The digital clock on the bedside table tells me it’s 6:19 in the morning, but something about the digital screen catches my eye. The one and the nine appear to be disappearing bit by bit. I shuffle closer and rub my eyes, still blurry with sleep. I am now inches away from the display and, to my astonishment, I can see a tiny person inside the clock painting over the numbers. When they’re gone, he, or maybe she, starts painting a two and a zero in red paint. What the hell? I’m sure I’m not imagining it, but I’m a little concerned I’m losing my mind. The voice in my head reminds me it isn’t completely ludicrous to be concerned by that. I watch for another ten minutes and sure enough, the little person I’ve discovered on closer inspection is an old lady using her paintbrush and a ladder if needed to ensure the correct time is kept. It is the strangest but coolest thing I’ve ever seen.
Dragging myself away from my little time-keeping friend, I get up and use the bathroom, then open my bedroom door to go and look for Josh. Outside my bedroom door are my clothes and underwear from yesterday, clean, dry, and folded. Grateful, impressed and a little embarrassed, I quickly take them and change. As promised, I found various toiletries in the bathroom cabinet, including women’s deodorant and a toothbrush, so I’m feeling completely human.
The house is quiet, and I would assume Josh is asleep except for my laundered clothes. In the kitchen, I find a note on the bench telling me to help myself to coffee and anything for breakfast if I’m hungry if he isn’t yet back from taking Leroy for a walk by the lake. From the kitchen window, I can see him by the water’s edge in the distance. Finding my shoes by the French doors leading onto the deck, I head outside into the fresh morning air.
Even though my need to be near Josh feels almost desperate, I stop at the railing of the deck and close my eyes, breathing in deeply. Opening them, I take in the panoramic vista. After the rain, everything looks and smells so fresh. I love the anonymity of the city, but I never consider myself a city-girl convert. I haven’t returned to my hometown since leaving five years ago, but that isn’t because I don’t still have great love for it. Thanks to Mereki, I had eight wonderful years there, filled with happy memories. In the space of no more than ten minutes, I was robbed of any desire to set foot in that town ever again. I was robbed of so much more than that, but it’s best I don’t think about that anymore. I’m happy here, and that seems to have a whole lot to do with the man I’m now walking towards.
He is getting farther away, but I can still see him and Leroy quite clearly. Like a moth to the flame attracted to the light despite its danger, I walk towards him.
Josh turns when I’m still a fair distance from him, as if he sensed my presence. His smile lights up his face, and I swoon.
“How did you sleep?” Josh asks, kissing me on the cheek when I reach him.
“Really well. You?”
“I always sleep well out here,” he replies, as he tosses something out across the still water.
My eyes widen as I stare in disbelief. Whatever he threw bounces across the surface one, two, three, four, five times before disappearing. “How did you do that?” I ask, spellbound.
“Depending on where you’re from, it’s known as skipping, skiffing, or skimming stones. The Brits call it ducks and drakes. I’ve heard it called frog jumps, too. There is something really rewarding and relaxing about it.” He crouches down and picks up another white pebble from a pile at his feet. “It’s all in the angle. Want me to teach you?”
With all the years I spent by a river playing with pebbles, I can’t believe I’ve never tried this. “Sure. That would be great.”
He picks up a selection of pebbles for me. “They are all carefully selected for their flat, smooth surface, but I think you should try with this one.” He hands me the one that is slightly bigger than the others. “The light, small ones typically skip more times and go farther, but a medium weight, like this one, usually works best for beginners.”
“What now?” I ask, running my thumb over the smooth surface.
He holds his own stone to show me. “Place your index finger against the edge of the stone. Hold the flat sides with your thumb on one side and your middle finger on the other. You want to be able to send the stone spinning in a straight line with the flat end almost parallel to the water.” He waits for me to follow his instructions before continuing. “You should make sure to place the stone in the crook of your index finger while placing your thumb on top of the rock to maintain control of it.”
“Okay,” I say when I’m sure I have it right. “What next?”
“Face the water sideways, with your feet shoulder-width apart.” He comes around behind me and places his hands on my shoulders to correct my position. “You’re right-handed, so you need to stand with your left or non-dominant side closest to the water’s edge, with your shoulder turned toward the water.” I feel pressure on my shoulders. “Squat down so that when you throw, your rock will be close to parallel with the surface.”
“This is all very scientific,” I say, chuckling. “I thought we were just throwing stones.”
“Actually, scientists have found that the ideal angle between the stone and the water is twenty degrees.”
“Scientists have spent time on this?” I ask, incredulous.
“It’s serious business, Emerson.”
I look up into his eyes and see the sparkle. I don’t know if he’s pulling my leg or not about the scientists, but he isn’t taking it too seriously.
“Any less than that twenty degrees,” he says, “and the friction slows it down. Any more than that, and it cuts the water and sinks.”
“Okay, well my legs are starting to ache, so hit me with the throwing instructions now, please.”
He laughs. “Sorry. Bend your wrist all the way back and then snap it forward to flick the stone against the surface of the water. Don’t think of it as throwing an overhand Frisbee, but as throwing an underhand softball. You can also think of it like cracking a whip sideways. The important thing is that you carefully bend your wrist all the way back to generate some power, and that you then flick it forward quickly and at the right angle, allowing it to spin counter-clockwise. Throw it as fast as you can without losing form. Angle and spin are more important than speed.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “I think my head just exploded.”
“Give it a go and you might find my instructions aren’t just a bunch of hosh posh.”
“Hosh posh?” I keep laughing. “What the hell is hosh posh?”
“Shut up, smart arse, and throw the goddamn pebble.” He can’t help laughing, too, though.
I run his crazy complicated instructions over in my head, then execute them as best as I can. My stone flies out of my hand and ungracefully plops into the lake not too far from us.
I scrunch up my nose, and my shoulders drop in defeat. “Your instructions are faulty,” I say, trying not to laugh.
Josh groans. “You didn’t follow through.”
“You didn’t tell me to follow through,” I reply like a diva.
“When you bend your wrist back, make sure to whip your throwing arm all the way across your chest, finishing near the shoulder of your opposite arm.”
“Was that my only error?”
“It takes practice, Emerson.” His jovial tone is now completely gone. “Like art, some people are more naturally gifted than others, but a lot of progress can be made by applying yourself to it.” I think about how I completely rejected my art and how much I missed it. “Following through will ensure that you’ve put all of your power and momentum into the throw and will make the stone travel the farthest and skip the longest.”
“Whatever you say, Mr Rock Science Man.”
“Mr Rock Science Man?”
I laugh as I reach down and pick up another stone. “Yup.”
Twenty-five tosses and several pebble retrieval missions later, and I am yet to see a single bounce. I am beyond frustrated watching every single one of Josh’s skip across the surface effortlessly.
“Ready for the best breakfast you’ve ever had?” Josh asks, obviously sensing the end of my patience.
Sighing, I nod. “Guess so.”
Josh whistles to Leroy, who obediently returns to him. On the walk back to the house, Josh reaches for my hand, and I let him hold it. Somehow, I’ve managed to create a whole alternative life for myself out here with Josh where I’m allowed to feel good about this incredible man holding my hand and offering to make me breakfast.
“When did you learn to skim stones?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence.
“My dad taught us when we were kids.” He glances out over the lake. “He wanted my brothers and me to be outside as much as possible.”
“Where are your brothers now?”
“Two live in the city. The eldest, Hunter, is a hotshot lawyer and living the high life.”
“How old is he?”
“Hunter’s thirty-two, I’m thirty-one, Luca and Max are twenty-eight.”
“Four boys and twins. Your mum must’ve been busy when you were all little.”
He laughs. “She has many stories I’m sure she’d love to tell you to embarrass us.”
“So Hunter’s a hotshot lawyer. What about Luca and Max?”
“Luca’s a tech nerd. He develops apps and sells them for ridiculous sums of money.”
“I’ve no idea how all that stuff works.”
Josh shakes his head. “Me neither, but Luca is a bit of a wiz.”
“Sounds like you get on with them.”
“I do. We don’t see each other as much as Mum particularly would like, but we’d all drop everything for each other, and we do as much as we can to help Mum cope.”
“What about your other brother?”
“Max lives in South Africa as a foreign correspondent,” he replies, holding the door open for me.
“All so different,” I say as I take my shoes off and leave them by the door where I found them earlier.
“Max risks his life with his job, but I can’t imagine him doing anything else. Some of the stories he’s managed to get have stressed Mum out so much, but even she knows it’s his life, and he has to live it on his terms.”
I can hear the reverence he obviously feels for all his brothers, and it warms my heart. “You’re closest to Max, and he’s the farthest away. That must be hard.”
“Are you a psychic or something?”
I chuckle. “No. It’s hardly rocket science listening not just to what you said but how you said it. Sometimes it’s all in the tone.”
Josh stares at me, seemingly deep in thought. “You intrigue me more than anyone ever has, Emerson.” He shakes his head, then gestures towards the kitchen.
As Josh starts pulling mixing bowls and fry pans out of cupboards, I find myself marvelling at how this incredibly good-looking, talented, and resourceful man is single.
“How are you single?” My thought tumbles out of my mouth.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, raising his eyebrows.
I don’t answer, wishing I hadn’t brought up the subject but realising it’s now too late. “Are any of your brothers married or in serious relationships?”
“Max married his high school sweetheart, Cami, and they have twin daughters, Arabella and Maggie.”
“Given his job, he was the one I was least expecting.”
“South Africa can be a very dangerous place, but they live in a gated community, and their safety is Max’s number-one priority. He even said they could move home when Cami fell pregnant over there, but she refused to let him give up his dream.” He continues working his magic while we chat. “She loves it over there and has made a lot of friends with the other ex-pats.”
“I’d love to go on a safari,” I say, remembering a documentary I watched once about Kruger National Park.
“Then you should make it happen,” he says, nonchalantly. “You’re young and healthy. You should be checking off bucket list items, not just talking about them.”
“Do you have a bucket list?” I ask.
“Sure I do. I think most people have things they hope to do or experience in their lives, even if they don’t write them down.”
I pull out a stool from under the island bench and take a seat. “I’d offer to help you, but you seem to have it under control.”
“You just sit there and look pretty.”
I chuckle, leaning forward, resting my chin in my palms, and resting my elbows on the bench. “What are you making me?”
“A bacon and egg wrap,” he says. “I hope you’re not allergic to anything.”
I shake my head. “Sounds wonderful.”
“Do you have any siblings?” he asks as he places a large tortilla on each plate. “You know so much about me, and I don’t even know if you have brothers and sisters.”
“I had a stepbrother, Trent.”
Josh stands on the opposite side of the bench with a frypan in his hand, about to scoop scrambled eggs onto the tortillas. “Had?”
“He was never a brother to me.” I clench my teeth. “We don’t keep in touch.”
“Hearing this makes me so grateful for the happy childhood.”
“I need coffee,” I say, climbing down from my stool and walking over to the coffee machine. “Do you want one?”
“Sure. Black, one sugar, please.”
His coffee machine takes pods and has a separate milk frother. Carrie has the same set-up in our break room at work, so I can make myself useful here at least.
When I finish, Josh has constructed two delicious-looking and smelling wraps next to each other. I take my place back on the same stool, and Josh sits beside me. I hand him his coffee and take a sip of mine, inhaling the steam. “Mmmm,” I say, enjoying the liquid gold.
“You drive me completely insane. Do you know that?” he asks.
I put my mug down and pick up my wrap. “I do? Why?”
He shakes his head and groans. “You’re just so incredibly beautiful, and you don’t even know it.”
My cheeks heat, and I take a small bite of my wrap, not sure how to respond to his compliment. Josh watches me, and his smile broadens.
In a bid to change the subject, I ask, “Are you able to drive me to a petrol station to buy some fuel?”
He nods, waving his hand in the air as if my predicament is nothing. “Do you have time to hang out with me today?” He looks at me as if he’s contemplating something but is unsure whether he should say it.
“What is it, Josh?”
“I’m assuming you don’t have to go to work tomorrow on the public holiday?”
I suspect I know where he’s going with this. “That’s right. I have the day off.”
“I hoped you’d consider staying another night.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek and stare at my empty plate. I am enjoying this extension from my reality, and the idea of returning to my empty house is depressing. I look up at him and smile. “I’d love to.”
He stands with a grin from ear to ear and clears our plates. “I’m really bloody happy about that.”