Page 69 of Lost In Kakadu

Nothing about her life was important anymore. Not her friends, her money or her ideologies. She’d ruined every opportunity to do something important with her life, to be someone, and each time she failed, she’d blamed someone else, usually Spencer.

Angry with herself, she brushed away her tears, but at the sametime, this was the moment where she cracked open her personality and remoulded herself.

Never again would she be the pathetic, Mrs. Abigail Mulholland.

She was Abi.

She was ready to be her own person, ready to show emotions, to love, to hurt and to cry, regardless of who watched.

Pushing her shoulders back, she wiped her eyes, removed the cold quoll meat from the cockpit and with her shoulders back, she carried it to the fire. She hoped the diminishing sunlight would stop Mackenzie from seeing her sadness.

She flopped into her chair and examined her filthy fingernails as she waited for him to join her. Once the sun set and the wind died down, the stillness allowed sounds to carry.

Many sounds she recognised. . . hooting owls, screeching bats, croaking frogs and the never-ending crickets. The whole wilderness seemed to be crying out for a companion.

Scanning the dark tree line, she watched for Mackenzie’s return and each passing moment confirmed how much she thrived on his company.

Nobody else had ever made her feel this way.

It was a pleasant thought that had her smiling like a giddy teenager.

But they were about to delve into another depth of their relationship and although she knew she was going to hear something truly tragic, she hoped she’d be able to offer him the right words at the right time.

Finally, Mackenzie walked toward her with a large stick he was using like a walking cane. His eyes were downcast, obviously deep in thought.

He sat down beside her and as he poked the coals with the stick, a darkness washed over his expression that was so bleak, her heart nearly cracked in two.

Chapter Thirty-Three

As the intensity of the moment bristled in the air, Mackenzie studied the bright orange glow at the end of the stick. Rodney was the only person who’d known his history and the importance of someone knowing, now that Rodney was gone, weighed heavily.

When Rodney died, a spell had been broken and his heart became hollow, empty.

He wanted to tell Abigail everything but even after all these years the hurt was so fresh, so close to the surface, that he wasn’t sure he could actually speak of it.

But after everything they’d been through, the moment seemed right. Abigail seemed right.

As if reading his mind, she placed her hand on his leg. The warmth from her palm flowed to his heart, and he was ready. He inhaled deeply and exhaled a long slow breath. “I blamed myself for Mum’s death.”

She sat forward. “It wasn’t …”

“Shhh.” He touched his finger to her lips. “Mum died trying to protect me from him.”

“But it wasn’t?—”

“Shush.”

Abigail sat back and stared at the fire. Her hand remained on hisknee.

Mackenzie made her wait a full minute before he continued. “When I saw Dad lying on the lounge snoring, with a glass of rum still clutched in his hand, I knew he was never going to change. I had to get away. So, I gathered a few things, ridiculous things really. I took a chocolate bar, my PSP and one of Mum’s rings.” He fiddled with the silver signet ring that hung around his neck. “I didn’t think to take any food, money or extra clothes and once I left, there was no way I was going back.”

“Didn’t you have family to go to? Aunties, uncles? Did they look for you?”

He shrugged. “I never met any relatives. I guess there would be some, but I certainly didn’t know them. And I don’t think anybody bothered looking for me.”

“Of course, they would have. The authorities must’ve known about you, there’d be records and photos.”

“Will you stop interrupting or we’ll be here all night.”

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