Over here!’
Springing into action, Fraser grabbed his bag and scrambled down the rocks with Sara, making sure she didn’t slip. They raced further down the trail towards the sound until they found themselves face to face with a sight Fraser had never seen before.
Marcus, the kid in the green board shorts. who’d been mean to Esme on the beach, was lying on his stomach on the dusty ground. He was writhing around in pain with half a damn cactus sticking out of his backside.
Sara hurried to unfold a towel from their pack, so they could move him away from the dirt.
‘He fell on it—he was running too fast!’ his mother cried. Can you pull it out of him, Doctor? Should I?’
Fraser clasped her wrist. ‘No, don’t touch it!’
The woman in short blue dungarees and that giant sun hat was crouching over her son on the ground now, trying to hold him steady. ‘It’s not poisonous, is it?’
‘It’s not poisonous,’ Fraser told her, spotting some fabric from Marcus’s board shorts impaled on the offending cactus, just metres from two abandoned bicycles. ‘Just try not to move,’ he told the lad. ‘We don’t want these little suckers going any deeper—and don’t put your hands near your mouth if you’ve touched the cactus at all, OK?’
‘OK...’ Marcus was sobbing. ‘It hurts!’
‘I know it does.’ Sara’s voice was soothing as she took tweezers from a small case. ‘Luckily it looks like the glochids are mostly in one area, so just keep still like Dr Fraser said.’
Fraser readied the gauze and antiseptic as Sara went to work on Marcus’s poor inflamed skin. His backside was so swollen it resembled a bright red beach ball. It was very lucky they’d been so close.
Back on the Ocean Dream, they whisked a sore Marcus to the medical centre. He and his mother were both adamant that they didn’t want to leave the cruise, and Fraser tried to make them laugh by telling them all the things Marcus could still do standing up—like fishing, or tennis, or painting standing at an easel.
‘You can also help me make my video, if you like,’ Esme interrupted from the doorway, just as Fraser was handing Marcus’s mother a prescription for painkillers. The kid now had a significant amount of gauze taped to his behind.
Marcus’s cheeks flamed almost as red as his backside when he saw her.
‘Esme, why are you here?’ Sara walked over to her quickly. ‘Where’s Jess?’
‘In there,’ Esme said, pointing to the coffee house next door. In her long denim shorts and star-patterned shirt she walked past Sara and pointed at Marcus. ‘What happened to you?’
Marcus wrinkled his nose. ‘I fell on a cactus.’
Esme’s little brow furrowed as she took in all the gauze. For a second Fraser thought she might laugh, or say something mean. Marcus had been mean to her, after all.
‘That must have hurt,’ she said instead, her eyes narrowed in concern. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m OK.’ Marcus sniffed. ‘Sorry I called you an alien.’
Esme grinned. ‘I suppose I do look a bit like an alien sometimes. Do you want me to show you my robo-kidney when you’re better?’
Fraser stood next to Sara as Esme explained how she needed the dialysis machine for her kidney to function. He could practically feel Sara swelling with pride as Esme offered to play with Marcus, so he wouldn’t feel like the only funny-looking one on the ship.
‘She’s as compassionate as someone else I know,’ he whispered to her, nudging her arm. Sara looked up at him.
‘If only that was enough to make us a match.’
He felt his chest tighten. ‘I told you, Cohen,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s going to happen.’
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