Helen Douglas - After Eden

I heard voices in the distance, was vaguely aware of people around me. And then I was lifted on to something soft and carried away and I drifted out of consciousness.

I awoke to a room washed with fluorescent lights and the voice of a bright, chirpy nurse checking my chart at the foot of the bed. I turned my head to the side and saw Ryan sitting in the chair beside me. His forehead was creased with concern, but his rich brown eyes were filled with light and warmth and the corners of his mouth were turned up in a crooked little smile. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but he was too far away.

‘Oh good, you’re awake,’ the nurse said brightly. ‘I’ll be back in a moment to take your blood pressure.’

If this was a dream, I had survived. Unless this was heaven. I didn’t even believe in heaven. But if it existed, Ryan would be there. I smiled to myself. Heaven or a dream. I didn’t care. I just wanted it to last as long as possible, so I could enjoy gazing into his perfect face.

‘Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,’ said Ryan.

‘Am I dreaming or am I in heaven?’ I asked.

He raised one eyebrow.

‘I don’t care which it is so long as you’re there.’

He gently brushed my hair back from my eyes. ‘You’re not dreaming. And you’re not in heaven.’

‘Am I hallucinating? Did they give me morphine?’

He smiled. ‘No. I’m really here.’

‘You can’t be. You left.’

‘I came back.’

I blinked. He was still there. I touched his hand. It was warm. It felt real.

‘What do you remember?’ he asked, running his thumb across the back of my hand.

‘Everything. Up until Travis pushed me under the water.’ An image of blood, pink and foamy, fanning out around his head, filled my mind. ‘Where’s Travis?’ I asked.

‘Travis is dead,’ he told me.

‘In the water?’

Ryan nodded. ‘He was concussed and then he drowned.’

I shook my head. ‘That’s awful.’

‘No,’ Ryan’s voice was hoarse. ‘It’s the best thing. He would have killed you, Eden. He’s dead and you’re safe.’

He leant over and kissed me gently on the mouth. Right on cue, the chirpy nurse came back to check my blood pressure. Ryan stood up to give her space.

‘Too much excitement will raise your blood pressure,’ she said, winking at me.

‘Can I go home?’ I asked.

‘The doctor will be doing her rounds soon,’ the nurse said, smiling at me. ‘If everything is OK, you should be free to go right after breakfast.’

I still had so many questions. How could Ryan be here? Who saved me? Where was Travis’s body?

‘It’s a little high,’ the nurse said, taking my reading. She glanced at Ryan. ‘But nothing to worry about. Breakfast will be here in just a few minutes.’

‘Is Miranda OK?’ I asked once the nurse had left the room again.

‘As well as can be expected.’ He took my hand again.

‘Does she know anything?’

Ryan shook his head. ‘She thinks that Travis was walking along the harbour wall, trying to take a photo of his restaurant. You were there too, helping him. Travis slipped and fell in and then you jumped in to try to rescue him, but he had hit his head on the rocks. Then I jumped in and managed to save you, but it was too late for Travis.’

‘And how come you were there?’

‘I told Miranda that we changed our minds and decided not to go back to America.’

‘But really, how come you were there? How can you be here?’

‘I came back for you.’

Breakfast arrived, putting an end to our conversation. Then the doctor. And finally Miranda.

She looked tired and drawn. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore no make-up.

‘Thank God you’re OK,’ she said. ‘Let’s get you home.’

‘Ryan,’ I said.

‘Get some rest, OK?’ he said.

‘I don’t want any rest. I want to be with you.’

‘Eden,’ said Miranda wearily. ‘Travis is dead and I have to try to contact his relatives. I don’t know where to start. I need you.’

I looked at Ryan. I’d said goodbye for ever. I couldn’t do it again.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘Ever. Help Miranda. And come and see me tomorrow.’

‘You promise you won’t leave?’

He nodded. ‘I promise.’

He was stripped to the waist, wearing nothing but a faded pair of blue jeans and a few splashes of white paint. Long ribbons of pink wallpaper were strewn all over the floor around him and one of the walls was painted white.

‘I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow,’ he said when he saw me standing in the doorway of the living room.

‘I couldn’t wait that long.’

‘You should have called!’

‘Am I interrupting something?’

He shrugged. ‘I would have cleaned up, rather than have you see me looking like this.’

I ran my eyes over his body. ‘You look fine.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m going to have a quick shower.’

‘Why are you doing this anyway?’

‘If I’m going to be living here long-term, the wallpaper has to go.’

I almost allowed myself a glimmer of hope. ‘Define “long-term”.’

‘The foreseeable future.’ He grinned at me. ‘Make yourself comfortable. I won’t be long.’

Five minutes later he was back downstairs in a clean white T-shirt and fresh jeans, his hair wet.

He just looked at me. ‘You’re here,’ he whispered.

I rolled my eyes. ‘My being here is not extraordinary. It’s you being here that requires an explanation. You left for the future. No going back. Goodbye for ever. And then you show up in the nick of time to save the day. You’ve got some explaining to do.’

Ryan peered through the window. ‘It’s a beautiful evening.’

‘Ryan. I don’t want a weather forecast. I want an explanation.’

‘And you’re going to get one. But we don’t have much time. Come on.’

He took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen which was beginning to look lived in again. A small stack of dirty dishes was piled up next to the sink and a half-eaten loaf of bread stood on a wooden chopping-board. Ryan opened the fridge which was jam-packed full of food. He crouched in front of it, moving things to one side until he found what he was looking for. A bottle of champagne.

‘I thought you didn’t drink?’ I said, when he placed two champagne flutes on the table next to the bottle of champagne.

‘I never said that.’

‘But I never saw you drink. I saw you accept bottles of beer occasionally. But you never took a single sip.’

‘I was working then. You don’t drink on the job. Not when the existence of the planet is at stake.’

‘So does this mean you’re not working any more?’

‘I am definitely not working.’

I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘You’re not back here to fulfil another mission?’

He grinned. ‘I have a mission. But it has absolutely nothing to do with work.’

He carried the bottle of champagne in one hand and picked up a large punnet of strawberries.

‘Can you carry these?’ he asked, passing me the two champagne flutes.

Although the sun had set an hour earlier, a deep red stained the western sky, like spilled red wine.

‘I replanted our tree and the time capsule,’ he said, as we walked across the lawn. ‘It was the tree that tipped me off something was wrong.’

‘How so?’

‘We planted the tree because you said it would last a hundred years. When I went to the house, there was no tree. I realised it could have died or been chopped down, but it set off alarm bells when there was no sign of it ever having been there. Then I dug for our time capsule. It wasn’t there. So I looked you up, the way I said I would.’