Free In the Shadow of Satellites by Amanda Dick Page A

again.
    “See what I mean?” he says. “One word from me and he does what he likes.”
    We watch him for a few moments, but he sticks to the track and he’s not doing any harm.
    “He seems okay,” I say.
    “Yeah, but I think I’ll get him a leash next time I’m in town anyway. You never know, I guess.”
    We walk in silence until we approach the half-way rock. I stop automatically, because I always do that here. The lake is sparkling far below us, through the trees. The view is breath-taking and I never tire of it. It’s been a special place for me, right from the beginning. I used to come up here as a child, perching on the rock and watching the world. It always felt safe. James loved it too. We had a photo of the view from here on our bedroom wall in Wellington. It wasn’t in the boxes I couldn’t bring myself to open until months after I woke up. I don’t know where it is now. I don’t want to think about all those things, languishing God knows where.
    “I can see why you come here,” Luke says quietly.
    I’d almost forgotten he was here.
    “It’s beautiful. I don’t know what it is about this place, but I felt it the moment I got here. I swear, if I didn’t know any better, I could’ve sworn I’ve been here before. I think that’s why I had to buy the house the moment I saw it. Maybe it was because the lake reminded me of home, but it just feels so familiar.”
    A shiver runs down my spine but I keep my eyes trained on the view. I don’t want to get into a discussion with him about strange feelings or intuition or anything intimate. I want to keep him at arm’s length, so I turn the conversation away from such things and back to safety.
    “You’re a long way from home,” I say. “You must miss it.”
    He doesn’t answer immediately, and I turn to see him still looking out across the lake. He seems far away, not standing right beside me.
    “Yeah. I do.”
    I wonder why he stays, when he seems so torn.
    “What brought you here, to New Zealand, I mean?”
    He sighs, as if the story is too long and too detailed to go into right here, right now. Then he turns to me and smiles, shrugging lightly. I’m not fooled by the casual gesture. It’s in direct contrast to the tightness that has settled across his features. The smile is not genuine and he’s either lying or shying away from the question.
    “The usual,” he says. “Wanderlust. Adventure. The search.”
    “For what?”
    “I don’t know. More, I guess.”
    He gets that look in his eye again, the one I saw before, over dinner. I hold my ground, looking away instead of putting physical distance between us, which is my preferred response.
    The search. More.
    I’m searching too. It occurs to me that maybe we’re all searching for something. It’s just that only some of us will find it, that elusive something to fill our hearts and make our days worthwhile. I had it once, and now that it’s gone, I’m still not sure I’ll ever recover from losing it. It leaves a mark, a wound that I don’t think will ever heal. At this point, I’m still not sure I want it to. A scar is a reminder of something that once hurt you. What do you call that which continues to do so, long after the physical evidence has healed?
    He touches my arm.
    “You zoned out there for a minute,” he says, his startling blue eyes laden with concern.
    I nod, because there’s no point denying it.
    “Sorry. I just… I was just thinking.”
    “It’s okay, no need to apologise. I do that sometimes too.”
    His hand is still on my arm, and I don’t like the way he’s looking at me, as if he’s trying to figure me out. I don’t need another friend. I have all the people in my life that I can handle. As if reading my mind, he lets go of my arm, finally breaking eye contact so I can breathe again.
    “Shall we go?” he says.
    He lets me set the pace, and I walk as fast as I dare. He doesn’t seem to notice, calling ahead to Geezer every now and then to make sure